Bound

chapter 5

The hotel at Great Portland Street was busy with the coming evening. I signed in with the receptionist and had just started walking towards the lifts when I heard a voice calling behind me. “Mr. Verus! Excuse me! Mr. Verus!”

I turned to see a man hurrying towards me. He looked to be in his forties, with a receding hairline and one of those ring-shaped beards around the mouth and chin. A metal badge on the breast of his suit read FRONT DESK TEAM LEADER. “Mr. Verus,” he called again as he reached me, slowing to a walk.

I looked at the man and raised my eyebrows. “Ah,” he said. “You’re visiting room 638, is that right? A Miss Luna Mancuso?”

“And?”

“Well, there’s a bit of a problem,” the man said. “I mean, when she was first signed in, there was a young man who said he worked for the police. He told me that Miss Mancuso was under witness protection and wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“That sounds like good advice.”

“Well, um, of course we fully understand the situation and on behalf of our company we’d be more than happy to offer all available help—”

“I’m afraid I’m in a hurry.”

“It’s just that, um, the room’s in arrears,” the man said. “The advance payment was only for a week.”

“It’ll be settled when she leaves.”

“We do have a strict policy of not extending credit . . .”

I looked at the man thoughtfully. There was sweat on his forehead. “Did you try to force your way in?”

“Well, I mean, we do have the authority to enter the premises at all times. Particularly when the visitor is in violations of the terms and conditions of their stay. I mean, it’s company policy. All in the terms of service.”

“And what happened when you tried to execute your terms of service?”

The man’s eyes shifted away. “There were . . . some problems.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll bet there were.”

“So if you’re visiting . . . would you mind asking her to leave?”

“Thought you said you wanted her to settle the bill?”

“Well, that too,” the man said. “It’s just . . . very busy . . . the season, you know . . . company policy.”

I looked inquiringly back at the man, watching him sweat. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, and turned towards the lift.

| | | | | | | | |

I reached Luna’s room and studied the door. There was a discoloured patch next to the card reader, brownish black against the plaster, rather like the kind of mark you’d get from an electrical fire. I swiped my keycard but the LED didn’t light up. I raised my voice. “Luna?”

Silence.

“Luna!”

More silence.

I put a snap into my voice. I knew she was listening. “Open this door, right now.”

Luna’s voice sounded muffled. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.”

“It’s late.”

“Luna, you have exactly ten seconds to open this door,” I said. “After which I am going to blow it off its hinges and drag you out by your hair. Ten. Nine.”

No answer. I was pretty sure I’d shocked Luna into silence. “Eight,” I said. “Seven.”

“Wait!”

“Six.”

“I can’t get it—”

“Five. Four.”

“All right! All right!” There was a rattle of metal, and the door swung open.

The hotel room was cramped and messy. Curtains and blinds had been pulled across the window so that the only light came from the overhead bulb, and the floor looked like someone had been using it as a rubbish bin. Food wrappers, water bottles, clothes, bags, and shoes were scattered all over the carpet, and the bed was just as bad. The room had an odd musky smell, and the air felt close, as though it hadn’t been ventilated in a long while.

If the room looked bad, Luna looked worse. Her skin was pale to an unhealthy degree, there were bags under her eyes, and she moved without any of her usual vigour. Her hair was a crazy mess with loose strands sticking upwards—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it out of its usual ponytail. She was wearing tracksuit bottoms and a cardigan, and she stared at me mutely.

I didn’t know what to do, but my instincts told me not to let that show. I sniffed at the room. “When was the last time you showered?”

Luna hesitated.

“Go take one,” I said. “I’ll wait.”

Possibilities flickered where Luna argued with me, but as she kept looking at me they winked out. Luna turned, disappeared into the bathroom, reappeared, grabbed up some clothes with a sidelong glance, then went back in. I heard the click of the bolt, then after a few minutes, the hiss of water.

