The Keeper and The Dragons Ch. 23-24

Chapter 23

Centralmarket, Oldtown

When Quinn arrived at the Dragon Bank, he was surprised to find found that word of his coming had preceded him. A small gray gnome waited at the door and gave a deep bow of greeting. Quinn politely requested an audience with Lady Pang. The gnome asked him to take a seat in the waiting area and dashed off.

Quinn looked around curiously. A small part of him marveled he was even here in the mythic bank. In his younger days, his kind weren't allowed to walk the streets in Centralmarket, let alone visit the mythic bank of the dragons. He took a seat in a corner close to the exit and spent the time marveling at the skills of whatever beings had built this place. He had an odd feeling of discomfort and realized that the dragon whip symbiote that the troll women had gifted him was retreating deeper into his body. He puzzled over its odd behavior until he realized it was terrified to be near dragon kind. He tried sending it soothing thoughts, but it ignored him and continued to retreat.

After a five-minute wait, a massive orc dressed incongruously in an English butler's morning suit strode up and wordlessly gestured for him to follow.

"Ware, Keeper." That surprising warning given; the Orc effortlessly opened two massive brass bound white oak doors that Quinn estimated to weigh north of a ton.

Quinn nodded thanks and walked through the opened door.

"Lachlan Quinn, Mistress," the butler's deep voice announced behind him. The doors closed without a sound.

Quinn stepped forward only to find his way blocked by two tall sword slender Sidhe lordlings. One regarded him with contempt, while the other, who bore a familiar crest on his armor, glared cold hatred at him.

Daoine royals.

Another shoe drops. I knew this was going to be a fucking mess. Now we find out how bad it really is.

He stopped and regarded them silently. The Other clamored to merge. It did not care for the Sidhe.

Peace, brother. Let us learn what's going on.

"Let him by my lords," sang a fluting a voice that sounded like tinkling silver bells.

The Lady Iris of The Daoine Sidhe Court was perfection personified—her features were utterly feminine but far too perfect to have any sort of sexual allure. Huge jade colored cat eyes gleamed with vast ancient intelligence. They held no trace of kindness or warmth.

She lounged across from two delicately beautiful Chinese women; one dressed all in red, the other in green, both wearing in what Quinn recalled were cheongsams.

The dragon banker's daughters.

The room carried a faint scent of myrrh. He wondered which one had magic.

Royalty, I guess I shoulda dressed up, his thought made him quirk a faint smile.

The elder daughter's eyes quirked humor back at him like she read his thoughts. She took an elegant sip from a teacup from a tea service that sat on an ancient hammered brass table. Quinn eyed it, imagining it might have graced one of the Great Kahn's tents.

"May the Singer and Song bless you, Lady Iris and you all as well, Milady Bankers."

"You are well come, Lachlan Quinn," the scarlet clad banker sang in flawless high alfar. "Please be seated and take your ease. Would you care for some tea?" She signaled a handsome half-blood wood elf, who silently glided over and poured tea into a hand painted teacup that was so thin it was translucent.

Quinn watched him move and instantly figured him for the one of the bank's feared enforcer/assassins. All beings in Oldtown, with any sense, carefully avoided running afoul of the bank's enforcers. He nodded his thanks but was careful not to touch the bone china cup. He had a fleeting thought that he needed to take mental notes so he could describe the cups and elegant tea service perfectly. Mistress Marigold would be sure to interrogate him.

She switched to standard English. "How may I be of service, Lachlan Quinn?"

Quinn grinned an inward grin as he saw all three of women's persona light up with a bright eyed, breathless attentiveness. He was suddenly a most fascinating being—and if he would share his secret thoughts and especially some of his secrets, the tale would be ever so precious and entertaining. The room filled with warm spicy scent of myrrh as one of the dragon daughters cast a subtle compulsion spell. His glyphs flared under his ragged workman's shirt.

All eyes widened slightly when the spell frayed and fell away.

"The Lady Luciana Marinus tasked me to stop by and reassure you she had only peaceful intentions for you last meeting. She assured me she did not hire the assassin."

"Forgive me, Keeper. I will be blunt. I know that. I am not a fool. And what is more, she knows I know that. Why did she send you? What is her real purpose?"

Quinn decided to give her his boyish grin. "I have no idea. I'm but a simple human."

The Lady Iris gave a delicate, disbelieving cough.

Quinn relented. "I suspect she is concerned about the state of affairs here in Oldtown. More particularly here at the Bank. I also suspect that she thought you could convince me to look into things. But Oldtown's problems are not mine. She tasked me with delivering a message and I have. My secondary purpose is to assure myself that the witch-crafter, Elisabeth Van Horn, is alive and here willingly."

