The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [179]
Deirdre switched on the TV, and Beltan leaned forward. He seemed to find everything that appeared on the screen fascinating, especially commercials. His mouth opened in horror when a woman spilled red wine on her carpet, then laughed when she used a spray cleaner to remove the stain.
“Is she a witch?” he said.
Deirdre laughed. “Not exactly.” She headed to the kitchen and returned with three bottles of Bass Ale. She gave one to Vani, then sat down next to Beltan again, putting the bottles on the coffee table. He had set down the remote; it looked like he had found an old rerun of CHiPs.
“So what are Ponch and Jon up to?”
Beltan took a swig of the beer. “A thief has just escaped them. But they can go very fast on their—what are they called?—motorcycles. I have a feeling they will soon catch him.”
“I have a feeling you're right.”
Beltan took another sip from his bottle and sighed. “With TV and ale this good, why would a man ever do anything else?”
Deirdre grimaced. “A lot of them don't.”
“Only we can't just sit here,” Beltan said, his expression suddenly serious. He set down the empty bottle and switched off the TV. “We have to find Travis. Now.”
Before Deirdre could speak, Vani turned from the window.
“Someone's coming.”
It was Anders. Deirdre recognized the broad shape of his silhouette. Seconds later came the knock at the door. She opened it, and Anders stepped in.
“All right, mate, what's going on? You were all hush-hush and mysterious on the phone, and I—oh.”
As a neophyte agent, he shouldn't have known anything about the Wilder and Beckett cases. However, the recognition was clear in his blue eyes.
“It's them,” he said. “The ones from AU-3.”
Deirdre crossed her arms. “How do you know that?”
“I read your and Farr's report.” He winked at her. “Well, parts of it, anyway. Most of the text in the copy I had access to was crossed out with black markers. Nakamura gave it to me. He said if I was going to be working with you, I should read it.”
Once again, Anders's explanation sounded completely plausible.
Probably because it's the truth, Deirdre. You said you were going to trust him. So trust him already.
“Before we go on, I need you to promise me one thing,” she said, locking her gaze with Anders's blue eyes. “I need you to swear it on the Book.”
“Anything. You're my partner.”
“You can't tell anyone about this just yet. Not Nakamura, not anyone. Understood?”
“Sure, Deirdre, I swear. But do you really think you can avoid telling Nakamura?”
“No, I don't. But I want to do it myself before we leave tomorrow.”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean, ‘before we leave'? Where are we going?”
Deirdre glanced over her shoulder at Beltan and Vani. “To Denver.”
The four of them sat around the dinette table and talked until long past midnight. Deirdre listened in amazement and growing horror as Beltan and Vani told them everything that had happened on Eldh. There was much she didn't understand, especially something about Travis returning to Castle City, only over a century in the past. But what chilled her most was the news that Duratek had somehow sent agents to the world Eldh.
“Crikey, it's a war, isn't it?” Anders said. “Duratek is getting ready to conquer Eldh.”
Beltan heaved broad shoulders in a sigh. “They're not the only ones. We've learned the men of Duratek are in league with Mohg and the Pale King.”
“Who?” Anders said, confusion plain on his pitted face.
“I'm probably not the best one to explain it,” Beltan said, “but Falken's not here, so I'll do my best. One of the Old Gods, Mohg, is trying to get back to Eldh so he can break the First Rune and destroy the world. That way he can make the world anew in his own image. And his servant, the Pale King, is nearly free again. Grace is marching north to Gravenfist Keep with an army to try to stop him, but I don't think even she believes there's much hope of holding the Pale King back.” Beltan thumped a fist