Authors: Nancy A. Collins
Left Hand Magic (13 page)
“Well, aren’t
they
the early birds. But why do they want to talk to us? Do they think we’re responsible?”
they
the early birds. But why do they want to talk to us? Do they think we’re responsible?”
“No—but they
are
looking to place blame for what happened.”
are
looking to place blame for what happened.”
“Well, there’s certainly plenty of it to go around,” I grumbled as I put on my bathrobe and headed downstairs. “I must have coffee, and plenty of it, if I’m going to spend my afternoon being questioned by a bunch of—” I frowned in consternation. “What exactly
is
the GoBOO, anyway?”
is
the GoBOO, anyway?”
“It’s kind of a cross between a city council, the Chamber of Commerce and the United Nations,” Hexe explained. “Each major ethnic group in Golgotham is represented by its most prominent member. They draw up and pass most of the laws in Golgotham.”
“Your mother’s the Witch Queen. Shouldn’t she be the head honcho? I mean, your great-great-grandfather founded Golgotham, right?”
“Yes, he did, but the royal family surrendered the right to rule and hold power, as humans understand the word, with the Treaty of Arum. However, we have traditionally served as ambassadors to the heads of state in the human world. The royal family also serves as arbiter for disagreements between the various ethnic groups of Golgotham.”
“So your mom’s like Judge Judy?”
“We prefer the term ‘justiciar,’ ” Hexe replied with an amused smile. “It all dates back to the Sufferance. When the leaders of the human world decided to exterminate the nonhumans, they first targeted the ones that didn’t have magic, like the centaurs, satyrs, and ipotanes. Soon they were streaming into Arum as refugees. The reigning Witch King at the time, Lord Vexe, granted them protection if they swore fealty to the Throne of Arum and its heirs. Those who refused ended up paying for protection from what would evolve into Boss Marz’s Malandanti. But the upshot of it all is that my bloodline is honor-bound to aid and represent all who live within Golgotham, not just the Kymerans.”
“That’s why Lady Syra gave Elmer a job,” I said, the penny finally having dropped. “I really need that coffee. Politics makes my brain hurt.”
A couple hours and cups of coffee later, I found myself riding alongside Hexe in Kidron’s hansom, on our way to our meeting. I was still a little fuzzy around the edges from lack of sleep, but the cab ride in the cold morning air had succeeded in chasing out most of the cobwebs. I needed my wits about me if I wanted to sound like something other than a clueless looky-loo when it was my time to be questioned. Meanwhile, Hexe was doing his best to get me up to speed on Golgotham civics as well as its lawmakers and leaders.
“You have to understand,” he explained, “that when Golgotham was first created, the only government the majority of its citizens had known was some form of tribal chieftainship. The concept of self-governance was even more alien to them than it was to their human counterparts. As for the Founding Fathers, recognizing a sovereign city-state within their borders was dicey enough, but to allow one that adhered to the feudal system was simply too much. Any sort of monarchy was forbidden on American soil, and thus the GoBOO was born. It was originally called the Grand Council, but in the 1950s it was ‘modernized’ into the Golgotham Business Owners Organization.”
“I never really questioned Golgotham simply being another neighborhood in the city,” I admitted. “It wasn’t discussed much in our schoolbooks.”
“I’m not surprised. Though Washington and Jefferson were broad-minded, forward-thinking individuals, the same could not be said for all of the Founding Fathers. It’s been to our advantage not to call too much attention to Golgotham’s unique status. But sometimes it’s unavoidable.”
The GoBOO Headquarters was located off Nassau Street, between Maiden Lane and Shoemaker Street, in a Belle Epoque building that looked more like an opera house than a seat of government. A gaggle of television and newspaper reporters stood gathered at the foot of the marble steps that led to the entrance, taking note of every individual coming and going. I inwardly groaned in anticipation of the phone call I was sure to receive from my mother once my face was bounced via satellite to every news agency in the country.
We were greeted just inside the door by a tall, angular Kymeran with heliotrope muttonchops and eyes so pale a blue they seemed almost white, who smelled faintly of chalk and old paper. He bowed stiffly at the waist, his right hand placed over his heart.