Movement in the futures made me turn. There was someone else in the room, and it was . . . Oh. That’s what that smell is. I moved towards the far side of the room, trying to pick my way through the piles of mess and mostly ending up just walking on it. Luna’s never been the tidiest of people, but this was a bit much even for her. Around the other side of the bed, wedged into the corner of the room, was a pile of dirty clothes. I reached down and pulled a sweater off the top.

A head appeared, with a reddish furred muzzle, two pointed ears, and a pair of bright amber eyes looking up at me. “So this is where you ended up,” I said.

Hermes yawned, showing lines of sharp white teeth before his mouth closed with a snap. Hermes is a blink fox that I met a couple of years back, and ever since then he’s sort of adopted me. I’d lost track of him after the fire that destroyed my shop, and even though my common sense had told me that few creatures had less to fear from a house fire, I’d worried that something had happened to him. It was good to see him again. “Glad you’re all right.”

Hermes sniffed at me.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You came back to mine and found it burnt down, found your way to Luna’s flat instead, then followed her here?”

Hermes blinked once.

“Been looking after her?”

Hermes seemed to consider that, then blinked again.

“She okay?”

Blink blink.

I sighed. “That’s about what I figured.”

While Luna stayed in the shower, I looked around the room. It looked as though she’d been in here for a while . . . a long while. Anne had been back to visit, but now that I thought about it, she’d never told me where they’d gone. Had Luna been holed up in this room for two weeks straight?

When the bathroom door finally opened and Luna reappeared, she looked in better shape. Her skin had more colour, her hair had been brushed into some sort of order, and her clothes were clean. She also seemed to have recovered some of her defiance. “Anne said you were going to let me be.”

“Yeah, well, giving you space wasn’t working,” I said. “So I decided to hurry things up.”

“I don’t need any help!”

I looked deliberately around the trash-covered room. To my side, Hermes yawned, got up, then began digging in one of the piles of clothes, apparently scenting food.

Luna got the message and she didn’t like it. “You know what?” she said with a flush. “I’m not your apprentice anymore. You can’t just barge in.”

“That’s funny, you’re acting like an apprentice.”

“How?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the rest of us are not exactly having a fun time,” I said. “I’ve got two crappy jobs working for Morden and for the Keepers, Anne’s having an equally bad time in the healer corps, and Vari’s trying to watch out for us from the Order of the Shield. Everyone has a lot on their plate, and it’s not likely to get easier. Meanwhile you, one of the extremely few people we can count on, are sitting around in a hotel room expecting someone else to foot the bill. It would be very helpful if you could start pulling your weight.”

“Oh, screw you,” Luna snapped. “You are such a jerk.”

I was starting to get pissed off now. “Are you going to help, or not?”

“Well, it’s not like I ever have before!”

That brought me up short. “What?”

Luna started to answer and stopped. The look on her face was the look of someone suddenly wishing they could take back what they’d said. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean, you’ve never helped before?”

“I said it’s nothing.”

“You’ve been a ton of help, and we could use some more of it.”

“Yeah,” Luna said. “Because all of you mages really need an adept around.”

I frowned. “What’s got into you?”

Luna looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘you mages’? You never used to say that to me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s finally getting to me,” Luna said. “You think it’s fun having everyone in the apprentice program thinking you shouldn’t be there?”

“You just left the apprentice program. You graduated; you’re officially recognised as a mage. This is literally the most ridiculous time possible to start complaining about being treated as an adept.”

Luna didn’t answer.

I paused. I wanted to keep arguing, but something was telling me that the adept/mage thing was a diversion. Luna was still upset, but that wasn’t what was really bothering her. The only time that she had looked really off balance had been when she’d said . . . “You think you’re useless?”

Luna didn’t meet my eyes.

“Don’t seem very useless to me,” I said. “I mean, you’ve saved my life how many times now?”

“Most of those times I was the reason it needed saving,” Luna said bitterly.

