Chapter Six
Chapter
Six
August came with furious heat that year. It did bad things to the city.
The smell of death was everywhere, even if it was fainter than it had been.
It hung about at the very edges of perception, a ghost that reminded everyone of that horrible midsummer night of the battle.
Trash had piled up, too. There was simply too much of it to be moved through the limited access of the streets.
That smell dominated the air, along with effluvia from sewers that had been clogged by the debris of destroyed buildings.
More people had moved out of town, maybe half of them.
It made the streets eerily empty. At night, no one went outside.
Ghouls had been drawn to the vast stench of death, and they haunted the night even in places where they would never have dreamed of coming out before.
It was to be expected at any tragedy large enough.
They wiggled into ruins and ate corpses—and probably made some new ones.
Inside the castle, it wasn’t too bad. The heavy stones kept out the heat. Only some of the rooms had windows, and we kept those curtained.
“Three more minutes of push-ups,” I said to Fitz. “And keep reading.”
The kid was dressed in gym shorts and sneakers, like me, as we worked out in the castle’s upper dining hall, which had been converted into a gym.
I’d had Fitz doing a lot of calisthenics when he expressed skepticism about lifting weights.
I was working the heavy bag, building up the arm that had been broken and just gotten out of its cast. I was taking the opportunity to charge up my kinetic energy rings, each of the magical tools storing back a little energy every time I threw a punch.
“I’m…sweating…on the pages…” Fitz gasped, laboring to keep his body straight and his arms pushing and contracting.
“You want to be a major-league wizard, it’s going to mean being able to concentrate even when you’re out of breath and your arms hurt,” I said, throwing steady combos at the bag.
I alternated left-side and right-side combinations, shifting my feet so that the punches were coming up from my legs and hips.
“You want to do every other letter of the alphabet instead?”
“I read…this one…five times…already…” Fitz complained.
“Elementary Magic is all about the fundamentals,” I said. “Fundamentals, fundamentals, fundamentals. Just like professional ball. The greats are always working on their basic skills.”
I slammed several blows into the heavy bag that made it jump and rattle on its chain. I hadn’t ever punched it off the chain like Captain America, and I hadn’t ever broken a bag open, but my knuckles had lost their share of skin, even inside the wraps.
My hands didn’t hurt. The mantle of the Winter Knight saw to that.
Thinking about the people I’d lost did.
Karrin.
Susan.
Wild Bill.
Yukie Yoshimo.
I threw punches until I ran out of wind and then let my arms drop. I stood there with my head bowed, breathing hard, sweat running down me. The bag kept swinging on its chain for a good minute.
I looked up to see Fitz staring at me.
“Jesus,” he said.
“Better it comes out here than when I’m using magic,” I told him seriously. “Almost every major obstacle to being a wizard comes down to a lack of emotional control. Learning to manage your feelings isn’t optional.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz said. “Just set them aside.”
I blinked for a moment, grabbed a towel, and rubbed my head and upper body with it.
“Not really,” I said. “There’s times when you need to do that—when the pressure is on and you’re working on emergency time.
When seconds count. You can stuff them down for a bit and come back to them later.
That’s normal. But it isn’t enough. Stuffing things down comes back to gut you at the damnedest times.
You gotta learn how to manage your feelings over years, not just suppress them in the short term.
You start wielding power at White Council levels, you’re going to be around a while.
Means taking your mental health damned seriously. ”
He sat up from the book, breathing hard himself. “Is that why you push so hard in the gym?”
“It’s one reason,” I said. “Moving your body around is good for your head. And practicing something that requires discipline does a lot of positive things for you, too.” I nodded at a threadbare cushion in the corner. “Meditation time, kid.”
“Aw, Harry,” Fitz complained. “It’s boring.”
“Boring is fine,” I said. “Boring is good. Gives your head time to sort things out. Go breathe and think about why you might need that someday.”
Fitz heaved an enormous sigh. But he slouched over to the cushion, settled himself cross-legged on it, sat up straight, rested his palms on his knees, and closed his eyes.
He was covered in sweat and would start to chill a little in only a moment or two, but that was routine now. Learning how to control the body’s instinctive reactions was a good warm-up to learning to control powerful magical energies.
Boot steps came thumping confidently up the stairs to the gym and Bear’s voice preceded her down the hallway. “Seidrmadr, we got company.”
