She wanted a truce, which meant that she had indeed come to talk, rather than to execute me. There sure as hell wouldn't be any harm in agreeing to a truce, and it might prevent hostilities that could be triggered by raw nerves. "In exchange for yours," I said. "This conversation and half an hour after its conclusion."
"Done," Kumori said. "You have my word."
"And you have mine," I said.
She lowered her hand at once, taking the odd mesh over it and its sparkling energies into the deep sleeves of her robe. I didn't take my eyes off her as I reclaimed my shield bracelet and fixed it back onto my wrist. "All right," I said. "What did you want to talk about?"
"The book," she said. "We still want your copy."
"You'll have to talk to the Corpsetaker," I said. "He and his ghoul took it from me last night. But if you go looking, he looks like a girl in her early twenties. Great dimples."
The hood shifted, as though Kumori had tilted her head to one side. "You know of the source of the Corpsetaker's name?"
"I figure he's a body switcher," I said. "I've heard necromancers can do that kind of thing. Move their consciousness from one body to another. Exchange with some poor sucker who can't protect themselves. Corpsetaker was in that old professor's body. I figure he swapped with his assistant, and then killed the old man's body with the girl's mind inside."
The hood nodded, conceding me the point. "But I have difficulty believing your story. Had the Corpsetaker taken the book from you, he would have killed you as well."
"Wasn't for lack of trying," I said, and gestured at my leg. "He was overconfident, and I was a little bit lucky. He got the book, but I got away."
She was silent for a moment and then said, her voice thoughtful, "You're telling me the truth."
"I'm bad at lying. Lies get all confusing. Can't keep them straight."
Kumori nodded. "Then let me make you this offer."
"Join or die?" I guessed.
She exhaled softly through her nose. "Hardly. Cowl has a certain amount of respect for you, but he believes you too raw to make some sort of alliance feasible."
"Ah," I said. "Then you'll probably go to the second offer I always get. Go away and you won't kill me."
"Something like that," Kumori said. "You have no real idea of what is going on here. Your ignorance is more dangerous than you know, and your continued involvement in this matter could cause disastrous consequences."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Withdraw from the field," she said.
"Or what?"
"Or you will regret it," she said. "That isn't a threat. Simply a fact. As I said, Cowl has a certain respect for you, but he will not be able to protect you or treat you gently should you continue to involve yourself. If you stand in his way, he will will kill you. He would prefer it if you stood clear." kill you. He would prefer it if you stood clear."
"Gosh. That's so altruistic of him." I shook my head. "If he kills me, he'll have my death curse to contend with."
"He has already contended with such curses," Kumori said. "Many times. I advise you to retire from the field."
"I can't do that," I said. "I know what you people are doing. I know about the Darkhallow. I know why you're doing it."
"And?"
"And I can't let that happen," I said. "Insurance in Chicago is expensive enough without adding in a petulant new deity tearing up the real estate."
"Our goals are not so different," Kumori said. "Grevane and the Corpsetaker are madmen. They must be stopped."
"From what I've seen of old Cowl, he's a couple of french fries short of a Happy Meal too."
"And you would do what?" Kumori asked. "Prevent them from reaping the bounty of the Darkhallow? Take the power for yourself?"
"I want to make sure nobody nobody takes it," I said. "I don't particularly care how I get it done." takes it," I said. "I don't particularly care how I get it done."
"Truly?" she asked.
I nodded. "Now here's where I make you an offer."
She hesitated, clearly taken off guard. "Very well."
"Bail," I told her. "Leave Cowl and the Sociopath Squad to their squabbling. Give me what information I need to stop them."
"He'd kill me in a day," she said.
"No," I told her. "I'd take you to the White Council. I'd get you protection."
She stared at me from within her hood, utterly silent.
"See, Kumori, you're sort of a puzzle," I said. "Because you're working with these necromancers. In fact, I'm willing to bet you aren't bad at necromancy yourself. But you went out of your way to save someone's life the other night, and that just doesn't jive with that crowd."
"Doesn't it?" she said.
"No. They're killers. Good at it, but they're just killers. They wouldn't take a step out of their way to help someone else. But you went way the hell out of your way to help a stranger. It says that you aren't like them."
She was silent for a moment more. Then she said, "Do you know why Cowl has made a study of necromancy? And why I have joined him?"
"No."
"Because necromancy embraces the power of death, just as magic embraces the power of life. And as magic can be twisted and perverted to cruel and destructive ends, necromancy can be turned upon its nature as well. Death can be warded off, as I did for the wounded man that night. Life can be served by that dark power, if one's will and purpose are strong."
"Uh-huh," I said. "You got involved with the darkest and most corruptive, insanity-causing forces in the universe so that you could jump-start wounded bodies to life."
She moved her hand, a sudden, slashing motion. "No. No, you idiot. Don't you see the potential here? The possibility to end death. death."
"Uh. End death?"
"You will die," she said. "I will die. Cowl will die. Everyone now walking this tired old world knows but one solid, immutable fact. Their life will end. Yours. Mine. Everyone's."
"Yeah," I said. "That's why they call us 'mortals.' Because of the mortality."
"Why?" she asked.
"What?"
"Why?" she repeated. "Why must we die?"
"Because that's the way it is," I said.
"Why must that be the way it is?" she said. "Why must we all live with that pain of separation? With horrible grief? With rage and loss and sorrow and vengeance ruling the lives of every soul beneath the sky? What if we could change it?"
"Change it," I said, my skepticism clear in my voice. "Change death."
"Yes," she said.
"Just...poof. Make it go away."