“Is that what this is all about?” I said. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself? Look, I’m sorry, but we really do not have the time. Anne and I are in deep shit and if you don’t—”

“I’m the reason you and Anne are in deep shit!” Luna shouted. “It didn’t just happen—it was because of someone! Me! You two were safe, you were off running around Africa and Argentina and none of Levistus’s men could catch you until they went after me, to threaten me and bring you back. And it worked! Anne told me what you were about to do, okay? You were about to commit suicide to stop them blowing me up! So don’t tell me how much you need my help because it’s bullshit!”

I looked at Luna, slightly shocked. “They trapped your house while you were sleeping,” I said. “It can happen to everyone—”

“No, it doesn’t! It doesn’t happen to everyone! Back when everyone was after the fateweaver, the whole reason you got pulled in was because of me! And then right after that I screwed things up with Martin, and you had to come rescue me again! Over and over again, and I thought okay, maybe it’s time to start listening. And you told me that if I trained and worked hard then I could get better, I’d master my curse and things would be okay. And I believed you. And then when I finally passed my journeyman test you weren’t there, but I still believed you’d come back. And it was all for nothing! You’re stuck with Richard and Morden, and Anne is too, and it’s all because of me. If you’d never taken me on you’d be fine!”

Oh. I opened my mouth to give Luna an answer and nothing came to mind. She was exaggerating, but . . .

. . . but she was right. Not a hundred percent right, but enough that I couldn’t just deny it. It had been the threat against Luna that had drawn me back, and it had been to save her life that I’d been ready to fight that last stand in Bow. I tried to think how I’d have felt if that had been me, and realised I didn’t have to imagine very hard. Only a couple of hours ago I’d been listening to Arachne tell me about the attack on her lair, and believing that it had been because of me.

I remembered exactly how that felt. It had felt shitty.

“Say they hadn’t been able to catch you,” I said. “You think they’d have had an attack of conscience and just stopped? They’d have worked their way down the list until they found someone else I cared about.”

“Great,” Luna said bitterly. “So I’m in the same category as helpless acquaintances now.”

I frowned at Luna. “That’s not fair.”

“Why didn’t you take me with you?”

“Where?”

“With you and Anne,” Luna said. “At least then I might have been good for something.”

“The whole reason we went through that crash course of throwing you into the journeyman tests was so that you wouldn’t have to run away with us,” I said. “Anne and I spent that month running between hotel rooms and spending every spare second looking over our shoulders wondering when the next assassination attempt would come along.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds a lot more fun than how I spent this January.”

“How?” I demanded. “You had a place to stay. I left you some money, enough to get you on your feet. And you were a recognised mage.”

“Great, so I get to call myself a mage while I’m sitting alone in my room.”

“What do you mean, alone? We weren’t there, but you could find someone else and—”

“There isn’t anyone else.”

I looked at Luna in surprise. “What?”

“I don’t have any other friends,” Luna said. “There’s you, there’s Anne, and there’s Vari.”

“What about the others at your duelling class?”

“You think I could talk to them about this?”

“But there has to be someone else,” I said. “Friends or family. Someone you’re honest with, tell them what’s on your mind . . . ?”

I trailed off. Luna was shaking her head. “Wait,” I said. “We’re the only ones you talk to?”

“I’m not like you guys, okay?” Luna said. “Vari can walk up to anyone and he’ll be rude and insult them and somehow they’ll like him for it. Anne might be a life mage, but she’s beautiful and kids love her. And you . . .”

“You think I’m some kind of social butterfly?”

“You’re better at it than I am.”

“Only after I spent a really long time behind a shop counter learning to field questions. Is that what this is about? You feeling lonely?”

“No.” Luna ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, yes. It’s that . . . Look. You know why I came to your shop? That first time?”

“You told me that you woke up one morning and couldn’t think of any reason to get out of bed,” I said. “And you decided that you needed to find someone who could help. Because if you didn’t change something, then one day you’d just stop getting out of bed altogether.”

Luna looked at me in surprise.

