Sons (Book 2) (48 page)

“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the politics of this,” he said.  “The ramifications will be huge for the US Council.  Rumors of what they could have done to be specifically excluded will be rampant, regardless of the truth.  This will ruin careers, lives even.”

“Why?” I objected, not really understanding completely.  “Have I misrepresented what this is about?  I mean, this is about me and the elves, not me and the councils.”

“No, no, not at all,” Gordon assured me.  Leaning back over his desk, he pulled the center drawer open and pulled a manila file folder out.  Flipping the file open, he counted out five sets of stapled sheaves and handed them to me.  “This is pretty much a finished schedule and map of Thursday’s events.  It’s mostly a big party from your perspective—and I’m not suggesting you change that in the least—but for many of the councils, it’s a time to politic.  Removing that opportunity for them when they were so high on the list will shatter Darius Fuller’s reputation and may very well mark the end to the US Council’s dominance in the world political picture.”

“And opened about an hour in your speech schedule,” I remarked as I read through the schedule, handing all but one to Mike.  “Am I supposed to feel guilty about this, Gordon?  He crawled off the porch to run with the big dogs and he got bit.  And Harris was warned too many times to feel sorry for him.  He might not be an enemy, but he is not my friend, either.  And now, they have shown themselves for what they are and they’re getting what they deserve because of it.

“It’s not your problem,” I finished.  “Let them worry about it.  If Harris doesn’t take my warning seriously, let me know and I’ll bring Fuller’s house down on his head and see if that doesn’t shake some sense into him.”

Gordon’s phone warbled again as he contemplated pronoun antecedents in that statement, wondering if I was bringing Fuller’s house down on Harris’ head or Fuller’s.  He answered the phone behind him automatically, not looking behind him.  “Yes?”

Gordon’s eyebrows shot up as Darius Fuller introduced himself cordially to Gordon.  “Hello, Mr. Fuller,” Gordon said in answer.  “You’ve been a topic of recent conversation.  Have you by chance spoken with Marshal Harris recently?”

“Yes, actually,” Fuller said.  “That’s why I’m calling.  Clifford said that he spoke to Seth from your office phone.  I was hoping that I could speak with him.”

“Considering his disposition after Harris, I wouldn’t suggest it to him,” Gordon said, grinning and shaking his head.  “I value my phone system.  Further, he is quite adamant that I should stay out of the matter, Mr. Fuller, and while I admit I don’t know all of the specifics of your disagreement, I do know you tried something you shouldn’t have and it failed miserably.  And now he’s out of reach until Friday.  You should try again then.”

“Oh, now, come on, Mr. Cahill,” Fuller tried to cajole Gordon.  “Surely you have some way of contacting him.  His parents are with you, after all.  And rumor has it that you have a doorway into his realm in your castle.”

“He barred the door just this morning,” Gordon said.  “Besides, I wouldn’t want to be the one to step through without invitation or a very good reason and he has already declared that you aren’t it.”

“Please, Mr. Cahill,” Fuller pleaded.  “This has all been a terribly large case of miscommunication and I’m trying desperately to make amends for it.  Would you mind if I tried the door myself?”

“Yes, actually, I would mind,” Gordon said archly, surprising me.  “Lord Daybreak said that any US council representatives who attempts to gatecrash will be met with violence.  I have enough security issues without adding
him
to the list.  I won’t allow any of your council on my property until after the Emissaries meeting.  I don’t want any trouble.”

“Mr. Cahill,” Fuller said, his voice taking on a silkier tone.  “Surely you realize that I have considerable influence in the world.  I would hate to think I couldn’t count the European Council among those friendly to us in times of need.”

Gordon let a deep, rumbling laugh roll out of him.  “Funny, Mr. Fuller.  Isn’t that the reason that Seth is mad at you?  He didn’t say much about it, but that was the gist, as I understood it.  I will do you one favor, though.  I won’t tell him you threatened me.  That way, you’ll have a chance after Thursday to make amends.  Otherwise, I doubt you’ll be alive.  And should you think to do it again, you’ll have more than Lord Daybreak to worry about.  Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I have an early day.  Good night, Mr. Fuller,” Gordon said, and hung up without pause.

“Sorry, Gordon, I really didn’t mean to put you in the middle of this.  I’ll do something mean and spiteful to them if you want.”  I really didn’t think he’d take the bait.

