Taken (2 page)

It sounded like a recipe for trouble. “And stopping them will be . . .”

“There’ll be Council battle-mages present. We’re well aware of the potential for trouble. There will be sufficient security. We just need to make sure the security is in the right place at the right time.”

“You haven’t received any warnings or threats?”

“Nothing like that. There’s been no suggestion of trouble so far, and we’d like your help to make sure it stays that way.”

I thought about it. I’ve usually steered clear of Light tournaments in the past; my teachers thought they were a waste of time and on the whole I agreed with them. But if initiates were there, that changed my feelings a bit. Trying to protect adult mages is a thankless task, but apprentices are another story. “What exactly would you be expecting me to do?”

“Just to keep an eye on the guests. Possibly some investigation if anything comes up. We’re particularly concerned about keeping the younger apprentices safe, so we’d been hoping you could help with that.”

I started to nod—and stopped.

Crystal looked at me. “Is something wrong?”

I kept still for a second, then smiled at her. “No. Not at all. You mentioned investigation work?”

“Obviously, some mages are more likely to make trouble than others. We don’t have anybody we’re especially suspicious of, but it’s likely things will crop up to turn our attention to someone. When they do, it would be very helpful if you could find things out for us about them. Their background, connections, that sort of thing.”

“I assume the place is staffed?”

“Oh yes, the servants will handle all that. You’d be considered one of the guests.”

“And you said the opening ceremony was on Friday. The guests will be arriving on what, the same day?”

“Exactly.” Crystal was relaxed now; the interview was going well. “We’re expecting the first guests by the morning, although of course the sooner you can arrive the better.”

“And regarding payment?” I thought about cash, as soon as possible.

“Future service, as usual. Though if you’d prefer something more tangible that’s perfectly acceptable.”

“When could you arrange payment by?”

“Immediately, of course.”

“Well.” I smiled at Crystal. “That settles that.”

“Excellent. Then you’ll be able to come?”

“No.”

The smile vanished from Crystal’s face. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, I’m afraid there are a couple of problems.” I leant forward casually. “The first issue is that I’ve had a lot of approaches like yours over the past few months. And while they all looked good on the surface, the last couple of times I’ve said yes they’ve turned out to be . . . well, let’s just say I don’t feel like a repeat performance.”

“If you have a prior engagement I’m sure we—”

“No, we couldn’t. Because the second problem is that you’ve been reading my thoughts ever since you sat down.”

Crystal went very still. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she said at last.

“Oh, you were very subtle,” I said. “I’d guess most mages wouldn’t even notice.”

Crystal didn’t move, and I saw the futures whirl. Flight, combat, threats. “Relax,” I said. “If I was going to start a fight I wouldn’t have told you about it.”

The futures kept shifting a moment longer, then settled. “I’m sorry,” Crystal said. She brushed back her hair, looking remorseful. “I shouldn’t, I know. I was just so worried you’d say no.” She met my eyes, entreating. “We need someone as skilled as you. Please, won’t you help?”

I looked back at Crystal for a long second. “No,” I said at last. “I won’t. Good-bye, Crystal.”

Again the smile vanished from Crystal’s face, and this time it didn’t come back. She watched me without expression for a long moment, then rose in a single motion and stalked away, heels clicking on the floor.

I’d known Crystal was a mind mage, but even so I hadn’t noticed her spell. Active mind magic like suggestion is easy to spot if you know what to look for, but a mage who’s good with passive senses, reading the thoughts that others broadcast, is much harder to catch. The only thing that had tipped me off was that Crystal had been too neat. In a real conversation no one tells you
exactly
what you want to hear.

That last reaction had made me wonder, too. In between her magic and her looks, it occurred to me that Crystal probably wasn’t very used to not getting her own way. I’d better be careful around her if we met again.

I noticed suddenly that everyone in the shop was watching me. For a moment I wondered why, then smiled to myself as I realised what it must have looked like. I left my drink on the table and ran the gauntlet of stares as I walked down to the ground floor and out into the London streets.

