Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Kali.

Kali, the dark goddess of the Hindu pantheon. The mother and the destroyer. She was the kind of goddess who consumed a whole army of demons in one sitting, and wanted to keep going. She was the endless darkness outside of time itself, the primordial night that had given rise to all things, and that would one day consume all things. She was the goddess of the cremation grounds and the birthing room, the patron of mystics and midwives and murderers alike.

And she was talking to me. I owed her a favor.

I was fucked beyond the capacity of my language or my mind to truly apprehend.

“I was worried I was being too obvious, but I guess at least you got there eventually. And your face really was priceless,” she said to me in a casual tone. “But this is a terrible place for a chat. Grab your plate, drinks are on the left.”

I did as instructed, feeling numb, like I was so overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I had just realized that I couldn’t perceive any other emotions through it. I had no ability to even consider what I should do right now, but ignoring her seemed like literally the worst possible idea at the moment, so I grabbed my food and a glass I hadn’t looked at, and trailed along in her wake.

She brushed through the crowd like they weren’t even there. Now that I understood what I was dealing with, that did not surprise me in the slightest. This was a festival of the scariest, most powerful Sidhe, the high nobles of the Courts. But she was fucking Kali. No one sane wanted to be anywhere even close to somewhere that might potentially be in her way.

I didn’t even put any thought towards the possibility that I was wrong, or that she was lying. I couldn’t convince myself of that even for a moment. The darkness I had seen in her eyes was…enough to be pretty damn convincing.

I followed in her wake, passing through the crowd effortlessly just by dint of being behind her, and thought furiously. It went without saying that I was screwed, but I had to figure out how to manage that, how to behave towards Kali now that I knew who she was.

The first thought that occurred to me was to be deeply respectful, to be humble and subservient towards her. This thought was a treacherous one, though, and I quashed it almost instantly. I still trusted my initial read of her as being playful more than menacing towards me, and I was pretty sure she had genuinely been amused when I was a wiseass.

And as soon as I thought about that, it made total sense. Kali was one of the most dangerous beings in existence, but people knew that. I expected that people were humble sycophants towards her all the time. She heard trite honorifics and servile tones all the time. I imagined it was probably quite a bit rarer that someone who knew who she was mouthed off to her. Weirdly enough, I was pretty sure that being overly respectful right now was a phenomenally bad idea. It would make me boring, and I could not afford for Kali to be bored with me.

Maybe Capinera was right, I mused idly, with a sort of detached, dissociated amusement. Maybe I really was well-suited to this social situation for once.

All of these thoughts flickered through my mind as we walked. It wasn’t a long walk, and unsurprisingly, Kali did not have any difficulty finding an open table. I barely noticed my surroundings, too numb and too overwhelmed all at once. But within a few moments, she was pulling out a chair and dropping into it, in a posture so casual it was eerie in this setting. She was practically lounging, and she was gesturing to one of the other chairs. There seemed to be three at this table, one of the smaller tables, and tucked away in a quiet, relatively empty part of the room.

I sat down, set my plate on the table. Both chair and table seemed to be made out of clouds, though they were dark clouds this time, storm rather than calm skies. I had to admit, the food did smell amazing, and I was sure it was far better than any human cooking possibly could be. I wasn’t sure I would be able to eat any of it through the anxiety, but still, it smelled good.

“So how are you finding the party?” Kali asked me, with a loose, lazy smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

“Well, I see that you were not lying about the buffet,” I responded. “Better than snacks from my kitchen, I have to admit. And Nephele’s interior decorating is very impressive, albeit a little bit one-note.”

“Tiny bit,” she said, grinning wider. “She’s definitely got a theme going. Very…enthusiastic about it.”

“Quite.” I prodded a shrimp with my fork, trying to convince myself to actually eat it, with little luck so far. “And the guests are quite…striking.”

“Tiny bit,” Kali repeated. “I notice you haven’t spoken with any of them.”

“In fairness, you found me before I’d even started eating,” I pointed out. “It seemed like it would be a shame to do something stupid and end up in indentured servitude to faeries somehow without at least sampling the buffet first.”