“Don’t worry about it, Seth,” Gordon said.  “With that attitude, he would have tried that sooner or later anyway.  At least this way, I can have the backing of my council and you and your brothers behind me if it should come to a showdown with Fuller.  He’ll back down.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said.  “We’ll let you get back to bed.  I still have to feed four hundred men tonight.  If they give you any more problems, let me know.”

“Do you need some help with that?” Gordon asked.

“If you’ve got ideas on how to get a thousand pounds of bacon in an hour, I’m willing to listen, otherwise you’re already doing enough for us, Gordon,” I answered with a smile, standing.

“Just don’t go without because you’re too proud to ask, Seth,” Gordon warned.

“I won’t, Gordon, thanks,” I said, shaking his hand.  Then it was back to work.

The truck shifting to Gilán was a peculiar feeling.  Nothing that singularly massive had yet pierced its veil and it was definitely noticeable.  Ethan dropped it onto the Promenade directly in front of the barracks and shifted back by the time I got there with Mike.  The engine of the truck creaked and popped, as it cooled on the stone walkway, its bright yellow paint job denoting a civilian rental company.

“I thought they were only recon,” Mike remarked as he went for the back of the truck.  “Looks like they scored something.”

“Yeah, but where are they now?” I asked, following and just as curious.  Brushing the anchor didn’t give me anything.  Ethan was calm and relaxed enough now I could call him or open a hole nearby if I wanted.  That, of course, did nothing but pique my curiosity about the truck.

Mike grabbed the padlock on the handle and jerked it open, hefting the handle and opening the sliding door with what I thought was practiced ease.  He jumped up into the back and shimmied between the cellophane-wrapped pallets of boxes: MREs.  Not the best of options, but at least they appeared to be from this year.

Little Brother?
Ethan called across the anchor. 
Any chance you’ve noticed the truck outside the barrack’s door?

“Yes, Ethan,” I said, pushing the same sense of speech through the anchor.  “Mike is rummaging through the back now.  Should I start unloading it?”

That would be nice.
  The tone he pushed across to me was playful.  Crap.

“What?  Mike, get out of the truck!” I yelled.  “Ethan, what are you up to?”

I’m not up to anything
.  Again, he was almost melodic. 
It’s just that Kieran may want the truck back fairly quickly.

Sending portals out two at a time, I unloaded the truck in pairs of pallets basically tossing them behind me.  “How soon is ‘quickly’?” I asked.

Say, four seconds?

“Doable.  Mike’s closing the door now,” I said as Mike swung down off the back of the truck with the strap of the sliding door in his hand.  Dragging the door with him, he swung the handle back into place then replaced the padlock, fusing the internal works with a hard push of heat in his hand.  I really needed to learn more techniques.  “Just need to know where to send it.”

Well, aren’t we just the smarmy one?
He chided with almost a giggle, sending a sense of the space where the truck needed to be.  A push through Gilán’s gentle aura with the added pulse to its affinity to its origin and it was home.

“You wouldn’tve asked if it weren’t possible and you know it,” I said casually.  “Y’all need some help now that I’ve scared the crap out of Mike?”

Nah, not for this
, he declined. 
Seth’Dur’an ‘o’an is grabbing the data we need now.  We should be back shortly.

“These appear to have been diverted from Uzbekistan,” Mike said, holding a paper wrapped in several layers of thin plastic.

“That one over there has a similar label for Afghanistan,” I said pointing to a pallet two rows back.  “Could that be important?”

“I’m not sure, but those are regions of current warfare.”

“For U.S. forces?” I asked.  “It is historically and politically a volatile region.  It could have been meant for support crews or allies.”  Stepping into the lobby of the barracks I called out, not too loudly, “Hello?  Anyone around?”

Three seconds later about a dozen brownies trotted out at the sound of my voice, not knowing to whom it belonged.  To their credit, they considered running in the other direction for only the briefest instant before curiosity about me overwhelmed that feeling.

“You called, Lord?” the lead brownie asked in cheerful, lyrical English.  He was one of those who had grown once free of MacNamara’s geas and now stood over two and a half feet tall.

“Yes, Ellorn,” I answered, pulling his name from the front of his mind.  “Are you guys busy with anything?  Could you help us with these?”

