Burned (10 page)

Landis waved a hand. ‘Not at all! I’ve always felt I owe you rather a debt for all the times you’ve helped Vari, don’t you know. Become very fond of the lad. Was actually meaning to have a chat with him about his own journeyman tests one of these days, before all this blew up. Now that your apprentice is doing hers, I imagine that’ll give Vari a kick up the behind to do it as well. He seems rather interested in her.’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed.’ I straightened. ‘All right. What can you tell me about this mission?’

‘Well then.’ Landis set down his cup and leaned back with his hands behind his head. ‘As I understand it, this all came to light just a few days ago. You know the Council’s increasingly concerned about Drakh, of course. Well, somehow or other, they became convinced that the bugger was trying to get hold of old weapons to bring down the Council with.’

My memory flashed back to the notes in my desk.
A weapon?
‘What kind?’

‘Dashed if I know. Doubt they do either, to be frank. In any case, they’re quite set on the idea that Drakh wants this one particular relic. Unfortunately for him, it’s sealed up in a bubble with no access key, so that was the end of the matter, or so they thought. Except that now it turns out rumours of its sealed status were greatly exaggerated.’

This was sounding like a familiar story. ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘They want a diviner to help them get inside.’

‘Actually, that’s the interesting part,’ Landis said. ‘Apparently there’s a particular time window where it opens and closes. Bigwigs just found out a couple of days back, and now they’re scrambling to have a strike force ready to go. Seem convinced that Drakh is going to have his own team working to get inside as well.’

‘Do you think they’re right?’

Landis shrugged. ‘Well, it’s a Council intelligence report, so
caveat emptor
and all that. Still, better safe than sorry, eh? If it turns out he isn’t after the thing, you can toodle along, help them out and wander back home.’

‘Yeah, somehow I doubt it’ll be quite that easy. Who’s in charge, the Order of the Shield or the Order of the Star?’

‘You’d think it’d be us, wouldn’t you? But the Order of the Star wanted it for themselves. Jurisdiction, et cetera, et cetera. They’ll be calling us in as and when.’

The Order of the Star are the Keepers who are supposed to deal with cases directly involving other mages. They’re the largest of the orders, but they’re still not all that big and I’d met most of them over the past year. ‘Is Caldera involved?’

‘Who do you think’s been telling me everything?’ Landis gave me a nod. ‘Expect I’ll be seeing you at Keeper HQ. Watch your back till then.’

I gated back to London. There was a message on my phone from Caldera telling me to report to Keeper HQ tomorrow morning. From the way she phrased it, I had the feeling it wasn’t going to be a short trip.

I walked from my storeroom to the front of the shop and dropped into the chair behind the counter. What Landis had told me was bothering me, especially on top of Arachne’s warnings from the night before last, and more and more I was feeling as though I was out of my depth. The uncomfortable truth is that in a lot of ways I’m more of a Dark mage than a Light one. I understand threats and the use of force. But things like networking and politics … those aren’t things I know how to do, not well. I can get by, but I always seem to make enemies.

Arachne had told me that the way I was living was untenable. Staying independent, trying to live apart from the power blocs. There were reasons I’d made the choices I had, and at the time they’d seemed good, but the simple truth was that if I’d acted more like Sonder, gone along with the Council and not rocked the boat, then none of this would be happening. Levistus wouldn’t be after me, and Symmaris wouldn’t have come knocking on my door yesterday. I wanted to blame the Light mages, but was it really because of them? Or was it because they saw something in me that really
was
there? Maybe the reason the Council kept treating me like a Dark mage was that, at some level, they were right.

What I was sure of was that right now things were falling apart. I couldn’t keep this up, not for long. Even if I survived Levistus’s current plot, what was to stop him from simply doing it again? Levistus’s power was in his status and his political position, and I had absolutely no way to fight back against that. I had to win every single time; he only had to win once.