“An attitude I can respect,” Kali said. She was still grinning, and I was pretty sure it was sincere, but I was fully aware that I lacked the capacity to actually tell. Not with Kali.

Nor was I at all capable of predicting what she would do. That, in some ways, was the part that had me truly scared right now. I knew nothing about her beyond her vague reputation, the parts that had made it into Hindu myths and theology. And those scraps, as far as I knew, were almost totally useless for actually predicting Kali’s behavior. The problem was that she embodied both creation and destruction, that she was depicted as both the nurturing mother and the mad, frenzied warrior. I had no idea which I was going to get, and I knew with full confidence that if it was the latter, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just ventured the shrimp instead. It was delicious, strongly spiced and tender. I managed to swallow it, though with some difficulty.

“Have to say, though,” I said after another moment’s thought. “When you said I should see you when you dressed up, I was hoping you meant you had more taste when you took it seriously. I’m not sure even a blind pimp would opt for that coat, I think they’d smell the blood and realize they grabbed the wrong pelt. It’s kind of amazing, honestly.”

I was very tense, as I said that. This was…a unique sort of stressful. I was trying to be enough of a wiseass to avoid boring her, without being insulting enough to actually piss her off. And if I fucked up in either direction, things might be about to get…very unpleasant for me.

But apparently I was doing alright so far, because Kali was laughing like a jackal. “I don’t normally go this traditional,” she admitted. “But your face when you caught on? Priceless.”

I sighed. “I’m glad someone is amused. So what’s next, then? Cackling at the noises I make upon seeing a centipede?”

“No, but I’ll make a note for next time,” Kali said with an easy, infectious sort of grin and the sound of breaking glass and wild, frenzied laughter behind her voice. I could understand a little better, now, why those overtones didn’t feel like an ordinary signature to my senses. “No, for tonight I think I’ll just let you enjoy your meal. Maybe nudge someone over this way who might want to chat, that sort of thing.”

And just that fast, she was getting up and leaving, looking very little like a dark, dangerous goddess. She just looked like a smug woman with terrible fashion sense. I didn’t even have time to start kicking myself about the centipede thing, having now virtually guaranteed that was in my future.

I skipped straight to kicking myself about how easy it was, instead. There was no way that was real. The notion that I had interacted face to face with Kali and come out of it this unscathed was ludicrous. No, the question was more what I had overlooked or was about to experience, and I didn’t think I was going to like finding out the answer.

But she was already gone in the crowd, and I wasn’t remotely stupid enough to chase after her. And now that I’d managed to swallow something, my stomach was politely reminding me that I had literally the best food I’d ever seen in front of me and hadn’t eaten since lunch.

I started eating. It was still a little halting, and I wasn’t appreciating it as much as I might have, but even through my current terror it was still delicious.

Saori found me less than two minutes later, and dropped into the chair Kali had just vacated. The kitsune had acquired a plate, now, and seemed…not any more uncomfortable than before, so presumably the talk went okay. “’Sup,” she said, grinning at me and popping a piece of some fruit I didn’t recognize into her mouth.

She knew I was scared, I was sure of that. But she wasn’t going to acknowledge it, wasn’t going to let her standard presentation of reckless amusement slip. I knew why, and for once it had nothing to do with either of us being dysfunctional wrecks.

No, this was a response to the environment. We were currently surrounded by a whole lot of very powerful people. All of them were dangerous, and many were outright predatory. Acknowledging my anxiety would just make both of us look more like prey to them, and that was a terrible idea.

So, while I was not anything like the actress she was, I didn’t comment, either. I grinned, a little too wide, and picked up what appeared to be a piece of sashimi sliced paper-thin and folded into an origami flower. I didn’t miss much about Japan, but the food had been good, and I was indulging my nostalgia a bit tonight. “Well, the good news is, I know who Dusk is,” I said. “The bad news is, I know who Dusk is, and however much you’re expecting to hate me for the answer, I can pretty much promise it’s worse than you’re guessing.”