*  *  *

I
never used to get offers like these. A year ago I could go weeks at a time without seeing another mage. In magical society I was an unknown, and all in all that was how I liked it.

It’s hard to say what changed. I used to think it was because of that business with the fateweaver, but looking back, I get the feeling it was more to do with me. Maybe I was just tired of being alone. Whatever it was, I got involved in the magical world again and started getting myself a reputation.

Although not necessarily a
good
reputation. I got the fateweaver against some stiff competition, making a couple of very powerful enemies in the process, one of which came back to bite me five months later. A Light battle-mage named Belthas was trying to get sole ownership of a very nasty ritual, and when I tried to stop him it came down to a fight. When the dust settled, Belthas was gone.

That was the point at which other mages started to take notice. Belthas had been good—
really
good, one of the most dangerous battle-mages in the country—and all of a sudden a lot of people were paying attention to me. After all, if I’d been able to defeat someone like Belthas, I’d be a useful tool to have on their side. And if I
wasn’t
on their side . . . well, they might have to consider doing something about that.

All of a sudden, I had to play politics. Take a job, and I’d be associated with whoever I worked for. Turn one down, and I’d risk causing offence. Not all the job offers were nice, either. More than one Dark mage figured that since I’d knocked off one Light mage I might be willing to do a few more, and let me tell you, those kinds of people do
not
take rejection well.

But I’m not completely new to politics, either. My apprenticeship was to a Dark mage named Richard Drakh, in an environment where trust was suicide and competition was quite literally a matter of life and death. It’s left me with some major issues with relationships, but as a primer on power and manipulation it’s hard to beat. Crystal hadn’t been the first to try to take advantage of me—and she hadn’t been the first to get a surprise.

But right now I didn’t feel like dealing with that. I put Crystal out of my mind and went to go find my apprentice.

*  *  *

M
ages don’t have a single base of operations—there’s no central headquarters or anything like that. Instead the Council owns a selection of properties around England that they make use of on a rotating basis. This one was an old gym in Islington, a blocky building of fading red bricks tucked away down a backstreet. The man at the front desk glanced up as I walked in and gave me a nod. “Hey, Mr. Verus. Looking for the students?”

“Yep. And the guy waiting for me.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m not supposed to talk about—”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I opened the door, closed it behind me, and looked at the man leaning against the corridor wall. “You know, for someone who’s not a diviner, you seem to know an awful lot about where to find me.”

Talisid is middle-aged with a receding hairline, and every time I’ve seen him he always seems to be wearing the same nondescript-looking suit. If you added a pair of glasses he’d look like a maths teacher, or maybe an accountant. He doesn’t look like much at first glance, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he might be more than he seems.

I’ve never known exactly what to make of Talisid. He’s involved with a high-up faction of the Council, but what game they’re playing I don’t know. “Verus,” Talisid said with a nod. “Do you have a minute?”

I began walking towards the doors at the end of the hall. Talisid fell in beside me. “Since you’re here,” I said, “I’m guessing I’m either in trouble or about to get that way.”

Talisid shook his head. “Has anybody ever told you you’re a remarkably cynical person?”

“I like to think of it as learning from experience.”

“I’ve never forced you to accept a job.”

“I know.”

The doors opened into a stairwell. Narrow rays of sun were streaming down through slit windows of frosted glass, catching motes of dust floating in the air. They lit us up as we climbed, placing us in alternating light and shadow. “Okay,” I said. “Hit me.”

“The task I’d like your help with is likely to be difficult and dangerous,” Talisid said. “It’s also covered by strict Council secrecy. You may not tell anyone the details, or even that you’re working for us.”

I looked over my shoulder with a frown. “Why all the secrecy?”

“You’ll understand once you hear the details. Whether to take the assignment is up to you, but confidentiality is not.”

I thought for a second. “What about Luna?”

“The Council would prefer to limit the number of people in the know as far as possible,” Talisid said. “However, due to the . . . nature of the problem I believe your apprentice might be of some help.” Talisid paused. “She would also be in greater danger.”

