Despite being tired, I tossed and turned on my futon. I hated that Vize had slipped away. Worse, he had the spear. It was a powerful weapon, strong enough to seal a breach in the veil between here and TirNaNog. When it had bonded to me, I sensed it in my mind even when it wasn’t physically present. When it materialized in his hand, I had felt nothing. It made me worry that the spear was no longer bonded to me or Ceridwen, but to Vize.
It came when summoned with an enchanted word of command—ithbar. Ceridwen had revealed the command to me, thinking only she could control the spear, but it was a fickle thing. I’d used the command, and the spear left her. Then, without the command, it left me and went to Vize. Why it jumped from person to person escaped me. Someone told me it was a sliver of the Wheel of the World, whatever that meant. I didn’t like to think about Vize’s having control of the spear and the faith stone. I had to find a way around him. Even if I couldn’t control who the spear went to, I still had a chance to keep the stone away from him.
I gave up on sleep. One person in Boston was key to both the faith stone and Vize. The whole mess could be stopped if Donor Elfenkonig laid off. I doubted he would, but I at least had to explore the option, if only to close that door.
I left the apartment and walked across town to Back Bay. “Ambassador Core” had chosen to stay at the Teutonic Consortium consulate rather than at the Ritz-Carlton, where his diplomatic corps preferred to stay when they were in town. Of course, the consulate was sovereign Teutonic territory and defended by a contingent of elven soldiers. No doubt the Ritz couldn’t compete with those amenities, which made the consulate a much more attractive residence for an undercover Elven King.
Guards became alert as I turned the corner of Commonwealth Avenue. They had the right to stand on public property, but they had no real jurisdiction outside the consulate. They were an outer perimeter, an early-warning system. They recognized me. I had no doubt. My face was probably plastered in the lunchroom. Before I reached the building, word would spread via sendings that I was coming.
No one challenged me. Through back channels, the Elven King had offered me asylum from the Guild or the U.S. government should I ever need it. Donor saw an opportunity to gain favor with a valuable former Guild agent. I knew plenty of secrets. I found the idea more entertaining than anything else. Despite my troubles, the last person I would make an alliance with was Donor. After my experience with Nigel, I recognized a strategic opportunist when I saw one.
The consulate was a mistake of architecture. Thrust into the middle of a block of Victorian brownstones, the Bauhaus structure was hard to miss. A tall statue of Donor dressed as a warrior guarded the entrance. Now that I had met him in person, I knew the armor wasn’t affectation. Beneath the mannered aloofness of a monarch, I had sensed a fighter.
The reception area resembled an upscale mountain lodge. Empty overstuffed couches faced each other in several groupings, as if the elven staff hung around socializing. None did that I ever saw. Uniformed guards waited behind the desk.
“Connor Grey to see the ambassador,” I said.
“Please declare any weapons,” the senior guard said.
They weren’t going to argue or brush me off. Either Donor expected me or wanted to see me for his own reasons. “Two daggers. Don’t even think of asking for them.”
They exchanged glances a few moments. I had bluffed my way in with weapons last time I was there. They let me keep them, but last time I wasn’t visiting the Elven King. I wondered how many of the guards knew the true identity of the ambassador. “You understand, sir, that the current climate prevents us from honoring your request,” the guard said.
Elven security wasn’t known for its courtesy. Donor must have been eager. “I will leave one dagger here. The other was a gift I cannot replace and will not relinquish. I will keep it in its boot sheath as long as I am not required to defend myself.”
Again, they exchanged glances, the air fluttering with sendings. The dagger was a gift from Briallen, gold-plated handguards and silver-bound pommel encrusted with crystals and gems. The blade had carved runes from different alphabets, bound with spells and essence. Without seeing it, I sensed runes activating in the presence of elves. Briallen never explained how the runes worked—or revealed if she even knew—but they activated on their own according to circumstances.
The senior guard extended his hand. “Agreed.”
I handed over my favorite plain steel one and watched it disappear beneath the counter. I could live without it but preferred not to. They led me through the back of the lobby, past the elevators, to a secure section of the floor. A windowless area was laid out with the comfort of a corporate suite. Beyond a well-appointed living room was an empty, sterile office with an oak desk and several chairs, where they left me to wait.
Fifteen minutes later, Ambassador Core entered in full court regalia, the bright red tunic with all the gold bric-a-brac hanging off it. To my surprise, Brokke followed him and seated himself in a corner. The ambassador gestured at the guards to leave, and they closed the door behind them.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Grey?” he asked.
“Show me your true face for a start,” I said. I hated games.
Without hesitation, Donor released the ambassador illusion. Instead of the smug face of Aldred Core, the smug face of Donor Elfenkonig stared at me. “Have you considered my offer of asylum?”
“I don’t need it. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Gerda Alfheim is dead,” I said.
Bored, he glanced at Brokke. “I’ve been apprised of local news, dull as it is.”
“Where’s Bergin Vize?”
Donor frowned. “Mr. Grey, these are people I have no knowledge of.”
“Funny you would forget Eorla’s fosterling,” I said.
Donor lowered himself into a chair. “I do not concern myself with the doings of all my citizens. Perhaps if you spoke on a subject I do engage, this conversation might proceed somewhere.”
“Alfheim’s dead, and Vize has added more victims to his body count. They work for you. They always have. They’ve caused a lot of damage. At some point, it’s going to stick to you,” I said.
“I doubt that. I won’t be held accountable for the deeds of others. Terrorists have their own agenda,” he said.
“But they serve yours,” I said.
Donor looked down at the desk, his face a mask as he weighed which string to pull. “Many people do. I am not in the habit of rejecting things that have the good fortune of redounding to my benefit. I have heard a rumor that Gerda was looking for something I am interested in. I will not object if it comes into my hands at some point.”
“Where is the faith stone?”
Donor gave his head a small shake. “Faith stone? If Gerda sought such a thing and did not find it, I’m sure no one else has.”
“As far as you know, you mean,” I said.
His arrogant smile was starting to get on my nerves. “True, but I think I would know if someone else found it. I think we all would know,” he said.
“Vize has killed at least three of your own people helping Gerda in her little treasure hunt,” I said.
He sighed. “Not all dwarves are my subjects, pity though it is, Mr. Grey. Whomever Gerda recruited to help her was her business. If she involved Vize, she sealed her own doom.”
“I want Vize,” I said.
Donor’s gaze shifted toward Brokke. “So do I. I understand he is wanted for high crimes in several countries. As a head of state, his freedom concerns me. I don’t know where he is. I no longer understand his motives.”
“Do a sending. He’ll come,” I said.