White Night (The Dresden Files #9) - Jim Butcher Page 0,128

got him involved. We fight."

"Like hell we fight," Madrigal snarled. "Empty night, Ortega couldn't take him in a straight fight."

"Don't act like such a kine, Madrigal," Vitto replied. "That was a duel of wills. A trial by combat allows us any weapons or tactics we wish."

"Have fun. I won't be one of the people fighting him."

"Yes, you will," Vitto replied. "You can face the wizard. Or you can face dear Auntie Cesarina."

Madrigal froze again, staring at Vitto.

"I promise you that even if he burns you to death, it will be swift and painless by comparison. Decide, Madrigal. You are with Malvora or against us."

Madrigal swallowed and closed his eyes. "Son of a bitch."

Vitto Malvora's mouth widened into a smile, and he turned to address the White King, his language shifting back to Etruscan or whatever. "We deny the freak's baseless accusation and accept his challenge, of course, my King. We will prove the injustice of it upon his body."

"W-weapons," came Madrigal's unsteady voice. Lasciel's translation was flawlessly smooth, but it wasn't hard to extrapolate that Madrigal's Etruscan was about as bad as my Latin. "Weapons for our own we must have to fight. To get them we must send slaves for to find them."

Raith settled back in his throne and folded his arms. "I find this an only reasonable request. Dresden?"

"No objection," I told him.

Raith nodded once, and clapped his hands. "Music, then, while we wait, and another round of wine."

Lady Malvora snarled, turned on a heel, and stalked back into one of the groups of furniture, where she became the immediate center of an intent conference.

Musicians struck up from somewhere nearby, hidden behind a screen, a chamber orchestra, and a pretty good one. Vivaldi, maybe? I'm weaker on smaller-scale music than I am on symphonies. An excited buzz of voices rose up as servants began circulating with silver trays and crystal flute glasses.

Ramirez gave the chamber a somewhat disbelieving stare and then shook his head. "This is a nuthouse."

"Cave," I said. "Nutcave."

"What the hell is going on?"

Right. Ramirez didn't have his own photocopy of a demon's personality to translate Ancient Etruscan. So I summed up the conversation and the players, and gave him the best quotes.

"What's this freak stuff?" Ramirez demanded in a low, outraged tone.

"I think it's a perspective thing," I said. "They call humans kine—deer, herd animals. Wizards are deer who can call down the lightning and whip up firestorms. From that perspective, we're fairly freakish."

"So we're going to kick their asses now, right?"

"That is the plan."

"Incoming," Ramirez said, stiffening.

Lara Raith approached us, demure in her white formal getup, bearing a silver tray with drinks upon it. She inclined her head to us, her grey eyes pale and shining. "Honored guests. Would you care for wine?"

"Nah," I said. "I'm driving."

Lara's lips twitched. I had no idea how she had switched into the complex kimono so quickly. Chalk it up to the same sexy vampire powers that had once let her shoot a layer of skin off my ear while standing on gravel in stiletto heels. Poof, business suit. Whoosh, whoosh, silk negligee. I shook my head a little and got my thoughts under control. Adrenaline can make me a little silly.

Lara turned to Carlos and said, "May I offer you a taste of something sweet, bantam?"

"Well," he said. "As long as you're offering stuff, how about a little assurance that somebody isn't going to shoot us in the back for fun once we're stomping on Beavis and Butthead over there?"

Lara arched a brow. "Beavis and…"

"I would have gone with Hekyll and Jekyll," I told him.

"Gentlemen," she said. "Please be assured that the White Throne wishes nothing more than for you to prevail and humiliate its foes. I am sure that my father will react most harshly to any violation of the Accords."

"Okay," Ramirez said, drawing the word out. He nodded toward the Malvoran contingent, still huddled around Cesarina. "So, what's stopping II Duca there from taking a whack at you and the King and everybody? If she offs you, she gets to kill us, take over the organization, and just do whatever she likes."

Lara looked at him and her expression twisted with distaste, to the point that a little shudder actually flickered along her body. Which I noticed because I am a trained observer of body language and not because of the way the kimono was perfectly outlining one of her thighs. "You don't understand…" She shook her head, holding her mouth as if she'd unexpectedly bitten