Chosen

Chapter 2

Anne and Variam’s appointment was for eleven o’clock; they were seeing a mage who’d been recommended to me as someone who might be able to help out with their finding-a-master problem. After they were gone I went to wash up, found that Anne had done it already, and went downstairs to open the shop.

My day job when I don’t have anything life-threatening to deal with is running a business called the Arcana Emporium, the name of which is a long-winded way of saying “magic shop.” I don’t publicise that I’m a mage, but I don’t exactly hide it either, and one of the odd things I’ve learnt over the years is just how much you can get away with if you’re blatant enough. Hide something behind smoke and mirrors and make people work to find it, and they’ll tear the place down looking for what’s there. Put up a sign up saying magic shop, and no one believes you.

I still don’t know where most of my customers come from. I don’t advertise and I’m off the main street, so most of it has to be word of mouth. Every now and again I’ll Google my shop to see what people are saying about me and I swear I get the weirdest results. There are people out there who think I’m everything from a reincarnated angel from the pharaoh dynasties of Egypt to a thousand-year-old half dragon who’s secretly sponsoring a quest across time and space in an attempt to kill himself. (No, I don’t know why.) I suppose I should be grateful there isn’t any slash fiction. On second thought, I’m not going to look too closely just in case there is.

Anyway, the result of all this is that I get a pretty bizarre mix of customers. The biggest group are the tourists and curiosity-shoppers, and they’re pretty easy to deal with. They take for granted that magic isn’t real, and so for them it’s a simple business transaction. I get money, and they get something weird to take home, where they’ll tell stories about the funny guy who pretends to sell magic items. Mixed in with the normals are the clued-in—sensitives, adepts, apprentices, and even the odd mage. They’re the ones my stock is actually for, and they’re definitely the only ones who have any idea how to use it. I like talking to these guys.

The problem customers are the ones in between. They know that magic’s real, but they expect it to behave like . . . well, like what they mean when they say “like magic.” Now don’t get me wrong, magic can do some pretty impressive stuff, but it has limits and it has rules. If you try to mess with it without knowing what you’re doing, it’s far more likely to complicate your life than it is to help. It’s not a universal solution to whatever issues you might currently have.

None of which stops people from coming in here expecting me to fix their problems for them.

The man stepped forward and slapped something down on the counter with a thump. Then he glared at me. “Well?”

“Um,” I said.

He pointed. “Do you know what that is?”

I looked at the thing on my counter. It was covered with silver scales, and it smelt. “It’s a fish.”

“Do you know where it came from?”

“I’d guess the sea.”

“It was on my chair. That’s where it came from.”

“Okay,” I said. “Does this happen often?”

“This is the third time!”

“So . . . you’ve attracted the attention of a compulsively generous fishmonger?”

“What?” The man stared at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem,” the man said, speaking slowly and clearly, “is that it’s a curse.”

“Ah,” I said. “And you know this because . . . ?”

“My cat told me.”

“Your cat,” I said. “Right. It’s all starting to make sense now.”

The man rolled his eyes. “You know what, forget it, I’ll do it myself. Where are your spell components?”

I pointed. “Second rack in the corner.”

The man turned and walked off. “Hey,” I called. “Could you take your fish with you, please?”

The next three customers wanted a knife, a selection of herbs, and a crystal ball, respectively. The fourth harangued me at length about why the shop had been closed yesterday even though the sign said that it didn’t close until five and did I know how much travelling time I’d cost her? By the time she’d finished threatening to report me to the Office of Fair Trading and stormed off, a queue had grown up behind her.

Luna came in just as I was dealing with customer number . . . something or other, a bearded guy in a worn leather jacket. He smelt of beer and was taking much, much longer than he should to get the message that I was not going to sell him a love potion. “Hi, Alex!” Luna called over the sound of the bell.

“I already told you, there isn’t a formula,” I told the man. “If there were, Chanel would be selling it already . . . Where have you been?”

“Duelling class ran late,” Luna said, weaving between the customers. As she moved I saw the invisible silver mist mould itself to her body, clinging in a tight, dense layer on top of her exercise clothes instead of reaching out to the people in the shop. Once upon a time Luna could never have gotten that close to a crowd—she would have stopped at the edge and hesitated—but she’s been my apprentice for more than a year and she’s done a lot of growing. Not just in magical skill, but in confidence too. “I can use the shower, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure.” Luna disappeared into the corridor leading to the stairs up to my flat, and I turned back to the man at the counter. “Look, man, you got to help me,” the man began again.