“Of course it is,” she retorted, flicking a candied walnut at me. “It’s you. You do disasters like I do pranks.”

“So…surreal, violent in really strange ways, confusing for everyone involved, and so bizarre that you can never confidently say that I’m making a story about one of them up on the spot?” I guessed.

Saori laughed. “I mean. I was just going to say ‛to ridiculous and spectacular extremes’, but I like yours more, so let’s go with that.”

“I do my best,” I said, with poorly-feigned modesty, and sniffed at something I had initially thought was lettuce but which smelled like fresh cherries and black pepper. “So how was your thing?”

She shrugged. “Eh. It was about what I was expecting. Little awkward, but not awful.”

“No, see, you’re totally missing your lines. You’re supposed to have a bizarre story that I can’t confidently say is false. Are you sure you’re feeling well?” I was grinning more sincerely now. This exchange felt weirdly stabilizing, more than I usually found bad humor to be when stressed, which was saying something. I wasn’t sure why, but I actually felt almost level again, if still filled with a deep sense of dread.

Naturally, this was when my next, ah, guest arrived. Though I had to admit he was more polite about it than many. Where Kali had just fucking appeared directly next to me and already talking, this guy actually walked up like a normal person and cleared his throat politely. “Kyoko, yes?” he said, in the kind of tone that made the question mark a formality. His voice was a pleasant baritone, one that managed to sound a little rough but feel smooth to my synesthesia, almost like honey.

That was a good description for the rest of his appearance, too. He was rougher than most of the fae here—not ugly, but less refined, less perfect. His hair was a little mussed, and he had a couple actual scars on his face. He was wearing simple clothing, most of it leather; it was all high quality, but it wasn’t high fashion. The overall impression wasn’t ugly, but it was more roguish charm than impossible perfection. It made me like him more, and therefore I naturally distrusted him on sight.

“So I am told,” I said, watching him warily.

“Excellent,” he said, flashing a rakish smile. I wasn’t sure quite what made something look rakish in general, but he captured it so clearly there was no ambiguity. “Mind if I sit and chat for a bit?”

“Feel free.” I did not look away from him, hadn’t resumed eating. I was pretty sure that distrust was showing through in my voice, too.

If so, it didn’t bother him. He grinned, grabbed the third chair at the table, and sat down. His movements gave me the same impression as the rest of him, a little rougher than the Sidhe around us, still agile but in a way that evoked a burglar more than a dancer. “Excellent. And you would be Saori, then. Of the Shadowed Flame, as I recall?”

“Something like that.” Saori was watching him too, and while she covered it better, I was pretty sure she was as wary of this guy as I was. Maybe more so, once he mentioned that title.

“Excellent,” he repeated. “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

“It’s challenging for me to say the same,” I said. “Given that you’ve not introduced yourself.”

“Ah, my apologies. My name is Gwydion.”

I frowned. That name felt…familiar. I couldn’t quite place it, but I was sure I had seen it before.

Saori, on the other hand, immediately broke out in a wide grin. “Wait,” she said. “Gwydion? The Welsh jackass?”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he replied dryly.

“Dude. You wingman so hard that you started a war to get your brother ten minutes alone with a girl. Obviously I’m going to know who you are.”

“It was not my finest moment,” Gwydion said.

She shrugged. “Maybe, but I have to respect the hustle. Can I get your autograph?”

“Hey,” I interrupted, in a mock-offended sort of voice. “I literally just seduced a girl for you. I think I’m doing a pretty good job here.”

“Yes, and I am duly grateful,” Saori said. She was actually batting her eyelashes at me, which was not a phrase I could remember having ever seen happen in real life before.

Gwydion broke down laughing at that point. It was, like the rest of him, a little rough. Not ugly at all, but it felt like real laughter rather than the windchime-shiver-song laughs I could hear occasionally from the crowd of Sidhe. “You’re good,” he said. “You two do parties?”

“Obviously, considering I’m here,” I pointed out. This got him to laugh harder. I ate a piece of fish and waited for him to calm down.

