Della cast her spell, fire blazing around her fingers, and I reacted on instinct.
I summoned magical power of my own and cast the Shield spell. A translucent dome of bluish-white light appeared in front of the desk, just in time to intercept Della’s blast of elemental fire. Her bolt of flame struck my Shield, and it hit hard. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold the Shield in place against her blast. She was strong, strong enough that I wasn’t sure if I could take her in a magical fight.
“Murderess!” screamed Della. Even when shrieking her voice sounded musical. “You shall not escape justice for the death of noble Malthraxivorn!”
She raced through the office, her pretty face a mask of rage, her hands hooked into claws. I realized that she wasn’t going to bother with magic, that she was going to beat me to death with her bare hands. I might not be able to take her in a magical battle, but I definitely couldn’t take her in a hand-to-hand fight.
I worked one of the spells that Arvalaeon had taught me, sheathing my hands in invisible gauntlets of telekinetic force. Della leaped towards me, her fist shooting forward. I blocked her blow with my left hand, and I felt the impact in my mind as her fist struck the gauntlet of force. Without the spell, trying to block her fist would have broken every bone in my left hand, and if she had hit my face, she probably would have cracked my skull or shattered my jaw.
But I could hit hard, too.
I hammered my right fist into her stomach. She might have been a shapeshifted dragon, but I could still put a lot of power into my spells, and the force of my blow threw her backward across the office. Della hit the side of one of the easy chairs, and she flipped over it and landed on her ass.
She looked more surprised than hurt. Her green eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open in startlement. For a moment puzzlement overrode her rage, and I pulled together power for another spell.
“You’re human!” she said, getting to her feet in a single fluid motion. “It’s not an illusion spell, I can smell you. Your scent is human. You shouldn’t be able to do that.”
I tried to think of a way to convince her that I hadn’t killed her uncle, and then I realized that I didn’t have to say anything at all. I sent a mental command to the blood ring on my right hand, and the translucent image of the High Queen’s elaborate seal appeared in the air between us.
Della blinked at it, her puzzlement increasing.
“I didn’t kill your uncle, Lady Delaxsicoria,” I said. “I am an agent of the High Queen of the Elves, and she has dispatched me to find your uncle’s murderer and bring him to justice.”
“But you’re human,” said Della again. Her nostrils flared. “I can smell you.” I guess she really did have a good sense of smell. “You’re somewhere in your early twenties. You bathed this morning after a breakfast of eggs and bacon, and sometime in the last day you have mated with a human male.”
Uh. Guess Della had a really good sense of smell.
Some of my surprise must have shown because she smirked. “Would you like me to tell you the brands of your shampoo and soap as well? But you’re human. Humans can use aetheric force, but on average you cannot wield magic with this degree of power.”
“Do you think the High Queen recruits average humans as her agents?” I said.
“Hmm,” said Della, and she tapped her lips with a finger. “No, I would suppose not. But this might all be an elaborate deception. Someone of great power killed my uncle, and it might be you.”
“Until this morning, I had no idea that either you or your uncle existed,” I said.
She drew herself up, offended. “You haven’t heard of me?”
“No. Sorry.”
Della continued speaking. “You haven’t listened to my music? You haven’t heard my albums? You haven’t bought any of my songs?”
“I really don’t listen to music,” I said. I tried to think of something to placate the obvious offense I saw on her face. “But I’m sure I’ve heard something you’ve sung on the radio while I’ve been at the gas station or something.”
Della stared at me as if I had just confessed to throwing up on her bed.
“On the radio,” she said. “At the gas station.”
“I think we might have more important things to talk about,” I said.
“More important?” said Della, her voice rising again. “Well, we’ll just see right now if you’re a trick or not.”
She gestured and cast a spell, gray light flaring around her hand, and hit me with the mindtouch spell.
I had always thought you had to be, you know, actually touching someone to use the mindtouch spell. Guess Della was powerful enough to dispense with that little formality. Her will hammered into my mind, and I stumbled back a step. It felt like steel talons were slicing into my thoughts.
Her will was strong, but so was mine. I seized her thoughts with my own and drove them into the burning memories of the Eternity Crucible.
