"You think Marcone’s involved in this one?"
"His thugs already took a poke at me. I might as well find out whatever I can. I give you permission to leave in pursuit of that information, Bob. Get back before dawn. Oh, do we still have that recipe for the antivenom to vampire spit?"
A cloud of orange lights flowed out of the skull, across the table, and then up the stairs. Bob’s voice, oddly modulated, floated back to me. "Red notebook. Don’t forget to light the wardflame while I’m gone."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. I gave Bob a minute to clear my wards, then got down a three-candle holder with green, yellow, and red candles on it. I lit the green one and set the candleholder aside. I got out Dumont’s Guide and read over the entry for Ulsharavas. It looked pretty simple, though you couldn’t be too careful whenever you called something in from the Nevernever.
I took a couple of minutes to gather what I’d need. The oracle spirit couldn’t put together a body for herself, not even a nebulous cloud of light, like Bob could. She required a homunculus to manifest in the mortal world. Dumont recommended a newly dead corpse, but as the only one I was likely to find was my own, I needed a substitute. I found it in another box and plopped it down in the center of my summoning circle,
I added a cup of whiskey and a freshly opened tin of Prince Albert’s chewing tobacco to the circle, the required down payment to convince Ulsharavas to show up. It was the last of my whiskey and the last of the tins of tobacco, so I added Get more scotch and Prince Albert in a can to my to-do list, and stuck it in my pocket.
I spent a couple of minutes sweeping the floor around the circle, so that I wouldn’t kick a stray hair or bit of paper across the circle and flub it up. After a brief deliberation I chalked down another circle outside the copper one. Then I took a moment to go over the guide a last time, and to clear my head of distractions.
I took a deep breath and gathered in my strength. Then I focused, reached down, and touched the copper circle, willing a tiny jolt of power into it. The summoning circle closed. I felt it as a tingling prickle on the back of my neck and a faint warmth on the skin of my face. I repeated the process with the chalk circle, adding a second layer, and then knelt down by the circle, lifting both hands palms-up.
"Ulsharavas," I murmured, willing energy into the words. My voice shook oddly, skittering around tones in what seemed a random fashion. "Ulsharavas. Ulsharavas. One lost in ignorance seeks you. One darkened by the lack of knowledge seeks your light. Come, guardian of memory, sentinel of the yet to come. Accept this offering and join me here."
At the conclusion of the ritual words, I released the power I’d been holding, sending it coursing from me into the circle, and through it to seek out the oracle spirit in the Nevernever.
The response came immediately. A sudden swirl of light appeared within the copper circle, and briefly made the barrier around it visible as a curved plane of blue sparkles. The light drizzled down over the homunculus, and a moment later it twitched, then sat up.
"Welcome, oracle," I said. "Bob the Skull thought you might be of some help."
The homunculus sat up and stretched out pudgy arms. Then it blinked, looked at its arms, and rose to stare down at itself. It looked up at me with one eyebrow raised, and asked, in a tiny voice, "A Cabbage Patch doll? You expect me to help you while wearing this?"
It was a cute doll. Blond ringlets fell to her plush shoulders, and she wore a pink-and-blue calico dress, complete with matching ribbons and little black shoes. "Uh, yeah. Sorry," I said. "I didn’t have anything else with two arms and two legs, and I’m pressed for time."
Ulsharavas the Cabbage Patch doll sighed and sat down in the circle, legs straight out like a teddy bear’s. She struggled to pick up the comparatively large cup of whiskey, and drank it down. It looked like she was taking a pull from a rain barrel, but she downed the whiskey in one shot. I don’t know where it went, given that the doll didn’t actually have a mouth or a stomach, but none of it spilled onto the floor. That done, she thrust a tiny fist into the tobacco and stuffed a wad of it into her mouth.
"So," she said, between chews. "You want to know about the Shroud, and the people who stole it."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Uh. Yeah, actually. You’re pretty good."
"There are two problems."
I frowned. "Okay. What are they?"
Ulsharavas peered at me and said, "First. I don’t work for bokkor."
"I’m not a bokkor," I protested.
"You aren’t a houngun. You aren’t a mambo. That makes you a sorcerer."
"Wizard," I said. "I’m with the White Council."
The doll tilted her head. "You’re stained," she said. "I can feel black magic on you."
"It’s a long story," I said. "But mostly it isn’t mine."
"Some of it is."
I frowned at the doll and then nodded. "Yeah. I’ve made a bad call or two."
"But honest," Ulsharavas noted. "Well enough. Second is my price."
"What did you have in mind?"
The doll spat to one side, flecks of tobacco landing on the floor. "An honest answer to one question. Answer me and I will tell you what you seek."
"Yeah, right," I said. "You could just ask me for my Name. I’ve heard that one before."
"I didn’t say you’d have to answer in full," the doll said. "I certainly do not wish to threaten you. But what you would answer, you must answer honestly."
I thought about it for a minute before I said, "All right. Done."
Ulsharavas scooped up more tobacco and started chomping. "Answer only this. Why do you do what you do?"
I blinked at her. "You mean tonight?"
"I mean always," she answered. "Why are you a wizard? Why do you present yourself openly? Why do you help other mortals as you do?"
"Uh," I said. I stood up and paced over to my table. "What else would I do?"
"Precisely," the doll said, and spat. "You could be doing many other things. You could be seeking a purpose in life in other careers. You could be sequestered and studying. You could be using your skills for material gain and living in wealth. Even in your profession as an investigator, you could do more to avoid confrontation than you do. But instead you consign yourself to a poor home, a dingy office, and the danger of facing all manner of mortal and supernatural foe. Why?"
I leaned back against my table, folded my arms, and frowned at the doll. "What the hell kind of question is that?"
"An important one," she said. "And one that you agreed to answer honestly."
"Well," I said. "I guess I wanted to do something to help people. Something I was good at."
"Is that why?" she asked.
I chewed over the thought for a moment. Why had I started doing this stuff? I mean, it seemed like every few months I was running up against situations that had the potential to horribly kill me. Most wizards never had the kind of problems I did. They stayed at home, minded their own business, and generally speaking went on about their lives. They did not challenge other supernatural forces. They didn’t declare themselves to the public at large. They didn’t get into trouble for sticking their noses in other people’s business, whether or not they’d been paid to do so. They didn’t start wars, get challenged to duels with vampire patriots, or get the windows shot out of their cars.