“Look,” I said. “Even if I could make you a love potion—which, by the way, I can’t—have you any idea how unethical this is? You’re screwing around with someone’s emotions. It’s not something you do without a really good reason.”

Luna stuck her head back into the shop. “Hey, Alex? Is there supposed to be a fish out here?”

I covered my eyes. “No. There’s not.”

“What should I do with it?”

“Look,” the man started again. “You got to help me.”

“No, I don’t,” I told him, and turned to Luna. “I don’t care. Put it in the freezer or something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why?”

“Isn’t that supposed to spoil the taste?”

“Look, man, I really need this,” the man said.

“I don’t care,” I said to both of them, then looked at Luna. “Put it wherever you’re supposed to put it.”

“Where’s that?”

“How should I know?”

“Well,” Luna said logically, “are we having this for dinner, or is it for something else?”

“I don’t care! Just get rid of it!”

Luna disappeared with the fish. “Um, excuse me,” a boy in his twenties said. He’d been waiting behind Love Potion Guy for five minutes, tapping his foot. “Do you have—”

“No,” I said, and turned back to Love Potion Guy. “I can’t help you, and I guarantee that if you try to go through with this plan it’ll make things worse. Just sort things out the normal way.”

Love Potion Guy stared at me hopelessly. “I can’t.”

Mr. Impatient started up again. “Excuse me, I need—”

“I don’t have them,” I said.

Luna stuck her head back in. “Hey, Alex?”

“Now what?”

“There’s about a dozen more fish in your bedroom.”

I closed my eyes. “Please tell me you’re making this up.”

“Yup.”

I opened my eyes and stared at her. Luna was grinning. “Couldn’t resist, sorry. First fish was real, though. I put it in the fridge.”

I took a deep breath, mentally calculating throwing angles between the items within reach and Luna’s head, but she beat a quick retreat. “Listen,” Love Potion Guy began again.

“No,” I said. “You’ve told me that story twice and a third time’s not going to help.”

“I need—” Mr. Impatient began.

“I already told you, I don’t have them.”

“You haven’t—”

“Doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t that kind of shop.”

“But—”

“They’re real, not fake, and just because I sell knives doesn’t mean I sell cards.”

“Look—” Love Potion Guy said.

I looked back and forth between Love Potion Guy and Mr. Impatient, answering the questions without waiting for them to ask them. “No, no, yes, no, it wouldn’t help, yes every day, it doesn’t matter because I still wouldn’t do it, I’ve already tried that, just try talking to her, first because they’re not profitable enough and second because I don’t care, if you do it’s because they’re trying to con you, the Magic Box on the other side of Camden and here’s one of their cards.” I dropped a business card into Mr. Impatient’s hand and looked between them. They were staring at me. “Are we done here? Because there’s a guy behind you who wants to find out how much money he’s been left in a will and he’s not going to take no for an answer either.”

We weren’t done. Getting rid of the whole crowd took the best part of an hour, but at least the crazies all left at more or less the same time, possibly because of some weird kind of magnetic principle. By the time Luna came back, the shop was empty. I was slumped in the chair and gave her a glower. “Sorry,” Luna said in an I’m-not-sorry-at-all tone.

“Funny how you always time your jokes for when I’m too busy to go after you.”

“Oh, come on,” Luna said with a grin. “Your face was hilarious.”

“I’m getting a vision,” I said. “It’s my mystical diviner’s powers. I foresee myself suddenly assigning you many more shifts at the shop.”

“No, you won’t,” Luna said with perfect confidence.

“Oh, really?”

“You’re not going to make me do it on my own,” Luna said. “The only reason you keep the shop is so you can run the counter yourself.”

I blinked and looked at her. “How do you figure that?”

When I first met Luna she was twenty-one. She’s twenty-three now, a blue-eyed, fair-skinned, wavy-haired half-English-half-Italian girl whose life’s been trending steadily upwards over the past two years despite occasional interludes of danger and violence. Luna’s always been fit, but lately she’s turned into quite an athlete—she was introduced to azimuth duelling last winter and took to it like a duck to water, and she’s been practising hard ever since. “Well, it’s not like you do it for the money,” Luna said. Her hair was damp, the water darkening it from its usual light brown, and as she spoke she started untangling it with the aid of a hairbrush.

