Chapter Three - "Willful Manchild"
Here's a bit of Bay Area trivia you probably don't know - Treasure Island has a smaller island a couple of miles to the north of it. You won't find it on any maps. In fact, none of the boats really know it's there - they just sort of drift around it. It's not a very big island, only a hundred acres or so of space, but it's invisible to anyone who can't see beyond the veil of magic. For me to get out there, I have to hop onto a small boat we keep up at Fisherman's Wharf and just scoot out there.
Normally if I wanted to talk to the Barbarian Queen, I'd have headed to her home somewhere between Pacifica and Half Moon Bay, but I knew that one of the dignitaries was in town, which meant it was likely the Accords were being discussed, and that kind of business could only be held on Crossroads Island, which was
fine
by me.
Crossroads Island was a place where violence was completely forbidden, and by that, I meant impossible, or at least as far as anyone knew. Even on approach, you could feel a heavy sense of calm sinking into you, as if you were being bestowed with tranquility. The various players in the magical realms had always used Crossroads Island as the West Coast meeting place, knowing that violence couldn't break out there.
Now, I've never
tested
the push against violence on Crossroads Island, but I knew what sort of negotiations had been held here over the generations without violence breaking out, and the weight of that history was good enough for me to know not to even consider trying.
There were two boats already at the small docks for the island, but thankfully there was room to fit about six different craft around the docks if needed, as long as nobody was bringing in some kind of ridiculous luxury ship. One of them was the royal craft of the West Coast Elves, the other was a local rented craft, but one glance at the contents of the boat told me immediately who'd rented it. Too many axes and maces to be anyone else.
The Dignitaries were here.
I moored my craft against the docks and started walking up the path towards the Grotto. The Island only had a handful of things on it - four cabins, each with some basic amenities. I remembered spending a week with Dad and Charlotte there when The Predator Accords were being arranged, which would allow vampires to roam the earth and hunt, but also to allow there to be hunting protocols for hunting vampires.
I remember it being some of the tensest times of my childhood because I couldn't understand why the Magical Nations were
negotiating
with the vampire families. I was almost a teenager, but I remember being extremely bothered by the fact that we weren't just
eliminating
the vampires. My father, the Gunslinger before I took over the role, told me something that day that I've never forgotten. "They want to live, Dale. They want to live and thrive like the rest of us, but their very existence is a threat to our kind. And it's not a Gunslinger's job to determine the fate of an entire species. But we need to establish rules so that the monsters have enough space to live and survive, but not so much that they prevent anyone else from doing so."
Decades later, I'd come to understand why the decisions were made, but I still wondered if I'd have been able to remain as calm as my father was during those negotiations. Because he was talking about number of humans killed per year per continent like it was the profit and loss for any other business, and I couldn't help but think, those were people with names, parents, lives.
I could talk a lot more about the Predator Accords, but that's a story for a different day, and one that I don't really have time to get into right now. Let's just leave it at saying it was one of my father's more problematic decisions, but that in all the years between there and here, I haven't seen a better solution on offer, so there's that. Sometimes Daddy does indeed know best.
The island itself is covered in dense foliage, the sort of trees that I'm sure tourists would find utterly magnificent, if they could only see them, but the Veil over Crossroads Island was one of the strongest I'd ever encountered, and I think the only reason I'd gotten so accustomed to being able to see past it was because I'd been brought here so much growing up, so that I'd built up a tolerance for it. The trees were mighty redwoods, the sort of thick trunked megaliths that we had so few of left in the world these days, with a high canopy providing coverage from the regular spouts of rain. The path leading from the docks to the cabins was actually paved with inlaid brick, more of the style of ancient road, just in case heavier things were being brought to and from the cabins or the central meeting hall.
The construction of the buildings had obviously been contributed to by a number of various magical players - the basic structure itself was Dwarven handiwork, but the filigree work was clearly elvish in design, the artwork hanging on the walls was mostly dragon work although all the major players had hung at least one or two pieces of decoration around both the cabins and the meeting hall.
I did love coming here, even if it was rarely for good reasons. I think I'd been on this island no less than once a season since the time I was eight, so I had plenty of memories, both good and bad associated with the place.
"I did not expect to see you here, Gunslinger," a deep, jolly voice I was quite fond of said to me. "I would've given you a call if we'd expected to have free time while we were in town, but alas, we knew business was going to consume all our time."
"Lord Deepcavern," I laughed. "I won't take it personal that you didn't call me, but I think we're well beyond you calling me by my title, don't you?"
"You're still calling me by mine, Dale, so until you drop it..."
"Fine, Klax, fine," I said, moving over to the dwarf who I'd known for my entire life. He was a stout and sturdy fellow, with arms like tree trunks, a heavy hitter with the kind of braided black beard most dwarves would be heavily jealous of. Klax was third in line to the Deepcavern Throne, the head family of the North American dwarves. I offered my hand for him to shake, but he grabbed my arm by the wrist, making us clasp forearms before pulling me into a big bear hug. "What're you doing here anyway?"
"Queen Heartseye has been giving us guff about our shipments as of late, saying we've been under delivering to her and her people, but I've assured her that whatever problems there have been with the shipments, they haven't been in what we're sending," he said, his annoyance clear in his tone of voice.
