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why I need the Cornerstone. I give you my word.” Inspiration struck. “And if I give you
my word in the presence of the Cornerstone, you’ll know it’s the truth.” One of the
peculiarities of a Cornerstone was that no one could lie if they stood within a few feet of
it. In fact, Cornerstones reputedly led to a certain overly garrulous sincerity. Sorcerers
weren’t comfortable around them for that very reason—when your entire life was built
on keeping secrets and knowing things other people didn’t, a stone of truth could be
rather intimidating.
Finch began to crack his knuckles while gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m inclined to
believe you,” he said at last. “I made some calls when I heard there was a sorcerer in
town claiming to be a chief from back east. You certainly sound like the Marla Mason I
was told about, and as far as I can tell, you’ve always been honorable—as honorable as
our kind ever can be, at least. My sources in your city told me you were blunt,
impatient, prone to violence, indescribably lucky, honest, formidable, and well
respected. I suspect you didn’t bother to do any research about me.”
Marla shrugged. “I figured I’d talk to Lao Tsung and be out of town by dinnertime. I
didn’t expect this much interaction with the locals. Will you take me to the
Cornerstone?”
“I can take you in the morning,” he said. “I will require certain promises and payments
in return, of course, and I wouldn’t mind having a formal ambassador in your city.”
“What you’re saying is, I’ll owe you a favor.”
“You’ll owe me a big favor.” He began to crack his toes, carefully, one at a time. “And
not me, exactly. You’ll owe the city of San Francisco a favor. The Cornerstone is a civic
possession, and letting you take a bit of its power puts you in the city’s debt.”
“Fair enough,” Marla said. She didn’t like to be beholden to anyone, but without the
Cornerstone, Susan would go ahead with her stupid, dangerous plan, and then Marla’s
whole city would likely fall to pieces, so it was worth a few promises on her part, even
if they were promises she’d be forced to keep. “So can you keep your friend in
Chinatown from trying to kill me in the meantime?”
“Oh, I doubt it,” he said. “But I hear you can take care of yourself. They told me you
killed Somerset.”
Marla nodded. “Why do you think they respect me so much back home? Somerset
almost took control of the city again, after he died, but I handled things.”
“Then my friend in Chinatown shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“What’s his name anyway?” Marla said.
“He’s never told any of us,” Finch said. “He’s the oldest sorcerer living in the city,
though I don’t think he was as old as Lao Tsung. Most call him the Celestial. He’s of
the old school—he believes names have power, you know.”