“It makes a profit.”

“Not much.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I used to get your stock, remember?” Luna said. Before Luna had been my apprentice she’d worked for me part time, searching for magical items. I’d bought them from her and divided them up; the weaker ones I put up for sale in the restricted section, and the dangerous ones I kept for myself. “You hardly ever sell the expensive stuff.”

“Have you been going through my records?”

“You don’t have any proper ones; I checked. Anyway, if you cared that much about it you’d keep regular hours.”

“I have regular hours.”

“Unless something comes up.”

“Stuff does keep coming up.”

“But you could hire an assistant,” Luna said. “If you really wanted to dump the work on someone else you could have done it by now.”

“Well, yeah.” For years I’ve had vague plans for getting someone to help run the place, but I’ve always put it off. For one thing there aren’t many people I’d trust with the job, but even if I could find someone I’m not sure I’d do it. The people in the magical community whom I feel closest to aren’t the established mages but the have-nots—apprentices, adepts, lesser talents, and all the other small-time practitioners out there—and those are the people that my shop lets me meet.

Luna finished brushing her hair and started tying it back in a ponytail. “So who are Anne and Vari seeing this time?”

“Her name’s Dr. Shirland,” I said. “Mind mage. She’s an independent.”

“If she’s a mind mage, how’s she going to teach Anne and Vari?”

“She’s not, but she might know someone who will. From what I’ve heard she’s supposed to be some kind of consultant. I’m hoping she can get Anne and Vari an interview with a life or fire mage who could teach them.”

“Oh, like that guy they met in the spring?”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s hope it goes a bit better than that. Last thing we need is another . . .” A future ahead of us caught my attention and I stopped, concentrating.

Luna tilted her head. “What is it?”

“Someone’s coming,” I said. The pattern was different from a regular customer; as I focused on the future in which she walked through the door I saw the flicker of auras. “A mage.”

Luna had been sitting on the counter; now she hopped off, suddenly alert. “Trouble?”

“Don’t think so.” I was already looking for the flash and chaos of combat and couldn’t see it. “Get your focus just in case.”

Luna vanished. I walked forward and flipped the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED before returning to my desk to quickly check the weapons underneath. As Luna reappeared I stood behind the counter and waited. A few seconds later the bell rang and the door swung open.

I’d been watching the woman as she’d walked down the street, and by the time she stepped in I’d had the chance to take a good look at her. She was big and hefty-looking, with brown hair and a round, pleasant face, and she wore a wide-cut suit. “Hi,” she said, looking from Luna to me. “Verus, right?”

“That’s me,” I said. And you’re Keeper Caldera.

“Keeper Caldera. Good to meet you.” Caldera walked forward to shake my hand. “Mind if we have a word?”

Keepers are the enforcement arm of the Light Council, a mixture of soldiers, police, and internal investigators. Most mages are wary of them, and for good reason; if a Keeper wants to talk to you, it’s usually bad news. “Depends on the word.”

“You’re not under investigation,” Caldera said. “I’d just like to ask a few questions about something I’m working on.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t keen on talking to a Keeper, but if I brushed Caldera off she’d probably just come back again. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “Not here though.” I’m still wary about having other mages around my shop and I didn’t really want customers looking through the window and seeing us.

“Fine by me,” Caldera said. “Tell you what, there’s a really nice pub just around the corner. I’ll buy you a pint.”

“Uh . . .” Okay, that wasn’t standard Keeper procedure as far as I knew. “I guess that works. Let me close up and I’ll meet you outside.”

Caldera’s definition of “around the corner” turned out to be on the optimistic side, and it took us twenty minutes to make our way through the busy Camden streets. Luna kept pace with me, staying half a step behind to keep me out of the radius of her curse; Caldera hadn’t specifically invited her but I’d signalled for her to come, and apart from a glance Caldera hadn’t objected. I kept an eye out the whole way, scanning for danger; it wasn’t that Caldera had done anything particularly suspicious, but my past experiences with Keepers have generally been less than positive. Nothing pinged; if I was in danger, it wasn’t the immediate kind.