I hung the towel over my shoulders and frowned at her.
“The Wardens are paying you a visit,” she said. Her voice was calm, but she was cleaning her nails with a short, hook-pointed knife while she spoke.
“Today?” I demanded. “Damn.”
“Get used to it,” she said. “Always something interfering with date night, in my experience.”
“Hah hah,” I said in a flat tone. “Fitz, give it forty-five minutes, then take the back stairway down to the kitchen. I’ll meet you there.”
My new apprentice nodded once without speaking or opening his eyes. Good. He was learning things.
I threw on my discarded T-shirt, got a fresh towel and did my hair again, then raked my fingers back through it and followed Bear down the stairs to the great hall.
Two grey-cloaked Wardens were waiting for me there.
One of them was Carlos Ramirez, solid and stiff with his cane held in both hands and his silver saber at his side.
His arm was still set in its cast from where the Black Court elder had shattered his forearm.
He looked exhausted, like he had during the war with the Red Court, solid with muscle yet with his skin stretched tighter over his bones than it should have been.
He’d lost weight over the past month. He looked…
Older.
Hell. I couldn’t throw any stones at him on that score. I was shedding weight despite my best efforts to keep eating. He’d lost some of the same people I had during the battle. He turned to me as I regarded him and gave me a sober nod. I returned it.
The second Warden was a young woman, about five four and petite, but muscled like the ballet dancer she had been before her talent had emerged and she’d been claimed by the White Council.
She had pale, stark features, white-blond hair that fell to her lower back in a straight, neat cut, and almost invisible eyebrows, and wore her dark suit, grey cloak, and silver court sword with an air of practicality.
“Ilyana,” I said. “Long time no see. I thought you were still in China with Ancient Mai.”
She regarded me the way one might something both dangerous and disgusting, like one of those big Komodo lizards with the poisonous, gangrenous drool.
She pressed her lips together in disapproval and shook her head once.
“A great many things have changed since you were cast from the White Council, Harry Dresden. It would save us all time and trouble if you would confess to your misdeeds and accompany us back to Edinburgh.”
I mopped a bit more sweat from my face. Even the White Council shouldn’t have found out about Fitz already, unless someone in the castle was an informer.
Pleasant thought, and maybe something I should expect to happen sooner or later.
But if they thought I was violating my parole, they sure as hell wouldn’t have sent only two people to arrest me.
So it stood to reason that Ilyana was on a fishing trip.
“I’m famous for that,” I drawled. “Saving the Council time and trouble. Hey, Carlos.”
“Harry,” he said casually. “You’ll have to excuse Ilyana. She grew up in the Morgan school.”
Ilyana made a disgusted sound and turned away impatiently. “This is a waste of time. He’s going to cross the line sooner or later.”
“All the better to get him used to being visited then, isn’t it,” Ramirez said amiably. “If you’re unable to perform your duties with a modicum of objectivity, Warden, I’ll be happy to ask Captain Luccio to find a different position for you.”
“I am fine,” Ilyana snapped. She turned to me. “Have you had any contact with any member of the White Council?”
“No,” I said calmly. “I’ve been taking in the sweet Chicago summer. Didn’t you notice?”
That seemed to rattle her cage a little. Ilyana glanced toward the nearest wall, her expression disturbed. Sure, as a young Warden, she’d seen some things. But even a month later, the remnants of the Battle of Chicago were horrific. I tried to avoid going out into them.
“There have been many members of the substandard magical community visiting,” she said stiffly.
“There’s a lot of people hurting,” I said. “A lot of people scared. A lot of people hungry. A lot of people without shelter. We’re helping each other out.”
“Is that your plan?” she demanded. “To obligate them to you and subvert them for your own ends?”
“Okey dokey.” I sighed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to stand in my own damned home and take this from anyone. Ilyana, you’re running at about a nine on the psycho scale. If you want this to stay friendly, I’d like you to dial it down to maybe a six.”
Ilyana’s hand went to her sword. “You heard him,” she said to Carlos. “He threatened us.”
Ramirez put his hand over Ilyana’s, preventing her from drawing the enchanted blade, and gave me a half-weary, half-exasperated look. “Dresden, for the love of God.”
I held up my hands guilelessly. “You heard her, Carlos. I’m out. I don’t have to be a team player anymore.”
“My God,” Ramirez said, blowing out a breath. “You actually think you were a team player.”
