Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

My headache started coming on again.

How the hell was I supposed to do the right thing if there wasn't a right thing?

Chapter Sixteen

I stared at LaFortier's corpse for a moment longer, shook my head, and then pulled one of those disposable cameras you can get from a vending machine out of my duster pocket. I walked around the room snapping pictures of the body, the blood splatters, and the broken bits of furniture. I ran through the entire role of film, making the most complete record of the scene that I could, and then pocketed the camera again and turned to leave LaFortier's chambers.

Back in the Ostentatiatory, I heard voices drifting up from below. I nodded pleasantly to Lucky, who gave me an inscrutable look, and walked to the balcony railing.

Listens-to-Wind and the Merlin were standing by the buffet table, speaking quietly. Peabody hovered in the background, carrying a different set of folders, ledgers, and pens.

I paused for a moment to Listen. It's a trick I picked up somewhere along the line-not really magic, per se, as much as it is turning my mental focus completely to my sense of hearing.

"... to find out the truth," the Merlin was saying as he loaded up a plate with tiny sandwiches and wedges of cheese and fresh green grapes. "Surely you have no objection to that."

"I think the truth is already well established," Listens-to-Wind replied quietly. "We're just wasting time here. We should be focusing on controlling the fallout."

The Merlin was a tall man, regal of bearing, with a long white beard and long white hair to go with it-every inch the wizard's wizard. He wore a blue robe and a silver circlet about his brow, and his staff was an elegant length of pure white wood, completely free of any marking. He paused in loading his plate and regarded Injun Joe with a level gaze. "I'll take it under advisement."

Injun Joe Listens-to-Wind sighed and held up his hands palms forward in a conciliatory gesture. "We're ready to begin."

"Let me get some food in me and I'll be right in."

"Ahem," Peabody said diffidently. "Actually, Wizard Listens-to-Wind, if you could sign a few papers for me while the Merlin eats, it would be greatly appreciated. There are two files on your desk that need your approval and I have three..." He paused and began to juggle the load in his arms until he could peer into a folder. "No four, four others here with me."

Injun Joe sighed. "Okay," he said. "Come on." The two of them walked toward the stairs leading up to the balcony, turned the opposite way I had when they reached the top, and entered a chamber on the far side of the room.

I waited until they were gone to descend the staircase to the ground level.

The Merlin had seated himself in the nearest group of chairs and was eating his sandwiches. He froze for a second as he saw me, and then smoothly resumed his meal. Funny. I didn't like the Merlin much more than I would a case of flaming gonorrhea, but I had never seen him in this context before. I'd always seen him at the head of a convened Council, and as this remote and unapproachable figure of unyielding authority and power.

I'd never even considered the notion that he might eat sandwiches.

I was about to go on past him, but instead swerved and came to a stop standing over him.

He continued eating, apparently unconcerned, until he'd finished the sandwich. "Come to gloat, have you, Dresden?" he asked.

"No," I said quietly. "I'm here to help you."

He dropped the bit of cheese he'd been about to bite into. It fell to the floor, unnoticed, as his eyes narrowed, regarding me suspiciously. "Excuse me?"

I bared my teeth in a cold little smile. "I know. It's like having a cheese grater shoved against my gums, just saying it."

He stared at me for a silent minute before taking in a slow breath, settling back into the chair, and regarding me with steady blue eyes. "Why should I believe you would do any such thing?"

"Because your balls are in a vise and I'm the only one who can pull them out," I said.

He arched an elegant silver eyebrow.

"Okay," I said. "That came out a little more homoerotic than I intended."

"Indeed," said the Merlin.

"But Morgan can't stay hidden forever and you know it. They'll find him. His trial will last about two seconds. Then he falls down and breaks his crown and your political career comes tumbling after."

The Merlin seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he shrugged a shoulder. "I think it's far more likely that you will work very, very hard to make sure he dies."

"I like to think I work smarter, not harder," I said. "If I want him dead, all I need to do is stand around and applaud. It isn't as though I can make his case any worse."

"Oh," said the Merlin. "I'm not so certain. You have vast talents in that particular venue."

"He's already being hunted. Half the Council is howling for his blood. From what I hear, all the evidence is against him-and anything I find out about him is going to be tainted against him by our antagonistic past." I shrugged. "At this point, I can't do any more damage. So what have you got to lose?"

A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Let's assume, for a moment, that I agree. What do you want from me?"

"A copy of his file," I said. "Everything you've found out about LaFortier's death, and how Morgan pulled it off. All of it."

"And what do you intend to do with it?" the Merlin asked.

"I thought I'd use the information to find out who killed LaFortier," I said.

"Just like that."

I paused to think for a minute. "Yeah. Pretty much."

The Merlin took another bite of cheese and chewed it deliberately. "If my own investigations yield fruit," he said, "I won't need your help."

"The hell you won't," I said. "Everyone knows your interests are going to lie in protecting Morgan. Anything you turn up to clear him is going to be viewed with suspicion."

"Whereas your antagonism with Morgan is well-known," the Merlin mused. "Anything you find in his favor will be viewed as the next best thing to divine testimony." He tilted his head and stared at me. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Maybe I don't think he did it."

His eyebrows lifted in amusement that never quite became a smile. "And the fact that the man who died was one of those whose hand was set against you when you were yourself held in suspicion has nothing to do with it."

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes. "There you go. There's my self-centered, petty, vengeful motivation for wanting to help Morgan out. Because it serves that dead bastard LaFortier right."