The pub Caldera had picked for us looked like it had been built some time around the Iron Age: an old, crooked building with irregular floors and low ceilings, filled with nooks and crannies. It obviously hadn’t been designed for tall people, and I had to duck as I followed Caldera down the stairs into the stone cellar. “Right,” Caldera said as she led us past the patrons and to a secluded corner. “What are you having?”

“Just a Coke, please,” Luna said.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Fair enough. You?”

“Whatever they’ve got on tap,” I said.

Caldera winced. “Okay, look. I’ll get you something good.” She headed to the bar.

“Is she really a Keeper?” Luna asked once Caldera was gone.

“Oh yeah,” I said, looking around the drawings and photos on the grubby paint-on-brick walls. I’d already looked into the future in which I asked Caldera, and I’d seen her show me her Keeper’s signet with its distinctive magical fingerprint. “Though it’s the first time I’ve had one ask me out to the pub.”

“Here we go,” Caldera announced, returning with a drink in either hand. She set them down in front of us and dropped into a corner seat with a contented sigh.

I took a dubious look at the contents of the pint glass she’d pushed in front of me. “What is it?”

“Porter,” Caldera said. “Try it.”

I checked to make sure it wasn’t going to poison me or anything, then took a sip. I raised my eyebrows. “Huh.”

“Like it?”

“Tastes . . . interesting.” I took another drink. It had a fruity flavour, with an odd aftertaste.

“Pretty good, right?” Caldera said. “Notice how it turns into a roasted coffee flavour after the raisin start? Not many pubs in London sell this stuff. They only brew it in London, bottle-conditioned—have to pour it out carefully to leave the yeast sediment in the bottom.”

“Hm. I’ll have to try it again next time.”

“There we go. Done some good today.”

I gave Caldera an amused look. “Not that I’m questioning your expertise on beer, but wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?”

“Right.” Caldera glanced at Luna. “You’re okay with her sitting in on this, right?”

“Luna’s my apprentice,” I said. “You can tell her anything you’d tell me.”

Luna gave me a quick, warm look. “All right,” Caldera said, looking straight at me. “It’s to do with your old master, Richard Drakh.”

I felt my muscles tense. My past with Richard was the one thing I did not want to talk about with Luna, or anyone else for that matter. “What’s happened?”

“There are rumours going around,” Caldera said, watching me carefully. “That he’s coming back.”

The old half-healed, never-healed memories flashed through my mind, fear and helplessness and pain. I shut them out with an effort of will, keeping my voice steady. “There are always rumours.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“So?”

“So they didn’t start from nowhere, did they?” Caldera said. “The powers-that-be want to know what’s going on.”

“Because they don’t have any hard evidence?”

“Can’t say.”

Caldera’s poker face wasn’t bad, but I’m pretty good at reading people and I knew the answer to my question was yes. The Council didn’t have any proof that Richard was back—this was just a fishing expedition. A bit of the tension went out of my muscles. Luna watched the two of us from over her Coke, her eyes filled with curiosity. “You’re hoping I might know something,” I said. “Because I used to be Richard’s apprentice. Right?”

“Pretty much.”

“I haven’t seen him in more than ten years.” I met Caldera’s eyes. “I’m guessing you looked up my background before coming here?”

Caldera’s expression didn’t change. “Heard the story.”

“Then you know why I stayed away,” I said. “I haven’t heard anything about him. Not when I left, and not after I left. And you know what? I’m fine with that.”

Caldera held my gaze for a second. “All right,” she said after a pause. “What about his Chosen, then? Deleo. Does she know something?”

I looked away. “Deleo and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“You were in contact with her last year, right?”

“Briefly.”

“Learn anything?”

“Yeah.” I turned back to Caldera. “I learnt that Deleo’s crazier than a sack of rabid weasels. You want to interview her, go right ahead, but I’m not going to be standing next to you when you do it.”

Caldera made a pacifying gesture. “All right. Look, we don’t have many people to ask, okay? Not like Dark mages are going to cooperate with a Keeper.”

“They don’t cooperate with anyone. And I’m a rogue, remember? You think they’re going to trust me?” I shook my head. “What are you expecting to turn up?”

“Okay,” Caldera said. “Here’s how it is. I wasn’t around back when Richard was active, but from what I heard he had a lot of people running scared. Some of the Guardian types thought he had a plan, was working on something big with the Dark mages, I don’t know. Then all of a sudden, right when he was at the top of his game, he disappeared. Rumour was he’d gone somewhere, but he never showed up and neither did those two apprentices of his. After a few years the guys on the case filed all three of them as missing-presumed-dead and forgot about it.”

