Chapter 9 The Plan
The Plan
“There’s my golden-haired princess of the ley lines!” Otto exclaimed with a fatuous smile creasing his shiny face, holding open his arms as if Dy would embrace him. “Give us a kiss.”
“You can kiss my petite ass, Otto,” Dy replied with barbed sweetness.
“I’d love to,” he answered, grin turning lascivious. “Given up on the other team, have we?”
“Let’s skip the sexual harassment and focus on important things like coin and deets,” Cha suggested with silky menace, subtly interposing herself between Dy and Otto.
Not subtly enough, as Dy thumped her on the sword arm, making Cha aware she’d reflexively put her hand on the hilt.
“Don’t slice up the boss till we get all the money,” Dy said.
“Besides, I can take care of myself.” She flicked a finger and a tiny ball of sparkling white flew past Cha’s head to put itself out on a yelping Otto’s cheek.
“Down, boy,” Dy instructed with satisfaction, sliding Cha a smug glance. “See? Top of my game.”
Hand clapped to his singed cheek, Otto gave her a wounded look. “Motherhood has changed you.”
“Yeah—it’s made me too tired to deal with stupid shit. I’m here, so extortion accomplished.” Dy snapped her fingers and opened her palm. “Like Cha says: gold and deets.”
“A true team.” Unperturbed, Otto shrugged and went around his big, glossy desk.
Outside the big windows of his fancy office, the human city of Rockton, capital of Granite, sprawled in varying degrees of relative splendor.
Of course, nothing in the human principalities could compete with the elegance of the fae realms, both the sort humans had actually seen for themselves and the kind featured in the embroidered tales of bards and imaginative attempts at imitation.
Still, the wealthy and nobles among the humans invested considerable coin in trying to look like they lived like the fae.
They built fanciful spires tiled in gleaming ceramics that counterfeited the palaces of the fae and ignored the rumble-tumble of wooden and sod shacks that encircled the city center like dead leaves shed from a living tree.
Otto’s office sat at the top of one such tower, where he pretended to be a legit businessman.
Most of his expansive view centered on the racing stadium that stood not far away, a scintillating monument to illicit magical entertainment—and a pointed reminder of the true source of his wealth.
Or, rather, one of those sources, all of them questionable.
Otto produced another of his ubiquitous velvet bags, the coin within clinking with softly musical promise.
He set it on his side of the desk, well out of reach, as if they might snag the bag and run.
Half-tempted to do exactly that, Cha reminded herself of the even greater wealth that awaited them if—no, when—they pulled off this job.
As long as they didn’t die, get imprisoned, or mutated, that is. Not that she was worried.
“Please sit.” Otto waved a hand at the visitors’ chairs.
“We’ll stand,” Dy said.
“It can’t take that long to tell us,” Cha agreed. “What’s the exact gig?”
“Your usual run over the border to Obsidian, plus a small extra step,” Otto answered, shrugging as if it were nothing. “You’ll hit the Obsidian depot for the camouflage shipment, then bypass to the other side, as you’ve done a thousand times.”
“Hardly that many,” Dy countered.
“And that’s no mean feat,” Cha added.
“Thus your exorbitant fee,” Otto bit out meaningfully.
“Once you have the cover shipment of Obsidian dust, you take the Obsidian Thirteen up to Moonstone, cross the border and follow the Moonstone Thirteen up to a location I’ll give you.
Meet my contact. Load the package. Come back here, deliver, and take your very generous payday. ”
“Let’s see the location and contact info,” Dy said.
Otto slid a document across the desk and Dy pounced on it like it was fae chocolate. Her steely gaze slid up to Otto and pinned him. “This is the same route and contact you gave Monat?”
Otto stepped back, nearly to the glass wall, and held up his hands like Dy had stung him with another tiny fireball. “Monat has nothing to do with this.” He glared accusingly at Cha. “What did you tell her?”
Cha decided to sit after all, sprawling sideways in a swank armchair and crossing her booted ankles. “Goldilocks and I have no secrets. You should know that. Neither do you, for that matter.”
“You should also know,” Dy said, sitting in the other armchair with considerably more grace, handing Cha the document, “that we’re going nowhere until you agree to extradite Monat.”
Otto goggled at her. At least seeing him caught so flat-footed mitigated Cha’s irritation at Dy tipping their hand so early in the conversation. A wily negotiator, Dy was not. “I can’t do that,” Otto squeaked. “Nobody can help Monat now.”
Dy stood. “Then we’re leaving. Come on, Cha.”