“Point taken,” he said eventually. “And I suppose that’s as good a segue as any to chatting about why you’re here.”

“Which you already know.” It wasn’t a question. I could barely remember who he might be in the old folklore, but honestly, if he was powerful enough to be here and he already knew who we were, it was a sucker’s bet that he knew what was going on. That he was a big enough deal for Saori to recognize his name just further cemented that impression.

“Well, yes. And to save us all some time, I’ll just tell you outright that I know quite a bit about the people who have been trying to kill you, and I’m willing to share.”

“I’m sensing a ‛but’ coming,” I said.

“Surprisingly, not much of one.” Gwydion grinned at me, a broad, friendly sort of grin that didn’t get anywhere even close to his eyes. “I’m proposing a fair exchange. Three questions each.”

“What is it with people thinking I’ll accept open-ended offers without details?” I wondered aloud. “This is getting a bit silly. What do you mean, specifically?”

He sighed. “You’re not a very trusting person, you know. But fine. Three questions asked of the other, in this conversation. If you don’t care to answer a question, you can pass in favor of another. And similarly, if I don’t know the answer to something or if answering it would involve something I’m not at liberty to share, you can ask something else.”

I was staring at him. “I notice,” I said after a moment, “that there’s nothing fair about this. Not to undermine my own bargaining position or anything, but I think we both know that there’s no way my fund of knowledge is worth a one-to-one exchange rate here.”

“Nope!” he agreed cheerfully. “Not a chance. But I’m not really looking for that kind of information here. I’m more…going to ask you some broad philosophical questions, and see what you have to say. I want to know more about how you think. No lies, but you can answer in as much or little detail as you like.”

I kept staring. “It’s still hard for me to see how that’s worth your time. I’m not important relative to the degree of power and knowledge I’m guessing you have.”

His smile didn’t slip. “But maybe you will be someday, and if so I’ll be glad to know then. And, hell, since you made me laugh I’ll even give you a freebie that might explain some things. The more…measured…person hunting you lately is a Sidhe nobleman who goes by Cormac Goldenblade. I know this because I despise the man. I’ve wanted Cormac dead for almost two hundred years, but his political position would make doing it myself…awkward.”

“Ah,” I said. “Plausible deniability, it never goes out of style.”

Was it true? Almost certainly; I got the vibe that Gwydion wasn’t quite one of the Sidhe, but he was definitely some kind of fae, and they don’t, can’t, lie. He was probably playing another game underneath, but the vendetta was enough to explain why he would offer information on this topic specifically as part of that game. And a glance at Saori showed her to be wary, but not hostile, so his reputation probably wasn’t that bad.

“A perennial favorite,” he agreed. “So, do we have a deal?”

I considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, with the caveats we’ve discussed.”

“Excellent,” he purred, and I could feel a faint stirring of magic, something like tiny teeth biting into my skin over my whole body. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it sure as hell felt odd. “I think I’ll go first. So, Kyoko Sugiyama, tell me. Why are you doing this?”

I laughed. “Wow, not kidding about the broad questions. Hm. In an immediate sense, I’m here partially because I thought I might find something valuable, and partially because I did not want to offend our host. But that’s very proximate. In a larger sense, I am currently acting to preserve my own safety, in large part because my life is finally going well and I’d like to keep it. At the most basic level, my long-term motivations mostly have to do with my own experience of life or that of my friends.”

Gwydion nodded. “A good answer, and thorough. You’ve thought about your motives already, I see. Now, tell me. What did you sacrifice to get here?”

I winced at that, and I took longer about answering. Much longer, enough that a human conversational partner might have been pretty frustrated with me. But Gwydion had seen millennia flow past, and I was pretty sure this pause barely registered by comparison.

“To start with the immediate sense again,” I said slowly, once I’d sorted through my answer, “so far I’ve paid for entry to this party mostly in peace of mind. I haven’t lost much of material value, but I’m quite nervous about future costs. At a broader scale…friendships I’ve lost, some material belongings and security recently. And on a fundamental level I think the largest sacrifice I’ve made is in the ways I’ve had to structure my life and the parts of life that I’ve had to cut myself off from, activities I’ve given up on doing, things of that nature.”

