Cold Days (The Dresden Files 14)

"Those aren't a nickel," I said.

"Oh, for goodness' sake." Molly sighed. She reached into a pocket and produced what looked like a little old lady's coin purse. Then she flicked a nickel toward me.

I caught it. "Thanks. You're promoted to lackey."

She rolled her eyes. "Hail, Ming."

I slid the nickel across the bar to Vadderung. "There."

He nodded. "Talk to me."

"Right," I said. "Um. It's about time."

"No," he said, "it's about your island."

I eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean," he said, "is that I know about your island. I know where it came from. I know what it does. I know what's beneath it."

"Uh," I said. "Oh."

"I'm aware of how important it is that the island be well managed. Most of the people who came to your party in Mexico are."

By which he meant the Grey Council. Vadderung was a part of it. It was a group of folks, mostly wizards of the White Council, who had joined together because it seemed like the White Council was getting close to meltdown, and they wanted to save it. But since the rats were in the walls, the only way to do it was covertly, working in cells. I wasn't sure who, exactly, was a member, except for my grandfather and Vadderung. He had come along with the rest of the mostly anonymous Grey Council when I'd gone to take my daughter back from the Red Court, and seemed to fit right in.

Of course, I was pretty sure he wasn't a wizard. I was pretty sure he was a lot more than that.

So I broke it down for him, speaking very quietly. I told him about the attack being aimed at the island from across time. Hard lines appeared in his face as I did.

"Idiots," he breathed. "Even if they could defeat the banefire . . ."

"Wait," I said. "Banefire?"

"The fail-safe," Vadderung said. "The fire the island showed you."

"Right. It'll kill everything held there rather than let them escape, right?"

"It is the only way," Vadderung said. "If anyone managed to set free the things in the Well . . ."

"Seems like it would be bad," I said.

"Not bad," Vadderung said. "The end."

"Oh," I said. "Good to know. The island didn't mention that part."

"The island cannot accept it as a possibility," Vadderung said absently.

"It should probably put its big-girl pants on, then," I said. "The way I understand it, it might already be too late. I mean, for all I know, someone cast this spell a hundred years ago. Or a hundred years from now."

Vadderung waved a hand. "Nonsense. There are laws that govern the progression of time in relation to space, like everything else."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that the echoes caused by the temporal event are proportionately greater than the span of time that was bridged," he said. "Had the attack been launched from a century ago, or hence, the echoes of it would have begun far, far in advance of the event-centuries ago. These echoes have appeared only within the past few days. I would guess, roughly, that the attack must originate only hours from the actual, real-time occurrence."

"Which is tomorrow," I said. "So it's happening sometime today or sometime tomorrow."

"Most likely not tomorrow," Vadderung said. "Altering one's past is more than mildly difficult."

"The paradox thing?" I asked. "Like, if I go back and kill my grandfather, how was I ever born to go back and kill my grandfather?"

"Paradox is an overrated threat. There is . . . a quality similar to inertia at work. Once an event has occurred, there is an extremely strong tendency for that event to occur. The larger, more significant, or more energetic the event, the more it tends to remain as it originally happened, despite any interference."

I frowned. "There's . . . a law of the conservation of history?"

Vadderung grinned. "I've never heard it phrased quite like that, but it's accurate enough. In any event, overcoming that inertia requires tremendous energy, will, and a measure of simple luck. If one wishes to alter the course of history, it's a far simpler matter to attempt to shape the future."

I grunted. "So if I go back in time and kill my grandfather, what happens?"

"He beats you senseless, I suspect," Vadderung said, his gaze direct.

Oh, man. Vadderung knew about Ebenezar. Which meant that either he was higher in the old man's circle of trust than I was, or he had access to an astoundingly scary pool of information.

"You know what I mean," I said. "Paradox? Universe goes poof?"

"If it works like that, I've never seen it, as evidenced by the fact that . . ." He spread his hands. "Here it is. I suspect a different form of apocalypse happens."

I frowned. "Like what?"

"A twinned universe," Vadderung said. "A new parallel reality, identical except for that event. One in which you never existed, and one in which you failed to kill your grandfather."

I pursed my lips. "That . . . doesn't really end well for me in either case."

"An excellent reason not to meddle in the natural course of time, wouldn't you say? Meddling with time is an irrationally, outrageously, catastrophically dangerous and costly business. I encourage you to avoid it at all costs."

"You and the White Council," I said. "So it's going to happen sometime today or tonight."

Vadderung nodded. "And nearby."

"Why?"

"Because the energy requirements are astronomical," he said. "Bridging a temporal gap of any length is something utterly beyond the reach of any mortal practitioner acting alone. Doing such a thing and then trying to project the spell over a distance as well? The difficulty of it would be prohibitive. And do not forget how much water surrounds the island, which will tend to mitigate any energy sent toward it-that's one reason the Well was built there."

I nodded. All of that hung together, based upon everything I knew of magic. People always assume that magic is a free ride-but it isn't. You can't pull energy from nowhere, and there are laws that govern how it behaves.

"So this . . . time bomb. It has to come from how close?" I asked.

"The shores of the lake, I suspect," Vadderung said. "The island itself would be the ideal location, but I doubt that it will cooperate with any such effort."

"Not hardly," I agreed. "And you can't just scribble a chalk circle and pull this spell out of your hat. It's got to have an energy source. A big one."