Never trust an elf

"Normally, we can place the age of wood by comparing the pattern of the growth rings with catalogued patterns from trees of known age, but your sample was too small for a dedrochronological analysis. The standard dating technique for organic material is a ra-diometric analysis using carbon 14. It is based on a comparison between the amount of carbon 14 remaining in the sample to the known ratio for living organisms, a fairly constant value. There are some variations in the ratio over time, so there are some correction factors to be applied, but in general, the method is quite accurate. The analysis was quite simple, but I didn't believe the results at first because the wood seemed so recent."

"Just what didn't ya believe?"

"All of the carbon 14 has been converted to nitrogen 14."

"So how old does dat make it?"

"I don't know."

"Whaddya mean, ya don't know?"

"I can't tell. The carbon 14 method is only good to about fifty thousand years before the present era. In organic materials older than that, all the carbon 14 has been converted, just as in this case. So, without knowing the context or having no other material that might be datable by another method, I cannot tell you how old this wood is." He held up the small vial and ruefully frowned at it. "Beyond saying that it is likely more than fifty thousand years old. Perhaps if you gave me more information? Some sample of the sediments in which it was found?"

Kham started to lose his temper again, but Neko touched his arm in a gesture that was becoming familiar. Kham clamped down his anger while the cat-boy reached out and took the vial from the labcoat.

"Arigato, doctor. We appreciate your efforts."

They didn't talk about it until they had gone to ground at Club Penumbra. The noise, and the club staff, were their insulation, making them safe from listeners. Jim brought them beers. Kham downed his, but Neko just leaned over his glass and said, "You realize what this means?''

"Yeah," Kham groused. "We just blew too much nuyen on a wurtless labcoat. Dat stick of wood ain't any help."

Neko chuckled. "Not directly. But its existence is highly suggestive."

"Of what?"'

"Of the longevity of elves and their magic. That frame was built by human, or metahuman, hands more than fifty thousand years ago. The carving and the construction were too advanced for the primitive cultures of the time, even if there had been any in the Salish-Shidhe back then. The carvings on the frame were derivative of those on the crystal, further suggesting that the crystal itself and whoever carved it are older still."

"Ya tinkda elves did it?"

"They knew where to find it."

"Yeah, so dey did." Pieces were beginning to line up, suspicions turning to certainty. If there were elves, there was magic, and if there were really old magic, the elves weren't telling the whole story. Maybe that Ehran the Scribe elf was the one telling the truth. Maybe there were cycles to the magic. It all swirled around into one shape, one thought that kept hanging there before Kham's eyes. Old magic meant old elves. Old elves that looked like kids. Immortality. "Dey got it, don't dey?"

"It seems so."

"Ya want it, catboy?"

Neko sat silently for a moment. "Personally? No."

That was not the answer Kham had expected, but the catboy sounded sincere. "Why not?"

"Personal reasons."

"Ya been a good chummer. I ain't gonna pry. But I gotta know sumpin' else. Ya gonna help?"

Neko raised an eyebrow. "That depends."

"Can't pay ya, leastways not yet."

"Then you are going after it."

Kham's throat was dry. He was scared. Going after the crystal meant going up against Glasgian and maybe the whole Tir council. He had a right to be scared. But the prize. Oh, the prize! "Gotta try."

Neko smiled tightly. "I have to admit to being curious about the result." "Den you're in?" "I'm in."

PART 3

Harness the Talented

"There is a mage nearby."

The certainty in Scatter's voice gave troublesome weight to the rat shaman's announcement. Kham looked around the sea of desks and workstations that surrounded him and his crew. He saw nothing; no sign that anyone had entered the room. The Weeze shook her head, signifying that she had spotted no one in the corridor. Over by the window, Neko was giving a sim- i ilar all-clear. The Tacoma facility of Andalusian Light Industries wasn't all that big, but the tangle of buildings, garages, sheds, and warehouses offered more than enough places for even a mundane to hide, as they had proven in penetrating to this office structure.