I had done this before when people had tried to use magic to invade my mind, and I could also use the mindtouch spell to project these memories into an enemy’s thoughts. Usually, when I did that to an Elf or a human, the torrent of agony and death in the memories caused their minds to overload and more or less reboot. They generally woke up a half-hour later missing thirty minutes or so of their memories.
Della was too strong for that.
But her eyes popped wide, and she stepped back with a hiss of pain like she had just accidentally brushed a hot stove. The mindtouch spell winked out, and Della took another step back, one hand coming up in the beginnings of a spell, her eyes narrowed.
“What the freaking hell is wrong with you?” said Della. “The inside of your head is all twisted up on itself.”
I grinned my mirthless grin at her. “I had a bad day once.”
“A human mind should not look like that,” said Della. “What, are you the High Queen’s mad bad wizard girl?”
“The maddest and the baddest,” I said.
Della blinked, snorted, and shook her head. “Wait. I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”
“We never met until you walked through that door and tried to kill me,” I said.
She snapped her fingers. “I remember! I saw that news report. I watched it with my uncle. You’re the Worldburner, the one who killed the Archons.”
“Lord Morvilind killed the Archons,” I said. “I just helped.”
“Then you really do work for the High Queen,” said Della.
“She didn’t give me much choice in the matter,” I said.
Della snorted. “That sounds like the High Queen. All those of power or ability on Earth must work for her, or she’ll destroy them.” She shrugged. “My uncle understood this, and so do I. For I have seen worlds with worse rulers. So, your name is…Nadia Moran, yes?”
“Yeah,” I said. It was actually Nadia MacCormac now, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I really, really wished that stupid news report with my picture hadn’t run.
Damn reporters.
“And you are here to find out who killed my uncle?” said Della.
“Yeah,” I said again.
Della drew herself up. “Then why have you not spoken to me before this? Why do I find you creeping like a sneaking thief through my uncle’s gallery?”
I had been a sneaking thief for a long time, so that was my default mode of approaching problems.
“I wanted to look at everything with a clear head, without any preconceptions,” I said.
Della sniffed. “Then you presume to think that I murdered my uncle?”
“I don’t presume to think anything yet,” I said, watching her. I realized I had misjudged her. The histrionic displays of emotion in the gallery had made me think that she was stupid or at least lacking in self-control. Yet there was a powerful mind under all that emotion, and she had played it very cool with me so far. “I haven’t seen enough evidence to draw any firm conclusions.”
“If you think that I killed my uncle, then you are either delusional or ignorant,” said Della. “Do you know anything of dragons, Worldburner? I was born on Bel-Thunezad, a world far from here. When the Dark Ones overran and destroyed that world soon after I was hatched, my uncle took me and brought me to Earth, to be raised in the security of the High Queen’s domain. My uncle was a great and noble man, a man who enriched the lives of the human apes by collecting objects of beauty for them to enjoy in the fleeting time of their short mortal spans. I owe everything to him, even my very life. And you dare to suggest that I might have killed him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Did you?”
Della let out a sound that might have been an exasperated laugh or an annoyed huff. “You are as persistent as a bass drum.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “I notice that you keep failing to answer the question. Did you kill your uncle?”
Her eyes narrowed again. The question had insulted her. Either she really hadn’t killed Max Sarkany, or she was an amazing actress. Both seemed well within the realm of possibility. Especially since she could use magic to control her appearance and could probably make herself feign whatever emotion she wanted with perfect precision.
“Very well, agent of the High Queen,” said Della. “You wish to question me? You seek the truth? Then come with me downstairs. We shall have the truth, you and I.”
“All right,” I said. I stepped around the desk, watching her. Maybe she intended to kill me downstairs. On the other hand, if she really wanted to kill me, she could do it up here just as easily. Though I could put up a hell of a fight, and while she was physically and magically stronger than I was, I might be able to take her.
Or maybe she thought the blood would be easier to clean up downstairs.
I followed her into the hallway and downstairs to the gallery. Both Helen and Shawn turned as we approached. Neither one of them looked particularly surprised that their boss had returned with a stranger. Working for a dragon had to involve frequent unexpected situations.
“This,” said Della, waving a hand at me, “is the Worldburner. The High Queen has dispatched her to find my uncle’s murderer, and she desires to question me. So, she shall question me, and the truth of Delaxsicoria shall thunder in her ears.” She beckoned. “Helen, clothes.”
