Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,30
heart, making the faemetal chime again, and whirled to begin giving orders. He pointed and gesticulated wildly, speaking in too rapid and high-pitched a tone for my poor biggun ears to clearly understand. Individual members of the Guard sped out into the night, up to the cloud of Little Folk above, to gather a constellation of glowing lights around them and speed off in different directions.
Within minutes, the effects could be seen. Clouds of determined Little Folk, too small to fight individually, would zip around darting assassin squid in little swarms, creating streaks of light across the sky. When the first one was sighted, Toot himself zipped out with his lance gripped tight, Lacuna on his wing. Within a moment, the pair of them flew a dead squid back to the roof and dropped it proudly at my feet. Their armor and lances were stained with ichor, their little faces satisfied and proud. “Like that?” Toot asked.
“Good work, General,” I said firmly. “Carry on until we’ve driven them all away or the battle is lost.”
“We will not lose the pizza,” Toot-Toot said grimly.
Lacuna sighed.
Then the pair of them zipped off into the night.
“Impressive,” the Redcap said, once they were gone. He glanced at his pistol with a faint expression of disappointment and then slipped it into his waistband at the small of his back. “How did you manage to bind them all?”
“Trade secrets,” I said. I tried not to think about how much pizza it would take to pay off that many of the Little Folk. Maybe I’d send Marcone the bill. It was technically his stupid territory we were defending. “I’m done with you.”
The Redcap narrowed his eyes but nodded at me politely and went back over to Molly, who had returned to running her own communications through her own Little Folk crew.
Mab approached and stood beside me for a moment, looking out at the night. You could see a squid being taken down every minute or so. It was a bit like watching for falling stars at the right time of year.
“Mortals ask a question,” she said after a moment. “Is it better to be feared or loved?”
“I can guess your answer,” I said.
“And I yours. Yet they do not love you, per se,” she mused.
“Not exactly, no,” I said. “But I found something they did love. Something that united them.”
Mab looked at me blankly.
“When a group comes together around something they love,” I said, “it changes things. It changes how they see one another. It becomes a community. Something greater than the sum of its parts.”
Mab did not seem enlightened.
I tried to explain another way. “The creation of the community encourages investment in that community,” I said. “Once they’ve invested, they’ll fight to protect it.”
Mab’s eyebrows went up in comprehension. “Ah. You found a weakness in their psychology and manipulated it. You provided them with a resource and incurred their debt.”
“I made them see themselves differently.”
“Neuromancy? You? I shudder to think of the results of that.”
I sighed. “Look. Maybe you’ll just have to trust me. It’s a mortal thing.”
“Ah,” Mab said dismissively. “Still. An impressive display. You frightened several very confident beings tonight. I found it entertaining.”
“Yeah, it just . . . sort of happened,” I said. I leaned tiredly on the battlements. I wished I had a sandwich.
I sneezed out of nowhere, so hard that I nearly slammed my head into the merlon I was leaning on. By this time, I was getting used to it. I felt the surge of wearying energy leave me, felt where the conjuration point drew matter from the Nevernever into the mortal world and shaped it. I managed to get my hands into the air above my head in time to deflect a falling club sandwich. It bounced off one of my forearms, splattered partly on one shoulder and partly on the ground—before promptly turning to gooey ectoplasm.
Mab stared at me as though I had just begun dissecting a fetal pig at the dinner table. She shook her head slowly, once, and said, “Just as you begin to impress me.”
“Oh bide be,” I muttered, and fished out a handkerchief to blow my nose.
Stupid conjuritis.
I was exhaling when the first explosion thudded through the night air.
Everyone froze.
To the east and a little south of us, a column of flames rose into the air, flaring out in the night. The shock wave of the explosion was tangible, even where we stood on the roof, something I felt push through my chest.