Magic Breaks (Kate Daniels 7)
Page 91“Do you call him Roland?” I asked.
Landon’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine.”
I’d played this game before. It never turned out well. But why not. “Fine. Do you call him Roland to his face?”
“I call him Sharrum.”
King. Well, that wasn’t exactly surprising.
“But yes, in public, I refer to him as Lord Roland. That’s the name he has chosen for this age.” Landon’s eyes lit up. “My turn. Do you carry Voron’s sword?”
“No.”
The excitement died in Landon’s eyes.
“Hugh broke Slayer,” I told him. “I loved that sword. It was a part of me for over twenty years.”
“A convenient excuse,” Landon murmured.
Oh screw it. “I mourn my sword, but that’s alright. Grandmother gave me another one.” I pulled Sarrat out of its sheath.
Landon spun the wheel. The Land Rover nearly careened, turning off the road. Landon parked and bolted out of the car, slapping the driver’s door closed behind him.
Awesome. I’d terrified the Legatus of the Golden Legion just by showing him my sword. If I waved it around, he’d probably explode.
Landon paced back and forth, his eyes a little wild.
“Well, he took it worse than I did,” Curran said.
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“It’s a sword made out of your grandmother’s bones, Kate.”
I shrugged.
Landon stared at me through the windshield, turned around, paced back and forth, and stared at me again.
“Do you know what most people have from their grandmother? A tea set. Or a quilt.” Curran smiled. “If your family had a quilt, it would be made out of chimera skin and stuffed with feathers from dead angels.”
“Are we talking Judeo-Christian angels, because those don’t exist, or pagan angels like Teddy Jo?”
“Kate,” Curran said.
“Hey, I warned you from the start it would be weird. I sat in that bathtub with you and told you that this was a really bad idea. You said you loved me and stayed in the tub. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made your bed. You have to lie in it.”
“I’ll lie in any bed as long as you’re in it, but this is still weird.”
I turned back to look at him. “We’re going to see my dad, who’ll probably crush me like a gnat, and you’re weirded out by my sword?”
Landon peered at me again.
“Did you name it yet?” Curran asked.
“Yes. Sarrat Irkalli. It means Great Queen of Irkalla, the Land of the Dead. My grandmother was occasionally confused with her, and now that she’s dead, it’s fitting.”
Curran spread his arms. “I rest my case.”
This was ridiculous. I leaned over the driver’s side, swung the door open, and yelled at the top of my lungs, trying to outscream the enchanted water engine. “Are you done?”
“What?” Landon said.
“Are! You! Done?! If you want, you can stay here. Just point us where to go, and we’ll drive ourselves!”
Landon slid back into the driver’s seat and pointed at my saber. “Put it away.”
“Say the magic word.”
“Please,” Landon squeezed out.
I slid the blade back into the sheath and petted it. “It’s okay, Sarrat. If he insults you, I’ll cut his head off and you can drink his blood.”
Landon shut his eyes for a long moment, exhaled, and steered the Land Rover back onto the highway.
The road wove its way through the woods. The snow ended and asphalt began, seeded with large stone blocks. “Why the stone?”
“His magic degrades modern roads,” Landon said.
The woods continued. The trees grew thicker and taller, spreading their mighty branches to the sun. The snow sparkled in the weak winter light, pure white in the sun, blue in the shadows. The magic must’ve fed this park the way it fed the parks in Atlanta, and what began as a carefully managed spot of green had rioted and turned into a dense old forest. How odd it must’ve been for my father to go from ancient Mesopotamia to this winter wonderland.
Voron had dedicated his life to bringing me to this point. If he were still alive, he would know I was riding to my death. I now realized that he never expected me to win. All of his plans always ended with me confronting Roland. There was never any discussion of what to do after. He didn’t expect me to have an after.
The woods parted. A building loomed in the distance, surrounded by the spiral of a wide iced-over moat, curving around the structure like a snake of frosted glass. The building rose, all but floating, above the snow-covered lawn, oblong, its walls a gathering of delicate white panels that looked suspiciously like giant feathers. They thrust from the main mass in perfect imitation of a bird. The road turned, circling the building, and I saw the whole structure.
A swan.
The building was constructed in the shape of a giant swan, its tail sitting on the ground, its chest caught in the ice of the lake, while its proud neck curved five stories above the water. The sun bathed it and it glowed slightly, as if the entire palace had been painstakingly carved by a genius sculptor out of an enormous block of glossy alabaster. Each feather stood out, distinct, its vanes and shaft clearly visible. The swan looked ready to push off from the shore and swim out onto the lake. If it had been life-sized, I would’ve thought it was real. The beauty of it took my breath away.
How could the man who’d built Mishmar build this?
“Why a swan?” Curran asked.
“He’s fond of them,” Landon said, bringing the car to a stop. “We get out here.”
He stepped out of the car. Curran and I followed him toward three ornate bridges. One after the other, we walked across them and through the concentric rings of the moat. Snow crunched under my feet.
I was walking into the heart of my father’s power, while the magic was up. This wasn’t how I had pictured confronting him. But at least Curran was with me. So we could die heroically together. Okay, that wasn’t the best thought to have right about now.