Small Favor (The Dresden Files 10)

"Yeah. And it'll be their choice to do it. That's what you're looking for, isn't it? Some way to deal with the problem while still giving them a choice about what to do? Preferably in some manner that will get as few good guys killed as possible?"

He looked pained, but Michael nodded.

"Fine," I said. "I'll try to set it up."

"How?" Sanya asked.

"Let me worry about that," I said. I checked the clock on the wall. "Crap. I'm late for a meeting. Can I borrow your phone?"

"Of course," Michael said.

I glanced around the quiet house on my way to the phone and frowned. "Where is everyone?"

"Charity took them elsewhere for a few days," Michael said. "There won't be school in this mess, anyway."

I grunted. "Where's Molly?"

Michael paused and then shook his head. "I'm not sure. I don't think she went with them."

I thought about it for a moment and thought I knew where she'd be. I nodded around the kitchen. "How do you keep things running around here with Molly under the roof? I figured things would be breaking down left and right."

"Lots and lots of preventive maintenance," Michael replied steadily. "And about twice as much repair work as I usually do."

"Sorry."

He smiled. "Small price. She's worth it."

The reasons I like Michael have nothing to do with swords and the smiting of evil.

I got on the phone and dialed McAnally's Pub.

"Mac," answered Mac, the ever-laconic owner.

"It's Harry Dresden," I said. "Is Sergeant Murphy there?"

Mac grunted in the affirmative.

"Put a beer on my tab and tell her I'm on the way?"

Mac grunted yes again.

"Thanks, man."

He hung up without saying good-bye.

I made another call and spoke to a humorless-sounding man with a Slavic accent. I muttered my password, so that no one in the kitchen would overhear it, but the connection was so bad that I wound up all but screaming it into the receiver. That kind of thing is to be expected when you've got a wizard on both ends.

It only took the Jolly Northman about ten minutes to get my call through to my party.

"Luccio," said a young woman's voice. "What's gone wrong, Harry?"

"Hey!" I protested. "That's a hell of a thing to say to a man, Captain. Just because I'm calling in doesn't mean that there's some kind of crisis."

"Technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling?"

"Well. There's a crisis."

She made an mmmmmm sound.

"A group known as the Knights of the Blackened Denarius has kidnapped Baron Marcone."

"The crime lord you took it upon yourself to assist in joining the Accords?" Luccio asked, amusement in her voice. "In what way is that relevant to the White Council?"

"These Denarian creeps are also signatories of the Accords," I said. "Marcone's retainers are crying foul. They've asked me to formally protest the abduction and summon an Emissary to resolve the dispute."

Seconds of silence ticked by.

"In what way," Luccio repeated, her voice much harder this time, "is that relevant to the White Council?"

"The Accords don't mean anything if they aren't enforced and supported," I said. "In the long run, it's in our own best interests to make sure they're supported now, before a precedent is set and-"

"Don't bullshit me," the captain of the Wardens snarled, a hint of an Italian accent creeping into her speech. "If we take formal action it could provoke a war-a war we simply cannot afford. We all know the Red Court is only catching its breath. We can ill afford the losses we've already taken, much less those we might assume in a new conflict."

I made sure to keep my voice steady, grim. "Mab has contacted me personally. She has indicated that it is strongly in our own best interests to intervene."

It wasn't exactly a lie. I hadn't ever specified who we meant. And with any luck the mention of Mab would keep Luccio's attention completely. The only reason the Red Court hadn't wiped us out in the years-long war was that Mab had given the Council right-of-way through the portions of the Nevernever under her control, allowing us wizards to stay as mobile as our opponents, who had considerably less difficulty employing mortal vehicles to maneuver its soldiery.

"Jesu Christi," Luccio spat. "She means to withdraw our right-of-way through Winter if we don't accede to her demands."

"Well," I said, "she never actually came out and said that."

"Of course she didn't. She never speaks plainly at all."

"She does keep her deals, though," I pointed out.

"She doesn't make deals she can't slide out of. She's forbidden the Ways to her people but also to the Wyldfae as a gesture of courtesy. All she needs to do is relax her ban against the Wyldfae, and we'd be forced to travel in strength every time we went through the Ways."

"She's a sneaky bitch," I agreed. I crossed my fingers.

Luccio exhaled forcefully through her nose. "Very well. I will forward the appropriate notifications, pending approval by the Senior Council. Which Emissary would you prefer?"

"The Archive. We have a working relationship."

Luccio mmmmm ed again. I heard a pencil scratching. "Dresden," she said, "I cannot stress to you enough how vital it is that we avoid general hostilities, even with a relatively small power."

Translation: Don't start another war, Harry.

"But," she continued, "we can afford to lose the paths through Winter even less."

Translation: Unless you really have to.

"I hear you," I said. "I'll do my best."

"Do better," Luccio said, her tone blunt. "There are those on the Senior Council who hold the opinion that we're already fighting one war because of your incompetence."

I felt heat flush up my neck. "If they bring that up, remind them that my incompetence is the only reason they weren't all blasted to molecules by a newborn god," I shot back. "And after that, remind them that because of my incompetence, we're enjoying a cease-fire that we desperately needed to replace our losses. And after that-"

"That is enough, Warden," the captain snapped.

I fought down my frustration and clamped my mouth shut.

Hey, we were coming up on the holidays. They're a time of miracles.

"I'll notify you when I learn something," Luccio said, and hung up the phone.

I hung up too, harder than I really needed to. I turned to find Michael and Sanya staring at me.