"So, you keep saying to me, Lord Deepcavern," a majestic if somewhat impatient voice said, stepping into the meeting hall. Queen Layla Heartseye stood close to seven feet tall, and was dressed, as she often was, in little more than an armor and leather bikini, doing little to conceal that absolutely smokin' body of hers from anyone's gaze. She had long, curly red hair that hung down to the tops of those remarkable breasts of hers, and her face was refined without looking too regal, because it was clear her nose had been broken more than once. She was both intrinsically one of the most beautiful looking women I'd ever laid eyes on, but also one of the most dangerous. And I still haven't decided if the pointy ears are a turn off or a turn on. Maybe it's both. I'm complicated like that. "And I keep telling you that your deliveries have shown up lacking their full contents for the last several months."
"I don't see how that's possible, your majesty," Klax said.
"Oh, I do," I volunteered. "You're getting shorted in transit."
Both of them turned to look at me, which told me neither of them had considered that option. "That... shouldn't be possible," the Queen said to me. "We have the Canasta Sisters handling the transportation, and their reputation—"
"Their reputation doesn't figure into it," I said confidently. "Maybe someone's on the take. Maybe they're getting robbed in transit and they don't know it. Maybe someone's clipping the difference on the loading or unloading end. But if you're sure the count's right at the load, and you're sure the count's wrong at the unload, then the space in between is all you have left to look at."
Now, keep in mind, I knew the Canasta Sisters had a reputation of being impeccable, which was why the royalists before me had overlooked the option, but I also knew that reputations weren't forever, and that the Canasta Sisters had been coasting on that reputation long enough that someone within their organization had probably felt like it was enough of a screen to keep anyone from wondering if they were leaking from the middle instead of one of the ends.
"You want to look into them, your Highness, or shall we?" Klax asked her.
"We
both
should, Lord Deepcavern, so that we can ensure the impartiality of our investigations," Queen Heartseye said, before turning her smoldering gaze unto me. "Lord Gunslinger, I am unaccustomed to being in debt to your kind, and I am certain that you came seeking my counsel. Please, ask your questions so that I might be able to remove myself from your debt herewith."
Despite the fact that she's always referred to as the barbarian queen of the west coast elves, she
does
in fact
always
talk like that. I'd asked my father once why they all called her a barbarian; he told me that it wasn't meant to imply inferior or uncivilized, but to focus on the overly violent aspect of the word. Then he told me how many of her sisters she had slain to assume the title of Queen. Again, I couldn't tell if that made her more or less hot. Even Charlotte had to admit the level of swagger the queen carried herself with added a certain layer of allure.
"I've come to ask you about Saoirse Staire, your majesty."
"I know this leannán sÃdhe, aye, Gunslinger," the Queen said. "What questions do you have of her?"
"Excuse us, your majesty," Klax said, "but if you would kindly permit, I'm going to go begin looking into our next shipment and see if we can set a little trap for our would-be pilferers."
"Fine, Lord Deepcavern. See to it."
I smirked a little bit, because the Queen was obviously more than a little distracted. She'd just given away one piece of information for free - confirming that Saoirse was, in fact, leannán sÃdhe. I'd had Seymour's word on it, but she'd just gone ahead and solidified that information for me. "Let's start with, 'is she a member of good standing in your court?'"
"She's one of the serfs within my kingdom, aye, but certainly not one of any form of nobility," the Queen said as we started to walk alongside one another, stepping out of the great hall to begin walking down the path towards the water once more. "Are you asking in anticipation of having to put her down?"
"I don't
know
what I'm asking about her yet, your majesty," I chuckled. "It's very early days, and I'm just starting to try and get an understanding of who the players are, and how they fit together. You're aware she has a human lover?"
"Mmmm," the Queen nodded. "A human police officer. We were informed when the affair began, as per the Romance Treaties, and we gave permission for it to begin."
"How long ago was that?"
"Two or three years ago, I suppose. It was one of a series of requests we received, but we generally do not do much research into them, and give them... what was the expression your father preferred? Ah. We 'rubber stamp' them unless we see significant problems on the immediate horizon."
"Gao's a cop. Usually that kind of thing gives your people a bit of pause before they're willing to sign off on them."
"Mmm," the Queen said. "The more we have come to study those humans with authority - politicians, businessmen, police - the more we have come to realize how close they protect their secrets. It is highly unlikely this 'cop,' as you say, would discover Saoirse's true nature, and if he did, it's even less likely he would be eager to break the Accords by divulging her true nature, even if he didn't know of their existence. He would be concerned that he would be labeled as insane or unwell." She turned to look down at me. "He isn't planning on doing such things, is he? Because that would be
your
concern regarding how to deal with such a matter. The Keeper of Secrets is one of the titles
you
bear, Gunslinger."
"I don't need you telling me what my jobs are, your highness, much like you don't see me stomping in here, dictating how you oversee your subjects and their decisions."
The Queen laughed a little. "You've grown much more courage since we first met, Gunslinger," she said, a hint of admiration to her tone. "I like it. It suits you. You're no longer the shy, timid young boy I remember hiding behind his father's duster during meetings."
"Carrying the SoulEnders with you tends to age anyone, your Highness, much less having to