I waggled a hand. “Relatively, sure.”
He shook his head. “We’re going to be coming by once a month or so. We won’t be announcing ourselves. I’ll expect you to make time to talk to us when we do.”
“Warlock protocol,” I noted.
“That’s how it is,” Ramirez said. “Though with a couple of notable exceptions”—he glanced at Ilyana—“not even the Wardens think you’re going to be getting up to any mischief for a while.”
“Heh,” I said. “Yeah. You know me, Carlos.”
“I did once,” he said.
I nodded. I paused to visibly consider. Then I looked up, smiled pleasantly, and told him, “No.”
He went still.
“What?” Ilyana asked, disbelievingly.
“No,” I repeated calmly. “See, I’m not just some schmuck you can kick around like a wounded dog.
I’m not some random two-bit talent that has to roll over for you.
This isn’t Council territory. It’s Winter.
I’m the Winter Knight. This is my home, rightfully won at arms. You want to visit me, Carlos, fine. You call ahead. Like a proper guest.”
There was a long silence.
“You dare—” Ilyana began.
Ramirez silenced her with a look.
She fumed.
Carlos turned slowly to me and spoke softly. “What are you doing, Harry?”
“It’s called establishing boundaries,” I said. “It’s healthy. You should read up.”
“Take him now!” Ilyana snapped to Ramirez.
“We’re standing in Merlin’s fortress,” Ramirez told her, “and its capabilities are not in our control. Dresden is one of the top ten or twenty most powerful wizards on the planet. And he’s facing us with a Valkyrie backing him up. Even if it was the right procedure to follow, it would be suicide.”
“I’d probably just throw you out the first time,” I said. “But you wouldn’t be welcome back. The White Council can show basic courtesy and respect. I’ll be happy to do the same. But I’m not the Council’s whipping boy anymore, Warden Ramirez. And we’re not going to pretend that I am.”
Carlos thumped his cane down a couple of times, thoughtfully. “Suppose the Council decides to take issue with this decision, Harry?”
“You can send someone to Mab,” I suggested. “Someone expendable. Once you tell her you want to humiliate her by abusing her chosen champion, she’s going to react predictably.”
“Arrogant fool,” Ilyana snarled.
“Get out,” Carlos said quietly to her. “Right now.”
Ilyana shot him a look from ice-cold blue eyes that could have curdled milk. Maybe literally. Then she turned and walked stiffly out of the great hall and back to the entry hall.
Ramirez watched her go and then said, quietly, “She had a twin sister. Went warlock, bad. Then the warlock sister set Ilyana up to take the fall with the Council. Luccio worked out what happened just before the sword fell.” He shook his head.
“Ilyana’s got a lot of feelings and she doesn’t have much forgiveness in her for anyone who comes close to crossing the line. ”
“Do you?” I asked.
Ramirez bobbed his head slightly to one side. “I’ve lost a lot of illusions lately.”
“Yeah,” I said wearily.
We were quiet for a moment.
“You going to play ball here, Harry?” he asked me.
“Start with showing some respect,” I said without heat. “I’ll try to do the same.”
“I can work with that,” Ramirez said. “Maybe. See where it takes us. The Merlin won’t like it.”
“I’m going to lose sleep over that thought,” I said. “The Merlin not liking something.”
Ramirez smiled briefly. “He denied expenditure of Council resources to recover Wild Bill’s and Yoshimo’s bodies.”
Wild Bill Meyers and Yukie Yoshimo had been turned by Black Court vampires during the Battle of Chicago.
They weren’t themselves anymore. They were undead things with our friends’ stolen faces and memories, under the thrall of the most powerful Black Courters left on the planet.
Their sacrifice and discipline and talents had been taken and would be used for malevolent purposes by some truly epic monsters, and even through my constant fog of personal pain, I felt slow anger rising.
“He’s not going to help lay them to rest,” I said quietly.
Ramirez’s eyes looked sunken. “Says it isn’t time.” He took a deep breath. “So here’s how it is. I’m not your junior anymore, either, Harry. So if I’m going to work with you, you’re going to work with me. When we’re both ready, we track them down. We settle things. You and me. Like you said.”
He looked up at me, his gaze searching.
I nodded slowly. “We’ll find them. We’ll bring them home. And settle up with Drakul and his people. Just like I said.”
Ramirez offered me his hand.
I crossed to him and shook it.