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One must admire such acute instincts.
"You have drawn me into a conflict which has nothing to do with me," I said quietly. "I suggest candor. Otherwise, I will have Mr. Hendricks and Ms. Gard show you to the door."
"You can't . . . ," she began, but her voice trailed off.
"I can," I said. "I am not a humanitarian. When I offer charity it is for tax purposes."
The room became silent. I was content with that. The child began to whimper quietly.
"I was delivering documents to the court of King Corb on behalf of my lady," Justine said. She stroked the child's hair absently. "It's in the sea. There's a gate there in Lake Michigan, not far from here."
I lifted an eyebrow. "You swam?"
"I was under the protection of their courier, going there," Justine said. "It's like walking in a bubble of air." She hitched the child up a little higher on her hip. "Mag saw me. He drove the courier away as I was leaving and took me to his home. There were many other prisoners there."
"Including the child," I guessed. Though it probably didn't sound that way.
Justine nodded. "I . . . arranged for several prisoners to flee Mag's home. I took the child when I left. I swam out."
"So you are, in effect, stolen property in possession of stolen property," I said. "Novel."
Gard and Hendricks came back into the office.
I looked at Hendricks. "My people?"
"Tulane's got a broken arm," he said. "Standing in that asshole's way. He's on the way to the doc."
"Thank you. Ms. Gard?"
"Mag is off the property," she said. "He didn't go far. He's summoning support now."
"How much of a threat is he?" I asked. The question was legitimate. Gard and Hendricks had blindsided the inhuman while he was focused upon Justine and the child and while he wasted his leading magical strike against my protective circle. A head-on confrontation against a prepared foe could be a totally different proposition.
Gard tested the edge of her axe with her thumb and drew a smooth stone from her pocket. "Mag is a fomor sorcerer lord of the first rank. He's deadly--and connected. The fomor could crush you without a serious loss of resources. Confrontation would be unwise."
The stone made a steely, slithery sound as it glided over the axe's blade.
"There seems little profit to be had, then," I said. "It's nothing personal, Justine. Merely business. I am obliged to return stolen property to signatory members of the Accords."
Hendricks looked at me sharply. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. I already knew the tone of whatever he would say. Are there no prisons? perhaps. Or No man is an island, entire of itself. It tolls for thee. On and on.
Hendricks has no head for business.
Gard watched me, waiting.
"Sir," Justine said, her tone measured and oddly formal. "May I speak?"
I nodded.
"She isn't property," Justine said, and her voice was low and intense, her eyes direct. "She was trapped in a den of living nightmares, and there was no one to come save her. She would have died there. And I am not letting anyone take her back to that hellhole. I will die first." The young woman set her jaw. "She is not property, Mr. Marcone. She's a child."
I met Justine's eyes for a long moment.
I glanced aside at Hendricks. He waited for my decision.
Gard watched me. As ever, Gard watched me.
I looked down at my hands, my fingertips resting together with my elbows propped on the desk.