Helen nodded and stepped closer, and Della began unbuttoning her blouse.
“Uh,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“You wish the truth?” said Della, and she drew off her blouse and handed it to Helen, and then unzipped the back of her skirt and slid it down her legs. “I will show you the truth, Worldburner.”
“I want to ask you some questions,” I said. “I don’t think you need to take off your clothes for that.”
“I think I do,” said Della, unhooking her bra and passing it to Helen. “I paid quite a lot of money for these clothes, and I’m fond of them. I don’t want to get them ruined.”
“Asking questions shouldn’t ruin your clothes,” I said, but by then she had stepped out of her underwear and kicked off her shoes and stood naked in front of me.
Though I have to admit it was kind of obvious she was a shapeshifted dragon. I don’t think any living human woman actually had her combination of toned muscle, rounded curves, and hourglass figure all at the same time. I suppose it made sense. I mean, I’m happy with the way I look, but if I could snap my fingers and be taller and curvier, hell, I would do it. If a dragon was going to shapeshift into a human, why not shapeshift into a beautiful one?
I was absurdly relieved that Della was a woman. I’m happily married, and I’m not about to cheat on Riordan. I kind of think Riordan could have done better than me. But nonetheless looking at an impossible vision of masculine beauty and musculature would have been annoyingly distracting.
“Because you want the truth, Worldburner,” said Della with a smirk, “and that would ruin my clothes if I didn’t take them off first.”
As she spoke the final word, golden light sheathed her body, and she began to swell and expand.
Suddenly I understood why Della had taken off her clothes.
The transformation into her true form would ruin them.
The golden light cleared, and I found myself looking at a dragon.
Della’s true form was just as large as her uncle’s had been, but a dragon is much more intimidating when it’s alive than when sprawled dead on the floor. Her long, serpentine body was at least fifty or sixty feet long from snout to tail and scales a deep shade of green covered her. The exact same shade of emerald green as her eyes in her human form, come to think of it. The tops of her folded wings brushed the ceiling overhead, and her fang-filled head was about the size of my body. Her brilliant golden eyes drilled into me, and I noted that her jaws could bite off my head without much difficulty.
Hell, she could probably swallow me whole without straining.
That huge head was maybe three feet in front of my face, and I felt the heat radiating from the dragon like an open furnace. The smell of the creature…it was the ozone odor I recalled from the John Doe Hospital, but much stronger, and also accompanied by a smell like hot metal.
Like very hot metal.
“Well, Nadia Moran?” said Delaxsicoria. Her voice was still lovely and melodious, and it hadn’t gotten much louder, but it seemed somehow larger as if I could feel it across my entire body at once. “Behold the truth of me. It is a sight that few human eyes have ever been privileged to see.”
Both Shawn and Helen offered deep bows to their employer.
A thought occurred to me. Della clearly expected admiration and awe. Tarlia had said that dragons were like cats, and cats were vain. Della could have shapeshifted into a human woman of average appearance, but instead, she had become one of stunning beauty. She expected me to gawk in amazement at her, to be overwhelmed by the sight of her true form.
Which, admittedly, was impressive.
But perhaps that was a way to gain the upper hand in this conversation. She expected me to be stunned, to feed her vanity. If I refused to be impressed, that would throw her.
Or it might irritate her into killing me.
But I doubted it. Della and Malthraxivorn had not thrived on Earth for a hundred and fifty years by defying the High Queen, and I suspected Tarlia would frown upon people killing her agents. Especially when she had sent her agents to help.
So I folded my arms over my chest and said, “Are you sure that you want to do this in dragon form? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in human shape? This is an enclosed space, and your…um, increased girth might make that uncomfortable.”
I felt Della’s sudden anger press on me. Helen’s jaw dropped open for a second before she recovered herself.
“Girth?” snarled Della.
“Never mind, it’s not important,” I said. “So. Questions. Did you kill Lord Malthraxivorn?”
“I did not,” said Della. “Malthraxivorn was my only blood kin on this world, and as far as I know, my only blood kin on any world in the cosmos. Such things matter less to us than to Elves or humans, but they still matter. I shall find whoever killed him, and when I do, I shall inflict a death of fire and torment upon the killer.”
“All right,” I said. I glanced at Shawn and Helen. “How about you two? Did either of you kill Lord Malthraxivorn?”