The Dragon shifter smiled. "And if she isn't here willingly?"

"Well Mistress," Quinn's voice was mild. "Then I will take steps."

Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn saw the wood-elf stiffen.

The dragon woman seemed amused by his implied threat.

"Not to worry Lachlan Quinn. She is hard at work at a challenge I've placed before her. One I will reward her well for if she succeeds. You say that Oldtown's problems are not yours, but you must admit you are the being that precipitated the mess we find ourselves in."

"Maybe, maybe not. There is always some sort of power politics going on between the guilds. I warned the leprechaun about the consequences of stealing children. He paid the price."

The scarlet clad woman waved her agreement and turned to the Lady Iris.

Quinn turned his attention to her as well.

The Lady Iris unearthly seductive features had shifted back to her normal icy blankness.

"Tell me Shadow Walker, if you would of your time with my cousins, the Ashanti. My agents reported to me that not even the rats and cockroaches survived your visit that night."

The baldness of the question shocked Quinn into a cold and icy place of his own. "I will not, my Lady. The Vísdómur delivered the heads of the two soul-eaters to your Queen. That was my task and I carried it out."

His denial galvanized the always touchy Sidhe lordlings. A mere human just did not say no to a Sidhe Royal.

Their movement was a pace too far for the Other. It instantly merged. And Quinn slipped in and out of the in-between and appeared behind the farthest one, snatched its dagger from a jeweled scabbard and held it to the one of lordling's throat before the elf had even finished its twitch.

"Aenrindel's death should have shown you I'm not one of your helpless slaves, O Elf," he crooned. The tall elf's face paled as he heard his death prophesied by the whisper.

"Hold, you fools," the Lady Iris snapped. "Peace, if you would, Keeper. It would disappoint Queen Uonaidh to report the deaths of her nephews."

The two Lordlings froze, then obediently returned to their place on the wall nearest the lady Iris and glared at him. He had embarrassed them—made mortal enemies.

Quinn didn't care. He was already their enemy. He did his best to be respectful to the Daoine royals, but that didn't mean he was one of their slaves.

The dragon's daughter was watching him with calculating eyes. The wood elf gave him a calculating look. Quinn figured that he approved. No being in Oldtown had any love for the Sidhe. The tale of their humiliation would be a wonderful tale for his brothers and sisters.

"The reason I ask," the Lady Iris continued as if of nothing had happened, "is that a story is told, a tall tale perhaps, of disgraced members of the Royal Court, two of my kin who my Queen had named outlaw and banished, had found refuge with the Ashanti. When they departed, they stole a certain artifact. As you said, Lachlan Quinn that you ended one twin; the surviving brother is here in Oldtown. He has an artifact that belongs to us and a certain scroll that I want."

Again, with that damned ripper.

Quinn felt a fluttering of panic deep in his gut. His first instinct was to run as far away from it as he could get. Heard that voice again—the maddening, calm, patient voice. He quickly schooled his features. He couldn't afford vulnerability. Especially in front of these two.

"The scroll I want is the one that ancients in your world called Grisa Rune. In the wrong hands, it is a disaster waiting to happen. I need you to find it and bring it to me. You can use the ring I gave you to send the renegade to the Uonaidh's Court for justice."

Quinn nodded. Despite all his efforts to get rid of rings, they kept showing up in his pocket.

"Why me, my Lady? Surely Mistress Banker here has more resources here than I could hope to bring to bear."

She sounded a tinkling, cruel laugh. "Shadow Walker, if what I suspect happened to you in that dungeon is true, you are far more motivated than anyone I could task with this."

Bitch

The Dragon Shifter spoke, breaking the tension between the two will have Orgoth escort you across the way to the inn and to see Mistress Van Horn and settle your fears.

After Quinn left, Lady Pang looked at her guest. "Well, he certainly has a presence, but he's just a human. One with skills, the gossip tells. But why the deference if you don't mind me asking?"

"Like your kind, the Sidhe are a long-lived race with a low fertilely. A Single birth merits a celebration of both the Daoine and Dökkálfar. Death is a tragedy. But there must be competition to keep the race healthy and vibrant, free from the deadly curse of boredom. So, the houses of the Sidhe and the forges of the Dökkálfar play the game of knives constantly for power and status."

"War is unthinkable—so we must have law. The Vísdómur enforce the law and keeps the peace. Lachlan Quinn is their tool. He is also blessed by Opari. Excepting perhaps your grandfather, he is the most dangerous being you're likely to meet. We are not at all sure he is entirely human. The Dökkálfar call him the Grendel. They tremble in their beds at night at the thought of the Shadow Walker coming to visit."