“No, Lord, we are not busy,” Ellorn said with a smile, stumbling a little with my mashed up questions.  “We were merely watching the humans play.  We would be happy to help!”  The brownies looked at the fourteen wrapped pallets, confused.  “What should we do, Lord?”

“Well,” I muttered, thinking about it.  “First off, do any of know who Richard is?”

The brownies looked at each other for a moment before one of the smallest, a girl, leaned out from behind Ellorn and asked, “Lord Daybreak, there are thirty-seven Richards among the humans that we know of.  Do you mean Master Peter’s father, Richard?”

“Yes!  Yes, I do,” I exclaimed.  “You know the names of all the humans here?”

“Not all of them, not yet, Lord,” she said, a little fearfully.

Ellorn added, “There are several in the baths, pools, and workout areas that have been difficult to communicate with, either by the nature of the environment or the men involved.  By morning, I’m sure we will have achieved that small portion of your goal and moved on the getting to know them in other ways.”

“And are any of them making the same commitment?” I asked.

Ellorn paused before answering, unsure of himself.  “I would not want to make such a subjective declaration without more comparison.”

“Oooh, quite the little diplomat you have there, Seth,” Mike said, walking in behind me.

“They did work in the Rat Bastard’s lair,” I reminded him.  “Lots of practice with the turn of a phrase…”  Turning back to them, I said, “That’s still impressive, though, so, thank you.”  The surprised brownies didn’t know what to do.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike pantomime a slight bow with the words, “You are welcome, Lord,” on his lips. 

They copied his move with more depth and squealed in unison with as much solemnity as they could muster, “You are welcome, Lord Daybreak.”  Gotta say, solemn squeals are a little hard to understand.

“Okay, if one or two of you would go tell Richard that we have some MREs here for the Mess Staff and ask him to send out to get them,” I said, walking out into the corridor.  “While that happens, I’d like the rest of you to gather the shipping labels and help us break down the pallets to manageable parts.”

“We can carry the boxes in, Lord,” Ellorn offered.  “Most of us are just standing around.”  He was eager to do something and frankly, I was tired of arguing about it.

“Okay, then, but they’re doing their own trash duty,” I said sternly.  “Well, actually, some of y’all will probably have to go through it and get the things they missed.”

“You could always have Jimmy stand over them with his stick,” Mike suggested with a chuckle.

“Hey, he’s scarin’ me with what he’s doing with that thing,” I said under my breath.  Pulling out my pocketknife, I cut the plastic away from the top of the first pallet and started peeling it back, winding it into a wad.  Pulling out the shipping labels as I came to them, I said, “Okay, Ellorn, these are the labels I want collected.  There should be at least one per pallet, but it looks like there’s more than one on each.”

“They appear to have conflicting destinations, at least by names,” Ellorn said, reading several labels on a neighboring pallet.  I hadn’t realized they could read, but if they knew several different languages, there was no reason they couldn’t read them as well.  “Are these locations waysides?”

“Nope,” I answered.  “And we didn’t get them from any of those places.  That’s one of the reasons we want to keep the labels, to find out where they came from and how they ended up here.”  He nodded sagely, then ripped the label from the plastic and the plastic from the pallet with amazing quickness.  The boxes teetered ominously for a moment before settling.

“Salice, would you lead the way to the kitchens, please?” I asked the little girl brownie who’d been helpful a moment ago.  The request surprised her, but she giggled and headed off while I hefted a box of MREs off the top of the first pillar.  Ellorn let out a long, complex whistle as I entered the barracks proper with Mike behind me and I felt a small rise in the population outside in the corridor.  Then a train of brownies began following us a moment later.

The first item of interest on entering the barracks was the absolute turnabout in the emotional attitude of the men there.  Before, everyone was resigned, depressed, just… yucky.  Admittedly, they’d had a very bad day.  But now, every room we passed, the men were cheerful, happy.  Everyone was busy doing something, showering, grooming, stowing their meager belongings, washing clothes, something.  Over half of them were involved in some recreational activity like swimming in the several pools, sparring in one of several rings, weightlifting, and some sort of team sport I didn’t recognize involving a makeshift puck and two buckets.