Shawn scowled at me. “Of course not.”
For the first time, Helen looked taken aback. “No! Lord Malthraxivorn and Lady Delaxsicoria are generous and kindly lords. I would not do anything to hurt them.”
“You waste time,” said Della, “questioning my retainers. They bore no ill-will against my uncle, and even if they had, they would have lacked the ability to harm him in any serious way.”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “What about Edina? He doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
Della huffed out a breath. It felt like getting hit in the face with an ozone-scented wind, and it made my head spin a little. “Charles Edina was devoted to my uncle. Devoted to the point of sycophancy, a quality I detest. All my retainers and hirelings speak the truth to me, lest they feel my wrath. Edina did not adopt that policy with my uncle and flattered him and told him whatever he wanted to hear.” An amused note entered her voice. “Edina hates me, of course. I often contradicted him to my uncle’s face when I thought Edina’s obsequiousness grew too nauseating to bear. But he cannot hurt me, and he could not have hurt my uncle. He is too much of a coward. He is a…a…oh, what is the human word I used? I forget which language.”
“Putz, ma’am?” said Helen.
“Yes, thank you, Helen,” said Della. “He is a putz. Skillful enough with matters of finance and law, but a putz. He could no more lift his hand against a dragon than a piccolo could drown out a trumpet.”
I wasn’t sure what a piccolo was, but I nodded as if it made sense. “What about you, Lady Delaxsicoria? Do you have any enemies who might have harmed your uncle?”
“I have no enemies,” said Della. “I have good relations with all the other dragons on this world. I am cordial with the Elven nobles who know of my true nature. Humans adore my music and the beauty it brings to their otherwise tragic lives.” She seemed to glare at me with giant golden eyes. “At least humans with good taste.”
“You’re in the music business,” I said. “That can be pretty cutthroat.”
“It can be,” said Delaxsicoria. “But not for me. I own my own production company and music label, and I have my own distribution agreements with the music retailers and streaming services. My uncle set it all up for me when I began my study of the musical traditions of humans. He said that of all the worlds he had visited, one universal truism was that publishers are always lying thieves and cheating scoundrels. Therefore, I would have my own production company.”
“Smart of him,” I said. Riordan had a similarly low opinion of publishers, apparently acquired in his younger days when he had published his first couple of books. Now he had gotten his own publishing license from the Department of Education, and published the books himself through his own company, though he occasionally leased audio and film rights. (He had explained the difference between ebook, mass market paperback, trade paperback, hardback, audio, and film rights to me once, and I had tried really hard to pay attention.) “But you must have rivals. Other musicians jealous of your success.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Della. “Envy is a cancer of the soul to which both humans and Elves are peculiarly prone. Surely some of my inferiors are jealous of my success. But what could they do about it? I do not lord it over them. And there is not a musician alive who could kill a dragon with a single blow.”
That was a good point.
“What about Lord Malthraxivorn?” I said. “He must have had enemies.”
“Not that I am aware of,” said Della. “My uncle was beloved by all.”
“He was rich and influential,” I said. “You don’t get that way without stepping on a few toes.” Della blew out another breath that felt like a wind from a blast furnace. “If he didn’t have any enemies…did he have rivals among the other dragons?”
“Some,” admitted Della. “But none would have killed him. You do not understand our ways, Worldburner. We prefer to compete through money and riches and influence, not violence. When we fight face to face, entire cities burn. Sending an assassin to kill another dragon is…beneath us. Uncouth, even.”
“All right,” I said. “Who would you say was your uncle’s biggest rival among the other dragons?”
“Hmm,” said Della. “Probably Tarthrunivor. They were rivals back on Bel-Thunezad.” She waved a massive clawed limb at the exhibit of Russian art. “They both appreciated fine artwork and tried to outdo each other with their collections.”
Russian? That weird old document on Malthraxivorn’s desk had been in Russian.
“I assume Tarthrunivor masquerades as a human, just as you do,” I said. “Who does he masquerade as?”
“Alexei Tarkov,” said Della. “Owner and CEO of Tarkov Industries, one of the largest companies allowed to operate inside the Russian Imperium.”
“That means he has friends in the Russian government,” I said. “And if he has friends in the Russian government, that means he has friends in the Okhrana, the Imperium’s secret police. And they deal in dirty tricks like this all the time.” Had the Russian secret police killed Malthraxivorn at the behest of Tarthrunivor? That seemed unlikely, but I had seen weirder things happen.
