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[ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] silver streak just over his left eyebrow fell, as usual, into his deep crystalline green eyes. Colin brushed it back automatically, then took a small bottle from his pocket and poured what looked like mercury onto his left palm. He whispered a few words, then gently blew across the tiny puddle. Zeke stepped closer, shoulder touching the elf's, fascinated. The silvery liquid ran down Colin's fingers to the bowl, spread in a thin film, and turned the water into a perfect mirror that faded to an aerial view of the city. "Scrying?" Zeke asked. Colin nodded, the single lock of silver hair falling again. "It should not take long." "That your job?" Funny, when Zeke thought about it, that he'd never wondered before. "You a Seer?" "Not really." Colin didn't look up. "Only as my Prince requires." So he did jobs for a Prince. That was more than most elves Zeke had known did. He'd never been sure how elves other than Bards occupied their endless time. Zeke kept staring at the bowl, mesmerized. The picture shifted, zooming in on the Quarter, then in on an unidentifiable group of streets. Suddenly the images blurred as the water dissolved into a thousand prismatic ripples. He shivered at something in the elf's face. "I'm guessin' that wasn't supposed to happen." "No." The single word was almost inaudible, the expression unreadable. Then Colin raised his head and smiled, the incredible smile Zeke could lose himself in forever. "It may be nothing. Let me make a phone call." Zeke had learned to survive on two days of Colin a year. Now he wondered how much of this meager ration he'd get this trip. But when the elf put down the phone, the world righted itself. "They cannot meet us " "Us." At least I'm included. " for several hours. We could go to the club?" The words were half a question, half an apology. "That'd be good." Zeke took a deep breath, and added, "Or if you really wanted to make it up to me, stay a couple extra days." "I wish I could." Though full of regret, the words were firm, and Zeke dropped the matter. At least they had the music. Zeke brought himself back to the present and took his place on stage. He wondered who he'd be playing with. Colin might mourn his inability to do his own improvisations, since elves could only copy and combine the original work of others, but there was something to be said for the way he could faithfully echo all the greats. How else could he, Zeke Washington, get to play with both Coleman Hawkins and Charlie "Bird" Parker in the same piece? Zeke reached for power, letting the crowd's energy amplify the joy he always felt with Colin, feeding it back. Then, trumpet aimed high, he let magick thread the opening notes of "Saint James' Infirmary Blues," a blast of pure love. Maybe this would help the elf forget his damned job. * * * Culéoin finished the riff, one "Bird" had never gotten around to recording, and stepped back as Zeke's trumpet caught the note and soared higher, in a new elaboration on the old standard. The sheer joy Zeke took in creating music had been the first thing to attract Culéoin, ten Mardi Gras before. No elf could do that, blow a truly original jazz riff. Culéoin tended to stick close to his Elfhame when not traveling for his Prince on missions diplomatic, secret, or both, but he'd made an exception for Mardi Gras each year since the festival began. A decade before, he'd heard a young mortal playing at one of the smaller jazz clubs, a mortal who had just finished his training as a Bard. Though young, Zeke's talent had rung through each pure note. The intervening years had added power and control. Tonight the magick had been dimmed by a scuffle at the back of the club just as Zeke began playing. Mardi Gras crowds were usually rowdy, but this year Culéoin detected a darker undercurrent.This city needs the spell as much as we need the treaty. Humans. Yet another blot on his two precious days with the one mortal he cared about. Zeke was exactly why he generally disapproved of Elvenkind getting involved with humans. Butterflies, all of them, interests and emotions shifting faster than the weather, never having time to seriously study or understand a subject. And any elf fool enough to give his heart to one would find it broken in an achingly short time, the human wiped from existence. He'd watched it happen once too often and sworn it would never happen to him. Elf-human relationships were always a mistake. And then came Zeke. Power, even a Bard's power to create, didn't impress Culéoin after Danu knew how many human years [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] |