“Greetings, Serenity. I am Tuli, the Executive Coordinator for the GoBOO. I am to take you and Ms. Eresby to the council chamber.”
As we followed our escort down the echoing marble-clad hallway into the bowels of the building, it seemed to me no different from any other city hall, save that its office workers and civil servants boasted outlandishly colored hair and were occasionally animals from the waist down.
Eventually we came to a set of heavy double doors, above which hung the seal of the Golgotham Business Owners Organization: an open six-fingered right hand with a cat’s eye embedded in the palm, similar to the design on the amulet Hexe had given Madelyn to ward off evil.
Tuli opened one of the doors and ushered us inside a large chamber with a domed ceiling and a sloping floor that led past rows of pew-style benches to a long, horseshoe-shaped table set on a raised dais with a wide ramp on the left side. Behind the council table sat a smaller, even higher podium that overlooked the room like a judge’s bench. On the wall above the highest seat, set in an alcove, was another, larger version of the GoBOO seal, this one cast in twenty-four-karat gold.
I heard muttering voices, and looked up to see a gallery overhead, accessible via doors on the second floor. The GoBOO had banned television coverage inside the council chamber, but I recognized one of the spectators as a political reporter for the
Herald
who had written an article on my father’s failed run for the senate back when I was in college. It looked like I was going to get into the papers again, no matter what.
Herald
who had written an article on my father’s failed run for the senate back when I was in college. It looked like I was going to get into the papers again, no matter what.
“Please be seated,” Tuli said, gesturing to the pews closest to the chamber floor. “The council will be arriving shortly.”
As he spoke, a door beside the dais opened and a centaur, his lower quarters covered in a brocaded caparison and his hooves politely muffled, entered the chamber. Although his chest-length beard and shoulder-length locks were liberally laced with iron gray hair, what I could see of his equine self was still a deep chestnut.
“That’s Chiron, owner of Chiron’s Stables,” Hexe whispered in my ear as the distinguished older centaur clip-clopped up the ramp to the council table. “He’s the landlord for every centaur in Golgotham, as well as the owner of its largest blacksmith shop—every centaur in the city wears his horseshoes. He claims direct descent from the same Chiron who was mentor to Achilles and Jason.”
“Is that true?”
“Beats me,” he said with a shrug. “In any case, he represents the ipotanes as well as the centaurs.”
The next figure to emerge was Giles Gruff, dressed in a velvet maroon waistcoat and a spotless Italian silk shirt. The satyr used his monogrammed cane to steady himself on his cloven hooves as he took his place at the table next to Chiron.
“You already know Giles. He speaks for the satyrs and the fauns.”
After Giles came a very handsome blond man chewing a massive wad of gum. He was wearing a shirt open to the waist and a pair of pants so tight they not only informed the casual observer as to which side he was dressed, but whether or not he was happy to see them. As he turned to address Giles Gruff, I noticed a special vent cut into the seat of his pants to accommodate his bull’s tail, which was the same color as the hair on his head.
“That’s Bjorn Cowpen,” Hexe pointed out. “He owns several ‘gentlemen’s clubs’ on Duivel Street and represents Golgotham’s huldrefolk. He’s, um, quite the ladies’ man, as you might guess.”
“Who’s she?” I asked, nodding at the woman sitting down on the other side of Cowpen. She was quite beautiful, dressed in a flowing seafoam green gown. As I watched her, she ran a delicate webbed hand through long hair the color and consistency of cooked spinach.
“That’s Lorelei Jones. She owns a tiki place on a pier overlooking the river, near Pickman’s Slip. She speaks for the merfolk community.”
“I thought mermaids were fish from the waist down,” I said, waving a hand at my own lady bits.
“Only when they’re in water,” Hexe explained. “When they’re on land, they have legs. But they have to be careful not to dry out. If they’re out of water too long they start to mummify, just like a worm on a hot sidewalk. Not a pretty sight.”
As Seamus O’Fae entered the chamber the cameras in the gallery began to click and whirr. The leprechaun did not look up at the reporters, but I could tell by the satisfied smile on his face that he knew they were there. He joined his fellow GoBOO members at the table, although he had to use a booster seat to see over its top.
