"How did you do it?" She placed her forefinger on the altar and used it to press herself up to a sitting position at the edge.
He hurriedly explained how the variable constraints couldn't be separated. You couldn't have one possible and the other impossible when they were so similar. If it was a feat of mental dexterity and sense-memory detail, then it followed that tracing could be taken to extremes not seen before.
"Ut-ter-ly fascinating." She turned to the small man, fanning herself. "Scribe, I think I'm in love. He's like my very own foot soldier! How shall I reward him?"
Scribe said, "To tell by his grinding teeth and bulging jaw, I'd say he has only one desire at present." Sebastian saw that Scribe did not appreciate his interest in the Valkyrie.
"Oh, yes. Kaderin." Riora sniffed. "I'm jealous, vampire, and let down. And later I shall cry."
Sebastian sensed power in her, fickle power, and until he knew what he was about in this world, he thought it wise to tread carefully. "I... meant no offense."
Scribe cleared his throat, and as if the words were tortured from him, he said, "Goddess Riora, it's incumbent upon me to tell you that your attraction to this male is quite possible. I daresay his winning over Lady Kaderin is, given her history, impossible."
Her eyes widened, and she nodded sagely. "Ah, you are right. This is why I keep you alive - "
"What about Kaderin's history?" Sebastian interrupted.
Riora squinted at him as if he were a bug she'd never seen before, actually leaning her head in closer to his face. "You spoke over me. I've conflicting impulses to boil you and coddle you."
"Goddess, I apologize," he said, but he continued undaunted. "You mentioned her history... "
As though the trespasses were forgotten, she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Vampires have behaved very badly toward Kaderin. And, well, you're a vampire."
His fangs sharpened at the thought of her being hurt. "What was done to her?"
She ignored his grated question, and asked one of her own. "Do you have any idea how high you reach for one such as her?"
In fact, he was well acquainted with that idea. Though Kaderin abhorred what he was, he couldn't be more pleased with her. When she'd hopped up onto this altar next to Riora, he'd seen that the goddess had nothing over his Bride.
Still, he raised his chin. "I have wealth to spoil her and strength to protect her. She could do worse for a husband."
"Arrogant vampire." She chuckled. "She's the daughter of gods."
He swallowed. And that would be why she outshone a goddess.
"Still feel so confident?"
He hadn't been before. Now he wondered if even the minuscule odds he'd given himself were overestimated.
She asked, "Do you plan to win the key for her?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Wouldn't want it for yourself?" she asked. "Imagine the possibilities."
"It is hard for me to believe it would work," he admitted. "Is there any proof it will?"
"No. I have no proof, at all." Riora sighed. "Just the word of Mr. Thrane."
Sebastian ran his hand over the back of his neck, but the movement made his chest muscles scream in protest. "Then can I ask why you are convinced it will work?"
"I am convinced it will work, vampire, because it's impossible for it to work!"
Just when he wondered if rational discussion with her was possible, she suggested, "You should take this day to learn about Kaderin."
This definitely struck Sebastian as a worthy plan. "I would love to, but I lack the resources to learn anything."
"Resources abound. Kaderin likes the now, and Valkyrie are amused with evolving human culture. Yet you do not seem to know much about this time. Read as much as you can get through today. And listen to the TV out of the corner of your ear."
"TV. I don't own one."
"I daresay Kaderin does, and I can say with certainty that she won't be at her flat today."
Trespassing in his Bride's home when she wasn't there?
"Scribe knows her address in London." A look passed between them, and Scribe's pale face seemed to darken as though flushed.
"Yes," Scribe said with a thinly veiled sneer. "If you go there, remember that Spike TV and the Playboy Channel will hip you to our times as well as anything. Start there."
Sebastian would be sure to steer clear of whatever he'd just suggested. He glanced at the door once more, though he knew Kaderin was long gone.
"Still antsy?" Riora asked. "You can trace to her at any time."
"You said there are prizes all over the world. I do not know that I can trace halfway around the earth, much less accurately to her."
She murmured, "It would seem impossible. But in the past, she's always stayed on this side of the earth at the start. Close by Europe. Low-hanging fruit. That's the way she's always worked. And since dawn's less than an hour away, you would trace to her right into the sun... "
Surveying his chest, she said, "Let her go, knight. Besides, you need to heal. I fear Bowen hasn't had all his shots."
Trust a mad goddess and her vengeful scribe? Beggars couldn't be choosers. And you don't have a friend in the world.
"Right." Sebastian nodded firmly. "How far can she get in a day?"
13
Russian Ice Station Kovalevska, Antarctica Eight hours later
Prize: Three mirror amulets, used as glamours, worth twelve points each
V oila," Regin said to Kaderin, pulling down her fuzzy purple scarf. "I told you I'd get you a snowcat. I told you I had Russian connections. And what is that?" She tapped her chin. "Hmmm. Oh, yes, let me look. A snowcat."
Kaderin cringed at the black-market vehicle before them. This junker was supposed to take them to the amulets closeted in the Transantarctic mountain range?
She had seen similar vehicles used to groom snow in the States. And so she was aware that this one, purchased from Regin's Russian connections, was... subpar.
Of course, when Kaderin had called the coven, she'd gotten none other than Regin.
Kaderin glowered at her, pulling her farther away from the five Russian humans who'd choppered them to the abandoned station. The ex-military crew was a small phalanx of a larger consortium that sold off military equipment for the Russian mob.
Regin had told them she and Kaderin were scientists; Regin sported disco swirl snow boots.
Kaderin had been forced to abandon the sleek Augusta 109 helicopter, leaving it and her pilots behind on one of the helipads of an unregistered icebreaker. Apparently, neither the Augusta nor the pilots were comfortable flying in the extreme low temperatures here. The Russians' helicopter, the Arktika Mi-8, was - fitting, since it was a Cold War relic.