“Those two apprentices” had been Tobruk and Shireen. Deleo and I had been numbers three and four. “If they’d known Richard they wouldn’t have filed him as ‘presumed’ anything.”

“So where do you think he went?”

I shrugged.

“I thought diviners knew everything.”

“Richard disappeared in the summer ten years ago,” I said. Come to think of it, it was ten years almost to the day. It had been August then, and it was August now. “By the time he vanished . . . Well, let’s just say he and I weren’t on the best of terms.”

“You have to have some clue,” Caldera said. She was leaning forward, hands clasped, frank and persuasive. “Come on. You’re not seriously telling me you didn’t know anything.”

“You don’t know what Richard was like,” I said quietly. I held Caldera’s eyes, allowing a little of the memories to show through, letting her see I was telling the truth. “Those mages were right to be scared of him. You think he told me his plans? I lived in his mansion for two years, and by the end of it the biggest thing I’d learnt about him was how much I didn’t know. Anything you saw of him, it was because he wanted you to see it.”

“You’re a diviner, right? You never took a look to see?”

“That’s not how it works,” I said, and shook my head. “I’m sorry, Caldera. I don’t have what you’re looking for. I don’t know what Richard’s plans were. As far as I know, no one did.”

A silence fell over the table. Caldera drew back and I could tell she was disappointed. My phone chimed and I glanced at it. “I’d better go.”

Caldera held out a card. “If you think of anything or if anything happens, give me a call, okay?”

I hesitated, then slipped it into my pocket. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Who was that message from?” Luna asked once we were back out on the streets.

“Anne,” I said. “She says they’ve finished, but she’s not going to be back until late.” I frowned. Something about the message had sounded a little off. I glanced through the futures in which I called Anne and Variam, just to make sure they were all right. Well, they were answering their phones . . .

I snapped back to the present to realise Luna had asked me something about Caldera. “Not sure,” I said. “Listen, I think I’m going to go pay a visit to our mind mage consultant. You go back to the shop and meet up with Vari.”

“Can’t I come?”

“Next time. Anyway, I’m taking you out tonight, remember? Go get ready.”

Luna had been about to keep on pushing, but that diverted her. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“An educational surprise.”

Luna gave me a suspicious look. “It’ll be fun,” I said. “Wear something nice.”

“Like what, battle armour?”

“I’ll leave that up to your judgement. Remember, seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

The quickest route from Camden to Brondesbury is the overground line, which was once called the Silverlink Metro but now goes by the unimaginative name of the London Overground. I watched the rooftops and gardens of north-central London go by, then got off and walked to where Anne and Variam had met Dr. Ruth Shirland.

Dr. Shirland lived in a terraced house in a small closed-in street. It was a residential area and solidly middle class, the kind of place where you’re paying a lot more for the location than for the building. It’s not the kind of place you’d expect a mage to live, but I’ve seen stranger choices. I rang the bell and waited.

Dr. Shirland opened the door. She was about sixty years old, short and delicate looking, with grey curly hair, small round glasses, and the kind of wrinkles you get from smiling a lot. “Oh, hello,” she said. “Alex Verus, isn’t it? Come right in.”

“Thanks.”

I was escorted into a small and cosy sitting room with a modest number of chairs and a lot of bookshelves. I accepted tea, refused biscuits, and was inspected by a fat black-and-white tomcat who sniffed my hand, permitted himself to be stroked, then curled up on an armchair clearly reserved for his exclusive use. “Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

“It’s no trouble,” Dr. Shirland said. “Though I do have a patient in an hour.”

“A patient?”

“I’m a consulting psychologist,” Dr. Shirland said. “I see mages, but I have a regular practice as well.”

“Yeah, I imagine being able to read thoughts would make psychology easier. Are you reading mine now?”

Dr. Shirland raised an eyebrow. “Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Call it a precaution,” I said. “Besides, in my experience most mages can never resist using their powers.”

“Would you include yourself in that category?”

“I can’t read thoughts.”

“But you can see what someone’s going to say.”

“But you can look inside someone’s head even if it’s something they’re not going to say.”