“I’ve got a pretty good memory for things I care about,” I told her.

“Yeah, well, it’s not that bad anymore, but . . . ever since I joined up with you, it feels kind of like I’ve been running, running, running. You know how sharks have to keep swimming or they drown? Like that. Like I’m always running from something. From Dark mages who’d go after me, from Light mages who wanted to prove I couldn’t make it in the program, from myself . . . I dunno. It just felt like I had to keep moving, you know? Prove something. And then there were the journeyman tests, and then . . . I just stopped. There wasn’t anywhere to go.”

I was silent. “And then you came back,” Luna said. “And it was like it was all for nothing. No, worse. If I’d never been here at all, then you’d have been fine. But I spent all those years working and learning and fighting and in the end I was just another liability. You know how Anne complains about all those people who expect her to take care of them? She says I’m different, but I’m not, am I? I’m just another victim.”

I sighed. “I’m . . . not sure what to tell you.”

“Tell me it gets better,” Luna said. “Or that there’s something I can do. Just please don’t tell me this is it. You know what it’s like, realising you’re a living bad-luck charm? That everyone else’s lives would be better if you just gave up and died? Please don’t tell me I’m back there again. I won’t be able to stand it.”

I looked at Luna. She had a pleading expression, and I knew she wasn’t kidding. Luna’s curse is an inherited one, and usually the bearers don’t die of natural causes. They die from misery or suicide, and each time the curse jumps to the next youngest daughter of that original victim, so many generations ago. The curse protects the bearer, in its way, but it can also kill, and it might still be just as deadly to Luna as Barrayar’s explosives could have been.

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe this was why Luna had done so well as a duellist. She had been introduced to duelling around our visit to Fountain Reach, not long after she’d first met Anne and Variam, and she’d taken to it with a will, practising alone and with partners for hours and hours until she could beat every other apprentice in her class. She’d placed in tournaments, beating initiate mages with more far more power and experience, and that skill had been one of the reasons she’d been able to pass her journeyman test so convincingly. I’d never really thought about why she’d practised so hard. Maybe it hadn’t been just because she liked it. Maybe it had been to prove something—prove to the Light mages that she was as good as they were, prove to herself that she could be a help to her friends instead of a millstone around their necks.

But if that were true, she’d never been working towards something, she’d been running away from something. That might be why she was at such a loss now. “Did you ever think about what you wanted to do after passing your journeyman test?”

Luna shook her head.

“Why?”

“I didn’t really like any of the choices,” Luna said. “I mean, some of the Light mages were saying I should go study in America—they’re supposed to have some good chance mages there. But I’m not sure I want to. And I don’t want to be a Keeper.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

Luna shrugged helplessly.

“Okay,” I said. “Then the first thing you’re going to have to do is answer that question.”

“How?”

“Look, maybe if times were easier, we could sit down together and spend a few weeks coming up with ideas,” I said. “But I’m stretched to my limit right now, and so’s everyone else. You said you weren’t my apprentice anymore? Well, this is what not being an apprentice means. We need you to be a mage, and long term, you’re the only one who can figure out how to do that.”

Luna was silent. “But if you want a place to start,” I said, gesturing to the hotel room, “then sort out all of this. Find a place to live, get back into shape, make yourself self-sufficient. Are you going to need any help getting on your feet?”

Luna hesitated, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good.” I straightened. “You ready to settle things with the management?”

Luna looked unenthusiastic, but with a visible effort got to her feet. “Let’s go.”

| | | | | | | | |

I kept an eye on Luna, but in the end she managed to pull herself together without any extra help from me. Within a few days, she was settled in a new flat and in the process of looking for somewhere better.

For my part, I started putting out feelers for the item Arachne had told me about. Unfortunately, before I could make much progress, I got the visit I’d been afraid of.

| | | | | | | | |

It was the last week of February, and I was in my house in Wales. Anne had a late shift and I was alone for the evening, and I was sitting in the kitchen with a set of tools spread out on the table, along with what looked like coils of grey plastic rope. The rope was a material known as detcord. Jarnaff had been particularly threatening at the War Rooms today, and I was starting to get the feeling that it might not be too long before he decided to scale things up. I wasn’t sure what form that was going to take, so I was trying to cover all my bases.