A knocking sound brought me out of my reverie. I looked up to see someone tapping on the glass. A woman, with a child by her side and a man behind her. The woman was looking at me; she’d obviously spotted me through the window. She mouthed something.

I looked back curiously. I couldn’t figure out what she was saying. She mouthed again, and pointed at the door.

I got up, crossed the shop floor and opened the door into the cold winter air. ‘Oh, thank you so much,’ the woman said in an American accent. ‘Are you open?’

‘Not exactly…’

‘I’m so sorry, it’s just we saw those little figurines on the shelf and they just look
amazing
. We’re flying back tomorrow and they’d just make the perfect Christmas present. Could we just come inside? We’ll be five minutes, I promise.’

I looked between the woman, man and child, scanning through the futures. No magic. They were normals. A completely ordinary family.

‘Please?’ the woman asked with a hopeful smile.

I opened my mouth to say no and hesitated.
An ordinary family …
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Come on in.’

The five minutes turned into fifteen. By the time the woman had made her purchases and finished her thank yous and left, more customers had followed her in. And by the time those ones were gone, more had come to replace them.

I should probably have shooed them out. I had work to do – researching Symmaris, laying escape plans, trying to figure out ways to defeat a Council resolution. For some reason, though, I didn’t want to. I didn’t understand Light politics, and I didn’t understand the Crusaders or the Council or how I should be dealing with things right now. But this I understood. Dealing with ordinary people, selling them things and answering their sometimes-relevant, mostly-silly questions. At another time it might have annoyed me, but right now, this was something I needed. It felt like a stable point in a world that was spinning out of my control.

The customers kept coming, young and old, families and locals and tourists. A handful had some idea what they were talking about, but they were fewer than usual. It was only three days to Christmas, and most of the people were looking for novelties and stocking fillers. Outside, the sun set and the sky faded from blue to grey to black. The streetlights came on one by one, lighting up the buildings in fluorescent orange. Five o’clock passed, then five-thirty. I walked to the door and flipped the sign from
OPEN
to
CLOSED
, then stood by the exit, turning away new customers, waiting for the ones still inside to make their purchases and leave. The numbers dwindled: six, then three, then two.

At last only one person was left: a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She was standing by the magic item section, just on this side of the rope, and was staring at something on the shelves. ‘Hey there,’ I said. ‘We’re closing up for the night.’

‘Oh,’ the girl said. ‘Okay.’ She didn’t move.

I recognised the way she was standing and the shape of her futures. She’d been hanging back so that she could get me alone. It happens often enough that I’m used to it: lots of people are afraid that if they talk about magic where they can be overheard, they’ll be seen as crazy. They’re usually right. ‘Something I can help you with?’

‘Is it…’ The girl hesitated. ‘Is it true you sell focus items?’

‘Just like it says on the sign,’ I said. ‘Focus’ is an obscure enough term that I can put it up on the front of my shop without getting hassled.

The girl reached across the rope to touch something on the magic item shelves. ‘Is that what this is?’

I crossed the shop floor to see what she was looking at. Her fingers were resting on a twisted wand of rowan wood, maybe eight inches long. ‘Good eye.’

‘What does it do?’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Depends who’s using it.’

The girl gave me an uncertain look. She was small, five feet at most, with light brown skin and curly black hair. The futures shifted and I could tell she was trying to figure out what to say. ‘Is it true what they say about you?’

‘Some of the things. You’ll have to be more specific.’

She hesitated. ‘Does your magic actually work?’

I blinked at her. ‘You’re new at this, aren’t you?’

The girl looked embarrassed. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you show me what you can do? I might be able to help.’

Futures flickered, there and gone. In most, the girl said something and did nothing. But in a few – just a few – she chose to trust me, and in those futures I saw her standing before me, concentrating, a tiny pearl of blue light hovering in the palm of her hand. It was only a glimpse, then it was gone, the futures vanishing as she turned down the other path. But it was enough.

‘Sorry.’ She cast her eyes down, took a step towards the door. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Water magic, huh?’ I said. ‘How many times have you been able to call up that blue light?’