“Seamus represents the brownie, pixie, troll, and dwarvish communities, as well as the leprechauns. Rumor has it he’s bucking for Lash’s job.”
The final member of the GoBOO to enter the room was the mayor of Golgotham, who looked no different than he had on Hexe’s ancient television, except now I could tell that the braided ponytail looped about his neck and shoulders like a living stole was periwinkle blue. Despite his eccentrically long hair, he wore an impeccably tailored, extremely conservative dark suit.
“Why’s he dressed like a banker?” I whispered.
“Because he’s the president of Midas National, the largest bank in Golgotham,” Hexe replied. “He’s been mayor since the 1970s, and is a big promoter of tourism. The riot has been a huge black eye for his policies.”
I glanced over at the bench across the aisle and saw Captain Horn of the PTU, tricked out in his full-dress uniform. Seated next to him was a Kymeran woman, also in uniform, whose curly flame-colored hair cascaded past her shoulders. It wasn’t until she turned to speak to Horn that I recognized Lieutenant Vivi. It was the first time I’d seen her minus a riot helmet.
Tuli, a clipboard under one arm, stepped into the well before the council table and announced in a voice that echoed throughout the chamber: “Hear ye, hear ye! The special inquest by the council of the Golgotham Business Owners Organization in regard to the ‘Golgotham Riot’ is now in session. The GoBOO has appointed the right honorable Skua as its querent in the matter.”
“Bloody abdabs!” Hexe grimaced. “This might get ugly.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Skua’s an expert projectionist, and no friend to humans, but that’s not the ugly part—”
“Silence in the chamber!” Mayor Lash barked from his perch. “That includes you, Serenity.”
“The council first calls Hexe for questioning.”
Hexe sighed and squeezed my hand before getting up and taking his place in the witness box. The GoBOO’s querent, Skua, was a slender Kymeran woman slightly younger than Lady Syra, dressed in a conservative pantsuit. Her short, asymmetrically cut powder blue hair and deep green eyes gave her an intense, hawklike appearance.
“Before we begin, I would like to thank you for appearing before the council on such short notice, Serenity,” Skua said, slightly bowing her head in ritual acknowledgment
“It is my duty as a citizen of Golgotham,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Were you at the Two-Headed Calf the night before last, during the so-called riot?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Are you willing and able to testify to what you experienced that night?”
“Yes, I am.”
Skua motioned to Tuli, who stepped forward and handed her a scrying crystal the size of a large grapefruit, wrapped in a black velvet cloth. She cradled the crystal in her joined hands and held it out toward Hexe.
“Breathe, so that the truth shall be seen,” she intoned solemnly.
Hexe leaned forward, closed his eyes, and exhaled onto the crystal, turning its surface cloudy. Instantly, images began to coalesce within the sphere, taking on life and movement. Skua turned to face the council table and raised her hands above her head, her eyes rolling back so that they showed only whites. The lights within the chamber dimmed, like those of a movie theater, as life-sized holographic projections of the images flickering about inside the scrying crystal blinked into existence in the air above her head.
I gasped in surprise to find a three-dimensional version of myself hovering six feet off the floor, drinking a tankard of barley wine. Not only was I replicated, but so was the entire interior of the Calf, right down to the smallest detail. Like the pasts I’d glimpsed in Hexe’s own collection of scrying crystals, the image was in black and white and lacked sound. I searched the phantom crowd swirling about in midair for a sign of Hexe, before realizing I was seeing everything from his point of view.
The events unfolded before the council as they had happened in real life, while the GoBOO took notes and occasionally murmured to one another. When the college student, Jared, grabbed Tullamore the leprechaun, I noticed Seamus O’Fae scowl and his face grow beet red. However, when Tullamore turned his tormentor into a pig, causing Jared to run hither and yon in terror, each and every one of the GoBOO laughed. They laughed even harder when Tullamore hopped on the transformed boy’s back and rode him out onto the street. I shifted about uncomfortably and glanced up at the gallery. None of the reporters seemed the least bit amused. As we got to the part where Oddo levitated Jared’s hapless roommate and accidentally sent him flying through the front window of the bar, I saw the mayor frown.
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