I sensed my visitor a way off. I was already paying close attention to the short-term futures—when working with explosives, it’s highly important to know exactly what will and won’t make them go bang—and he wasn’t making any effort to hide. I sat up, studying the interactions. No immediate threat, but I didn’t think I was going to be happy with anything he had to say. I got to my feet, stepped out into the night, then shut the front door and waited.

The Welsh valley was quiet. Wind blew in the trees and to my right came the sound of the flowing river, but as far as people went, I could have been the only person alive. The night was overcast, and the sky and hills all around were pitch dark. The only light was the glow through the kitchen windows behind, throwing splashes of bright yellow across the grass and to the edge of the garden wall.

Footsteps sounded. A figure emerged from the shadow, walking through the garden gate to face me.

“I assume you’re here for a reason,” I told him. I knew that my position, leaning against the door with the lit windows on either side, would make me hard to see.

“I have a message for Mage Verus,” the figure said. The voice was mechanical, artificial-sounding.

“Okay.”

The figure stepped forward into the light. He—at least I thought it was a he—was clothed from head to toe in black body armour, with thick gloves and boots and a full-face helmet with an opaque visor. Not an inch of skin was visible. “Your presence is required.”

It sounded as though the guy was using a voice distorter. It’s not unknown among really paranoid Dark mages. “And you are?”

“You may call me Archon. I represent Richard Drakh.”

It was exactly what I’d known he’d say, and what I’d been desperately hoping not to hear. “Anyone can use a name,” I told him. It was a weak retort, but I was grasping at straws.

“If you doubt that I am who I say,” Archon said, “then perhaps you should contact him directly.”

I stood there for a moment, studying Archon. “You know what, I think I will,” I said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Archon stood unmoving as I withdrew back through the door. Once I was out of sight, I studied the futures in which I waited. Archon wasn’t going to move, and that, more than anything, killed any hopes I had that he was bluffing.

But I might as well play things out. I picked up my phone and dialled the number Morden had given me. He had claimed that it would put me in touch with Richard, and that it was only to be used when strictly necessary. The line rang, clicked and paused, rang again. Maybe no one would answer and I’d have an excuse to turn Archon away . . .

Click. “Hello, Alex,” the old, familiar voice said.

My heart sank. “There’s some guy called Archon at my front door.”

“Yes, I know. You may treat him as my representative in these matters. That includes following his orders. Is that understood?”

I let out a breath. “Yes.”

Richard hung up. I looked out the window. Archon was still waiting.

| | | | | | | | |

“I assume you’re satisfied with my credentials,” Archon said when I finally stepped outside.

“Let’s get on with it,” I said curtly. I’d taken the time to change into my armour, and I was carrying several items on my belt that were not the kind you’d take for a meeting with someone you trusted.

If Archon noticed, he gave no sign. He lifted a hand and a black disc appeared in front of him, the air darkening and shifting to become a portal. “This way,” he said, and stepped through.

I stared at the portal, frowning. That had looked like a gate spell, but the magic hadn’t been anything that I’d recognised. Archon hadn’t used a gate stone, but it hadn’t been the standard space-derived effect, either. How had he . . . ?

Archon’s mechanical voice floated through the portal. “Today, please, Verus.”

The gate led into a small alleyway, smelling of dust and old brickwork. The sky was lit up in faint orange, and the sounds of a city were all around. Usually mages will gate through several staging points before forming the one that leads to their destination; it’s rare to do it in a single jump. Archon led his way out of the alley, and I followed.