The second item of interest was seeing Byrnes’ officers watching them and not knowing why they were happy any better than I did.  I just kept following Salice, which I admit wasn’t strictly necessary—yeah, I knew the way to the kitchens blindfolded.  She skipped merrily ahead to announce my imminent arrival.

“Officer on deck!” was shouted as I walked in, causing the soldiers to snap to attention.  I looked at the far door to see who had walked in.  Seeing no one, I realized they meant me.

“I’m not an officer,” I said quietly as set the box on a table near Richard.

“No, sir, but ‘Lord on deck’ would confuse the men,” said Second Lieutenant Brinks, smiling.  I hadn’t met him yet.

“Am I supposed to call ‘At ease’ then?” I asked him, grinning.  “’Cuz I claim no great knowledge of military protocols.  I’m a home-schooled seventeen-year-old, after all.”  The brownies started filing in behind us while the lieutenant looked at me in disbelief.  “Facts simply are, Lieutenant.  Richard, not the best option, we know, but we’re still working on it.  I’m not certain whose idea it was, but they had a chance to steal these from Colonel Echols.” 

I paused a moment to let the amusement settle in and most of the men returned to whatever they were doing before I came in.  I was impressed by the organization they’d managed to set up in such short time.  Richard and Brinks came from a small room off the smaller hall, using it as an office.  Ellorn greeted the man that came forward by name, asking how and where he should store the boxes.  The brownie let the man lead the Fae train to the space he wanted but stopped him, saying it wasn’t large enough.  Ellorn suggested three possible strategies for storage, but ‘moving the walls’ clearly stymied the man.  He looked up the hall, saw a sea of brownies bearing boxes, and muttered, “Um, uh, the first way.”

“Uh, oh,” I said with a chuckled and hopped up on the table.  Richard didn’t understand but he was right behind me, then Mike.  Brinks just stood there, staring.

Ellorn let out a shrill whistle, then took off for the side rooms with shelves.  At full speed a brownie is fast.  Fact is, all my Fae are above average: Palace-quality Sprites and Brownies.  They were just a little faster than average.  There had been a plan in place, obviously.  That whistle started such a rapid flow of cardboard crates and smiling faces that I had to look away from the floor before I fell over dizzy.  Brinks wasn’t so lucky, weaving in the aisle as the brownies passed by him and crawled up the shelves as if gravity didn’t exist.  It was like watching an anthill at high-speed.  Few actually touched Brinks and chimed apologies in passing when they did, but that only added to their hypnotic effect.

“Lt. Brinks, look at me!” I called loudly.  Considering where we were, it didn’t take much for anything I said to be a command.  There was no pause in his response: his head shot straight up, his eyes on mine, all of his attention centered on me.  “Sometimes you just have to look at something else,” I said with a smile, releasing him after he regained his balance.  It was barely a half of a second that he wouldn’t remember and I didn’t pry into.  He gave me a quick, nervous smile, then pulled a long, slow breath.

“That’s enough for three days,” Richard said, dangling his feet off the table while he watched the shelves fill.  “Was that all Echols was planning to feed them?  MREs?”

“It does look that way,” I agreed.  “Have you finished a supply list?”

“Yep, near as we can.  I gave the brownie in charge here a copy and he ran it over to Jimmy.  That was about twenty minutes ago, maybe?”

The caravan of brownies finally finished loading the shelves with boxes of MREs.  The sea of brownies began finally ebbing back into the hall with Ellorn and his dozen herding them cheerfully.  I waved as they disappeared from view.

“They all seem so happy,” remarked Brinks, looking up the hall after the brownies.

“They have a lot to be happy about,” Richard said as he hopped off the table.  “It’s all yours now, Lieutenant.  I’m moving to the supply side.”

“Not a moment too soon,” I said with a laugh as Ellorn reappeared.  He headed straight for the same man who ‘decided’ on storage methods the first time.  “Let’s exit through the dining room.  They have two different caravans coming.” 

“Move quick, then,” Mike urged.  “I almost fell off the table watching that.”

Brinks watched us leave, scratching his head and wondering how I knew anything when the two caravans entered the kitchen from opposite hallways.  The room burst into activity.  Different activity this time as dozens of men came forward to greet the brownies bearing baskets of fresh produce.  They filled the tables before stocking the shelves in the cooler, darker regions of storage.  The sudden quiet of the dining hall was a huge relief.