Well, Cha supposed, that was one way to negotiate. Otto sputtered out a protest before Cha had to abandon her comfy spot.
“You’d sacrifice a fortune for Monat?” Otto demanded.
“Some things are more important than money, right, Cha?”
Cha scanned the information on the document, in case Otto snatched it away.
You never knew when this sort of inside knowledge would come in handy.
They were to meet some fae operative going by the unlikely code name of Sugarplum at the Ice Lily Garden.
One of her brows crawled up her forehead.
Why couldn’t it be a nice little squalid warehouse?
Probably because the fae didn’t have anything shabby.
“Hey!” she exclaimed as Dy swatted her on the head.
“Right, Cha?” Dy repeated meaningfully.
Cha transferred her rueful gaze to Otto. “You know how Dy is. She wouldn’t agree to the gig unless rescuing Monat is baked in. You want your package in a hurry? Best just give in now.”
Otto looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, though he gripped the edge of his desk instead. “You say that like I have any influence over the fae. The Moonstone fae!”
So, Garaile’s gossip was good—Monat was in Moonstone jail. Cha waved the contact info sheet at him. “You got this much.”
He sniffed, putting on a wounded face. “That’s proprietary.”
“Then proprietary yourself into extracting Monat,” Cha suggested. Putting a hand to the side of her mouth as if to hide the words from Dy, she dropped her voice. “Don’t make the scary sorceress angry.”
“I don’t have time to do that,” Otto complained, nearly whining. “I’m not giving you a twenty-four-hour turnaround just for the fun of it. This was a rush job to begin with and now I’m way behind the clock. If I don’t have a rig there by tomorrow at midnight, the offer expires.”
“Why?” Cha asked and Otto released his chokehold on the desk to wave his hands frantically in the air.
“I don’t know! You think I asked? They’re fae. They call the shots.”
“What’s the package?” Dy asked.
Otto pointed at her. “That you do not need to know and, believe me, you’re better off not knowing. My contact will know what to do. The cover shipment will obscure any magical signatures and I’m sure your sorcerous tricks can handle the rest.”
Not ideal, but also not unusual for a smuggling gig like this. “Why do we have to get it back here so fast?” Cha asked the next logical question.
“You want to get caught by the hounds? Be my guest, but not with my product. Those are the terms and you’re wasting time.”
“No, you are,” Dy retorted. “You clearly know where Monat is.”
Deflated, Otto nodded. “But I can’t get to her. I swear it. If that’s your dealbreaker, then we have no deal.”
He meant it. And no way Otto could find anyone else to get that shipment he so badly wanted in time. Cha assessed Dy, mutinously scowling. “Then give us Monat’s location,” she said, giving Dy a warning look when the sorceress rounded on her. “We’ll handle the rest.”
“You can’t be late. Getting there or getting back,” Otto warned, relaxing slightly. Pulling out a fancy quill, he scribbled something on a bit of parchment and held it out. Dy reached for it, but Cha was faster, springing up to grab the note and pocket it.
“We won’t be late,” Cha promised. “Trust me,” she told Dy, who nodded reluctantly.
They settled into business, reviewing the route from Granite, through Gypsum, to the Obsidian border.
That bit was easy, taking Ley Line Thirteen for most of it—commercial traffic all the way, a route they knew well—then into Obsidian.
The crossing should be straightforward. Dy’s papers from Otto included a fake manifest for the big rig to show to the border guards.
She’d be ostensibly picking up a cargo of black dust. Cha wouldn’t need papers to cross into Obsidian as ley riders with racy carriages like hers went joyriding in the fun park that was the land of the Obsidian fae all the time.
From there it would get more difficult. Bypassing the Obsidian depot, the standard destination for the rigs legally transporting black dust, was always tricky.
The law-hounds would be on the alert for those smugglers making contact on the fae side of the depot.
That’s when their special talents would come into play.
Dy would move, adapt, or create ley lines for them to travel while Cha employed her considerable skills as a ley rider to keep them on track—and run interference for the rig.
Fortunately, that section of the Obsidian realm was a narrow band, and they should be able to shake any hounds when they crossed into Moonstone. After that, they’d have to be on their toes, play it by ear.
Then they’d have to reverse the journey, returning to human lands as fast as possible.
Getting Big Betty to the point of contact, loaded, and back to Rockton on schedule was top priority. As long as they kept the big rig intact and on time, the rest could be altered on the fly. Simple, really.
Of course, nothing was simple when it came to the fae.