"He could be an effective tool in your Queen's hands."

"I think not. He is too rebellious for the court. Too sentimental as well, even the Vísdómur with all their power and will could not beat that out of him.

"An odd weakness for a killer."

"He is more than a killer. But yes, it makes him unpredictable."

"It makes him interesting as well."

The two women continued their visit, talking politely about inane things neither one cared about, but they were too disciplined not to keep to the proscribed forms of politeness.

Chapter 24

Centralmarket, Oldtown

"Master Lachlan Quinn," the orc butler's voice grated out like rocks in a steel drum, as he ushered him into Elisabeth's hotel suite of rooms.

"Lan, what on earth are you doing here?"

Quinn shot her a friendly grin. After helping himself to a chair, he turned it around so he could see everyone and straddled it.

"Hi, Lizzie. Just seeing how much trouble you've gotten yourself into. Here I thought you were being held in durance vile and here I find you sipping tea and eating crumpets with a couple of disreputable females."

"Honestly, Katherine, you need to get him out of here. The big dummy doesn't know how dangerous this place is. How did he get here, anyway?"

"They will explain later, Lizzie." His smile disappeared. "Katie, give me an update on what's going on."

His demanding tone seemed to push Katherine over the edge. She set her teacup down and glared. "Listen asshole, once again I will remind you, we don't work for you."

"Okay, I am so very sorry, princess. I remind you in turn that your boss is the one who asked me for my help. Please, just fill me in. I swear talking to you two lately is like hiking in a minefield."

Katherine looked at Niamh. "You talk to the jerk before I strangle him on general principles."

"The bank has a hex in its vault," Niamh said crisply. "They had brought Elisabeth in to break it. Before she can break it, we need a copy of the spell that was used. The spell is from some sort of ancient scroll. The three of us are getting ready to go look for it."

"You're going to go look for it. Sweet Mother, are you serious?"

Elisabeth watched his face turn red. These three were more fun than a daytime soap opera.

"Is he always like this?" she asked Katherine. "I remember him as being such a calm and easygoing sort of guy."

"He's a jerk. If you get to know him better, you'll want to murder him too. Everyone does."

Quinn ignored their byplay, "Okay, Ms. Sherlock, let's just set aside for a moment that this city is huge, L.A. huge. It's one of the most lawless cities in all four realms and these days on the brink of a civil war. Where were you all going to start?"

Niamh growled. "It's our business. Nothing to do with you, asshole—so butt out."

"Lan, it's okay. We're going to see someone called Goldeneye," Elisabeth said, trying to calm the angry emotions she could feel swirling in the room.

"We can handle ourselves," Katherine said. "Elisabeth and I are 12th circle adepts. You well know that Niamh is deadly in a fight whether or not she's shifted. She used to kick your butt enough times."

Elisabeth watched Quinn shut his eyes and take a deep breath. "First of all, I don't know how much you know about Oldtown, but it's a weird place. It's centered directly on the nexus of the four realms; four distinct realities, each with their own natural laws. As a result, there are null places here where magic doesn't work. The powerful put their headquarters in the null patches. They are not dumb. That is how they've protected themselves from magical beings for centuries. Your spells won't work there. You and Lizzie will be power-blind. And because you're not used to being power blind, you'll be helpless."

Now Elisabeth found herself getting irritated at his condescending tone.

"Wait, a minute..."

"I will accompany them," a voice from the doorway interrupted.

The emerald clad second dragon daughter, Daiyu, swept into the room.

All eyes turned to her.

Elisabeth watched and smiled faintly as the woman stopped abruptly when as she felt the protective warding.

"See Lan, we'll be okay. Mistress Daiyu is going to come with us."

Quinn got up and paced. He took a deep breath and mumbled several of what she assumed were curse words under his breath.

"Okay, I don't have time to mess with you guys. Please, just be careful."

With a scowl on his face, he turned and walked out.

"Well, that was fun," Elisabeth said brightly, trying her best to calm things. It was her nature to be a peacemaker. If it weren't for her insatiable curiosity, she would have been perfectly happy plying her maternal skill sets on a couple of children tussling in the upstairs bedroom over a favorite toy. "You two certainly have an interesting relationship with Lan."

Katherine took a sip of her tea. "We grew up together. Our relationship is complicated."

"Complicated. We have a major disagreement. We think he's a jerk. He thinks he isn't. He is overprotective and overbearing..." Niamh stopped talking and stared into space.

Elisabeth slowly turned her head with what seemed like a massive effort and looked at Katherine.

She was staring into space as well.

Then blackness.