“The melody of your argument is flawed,” said Della. “We lived in Moscow for decades before my uncle decided it was time to change our identities and move to New York. Tarthrunivor and my uncle regularly clashed when we lived in the Russian Imperium, trying to grow their fortunes, but they never employed violence against each other.”
“Why did you move to New York?” I said. Maybe Malthraxivorn had fallen out hard with Tarthrunivor and wanted a continent and an ocean between them.
“My uncle wished me to see more of the world,” said Della. “Humans are not the only ones who enjoy variety, Worldburner. Listening to the same song over and over again grows tedious. I had spent years as an opera singer, and I sang in all the European capitals. Human opera is amazingly expressive, and I enjoy it a great deal. But I desired to explore American popular music, and my uncle wished to experience life in a major American city.”
“Then it wasn’t a conflict with Tarthrunivor that induced your uncle to move?” I said.
“Not as far as I know,” said Della. “You seem fixated on this idea that another dragon murdered my uncle.”
“It’s a possibility,” I said. “You saw that someone smashed the camera server upstairs?”
Della growled, which was slightly terrifying. “Which you noticed while you were sneaking around.”
“Yes,” I said. “That means whoever killed Lord Malthraxivorn knew where the camera server was. And from the position of his body,” Della hissed, the heat of her breath washing over my face, “someone crept up behind him, or it was someone he knew. Either way, it was an attacker powerful enough to kill him with a single blow. That means it was someone he knew and trusted well enough to turn his back to, or it was someone so stealthy that Lord Malthraxivorn didn’t notice. And as I just found out firsthand, it is really, really hard to sneak up on a dragon.”
“Our senses are keen,” agreed Della.
“Your uncle’s killer would have been someone of considerable power,” I said. “That pretty much limits it to an Elven noble, a really powerful human wizard, or another dragon.” Or maybe a powerful Dark One inhabiting a human, but I had seen absolutely zero indication the Dark Ones were involved with this murder.
Della let out another rumbling growl.
“The notes of your melody ring true,” said Della. “But I cannot see Tarthrunivor or another dragon arranging my uncle’s death in this fashion. It is simply not our way.”
“Tarthrunivor is still in Russia, yeah?” I said. Della nodded. Weird to see that giant head nod on the end of a serpentine neck. “You’ve got all this Russian art here. Maybe you have a painting or a statue that Tarthrunivor wants.”
“I still do not see it,” said Della. “My uncle and Tarthrunivor were not friends, were rivals, but they would not kill each other over artwork. Yes, my uncle has imported a great deal of artwork from the Russian Imperium recently, but that is hardly cause for murder.”
Shawn shifted. He had been as silent and still as a statue himself. “My lady.”
Della’s head rotated to face him. “Yes, Shawn?” I suppose Della really didn’t need a bodyguard. But she was (apparently) a famous singer, and it would ruin her human identity if she beat an obsessive stalker to a pulp with her bare hands. She had people for that.
“I feel it is in your best interests that I speak now,” said Shawn. “I would never betray your secrets or Lord Malthraxivorn’s, but…”
“Speak freely,” said Della.
“I do not think artwork was all that Lord Malthraxivorn imported from Russia,” said Shawn. “I think he imported some technology as well.”
Something shifted in my mind.
“Technology?” I said.
“What is the point of that?” said Della. “The Russians don’t have any technology that the Americans do not possess. The High Queen makes sure of that.”
“It was several months ago, my lady,” said Shawn. “May, I think. Shortly before the Rebel attack on New York. You had come to meet with Lord Malthraxivorn, and we waited in the hall while he finished a phone call. You had put on headphones to listen to music…”
“Yes, I remember,” said Della.
“I’m afraid I could hear Lord Malthraxivorn’s phone conversation,” said Shawn. “He talked about a site in the Ural Mountains, and how the machines would be removed from the site and shipped here. I tried not to pay attention since it was none of my business, but your talk with the Worldburner brought it to my mind. I hadn’t thought about it since otherwise.”
“I see,” said Della. “But why would someone kill him for that? Any technology available in Russia would also be available here.”
“Unless,” I said, “it was forbidden technology.”