"What if we could?" she said. "Can you imagine what it would mean? If mere age would not lay mankind low after his threescore and ten, how much better would the world be? Can you imagine if da Vinci had continued to live, to study, to paint, to invent? That the remarkable accomplishments of his lifetime could have continued through the centuries rather than dying in the dim past? Can you imagine going to see Beethoven in concert? Taking a theology class taught by Martin Luther? Attending a symposium hosted by Albert Einstein? Think, Think, Dresden. It boggles the Dresden. It boggles the mind. mind."
I thought about it.
And she was right.
Supposing for half a second that what she said might be possible, it would mean...Hell. It would change everything. everything. There would be so much more time, and for everyone. Wizards lived for three or even four centuries, and to them even their own lives seemed short. What Kumori was talking about, the end of death itself, would give everyone else the same chance to better themselves that wizards enjoyed. It would, in a single stroke, create more parity between wizards and the rest of mankind than any single event in history. There would be so much more time, and for everyone. Wizards lived for three or even four centuries, and to them even their own lives seemed short. What Kumori was talking about, the end of death itself, would give everyone else the same chance to better themselves that wizards enjoyed. It would, in a single stroke, create more parity between wizards and the rest of mankind than any single event in history.
But that was insane. Setting out to conquer death? death? People died. That was a fact of life. People died. That was a fact of life.
But what if they didn't have to?
What if my mother hadn't died? Or my father? How different would my life be today?
Impossible. You couldn't just drive death away.
Could you?
Maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe this was one of those things in which the effort meant more than the outcome. I mean, if there was a chance, even a tiny, teeny chance that Kumori was right, and that the world could be so radically changed, wouldn't I be obliged to try? Even if I never reached the goal, never finished the quest, wouldn't the attempt to vanquish death itself be a worthy pursuit?
Wow.
This question was a big one. Way bigger than me.
I shook my head and told Kumori, "I don't know about that. What I know is that I've seen the fruits of that kind of path. I saw Cowl try to murder me when I got in his way. I've seen what Grevane and the Corpsetaker have done. I've heard about the suffering and misery Kemmler caused-and is still causing today, thanks to his stupid book.
"I don't know about something as big as trying to murder death. But I know that you can tell a tree from what kind of fruit falls off it. And the necromancy tree doesn't drop anything that isn't rotten."
"Ours is a calling," Kumori said, her voice flat. "A noble road."
"I might be willing to believe you if so much of that road wasn't paved in the corpses of innocents."
I saw her head shake slowly beneath the hood. "You sound like them. The Council. You do not understand."
"Or maybe I'm just not quite arrogant enough to start rearranging the universe on the assumption that I know better than God how long life should last. And there's a downside to what you're saying, too. How about trying to topple the regime of an immortal Napoleon, or Attila, or Chairman Mao? You could as easily preserve the monsters as the intellectual all-stars. It can be horribly abused, and that makes it dangerous."
I faced her down for a long and silent second. Then she let out a sigh and said, "I think we have exhausted the possibilities of this conversation."
"You sure?" I asked her. "The offer is still open. If you want to get out, I'll get the Council to protect you."
"Our offer is open as well. Stand aside, and no rancor will follow you."
"I can't," I said.
"Nor can I," she said. "Understand that I do not wish you any particular harm. But I will not hesitate to strike you down should you place yourself in our path."
I stared at her for a second. Then I said, "I'm going to stop you. I'm going to stop you and Cowl and Grevane and Corpsetaker, and your little drummers too. None of you are going to promote yourself to godhood. No one is."
"I think you will die," she said, her tone even, without inflection.
"Maybe," I said. "But I'm going to stop you all before I go. Tell Cowl to get out of the way now, and I won't hunt him down after all of this is over. He can walk. You too."
She shook her head again and said, "I'm sorry we could not work something out."
"Yeah," I said.
She hesitated. Then she asked me, her voice soft and genuinely curious, "Why?"
"Because this is what I have to do," I said. "I'm sorry you aren't going to let me help you."
"We all act as we think we must," she said. "I will see you by and by, Dresden."
"Count on it," I said.
Kumori left without another word, gliding silently down the stairs and out of sight.
I sat there for a moment, aching and tired and more scared than I had sounded a minute before.
Then I got up, shoved my pain and my fear aside, and hobbled out to the Blue Beetle.
I had work to do.
Chapter Thirty
I went back to my car, got in, and headed out to find a few things I would need to make the summoning of the Erlking marginally less suicidal. Serious summoning spells have to be personalized both to the entity to be summoned and to the summoner, and it took me a little while to find enough open businesses to get it all. Traffic on the streets grew steadily worse as the afternoon wore on, slowing me down even further. went back to my car, got in, and headed out to find a few things I would need to make the summoning of the Erlking marginally less suicidal. Serious summoning spells have to be personalized both to the entity to be summoned and to the summoner, and it took me a little while to find enough open businesses to get it all. Traffic on the streets grew steadily worse as the afternoon wore on, slowing me down even further.
More ominous than that, the tenor of the city had begun to slowly, steadily change. What had been an atmosphere of bemused enjoyment of an unanticipated holiday from the daily grind had turned into annoyance. As the sun tracked across the sky and the power still hadn't come back on, annoyance started turning into anger. By high noon, there were police visible on every street in cars, on motorcycles, on bicycles, and on foot.
"That all for ya?" asked an enterprising vendor. He was a potbellied, balding gardener selling fresh fruit and vegetables from the back of a pickup on a corner, and he was the only one I'd seen who wasn't trying to gouge Chicagoans in their moment of trial. He put the pumpkin I'd chosen in a thin plastic bag as he did, and took the money I offered him.