We’d entered an old industrial district, tall warehouses with darkened windows reaching up into an overcast sky. Trains rumbled past nearby, and from somewhere over the rooftops I could hear the mournful hoot of a boat’s horn. I’d already figured out that we were in Manchester, but I didn’t know much more than that. Instead, as we walked, I took the opportunity to study Archon. I’d never heard of or met anyone by that name before, and that on its own wouldn’t have been a cause for concern—there are lots of Dark mages who keep to themselves—but if he really was Richard’s new enforcer, then I wanted to know everything about him that I could. I looked into all the futures of my possible interactions with him, fishing for anything I could find. He was willing to talk, but not at length, and while he wasn’t going to attack me unprovoked, he’d react swiftly to aggression. The main thing that struck me as unusual was the magic he commanded. Visually it took the form of thin black strands, not especially powerful but quick and precise. I couldn’t figure out what type it was—it felt as though it should be universal, but it wasn’t anything like the darkness or radiation magic I’d seen. If anything, it seemed closest to the general multifamily spells that apprentices learn, but that didn’t make sense . . .

I didn’t have long to speculate before Archon halted in front of a warehouse complex, several differently sized buildings overtopping each other. “We are here for a negotiation,” Archon told me. “You may respond if questioned, but do not draw undue attention. I expect that the bulk of the meeting will take place between myself and two or three others. During this time, you will wait outside.”

“And do what?” I asked. “Bodyguard you?”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Then if you don’t want me as a guard and you don’t want me to talk or go into the meeting, what am I here for?”

“I believe Richard Drakh instructed you to follow my orders.”

In other words, don’t ask questions. I rolled my eyes and followed Archon in.

The inside of the warehouse held metal crates stacked on top of one another, with stairs running up to a catwalk and windows high on the walls. Six people were clustered around the far end, five men and one woman. They watched us warily as we approached.

Archon came to a stop some distance from the group. “Good evening.”

“Who are you?” one of the men said.

“We know who he is,” another man said. Something about his stance and the way he spoke made me peg him as the leader. He was thin and balding, with glasses and a hooked nose, and he watched the two of us closely. “Where’s Morden?”

“Councillor Morden is unable to attend.”

“That’s bullshit,” the first man said.

The leader flicked his eyes at the first man but kept his voice level. “We want to talk to Morden.”

“As I have told you, that is not practical,” Archon said. “Councillor Morden has sent his personal aide. That is the best you are going to get.”

The men looked at each other, and I saw one lean in to mutter something. I’d had long enough to study the group now to peg them as adepts, or something close. Magic, but not much. They were also carrying weapons, concealed but not concealed enough, and there were other adepts nearby too, hiding behind one of the doors and ready to rush in at the first sign of trouble. Whoever these people were, they didn’t trust us much.

The leader looked at me. “You’re Verus?”

“Yes,” I told him. There had been an odd inflection to his words, as though he was purposely not giving me a title and inviting me to make an issue of it.

The leader looked sideways. “It’s him,” the woman said.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

The leader turned to Archon. “All right, Archon, or whoever you are,” he said. “We’re listening.”

Archon nodded. “Wait here,” he told me, and walked forward. Most of the group fell in around him, keeping an uneasy distance from the Dark mage. One of them opened the door, leading Archon in, and three others trailed him inside. I had a brief glimpse of a lit room with a table and chairs before the door closed with a clang.

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” one of the two remaining men told me.

I looked back at him silently and saw him take an involuntary step back before steadying himself. They really are scared of me. I suppose it made sense; I’d have been scared of anyone acting as Morden’s emissary, too. I turned and headed for the door.

“Hey,” the man called. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” I said over my shoulder. “Call me when they’re done.”

“You’re supposed to . . .” the man began, then trailed off when he saw that I wasn’t stopping. I opened the warehouse door and stepped through.

The instant I was outside I ran quickly and quietly to the alley that ran alongside the building. I’d already confirmed that I had a few minutes before those two men would decide to come after me, and I had no intention of wasting them. I’d scanned the building on the way in, and I’d noticed a few places where . . . There. That should work. This side of the warehouse was smooth brick with no windows, but a metal drainpipe ran down from the first-floor roof. I got a grip and started climbing.

