Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

"He died hard," said the weathered voice, and "Injun Joe" Listens-to-Wind stepped out of a doorway that led to a bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. His long hair was grey-white, with a few threads of black in it. His leathery skin was the ruddy bronze of a Native American complexion exposed to plenty of sunshine, and his eyes were dark and glittering beneath white brows. He wore faded blue jeans, moccasin boots, and an old Aerosmith T-shirt. A fringed leather bag hung from a belt that ran slantwise across his body, and a smaller, similar bag hung from a thong around his neck. "Hello, Harry Dresden."

I bowed my head to him respectfully. Injun Joe was generally regarded as the most skilled healer on the White Council, and maybe in the world. He had earned doctoral degrees in medicine from twenty universities over the years, and he went back to school every decade or two to help him stay current with modern practice. "Went down fighting," I agreed, nodding to LaFortier.

Injun Joe studied the body for a moment, his eyes sad. Then he said, "I'd rather go in my sleep, I think." He glanced back at me. "What about you?"

"I want to be stepped on by an elephant while having sex with identical triplet cheerleaders," I said.

He gave me a grin that briefly stripped a century or two of care and worry from his face. "I've known a lot of kids who wanted to live forever." The smile faded as he looked back to the dead man. "Maybe someday that will happen. But maybe not. Dying is part of being alive."

There wasn't much I could say to that. I was quiet for a minute. "What are you setting up here?"

"His death left a mark," the old wizard replied. "We're going to reassemble the psychic residue into an image."

I arched an eyebrow. "Is... that even possible?"

"Normally, no," Injun Joe said. "But this room is surrounded on all sides by wards. We know what they're all supposed to look like. That means we can extrapolate where the energy came from by what impact it had on the wards. It's also why we haven't moved the body."

I thought about it for a minute. What Injun Joe was describing was possible, I decided, but only barely. It would be something like trying to assemble an image illuminated by a single flash of light by backtracking how the light in the flash had all bounced around the room. The amount of focus, concentration, and the sheer mental process that would be involved in imagining the spell that could reassemble that image were staggering.

"I thought this was open and shut already," I said.

"The evidence is conclusive," Injun Joe said.

"Then why are you bothering with this... this... thing?"

Injun Joe looked at me steadily and didn't say anything.

"The Merlin," I said. "He doesn't think Morgan did it."

"Whether he did it or not," Injun Joe said, "Morgan was the Merlin's right hand. If he is tried and found guilty, the Merlin's influence, credibility, and power will wane."

I shook my head. "Gotta love politics."

"Don't be a child," Injun Joe said quietly. "The current balance of power was largely established by the Merlin. If he is undone as the leader of the Council, it will cause chaos and instability across the supernatural world."

I thought about that for a minute. Then I asked, "You think he's going to try to fake something?"

Injun Joe didn't react for a moment, and then he shook his head slowly and firmly. "I won't let him."

"Why not?"

"Because LaFortier's death has changed everything."

"Why?"

Injun Joe nodded toward the study. "LaFortier was the member of the Council with the most contacts outside of the Western nations," he said. "Many, many members of the Council come from Asia, Africa, South America-most of them from small, less powerful nations. They feel that the White Council ignores their needs, their opinions. LaFortier was their ally, the only member of the Senior Council who they felt treated them fairly."

I folded my arms. "And the Merlin's right-hand man killed him." "Whether Morgan is guilty or not, they think he did it, possibly on the Merlin's orders," Injun Joe said. "If he is found innocent and set free, matters could turn ugly. Very ugly."

My stomach turned again. "Civil war."

Injun Joe sighed and nodded.

Fantastic.

"Where do you stand?" I asked him.

"I would like to say that I stood with the truth," he said, "but I cannot. The Council could survive the loss of Morgan without falling to pieces, even if it means a period of chaos while things settle out." He shook his head. "A civil war would certainly destroy us."

"So Morgan did it, and that's all there is to it," I said quietly.

"If the White Council falls, who will stand between humanity and those who would prey upon it?" He shook his head, and his long braid gently bumped his back. "I respect Morgan, but I cannot permit that to happen. He is one man balanced against mankind."

"So it's going to be Morgan, when you're finished," I said. "No matter who it really is."

Injun Joe bowed his head. "I... doubt that it will work. Even with the Merlin's expertise."

"What if it does? What if it shows you another killer? You start picking who lives and who dies, and to hell with the truth?"

Injun Joe turned his dark eyes to me, and his voice became quiet and harder than stone. "Once, I watched the tribe I was expected to guide and protect be destroyed, Harry Dresden. I did so because my principles held that it was wrong for the Council or its members to involve itself in manipulating the politics of mortals. I watched and restrained myself, until it was too late for me to make a difference. When I did that, I chose who would live and who would die. My people died for my principles." He shook his head. "I will not make that mistake again."

I looked away from him, and remained silent.

"If you would excuse me," he said, and walked from the room.

Hell's bells.

I had been hoping to enlist Injun Joe's aid-but I hadn't counted on the additional political factors. I didn't think he'd try to stop me if he knew what I was up to, but he certainly wasn't going to help. The more I dug, the messier this thing kept getting. If Morgan was vindicated, doom. If he wasn't vindicated, doom.

Doom, doom, and doom.

Damn.

I couldn't even be angry at Injun Joe. I understood his position. Hell, if it was me on the Senior Council and I was the one making the call, I wasn't completely confident that I wouldn't react the same way.