He nodded again, slower this time, thoughtful. “Very aware of intangible losses. Interesting. Tell me, was it worth it?”

I sighed, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I could really say, because I don’t know what it would have been like if things were different. On the whole, I think maybe? I like my life pretty well now, and while it’s definitely a disaster area, I don’t think it really would have been better if I hadn’t had to make those sacrifices.”

“I see.” Gwydion was quiet for a moment, and then nodded, once. “I look forward to seeing how your answers change in the future. But for today, you’ve satisfied my curiosity.”

Which meant it was my turn. I was quiet for a long moment again, thinking. I had to approach this carefully, because I was certain if I asked general, predictable questions I would get nowhere. In a way, Saori had done a fantastic job of preparing me for this. At this point, I knew how easy it was for her to lure someone into her insane rabbit holes. She left obvious questions open and dangling, and as long as people kept taking the bait, she would always have another layer to pull them into.

Similarly, if I asked obvious questions here, I would get useless answers. If nothing else, Gwydion had clearly planned this encounter, and he would have considered how he meant to answer those obvious questions. Generalities would get me fucked right now. But he couldn’t outright lie, so if I could find small, specific questions that he might not expect, I would do better here.

“What,” I said slowly, “is the current relationship between Cormac Goldenblade and Ekaterina, daughter of Coronis?”

“Utter hatred,” Gwydion replied immediately. “Cormac took offense to something Ekaterina said, around forty years ago now, and responded by killing one of her friends. They’ve been at each other’s throats since then, to the point that it’s comical.”

I nodded. Not entirely unexpected, but interesting all the same. I’d already been thinking about how she didn’t seem to have anything personal against me. But this made sense, and it made me almost peripheral to the existing relationship. Which meant….

I paused and then laughed. “Wait, so. They’re squabbling over who gets to kill me?” I sounded incredulous, which was why I then continued more sharply, “Which is an exclamatory comment that might invite response with its tone but is clearly a statement in its sentence structure, and not a question.”

Gwydion already had his mouth open, and looked a bit crestfallen. “Oh, you’re no fun,” he said. “But you made me laugh, so I’ll take the invitation anyway and say that they are and it’s hilarious.”

“Glad someone thinks so,” I muttered, and then went quiet again, thinking. Saori apparently agreed with him, and was suppressing laughter with limited effect. Gwydion was waiting with the patience of a statue while the party continued around us.

What had Capinera said? Don’t think in straight lines. Move so far away from the target that you sneak up on it from behind. I didn’t need or even want to enforce linear thought here. And then, abruptly, I realized he had left me a massive loophole in exactly that way.

“Who was responsible for a contact of Saori’s recommending her services to a guy named Chris in Pittsburgh?” I was grinning now, a little too wide. Saori started when I mentioned her, and even Gwydion looked a little taken aback. It took him a moment to answer, too.

“Ravindra Kalivallabha,” Gwydion said after that momentary pause. “He’s a rakshasa raja of moderate status. Incidentally, I was expecting you to ask about the whole, you know, reason you’re here.”

“I’m sure, but you didn’t specify.” I was still grinning. “And I figure, hell, might as well take the chance while I have it.” And then I was quiet again, thinking. I had gotten quite a bit more information than just the name, though that was also useful and something I was going to make careful note of. I’d also confirmed that Gwydion knew, which strongly suggested that his interest in us hadn’t started with this incident. And I’d confirmed that odd, lateral questions were a good idea.

So, then. Might as well do something completely out of left field. “Why do plants grow well around me?” I asked, watching Gwydion closely.

Thus, I could see him narrow his eyes, very slightly, and the pause had a different mood this time, one I couldn’t quite place. “That,” he said after that momentary pause, “is not my place to explain. Ask something else.”

