Ritual Magic

moment yet, so Friar must have opted for the broader period, when reality thins out.”
    “Which doesn’t make anything he said true,” Rule said evenly. “We don’t even know for sure that someone stole the knife. He may be luring us to him so he can use it on one of us.”
    Lily opened her mouth to argue . . . and closed it again. He was right. He was right, and she’d missed that possibility entirely. They’d assumed that because the knife was missing, the shooter—Miriam—had taken it. But Friar was missing, too. He’d been hurt, sure, but he’d gotten away. What if he’d held on to the knife?
    Her mind clicked through the possibilities that thought opened up . . . and came up with the same answer. “If he’s got the knife and is luring us to him, we still have to go. It doesn’t matter who has the knife. We can’t let them use it.”
    “I could go alone.”
    “If you’re serious—which is hard to believe—then remember that Friar called me, not you. Do you think he’d agree to a deal that left me free to arrest him or shoot him or whatever? He’ll want me under his eye.”
    “Because he wants you dead.”
    “Yeah, and I’m sure he’d honor any deal he made with you and let you just walk away with the knife.”
    “The knife we aren’t supposed to come in range of, you mean?”
    She just looked at him. He wasn’t really trying to talk her out of this. He knew the stakes . . . the ones she was trying hard not to think about. Phrases like “the fabric of the realm” and “destroy the world” were likely to set loose the gibbering fool at the back of her brain if she let her attention pause there. Finally she said, “You make the deal when he calls. You’re good at that sort of thing.” She held out her phone.
    After a long moment, Rule sighed and accepted both the phone and the necessity. “All right, but you seem to be pretty good at closing a deal yourself.”

THIRTY-SIX

    L ILY was glad she’d handed the phone to Rule. It would never have occurred to her to have Friar swear by his mistress’s name. One of her names, anyway.
    The deal consisted of three terms that applied to both sides and two just for Friar. First term: If any of them broke their word, the deal was off. Second term: The deal lasted until the knife was recovered and placed in the custody of a saint—a stipulation that startled Friar. Either he didn’t know about Hardy, or he faked surprise really well. Third term: Everyone agreed not to harm or cause harm to the other side. Harm included physical harm, magical assault, arrest, drugging and other forms of incapacitation, imprisonment, and duress. In addition, Friar would allow them to search him, and he would not engage in any illegal actions except with Lily’s express consent. “You don’t jaywalk unless I say it’s okay,” she told him.
    That had made him wheeze with what might have been amusement. “I don’t walk at all at the moment.”
    Friar swore to abide by those terms, swore using a name Lily didn’t know. Rule did, though. Then Friar gave them an address and Rule disconnected.
    Lily said, “He never mentioned the ‘compel, persuade, corrupt’ deal.”
    “I noticed that. Nor did he say that the knife is named. Either he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand the significance, or he’s hoping to use his knowledge in some way.” Rule put his fingers in his mouth and let out two loud, piercing whistles. That was the recall. Lupi could hear such a whistle for miles.
    They started back to the lookout. “Do you think swearing by one of
her
names will really make Friar hold to the deal?”
    “It may. He’s tied to
her
strongly now, and she doesn’t forswear herself.”
    That startled Lily. “That’s oddly virtuous of her.”
    Cullen, a few paces ahead, said, “Words shape magic, create a flow. Those with a great deal of power experience repercussions if they break their sworn word.
She
might be really unhappy with him if he broke a vow made in her name.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he won’t, but he’ll avoid it if he can.”
    “If he does,” Rule said, his voice dropping into something close to a growl, “I’ll no longer be bound by my word. Apparently he can now survive and heal bullet wounds. He wouldn’t survive what I would do if my word didn’t hold me back.”
    How desperate did Friar have to be to place himself in their hands? Unless, of course, he had no intention of doing that. They might show up at