Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) by Michael Ruger Page B

told them, but I didn’t know shit. That made it worse. I didn’t even have any way to stop them or even the pride of resistance, just an unending afternoon of agony. When they stopped, they just looked at each other and apparently reached the conclusion that I really didn’t know anything or that I wouldn’t break. They muttered to each other, packed their tools and cut me free to fall to the blood splattered floor. I have never known why they just didn’t kill me. I guess that nobody told them they had to, so they didn’t.
                  When I dream of that day, which thankfully isn’t often, I dream that they come back and decide that I just need more encouragement or just to finish the job. Sometimes I dream that they don’t even ask any questions, just start to slowly vivisect my body, muscle and joint at a time. 
                  The worst dream was of Kevin following me with his severed head gripped in his goblin’s hand. Its lips would move but it had no air to speak with, so no sound would come out. But even though it couldn’t speak, I knew that Kevin blamed me for sending him to his death.
                  All those phantasms filled my night made rest impossible. In typical dream logic, things would shift from one terrible image or realization another.
                  I was blurry at breakfast and two strong cups of Kono coffee barely dispelled the afterimages of my restless night. My breakfast of slightly burned toast and runny eggs was slowly congealing into a sticky mass of white and yellow atop a lightly blackened piece of bread. I hated to admit it, but those dreams had felt pretty real. Too real. It could have been a magical sending.
                  I hate magic.
    You would think magic is full of wonder and, well, magic. But it’s not. It’s full of tedious ceremony and endless rituals punctuated by nausea and terror if you actually get a will working to succeed. Unless you are really good, it’s not reliable. Even if you are good at it, there is a price to pay. Usually in someone else’s blood. All so you can break the rules or reach out and touch someone without being seen. I’ve seen people use magic when something mundane would work far better and with less cost. People who use it, tend to think that there is no other tool to use. I don’t doubt its efficacy, heck I use it myself, but it can become a crutch and a trap.
    As I finished my coffee, I thought about the tangled mess I had in front of me. I suppose it was just barely possible that Jeryn Callisandra’s problem, the Naming Day ceremony, which was a little over 4 days away, Kevin’s murder and the surveillance teams weren’t connected, but I didn’t buy that for a minute. When trouble comes from the Courts, it came in clumps. There is even supposed to some mystical rule about this kind of thing but I never could understand it or remember, let alone believe in it.
    I find the best way to deal with a tangle like this is to pull on a string and see how far it will unwind. When it stops unwinding I pull on another until I get some kind of response.  My gut told me that the surveillance teams were related to Kevin’s murder. I could see one of the team’s belonging to Crosswich. It would certainly be his style to stake my office out hoping to get some clue. He did love paper work and bringing in a crew to watch me would give him someone to blame his lack of progress on. I was glad I wasn’t a subordinate under him.
    The other team was much more worrisome. From Marty’s description, they could be trouble.  I would have to take a look them myself.
                  My Naming Day was four days away and Kevin had been my best source for stirrings on at Court. With him gone, there really weren’t a whole lot of a people who could feed me current data about the current situation there. I hated going into this thing blind, but at the moment I couldn’t see any way