“It’s actually more complicated than that,” Dr. Shirland said, “but most people aren’t concerned with technical details. I imagine they don’t draw much distinction between your being able to predict some of the things they do and all of the things they do?”

“Not generally.”

“Being psychically naked before another is quite a frightening concept,” Dr. Shirland said. “Once that line is crossed, it makes very little difference how far one goes. The breach of privacy is just as extreme either way.”

I thought about it and gave a slight smile. “I suppose that’s a fair point.”

Dr. Shirland sipped her tea. I sat back in the armchair. From the other chair, the cat opened an eye to take a look at me and then went to sleep.

“I understand you’ve taken on the role of sponsor for Anne and Variam?” Dr. Shirland said.

“It’s not officially registered, but yes.”

Dr. Shirland gave a nod. “Before we go any further, please understand that I will not repeat to you anything that either of them has told me in confidence. The only information I will give is that which I believe is appropriate for you to receive as a sponsor.”

“Understood.”

“Good,” Dr. Shirland said briskly. “I understand you’ve been trying to find Anne and Variam an apprenticeship with a Light mage or a Light-leaning independent?”

“Yes.”

“In my judgement the chances of your succeeding in doing so are very low, with one exception.”

I was silent. “Well, I’d hoped for better,” I said after a moment, “but I guess I’ll take what I can get. What’s the exception?”

“I think Variam might have a future as a Council Keeper.”

I stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.”

“Vari hates Keepers!”

“So he told me. I understand he and Anne came under investigation last year.”

“If by ‘came under investigation’ you mean ‘were arrested,’ then yes. And Vari had issues with them before that. He thinks the Council abandoned them both and he’s . . . pretty much right. He’s got a giant chip on his shoulder about mages in general and Light mages in particular, and if there’s one group you’re going to blame for what Light mages do, it’s the Keepers.”

“I understand, but all the same I think that’s where his abilities would be best appreciated. He’s a fighter and he’s determined, and he’s an essentially active personality who needs work to do. He’ll always have some difficulty with discipline, but the Council have employed fire mages before, you know. The Keeper orders are where they traditionally put them.”

“And the fact that he’s associated with a Dark mage?”

“In my opinion, that’s the strongest reason to recommend it. The Keepers are the only arm of the Council who deal with Dark mages on a regular basis. Firsthand knowledge of Dark culture without being a Dark mage would be a selling point to them. If Variam can convince them he’s what he says he is, there’s a good chance they’ll give him the chance to prove himself.”

I thought for a minute. “Did you have someone in mind?”

“I gave Variam the contact details of a Keeper who I think might be a good match. The decision has to be his, of course.”

I turned it over in my mind and shrugged. “Well, I still think it still sounds weird, but I guess it could work. What about Anne?”

“Anne is going to be more difficult.”

“Why?”

“Well for one thing, she’s a life mage.”

I frowned. “Why’s that a problem?”

“Because life mages can do more than heal.”

“They can do the opposite, I know.” I’d seen Anne do it, though only twice. “I don’t see how it matters. Pretty much every mage can kill you one way or another.”

“From your point of view, perhaps,” Dr. Shirland said. “But most mages are rarely threatened, and when they are it’s usually in a way they can understand and deal with. And if they’re an elemental mage, then of course they have their shields. A powerful protection, at least against most things.”

“Life magic goes through shields?”

“As if they weren’t there. I’ve never seen it myself but I’ve spoken to people who have. Just imagine how frightening that would be. Always to have been in a privileged position, safe and powerful, and to have that suddenly taken away. A life mage who can touch another person can do literally anything they want to them.”

“But if you’re looking for an apprentice—” I began, then stopped.

Dr. Shirland nodded. “Typically in a master-apprentice relationship, all the power lies with the master. But with a life apprentice, every time the master comes within arm’s reach he places his life in her hands.”

I thought about it, then shook my head in frustration. “It still doesn’t make sense. Okay, I can see why that would make some mages jumpy, especially the paranoid ones. But they can’t be like that all the time. I mean, mages get life magic treatments, don’t they? They have to let life mages get close sometimes.”

“Ones they trust.”

“And they wouldn’t trust her,” I said with a sigh. Now I saw what she was getting at. “Because of Sagash and Jagadev and the murders last year.”

“Yes,” Dr. Shirland said. “They’d consider her—potentially, at least—touched by darkness.”