Which, really, provided almost as much information as if he had answered me. First off, I’d confirmed that he knew this too, which had implications. I’d also moved that topic from “funny quirk” to “important secret”, and that had even more. So, what else to try? What did I need to know that less…rarefied sources couldn’t tell me?

And just like that I had my question. “Why do I feel giddy when I draw Thorn from its sheath?” I asked, still staring at him and grinning like a wolf.

Gwydion went completely still, and just looked at me. He stayed that way, dead silent, not even blinking, for long enough that I got weirded out and cleared my throat. “Um. Hello?”

“Pardon,” he said absently. “Just thinking. You know, I think that’s the most unexpectedly insightful question anyone has asked me in years.”

Well, that wasn’t ominous or anything. I’d just been going on the logic that Thorn was far beyond my ability to analyze, and this was the part of its magic that Alice had the least understanding of. I certainly hadn’t expected this response.

“You’re definitely not supposed to know,” he continued after a moment. He was smiling now, a tighter expression, colder and more honest than his previous rakish grin.“But I don’t think that one is actually out of bounds, and I respect the creativity, so here we go. Weapons like Thorn always have a sort of…self-regulating function, and that sword specifically uses euphoria for it. The sword and wielder influence each other, you see. If you didn’t feel euphoric while killing people, you couldn’t bond with it at all. If that euphoria were of a more destructive sort, then it would spiral out of control and you’d get yourself killed in short order. Fortunately, you’re mostly just a giddy lunatic who gets off on the adrenaline rush, and that’s much more stable when amplified.”

There was so much to unpack there that I was left just sitting there trying to grasp it all. I was guessing I looked like I’d just taken a heavy hit, though whether that was followed by “of a drug” or “to the head” was an open question.

“And with that, I believe our bargain is concluded,” Gwydion said into the silence that answer left behind. He stood up, and directed a shallow bow in my direction. “I shan’t keep you longer.”

I watched him go, then fished a small notebook out of its pouch. I wanted to write the conversation down as close to verbatim as I could get, because I was definitely going to be going over those notes in detail later. Then I went back to my food. Saori took a few moments longer, but not many, probably because the desserts were as impossibly good as the rest of the food.

“That was interesting,” I said after a few minutes of eating quietly.

“Seriously. And it is, in fact, hilarious that you have people squabbling over your prospective murder like kids arguing over a toy.” Saori was grinning.

“Glad to be of service,” I sighed. “So. Ravindra Kalivallabha.”

“Yeah. Which, incidentally, isn’t anyone I know. Never had anything much to do with rakshasas.”

“So definitely not an innocent recommendation, then.” I sighed. “Somehow, I just know this is going to turn out to be so convoluted it makes my head hurt.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s because it involves you, me, a rakshasa, and probably some faeries. So, you know, given any one of those would make things bizarre….”

I had to laugh at that. “Okay, fair. I guess at least this wasn’t a waste of time, then. And you were right about the food. I haven’t had decent imagawayaki in years.”

At around that point, for the third time in just over a week, I realized that Saori had gone quiet and was looking past me at someone behind me. The first time, with the satyr at Softened Dreams, had been mildly frustrating, but that was about it. The second was Melissa, and my flinch had been entirely unnecessary.

Somehow I didn’t think I was getting that lucky a third time.

Turning, I looked behind me and saw a woman of roughly average height and build. She had pretty ordinary features and clothing, and in general didn’t seem nearly threatening enough to explain the feeling of subtle but intense danger I felt. But I got a sort of quiet, predatory vibe from her, something that reminded me of a leopard waiting to pounce. And when I looked up, I met her eyes, and saw that she didn’t exactly have them. But where Kali’s eyes had been momentarily a darkness without end, meeting this person’s gaze was like looking in a mirror. Literally; her eyes were solid, reflective spheres, casting a reflection as sharp and strange as a funhouse mirror. And currently, they were directed straight at me.

“Um.” I swallowed hard. “Hi?”

She tilted her head to the side slightly. “Hi,” she said. “Why are you in my chair?”

Sometimes, I really hate being right.

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