“Explain,” said Della.
“Look, this isn’t common knowledge among humans, but the High Queen has suppressed technological change on Earth since the Conquest,” I said. I had learned pieces of this over the years, some of it from Morvilind, some of it from Nicholas and his gang, and some of it from Riordan. It wasn’t the sort of thing that was discussed in public, at least if you knew what was good for you. “Like, some of it has changed. In the old days, we didn’t have fusion plants, and nowadays all the electricity comes from underground fusion plants. Medical technology is better. Agriculture and…um, the science of making stuff. Materials science, that’s it. But anything that the High Queen thinks is dangerous has been suppressed. Like, computers haven’t changed much since the Conquest. Guns and planes and weapons technology, that’s all the same. Maybe your uncle found something that was suppressed.”
Again, Della let out a rumbling growl. “The High Queen killed my uncle?”
“Of course not,” I said. “If she had, would she have sent me to find his killer?”
Della hesitated. “That’s a good point.”
“Maybe Lord Malthraxivorn found some new scientific discovery, some new technology,” I said. “Or…”
I remembered the document I had seen on the desk upstairs.
“Or he found something old,” I said slowly. “Something that had been suppressed and forgotten. Lady Delaxsicoria, do you read Russian?”
“Obviously,” said Della. “I lived in Russia for decades.”
“There’s a document on your uncle’s desk in Russian,” I said. “I can’t read Russian, but I was able to make out the date. It claims it was printed in Conquest Year 109.”
“That was before my uncle and I came to this world,” said Della. “Before I was hatched, come to think of it.” She sniffed. “I do not think my uncle would be foolish enough to dabble with forbidden technology.”
“Maybe he wasn’t,” I said. “Maybe he found something, didn’t know what it was, and got killed for it. If I bring you that document, can you translate it? I think it might be important.”
“Very well,” said Della, and I felt a surge of magical power from her. “But I shall accompany you. I do not trust you enough to let you wander unaccompanied through my uncle’s building.”
Golden light flared over her body, encasing her in a glowing cocoon. The light pulsed once and then faded, and Della shrank back down into her human form. Helen handed over her clothes, and Della started to get dressed.
“Question,” I said.
“Yes?” said Della.
“When you shapeshift, it doesn’t include clothes,” I said.
“No, the spell just alters my physical form,” Della said. “Clothes are not included.”
“But could you include clothes?” I said. “You wouldn’t have to get dressed, then.”
The question seemed to baffle her. “But I like clothes.” She began buttoning her blouse. “This skirt cost three thousand dollars. Isn’t it flattering?”
“I…three thousand dollars?” I said. God, I don’t think I owned three thousand dollars’ worth of clothes. In the bad old days, Morvilind hadn’t bothered to pay me, so I had done all my shopping at thrift stores or discount outlets. I mean, I had some nice outfits, but spending three thousand dollars on a single piece of clothing boggled my mind.
It wasn’t even that big of a skirt. For three thousand dollars you’d think it would go past the knees.
“Mirror,” said Della as she finished getting dressed and stepped into her shoes. I wondered how much those shoes had cost and decided I would be happier in ignorance. Helen produced a mirror, and Della peered into it, turning her face to one angle and another as she fluffed her hair. “You know, Worldburner, I realize you’re dressed for your particular sort of business, but I think you could clean up nicely. A blue dress or maybe a pale purple one would offset your skin tone well, maybe combine that with some understated makeup.”
“This probably isn’t the best time to discuss fashion,” I said.
“But I like pretty things,” said Della, taking one last look in the mirror. She nodded, and Helen put it away. “Let’s go translate this document of yours, Worldburner.” Her mood changed, and her green eyes seemed to kindle with wrath. “Perhaps that shall set us upon the trail of my uncle’s murderer.”
We crossed the gallery and went back upstairs to Malthraxivorn’s office. I went to the desk and picked up the old Russian document and handed it over. Della took it and frowned, her eyes flicking over the text.
I let her read for a minute. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a page from a medical or lab report,” said Della. “You’re right, it’s dated from over two hundred years ago. It’s talking about five experimental subjects, about the conditions related to their stasis.”
“Stasis?” I said.
“It doesn’t elaborate,” said Della. “It talks about a facility in the Ural Mountains, in Chelyabinsk Oblast.”
“Where is that?” I said.
