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Chapter Thirty-nine
The rain came down steadily. I risked a glance at the others. They were all down, but breathing. Molly's head, shoulders, and arms hung off the side of the boat. Wet, her sapphire-dyed hair looked like a much darker hue. Each rock of the boat made her hands swing. She was in danger of falling into the water.
I turned back to the cloaked figure and peered at him. Big billowy cloaks and robes are nicely dramatic, especially if you're facing into the wind-but under a calm, soaking rain they just look waterlogged. The outfit clung to the figure, looking rather miserable.
The rain also made the cloth look darker than it was. Looking closer, I could see faint hints of color in the cloth, which wasn't actually black. It was a purple so deep that it was close.
"Wizard Rashid?" I asked.
The Gatekeeper's staff never wavered as he faced me. He lifted a hand and drew back his hood. His face was long and sharp-featured and weathered like old leather. He wore a short beard that was shot through with silver, and his silver hair was short, stiff brush. One of his eyes was dark. The other had a pair of horrible old silver scars running through it, from his hairline down to his jaw. The injury had to have ruined his natural eye. It had been replaced with something that looked like a stainless-steel ball bearing. "Indeed," he said calmly.
"Should have seen it sooner. There aren't many wizards taller than me."
"Lay aside your staff, Wizard Dresden. Before anyone else is hurt."
"I can't do that," I said.
"And I cannot permit you to openly challenge the White Council to battle."
"No?" I asked, thrusting out my jaw. "Why not?"
His deep, resonant voice sounded troubled. "It is not yet your hour."
I felt my eyebrows go up. "Not yet...?"
He shook his head. "Places in time. This is not the time, or the place. What you are about to do will cost lives-among them your own. I wish you no harm, young wizard. But if you will not surrender, so be it."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "And if I don't do this, an innocent man is going to die. I don't want to fight you. But I'm not going to stand by and let the Black Council kill Morgan and dance off behind the curtains so that they can do it again in the future."
He tilted his head slightly. "Black Council?"
"Whatever you want to call them," I said. "The people the traitor is working for. The ones who keep trying to stir up trouble between the powers. Who keep changing things."
The Gatekeeper's expression was unreadable. "What things?"
"The weirdness we've been seeing. Mysterious figures handing out wolf belts to FBI agents. Red Court vampires showing up to fights with Outsiders on the roster. Faerie Queens getting idealistic and trying to overthrow the natural order of the Faerie Courts. The Unseelie standing by unresponsive when they are offered an enormous insult by the vampires trespassing on their territory. The attack on Arctis Tor. I can think of half a dozen other things to go with those, and those are just the things I've personally gotten involved with." I made a broad gesture with one hand, back toward Chicago. "The world is getting weirder and scarier, and we've been so busy beating on one another that we can't even see it. Someone's behind it."
He watched me silently for a long moment. Then he said, "Yes."
I frowned at him, and then my lips parted as I realized what was going on. "And you think I'm with them."
He paused before speaking-but then, he damn near always did. "Perhaps there is reason. Add to your list of upset balances such things as open warfare erupting between the Red Court and the White Council. A Seelie crown being passed from one young Queen to the next by bloody revolt, and not the will of Titania. Wardens consorting with White Court vampires on a regular basis. College students being taught magic sufficient to allow them to become werewolves. The Little Folk, Wyld fae, banding together and organizing. The most powerful artifacts of the Church vanishing from the world-and, as some signs indicate, being kept by a wizard who does not so much as pay lip service to the faith, much less believe."
I scowled. "Yeah, well. When you put it like that."
He smiled faintly.
I held up my hand, palm out. "I swear to you, by my magic, that I am not involved with those lunatics, except for trying to put out all these fires they keep starting. And if questionable things surround me, it's because that's the kind of thing that happens when you're as outclassed as I usually am. You have to find solutions where you can, not where convenient."
The Gatekeeper pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering me.
"Look, can we agree to a short truce, to talk this out?" I said. "And so that I can keep my apprentice from drowning?"
His gaze moved past me to Molly. He frowned and lowered his staff at once. "Five minutes," he said.
"Thanks," I said. I turned around and got Molly hauled back onto the boat. She never stirred. Once she was safely snoozing on deck, I went down the dock to stand in front of the Gatekeeper. He watched me quietly, holding his staff in both hands, leaning on it gently. "So," I said. "Where's the rest of the Senior Council?"
"On the way, I should think," he said. "They'll need to secure transportation to the island in Chicago and then find their way here."
"But not you. You came through the Nevernever?"
He nodded, his eyes watching me carefully. "I know a Way. I've been here before."
"Yeah?" I shook my head. "I thought about trying to find a Way out here, but I didn't want to chance it. This isn't exactly Mayberry. I doubt it hooks up to anything pleasant in the Nevernever."
The Gatekeeper muttered something to himself in a language I didn't understand and shook his head. "I cannot decide," he said, "whether you are the most magnificent liar I have ever encountered in my life-or if you truly are as ignorant as you appear."
I looked at him for a minute. Then I hooked my thumb up at my ridiculous head bandage. "Dude."
He burst out into a laugh that was as rich and deep as his speaking voice, but... more, somehow. I'm not sure how to explain it. The sound of that laugh was filled with a warmth and a purity that almost made the air quiver around it, as if it had welled up from some untapped source of concentrated, unrestrained joy.
I think maybe it had been a while since Rashid had laughed.
"You," he said, barely able to speak through it. "Up in that tree. Covered with mud."
I found myself grinning at him. "Yeah. I remember."