It was harder than I’d expected. With my divination I knew the pipe would support my weight, but it creaked alarmingly and pulling myself up wasn’t as easy as it should have been. With the chaos of the past couple of months I hadn’t had the chance to work out much. I pulled myself over the edge to see that the roof ran flat to merge into the taller warehouse ahead. Most of its windows were dark; two were lit. There was no cover. I crept forward, crouching down as I came close, then looked ahead to see what I’d see.

The window looked down into the room where Archon and the adepts were meeting. I stayed very still and focused, looking ahead to find out what I’d hear if I pressed my ear to the glass. Nothing but murmurs. The other window had a piece broken out of one of the panes, and I moved closer to the hole.

The murmurs resolved into voices. “. . . grassroots,” someone was saying. “. . . get the word out, it would . . .”

I lost the rest of the sentence. I edged closer.

There was more talking. I recognised the flat, mechanical sound of Archon’s voice, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. “. . . not enough,” someone replied sharply. “Not enough identification. They have to feel threatened, that they’re coming for them.”

Archon said something; I caught the word martyr. Just need to be a little closer. I crept almost to the window.

I was near enough now that only one more step would leave me looking down into the room. Through the futures I could see that Archon was sitting at a table across from the man in glasses I’d pegged as the leader, with the other three standing behind. All seemed focused on one another. “And Morden can arrange that, can he?” the man in glasses asked suspiciously.

“Morden can arrange a great many things,” Archon said. “A better question is what you can bring to the table.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” one of the other men demanded.

“If the Keepers wanted to arrest you,” Archon said, “they could simply arrest you. There would be no need for pretence. This is your first—and perhaps only—chance to gain the support of someone with real political power.”

“Then if Morden’s on our side,” the man in glasses said, “why’s his aide out there?”

“Mage Verus is close enough,” Archon said. And turned his head slightly up towards the window.

I was already scrambling back. I kept just enough presence of mind not to let my footsteps ring out on the rooftop, but I moved as fast as I could back the way I’d come. I could hear voices from street level; the men I’d left behind had followed me out. I swung over the rooftop to the pipe, dropped to the pavement, and pulled my phone out of my pocket just as the man appeared in the mouth of the alley.

“Yeah,” I said into the switched-off phone. “Okay.”

“Hey,” the man behind me called. It was the same one who’d told me not to get any funny ideas.

I frowned at him, then carried on talking. “That’s fine.”

“You’re not supposed to be out here.”

“Okay,” I said into the phone. “I’ll talk to you then.” I lowered it and stared at the man. “Do you mind?”

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” he repeated.

I walked past without bothering to answer. He hesitated, then followed. Up ahead, the other man appeared around the corner of the building. I already knew they weren’t going to let me out of their sight again.

The bits and pieces I’d overheard were only snippets, and I wished I’d been able to hear just a little more, but at least now I knew why Archon had brought me along: it had been to use my position as Morden’s aide to give his words authority. Did Morden know about it? Probably. A better question was what they were trying to achieve.

Archon appeared from the warehouse fifteen minutes later. I braced myself, expecting to be questioned, but he walked past without a word. I fell in beside him. Behind us, the adepts at the warehouse watched us go.

“So?” I asked once we were a couple of streets away.

“So?”

“What happened in there?”

“Why?” Archon asked. “Were you offering feedback?”

I shot Archon a look that he didn’t seem to notice. “I believe you can find your way home from here,” Archon said. “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and next time, I’ll expect you to be ready to leave more promptly.” He walked away without a backwards glance.

Sourly I watched Archon disappear into the darkness. Next time. Great. And it wasn’t as though I was in any kind of a position to turn him down. But maybe if I could figure out what he was doing . . .

I turned away, already searching for a place to gate back to Wales. I was pretty sure Talisid would want to hear about this.