The wordlessly grim man in the driver’s suit was a not-so-subtle hint that obedience was a wise choice tonight, however, so I sat in my seat quietly like a good little changeling.
It took less time to make it back into the city’s downtown core than it had taken me to get out of it, and I tried to conceal a sigh of relief as we drove into an underground parking garage under one of the office towers. The garage was far from warm, but it certainly beat the frigid Canadian air outside.
The black SUV was now parked between matching vehicles in dark green and dark red, all with the stylized silver K decaled onto the window frame. Another man in a black suit, cast from the same mold as my driver though shorter and fairer-haired, exchanged nods with my driver and gestured for me to follow him.
He led me to an elevator, where he made a great show of pushing five buttons in a specific sequence. So far as I could tell, he was more concerned with hiding the small key he unlocked the elevator with than with which buttons he was pressing.
Whichever it was, all of the elevator buttons flashed once and then went blank as the elevator started its smooth ascent. The Wizard certainly didn’t seem to have any issue with modern technology—or spending money. The elevator was wood-paneled and floored in black and red tiles.
The elevator was also fast, and it took less than a minute to reach the top floor of the building. The doors slid open, and my erstwhile companion gestured me through.
Being the good little changeling tonight, I exited the elevator into the lobby of a law firm. The same tiles as the elevator covered the floor of a good-sized front room, and a receptionist’s desk faced the two elevator doors. A single door stood on the left side of the desk, and a dozen or so chairs were clustered around a small table and coffee station.
A sturdy-looking blonde woman, silverish tattoos tracing across both her cheeks and clashing sharply with a trim black suit identical to the men who’d brought me there, stood up behind the desk as I entered.
“Mr. Kilkenny,” she greeted me. “We were expecting you, have a seat, the Magus is busy but he’ll be with you shortly. Can I get you a coffee? It’s from a local organic roaster; they’re really good!”
It took me a moment to catch up with her rapid-fire delivery and confirm that I would like a coffee. She bustled me over to a chair, poured a cup for me and passed it over when I declined cream or sugar with a wordless nod.
To my surprise, the receptionist was right—it was good coffee. Not too hot, either; the pot was apparently kept at just the right drinking temperature. After seeing me settled, the woman returned to her desk, doing whatever mysterious work it is that receptionists do when men like me are stuck in their waiting rooms.
I’d just finished the coffee when she looked up from her computer and the door behind her popped open.
“The Magus will see you now,” she told me. “It’s the first door to your left.”
“Thank you,” I told her. “What was your name again?”
“Sarah,” she replied.
“Well, thank you, Sarah. That was good coffee.”
Passing the cup to her to be thrown in a dishwasher, I took a deep breath and walked into the Wizard’s offices. The hall continued with the same black and red tiles, but here the paneling was waist height in some rich dark red wood.
The first door to the left was made of the same wood and was closed. I knocked.
“Come in,” a firm voice ordered. I obeyed and took my first look at the Wizard of Calgary.
Kenneth MacDonald was, without any great effort, the centerpiece of attention in the room, even if I couldn’t put my finger on why. The Wizard was of average height, several inches shorter than me, completely bald, and in every way utterly unimposing. Yet he radiated power in a way even a fae noble like Oberis couldn’t match. Everything and anything else in the room faded in comparison to the certain knowledge that one stood in the presence of one of the heirs of Merlin, nigh unto a demigod made flesh.
“Lord Wizard,” I tried to say formally, but fear and awe drew a mortifying squeak from my lungs in mid-word. In an attempt to regain some composure, I focused my attention on the outer wall of the room, which was a single giant window looking out over the city’s downtown. Even this late at night, lights were on in many of the office buildings. From here, we looked down on most of them, including one narrow, needle-like tower that was probably supposed to be tall.
“Have a seat, Mr. Kilkenny,” the Wizard said gently, apparently recognizing my discomfort, and gestured. A large soft armchair, one of four I now saw were set next to a table by a large roaring fireplace, floated across the room to drop in front of the Wizard’s desk. I obeyed the unspoken order and seated myself in the chair.
“You are Jason Kilkenny,” he continued once I’d sat down, “changeling of no known bloodline, born in Georgia to Melissa Kilkenny, a professor of Irish history recently immigrated to the state, twenty-four years ago. Identified just over three years ago on your twenty-first birthday.”
“How do you know all that?” I asked, impressed and even more terrified. With a chuckle, MacDonald turned the large flatscreen monitor on his desk to face me and I saw a picture of myself attached to a page of text.
“I emailed a friend of mine among the Fae Council,” he told me. “They have a file on every fae they know about. Yours is the shortest I’ve ever seen, to be honest.”
“Oh,” I breathed softly, not sure if I was reassured that his means had been mundane.
“What is your purpose in Calgary?” the Wizard asked.
“I’m looking to find a place to live and mortal work,” I answered. “I didn’t want all this hoopla; I just wanted to move in quietly and avoid politics and attention.” I was whining. I was whining at a Wizard. Shit.
“This is, from the supernatural perspective, a backwater,” the Wizard told me. “It is a backwater of some importance, for many reasons, but still an area with few inhumans present. I insist on meeting all of us, for my own reasons.”
I nodded, remaining silent and regarding the heavy wooden desk and the wall of windows behind it that framed the Wizard. He stood and turned to look out the windows himself, eyeing the brilliant lights of the business towers and homes.
“My Order dislikes involving ourselves in inhuman politics,” he said to the window, the reflection of his eyes watching me. “However, I accidentally created a power vacuum here some years ago and found myself forced to impose order.
“So, impose order I did,” he continued. “You have met my Enforcers.”
It wasn’t a question, and I nodded agreement.
“They bear my seal,” he told me, gesturing at the desk where I saw the front was engraved with the same stylized K as I’d seen on the SUVs. “Any man or woman who bears that seal speaks with my voice and will be obeyed as the law in this city. Do you understand me, Mr. Kilkenny?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I do not care for mortal law,” the Wizard said simply. “My Covenant with the inhumans of this city is simple: I keep the peace. Murder, assault, rape—of mortal or inhuman alike—these will not be tolerated. Conflict between the species will not be tolerated. I will have peace to do my work. Follow these rules, and I will guarantee your safety. Now. Place your hands on my seal.”
The order was unexpected, and it took me a moment to catch it and lean forward to place my hands on the seal burned into the front of the desk.
“Do you, Jason Kilkenny, swear to uphold this Covenant, to observe my peace, and do no harm while within my city?”
Oaths are not sworn to Wizards lightly. They have ways of punishing those who break them. I didn’t have a choice.
“I do swear.”
“Good.” MacDonald conjured, and the door behind me swung open. “This audience is over. Speak with Sarah on your way out; she will assist you in finding your mortal employment.” He eyed me over the desk. “Three days of succor won’t do you much good if you’re still unemployed at the end of it, and the job market in this city is a killer.”