We reached the top floor and stopped at the doors to the hall. “I’ll be down the corridor,” Talisid said. “Once you’ve decided, come speak to me.”

“Not coming in?”

Talisid shook his head. “The fewer people that know of my involvement, the better. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

I watched Talisid go with a frown. I’ve done jobs for Talisid before, and while they’d generally been successful, they hadn’t been safe. In fact, they’d been decidedly unsafe. If he was calling the job “difficult and dangerous” . . . I turned and pushed the doors open.

The top hall had once been a boxing gym. Chains hung from the ceiling, but the heavy bags had been removed and so had the ring at the centre. Mats covered the floor and light trickled in from windows high above. Two blocky ceramic constructions were set up at either end of the hall, ten feet tall and looking exactly like a pair of giant tuning forks.

Inside the room were five students and one teacher. Three of the students were against the far wall: a small round-faced Asian girl, a blond-haired boy with glasses, and an Indian boy with dark skin and the khaki turban of a Sikh who was keeping a noticeable distance from the first two. All looked about twenty or so. I didn’t know their names but had seen them around enough times to recognise them as seniors in the apprentice program.

The next girl I knew a little better. She was tall and slim, with black hair that brushed her shoulders, and her name was Anne. And standing close to her (but not too close) was Luna, my apprentice.

The last person in the room was the teacher. He was just under thirty, well dressed and affluent-looking with short dark hair and olive-tinted skin, and he stopped what he’d been saying as I walked in. Five sets of interested eyes turned in my direction, following the teacher’s gaze.

“Hi, Lyle,” I said. “Didn’t know you’d taken up teaching.”

Lyle hesitated. “Er—”

I waved a hand. “Don’t let me interrupt. Go right ahead.” I found a spot on the wall and leant against it.

“Um,” Lyle looked from me to the students. “Er. The thing—Well, as I—yes.” He floundered, obviously off his groove. Lyle’s never been good with surprises. I watched with eyebrows raised and an expression of mild enquiry. I didn’t feel like making it easy for him.

Lyle was one of the first Light mages I met when Richard Drakh introduced me into magical society. We’d both been teenagers then, but Lyle had a few years of experience on me: His talent had developed earlier than mine and he’d had time to learn the ins and outs of the social game. I’d been a Dark apprentice and there’d never been any question but that Lyle would try for the Council, but all the same we became friends. We were both the type to rely on cleverness rather than strength, and our types of magic complemented each other nicely. Unfortunately, our goals turned out to be less compatible.

At the time I was still feeling my way, unsure of what I wanted to be. Lyle on the other hand knew exactly what he wanted: status, advancement, prestige, a position in the Council bureaucracy from which he could work his way upwards. And when I lost Richard’s favour and with it any standing I might have had, Lyle had to choose between me and his ambitions. Supporting me would have cost him. So when I showed up, alone and desperate, Lyle’s response was to pretend I wasn’t there. Under mage law the master-apprentice relationship is sacred. An apprentice is their master’s responsibility, no one else’s. I’d defied Richard, fled from him, and it was Richard’s right to do with me as he pleased. The Light mages knew that Richard would come to collect his runaway and so they shut me out . . . and waited for him to finish things.

But something happened then that the Light and the Dark mages did not expect. When Richard sent Tobruk to kill me—the cruellest and most powerful of his four apprentices—it was Tobruk who died. And in the aftermath, instead of coming to take vengeance Richard vanished, along with his last two apprentices, Rachel and Shireen. I was left alive, safe . . . and alone.

Technically, under mage law, I hadn’t done anything wrong. It’s not illegal for an apprentice to successfully defend themselves against their master; it’s just so bloody rare no one’s ever bothered to pass a law against it. But I’d broken tradition older than law. An apprentice is supposed to obey their master for good or ill, and no other mage would take me on—after all, if I’d rebelled against one master, I might rebel against another. Besides, no one was quite sure what had happened to Richard. He might be gone for good—or he might suddenly reappear, in which case nobody wanted to be anywhere near me when he did. So once again, other mages distanced themselves from me and waited.