“You are no longer in a position to tell me anything,” the construct replied sourly, though he did look through the binoculars. “You made a lucky guess.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bob said proudly. “That, old friend, wasskill. I know all my assets, and Julius is the most reliable, especially for something like this.” He sighed happily. “They’ll be calling him ‘Julius the Peacemaker’ and flocking to him with their problems before the year is out, mark my words.”
“Of course they will,” the Black Reach said. “Because you’ll be sending them, and spreading that ridiculous epitaph.” He passed the binoculars back to Bob. “It’s not actually predicting the future if you’re setting everything up, you know.”
“I don’t care what you call it so long as it happens,” Bob replied. “And neither should you. My little brother is in there building the futureyou’vealways wanted. You should be falling over yourself to help me help him.”
“Who says I’m not?” the Black Reach said with a cryptic smile. “I’m here, aren’t I? Despite thatthingon your shoulder.”
Bob went pale in horror, his hands shooting up to shield his pigeon roosting against his neck. “Don’t listen to him, darling,” he whispered. “He’s just jealous you’re with me.”
The bird cooed in reply, and the oldest seer rose to his feet with a sigh. “Now that you’ve made your point, can we go? They’re going to be in that meeting until midnight at least, and you promised me a local delicacy for dinner. Some sort of canine, I believe?”
“A coney dog,” Bob said, popping to his feet as well. “Which isn’t actually a dog, but you’re still going to love it. And across the street, there’s a place that serves chicken and waffles!”
The Black Reach looked troubled. “Why would anyone put chicken on a waffle?”
“Oh, my sweet, innocent child,” Bob said, wrapping his arm around the taller seer’s shoulders. “This is going to be the best vacation you’ve ever had.”
The Black Reach sighed again, but he didn’t resist as Bob dragged him down the scaffolding toward the service elevator, the pigeon fluttering along behind them in the cold winter air.
***
The meeting didn’t get out until one in the morning. Julius was exhausted by ten. Given the state of his body, he really should have called it earlier, but the whole “get dragons to talk instead of killing each other” plan was working so well, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. By the time the all-clan meeting adjourned, he’d helped resolve three clan wars—all of which were stupid—arranged a five-clan trade summit for next weekend, and gotten Svena and Amelia to agree to take on younger dragons as apprentices to help rekindle the dying art of formal dragon magic. All in all, it was a marvelous beginning, but the best part came at the end, when he hobbled out on his cane to find Marci waiting in the hotel lobby.
He hadn’t expected to see her again tonight. The Merlin delegation was still fantastically busy. Getting them to come and support him for the first ten minutes had been tricky enough given their overlapping obligations, and he hadn’t been offended when they’d ducked out the moment the actual clan politicking had started. He’d assumed they’d moved on to whatever world crisis was on the docket next, but when he stepped out, there she was, waiting for him by the elevators in the same lovely, long dress she’d worn to the meeting.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey yourself,” he replied, hobbling over with a grin. “What are you doing here?”
She gave him a funny look. “What do you think? You just became the Dragon of Detroit. I’m here to help you celebrate!” Her look turned sly. “I might also have gotten us a room at the hotel since, you know, it’s late and I thought you might be sick of the hospital.”
He loved the way she thought. “You have no idea,” he said, hitting the button to summon the elevator. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. It wasn’t until they got into the elevator, though, that Julius realized Ghost wasn’t there. Not that she could ever really be separated from her spirit, but by their standards, this was alone.
Even three weeks after he’d confessed his feelings, that was still enough to turn his whole head red. “So,” he said, loosening his collar against the sudden heat. “Anything big happen while I was in the meeting?”
“Actually, yes. Myron and I need to get serious about recruiting more Merlins to handle the flood of spirits, so we decided to go ahead and open up a formal headquarters in the DFZ.”
His heart began to pound. “Here?”
“We can’t exactly be anywhere else given Myron’s spirit,” Marci said with a shrug. “Personally, though, I think it’s very fitting. The DFZ always was the city of mages. Now it can be that for real. We’re actually meeting with what’s left of Algonquin’s city council tomorrow to discuss making the new Merlin Council a permanent part of the city’s governing structure. The spirit of the DFZ isn’t actually interested in running herself on a municipal level, but she doesn’t want to cede power to humans she doesn’t know, so we’re trying to compromise with a joint government between the city’s spirit and the elected officials. That way, we’ve got proper civil servants running all the normal stuff people need—trash, power grid, police, economic policies, and so forth—but the DFZ still has a say in how she’s run without having to do something crazy like swallow up city hall, which shehasthreatened to do.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Julius said. “Anything will be an improvement over being left to fend for ourselves by Algonquin. Maybe we’ll actually get laws this time.”
“Don’t count ontoomuch order,” Marci warned. “This is still the DFZ, and she values her freedoms. But I think we can strike a good balance between freedom of choice and cruel neglect.” Her face darkened. “There are parts of the DFZ none of us want to see come back.”
That was certainly true. “At least I won’t have to worry about being hunted anymore,” Julius said cheerfully. “The city can be my home for real now, and speaking of homes…” He turned to look at her. “If we’re both going to be staying here for the long term, I’m thinking we should move in together.”
Marci laughed. “But we’ve always lived together.”
“I meant for real this time.”
Her cheeks flushed as she realized what he was implying. “Oh,” she said, reaching up to fiddle with her short brown hair. “Sure. I’d love to shack up with you.”
“Actually,” Julius said, moving closer. “I was hoping for something a bit more permanent.”