“South-central Russia,” said Della. “On the border with Kazakhstan. I guess these experimental subjects were kept in a facility there. Also, there’s a notice at the bottom of the page that this report is the property of something called Catalyst Corporation and that any unauthorized transmission is illegal, along with a great deal of legalese.”
“Catalyst Corporation?” I said. I had never heard of it.
“That sounds…vaguely familiar,” said Della, frowning. “I seem to recall hearing about it soon after my uncle and I came to Earth. There was a great deal of social upheaval among you humans at the time. Something to do with the birth rate falling. Helen, dear, see if you can look that up for me?”
“Yes, my lady,” said Helen, producing her phone. She typed into it and shook her head. “There’s a very short entry in the official online encyclopedia. It says that Catalyst Corporation was founded in Conquest Year 42, and one of the few international corporations allowed to exist at the time. It was disbanded at the order of the High Queen in Conquest Year 121. It says the corporation’s leaders were guilty of treason and crimes against humanity and executed for them.”
“That’s it?” I said.
“It is a short article,” said Helen.
“Does it say what Catalyst Corporation did?” I said. “It must have sold something.”
“Medical technology and services,” said Helen.
“Medical,” I said, surprised. I had half-expected her to say that Catalyst had been researching weapons technology or something. I had never heard of the High Queen and the Elves suppressing medical research. In fact, they encouraged it, and the Elven nobles competed to see who could sponsor the biggest hospitals. Hell, James Marney had told me a couple of times that without modern medical technology, he would have died from his wound in the Shadowlands, or he would have lost the leg. Instead, he could walk, albeit with a cane. “Did your uncle have any interest in medical technology?”
“Not that I know of,” said Della. “But he had many business interests. I didn’t know about all of them.” A melancholy look went over her face. “I suppose I shall have to familiarize myself with all of them now.”
“Medical technology,” I said again, thinking it through. “All right. Lord Malthraxivorn likes Russian art. I bet he had a lot of scouts and agents in the Russian Imperium looking for art, right? Stuff he’d be interested it.” Della nodded. I had her attention now, I could see. “One of his scouts finds something in this old Catalyst Corporation facility in the Ural Mountains, decides that Malthraxivorn would be interested in it. He sells it to your uncle, and it gets shipped here. Except Malthraxivorn doesn’t realize what he’s got, and someone kills him for it.”
Or Malthraxivorn had been plotting against the High Queen by obtaining forbidden technology. But that wasn’t something I wanted to raise with his niece.
“There are several problems with that theory,” said Della. “Namely, even if my uncle had obtained a piece of rare or forgotten technology, who would have had the power to kill him for it? And yet…I hear the truth in your words, Worldburner. I fear you have worked out part of the reason for his death.”
“There was an invoice on his desk from the Port Authority,” I said, pointing at the document. “In September, a freighter from St. Petersburg arrived with five crates for him. That lab report from Catalyst Corporation says there were five experimental subjects. That’s a hell of a coincidence.”
Della said nothing and put the lab report back on the desk. Her expression had grown troubled.
“I think our next step is to find out what was inside those five crates,” I said. I realized that I had just said “we,” but I thought I could get farther with Della’s help than I could without it. I had also come to suspect that she hadn’t killed her uncle and didn’t know who had done it. She could have been a superb liar, but I didn’t think she was lying about this.
“Yes, you are right,” murmured Della. “I remember. In September my uncle was very excited about a shipment he received. I didn’t pay much attention to it since I was busy recording for most of that month. But he thought the shipment would make him a lot of money.”
“Is it here in the art gallery?” I said. “Or somewhere in the building?”
“I do not think so,” said Della. “Likely it is at his warehouse in Brooklyn. The art gallery holds many artworks, but my uncle owns far more than can be readily displayed. The rest is stored at the Brooklyn warehouse.”
“Then I think I had better go there and take a look,” I said.
“And I shall come with you,” said Della.
I thought it might be better to go alone. I could look over the warehouse without preconceptions, and maybe find those five crates that might have led to Malthraxivorn’s death. Della could have things she would want to hide inside the warehouse, things that I needed to know. Then again, I was willing to gamble that she hadn’t been the one to kill her uncle. And her help would be useful. It would be convenient if she could just let me inside and disable all the alarms.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go right now.”
***