Page 54 of Ulune's Daughter

“Whatever. Why do you think the cup of Sulis Minerva will lift a curse?”

“It’s done so before. The cup resided in Poland, as I’m sure you know. In the 1350s, the Black Death spread through Europe. Casimir the Great summoned the head of each family and made them drink from the cup after it was blessed by his circle of wise men. Although the plague decimated the rest of Europe, Poland was left untouched. Casimir had no desire for the rabble of Europe to beat down his door demanding the cure, so he decreed no word of the cup should be given to foreigners. A decree he enforced harshly, with many deaths.”

“But word got out,” I say. Although I haven’t heard this particular legend, I can guess where it’s going. “As it always does.”

Maher nods. “A Russian Earth-witch, who lost her half-human children in the plague, came to Casimir’s court, following a rumor of the cup. She disguised herself as a maid and worked in his castle for more than a year, watching and listening. And when she finally discovered the truth, she revealed herself and cursed Casimir and his circle of wise men and every family in Casimir’s kingdom that he had protected with this great secret while the world outside his borders died. Casimir’s guards killed her and put her head on a pike outside the castle but it was too late. Casimir and his courtiers grew weak. Their children, every child younger than five winters, wasted and died. Before the whole kingdom was lost, Casimir called everyone to him, and they drank from the cup again, this time with a potion made from Casimir’s own blood. And they lived. And their children lived. And the curse was broken.”

The chief curator and Ms. Long take deep breaths, like they’ve been released from a spell.

Maher spins a good yarn, I’ll give him that. He has a deep, rolling voice that gives every word extra weight.

I cross my arms over my chest.

“What historical record supports this tall tale?” I ask.

He narrows his dark eyes at me. “It is not a tale. The Ottoman Empire stretched from Yemen to the Ukraine under Suleiman the Magnificent. Many legends of the cup spread through the Empire. Mehmed the Hunter pushed north following the legend of the cup in the 1660s. Had their future king not financed and led their army, the Poles would have been forced to surrender the cup after the battle of Podhajce. My people have known of the cup for centuries.”

“And somehow Mark Carter found it for you,” I say.

Maher gives me a glare that should scorch, it’s so fierce. Good thing jackalweres aren’t Elemental mages. “Not somehow. I’ve had Carter and several others of his ilk scouring every private collection on Earth for nearly a year. I’ve spent millions and kept my people going with promise after empty promise. Carter finally found what he claimed to be the cup, but before I could even test it, you stole it from him.”

I scoff. “Recovering artifacts looted by the Nazis and traded through black market antiquities dealers isn’t stealing. Human and magickal law is firmly on my side on this. You were trying to buy stolen goods, which makes you just as culpable as Carter. You can try to spin this, but you and I both know you have no legal right to the cup.”

“And what of my moral right, Professor Wyndham? What of the right of a dying people? You’d deny them the cure on the basis of legality?”

I swallow hard. No, of course I wouldn’t. But I’m not sold on Maher’s explanation, either.

“The cup is more likely to kill them than heal them,” I tell him. “I can show you my analysis. Its magic is malignant.”

“Jackalweres are considered malignant, Professor Wyndham. Evil. There are those who would be glad to see my clan die out. Even the children, who have done harm to none. Are you one of them? Would you deny my clan the chance of something that could save them? Even if it is the thinnest thread of hope. Would you snap it?”

“No,” I say. “If you want to gamble their lives on the cup healing rather than killing them and they agree, I won’t stop you. But after your clan is done with it, it goes to a museum, not some private collector."

"Although I’ve paid many times what it is worth for its recovery, I will agree to your stipulation, Professor Wyndham. Will you come with me? Will you meet my clan and help administer the cure?”

Benighted Mother, is this a trap? Maher seems sincere, but I don’t trust the jackalwere any further than I could throw him, which is not far even using the gaoithe sidhe. But if I let the cup out of my sight, what’s to prevent him from reneging and selling it to recoup some of his losses?

I chew my lip, undecided. Finally, I say, “Let me bring someone and I will.”

“Not your Fire-mage,” Maher says.

No, not Arch. Or even Vivian. “I have someone else in mind.”

Chapter19

Stowaways

LUCA

Individually, Kellan and Rhodes are as subtle as revenants.

Together, they might as well be throwing bricks through the den’s windows with scrolls tied to them that say, “we’re planning something.”

“They’re planning something,” Law says, narrowed eyes following Rhodes as he disappears into our room with a pile of clothes under his arm.

That my lover’s suddenly washed every item of black clothing he owns hasn’t escaped me.

“You think?”

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