The girl had been halfway to the door; now she froze. She turned and stared at me, eyes wide.

I checked the futures. ‘Five?’

The girl jumped. ‘Relax,’ I said. ‘I’m not reading your mind.’

‘How did …?’ She swallowed. She didn’t finish the sentence but I could tell she was afraid.

I shook my head. ‘You really
are
new. No one’s taught you, have they? You have no idea what’s going on.’

The girl didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. ‘Okay,’ I said. I walked away from her, back behind the counter, and sat down. ‘Go lock the door – there’s a switch below the handle. Then grab that chair and bring it over.’

The girl hesitated, and I watched to see what she’d do. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in this sort of situation, and I’d found through trial and error that the best approach is to ask the kid in question to do these things themself. Partly it’s to reassure them that they can get away if they want to, but a lot of it is forcing them to make the decision: trust me, or not? The futures shifted, then settled. She did as I asked, then sat down in the spare chair in front of the counter, hands clasped in front of her.

‘Okay,’ I began. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. You can think of magical talent as a pyramid. The bottom of the pyramid, and the largest section, are the normals. After that you have sensitives, then adepts, then mages…’

We talked for nearly two hours. I told her about the basics of how magic worked, exercises to develop it further, what she could expect as she grew into her power, whether she’d turn into an adept or a mage, and how to tell the difference. Then I gave her a brief rundown on magical society: the Concord, Light mages and Dark, and how they worked. Most of all, I told her how important it was not to draw the wrong kind of attention. Novices are vulnerable, and the younger they are, the more danger they’re in if they’re noticed.

At last I noticed that the girl’s eyes were drooping. She was still trying to pay attention, but she was exhausted. She’d probably keyed herself up for this conversation, working herself up to a state of nervous tension, and now the after-effects were kicking in. ‘That’s enough for now,’ I said. ‘You know the basics. Enough to keep you alive, as long as you don’t do anything stupid.’

The girl nodded and I could sense her relief. ‘What should I do now?’

I tore a note from the pad on the desk and started writing on it. ‘This is the name and number of a mage I know who lives here in London.’ I pushed the note over. ‘Keep practising for a few weeks, then when you’re more confident, give her a call. She might be able to find you a teacher and she might not, but either way, she won’t do anything you don’t want her to. She takes confidentiality seriously.’

The girl took the paper. ‘You’d better get home,’ I told her.

The girl nodded and stood up. She got to the door, unlocked it, paused, then turned back to me. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Doing what?’

‘You said Dark mages are out for themselves,’ the girl said. ‘And Light mages just care about following the rules.’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Then why are you helping?’

I shrugged. ‘Somebody has to.’

The girl gave me an odd look, as though she was trying to figure out what I meant. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Bye.’ She paused. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’ The girl opened the door and disappeared out into the street.

I watched her go through the futures, then stirred and rose to my feet. I locked the door, pulled down the shutters and cleaned the counter. Only as I took a last look around before switching off the lights did I realise that the uneasy feeling I’d had before was gone.

How many people like that girl had come into my shop over the years? Hundreds, maybe thousands. All looking for something, help or advice or direction. Sure, most of the customers who visit my shop don’t get anything out of it but a funny story and a souvenir, but for the young adepts and mages, it’s not funny. It’s deadly serious, and what they learn can make all the difference in the world.

I spend a lot of time and energy protecting myself against people who are trying to hurt me. When you do that, it’s easy to focus on it more than you really ought to. And among other mages, it’s mostly the destructive things I’ve done that I’m remembered for: the Dark mage I studied under, the people I’ve killed in combat. That’s what I’m associated with, and that was why I was being targeted now.

But maybe, at the end of the day, the most important things I’d done with my life wouldn’t end up being the battles, or the escapes or the times I’ve survived against the odds. It’d end up being little things like the meeting with that girl. She’d never told me her name, and there was a good chance I’d never see her again, but the couple of hours I’d just spent had made a difference.