I brooded over that for a moment. “Could you change their minds?” I said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think they may be right.”

I looked up in surprise. Dr. Shirland was looking steadily at me. “What do you mean?”

“Anne was held by Sagash for a period of nine months,” Dr. Shirland said, “beginning almost four years ago and ending a little over three years ago. Has she spoken to you about what happened over that period?”

“She doesn’t talk about it.”

Dr. Shirland nodded. “During our conversation, Anne spoke freely about her life since she and Variam moved in with you. However, the closer we moved to that time, the more reticent she became. I could feel it casting a shadow over everything she said.”

“Yeah, but . . .” I raked my fingers through my hair. “The whole reason Anne got involved in all this was because Sagash kidnapped her. And the reason Vari got involved was because he went to try to rescue her. They’re the victims in all this. It’s not fair to blame them.”

“It’s not a matter of blame. If I approached anyone to refer Anne as an apprentice, the first question they’d ask would be whether she was potentially dangerous. And I wouldn’t honestly be able to answer no.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Anne’s probably the nicest person I know. She won’t even kill flies. She might be powerful, but she’s not dangerous. She’s . . . I don’t know. Innocent.”

Dr. Shirland gave me a look. “I don’t think she’s quite so innocent as you believe.”

I started to answer and then stopped.

Last winter I was called in on a missing-persons case. A contact of mine from the Council had noticed that apprentices were going missing but didn’t know who was doing it or how, and he sent me to find out. I found out. It led to me and Anne being trapped in a room stacked with dead bodies, being hunted down by a once-human creature called Vitus Aubuchon. I’d distracted Vitus and Anne had killed him. Don’t get me wrong, it had been more than justified—not only had Vitus been the one responsible for all those dead bodies, he’d just cut Anne’s throat and had been in the process of trying to kill me too.

But looking back on it, I had a disturbing thought. Getting good with spells takes time and effort. When apprentices try something new they usually spend ages fumbling around before they can make it work, and even then they’re clumsy. Anne hadn’t been clumsy. She’d ripped Vitus’s life out of his body in a single action. It had been very quick and very efficient.

I looked up to see that Dr. Shirland was watching me. “What happened to her when she was with Sagash?” I said.

“Anne did not volunteer details.”

“Did you find some out anyway?”

“You mean by entering her mind?”

I gave a nod.

Dr. Shirland looked at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re asking me if I entered her mind to search her memories and feelings without her consent—an action that not only would be a breach of trust but which would also add further psychic damage to what was clearly already an intensely traumatic experience?”

“Pretty much.”

“No.” Dr. Shirland’s tone made it clear the subject was closed.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just checking.”

There was a pause. “So is there anything you can do?” I said.

“With finding her a master?” Dr. Shirland shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anyone I could recommend in good conscience until this is resolved. I invited her to come back and talk further, but she gave me a very polite refusal.”

I sat in silence for a little while. “Well,” I said at last, “thanks for the help. I appreciate the effort.”

“You’re welcome. Call me if you’d like to talk again.”

I spent the journey home thinking, and was still thinking as I walked through the shop and started up the stairs to my flat. As I climbed I heard a thud from above, followed by another thud five seconds later.

Variam was slumped on the sofa in the living room. Vari is short and wiry, with Indian-dark skin and thin arms and legs. He wears a Sikh turban and dresses in clothes that always seem to have just been thrown together but still manage to look good. Despite how small he is, Vari’s got presence; he draws attention wherever he goes, and seems to make friends and enemies equally fast. Right now he was sprawled with his legs out, glowering. As I walked in he threw a tennis ball to bounce off the wall with the thud I’d heard earlier before catching it again. He flicked me a glance and went back to glaring at the wall.

I stepped over Variam and went into the kitchen to fetch myself a drink. Once I’d filled the glass I came back in and leant against the doorjamb, watching Variam chuck the ball against the wall with a thud each time. “Want a drink?” I said.

Variam gave a negative sort of grunt.

“So I’m guessing you didn’t like what she had to tell you.”

Variam shot me a look.

I walked over and dropped into an armchair with a sigh. “The Keeper idea might not be a bad one, you know. I thought it was crazy at first, too, but it does kind of make sense.”

“I don’t care about the Keepers.”

“What is it, then?”

Variam bounced the ball off the wall with another thud, and took a while to answer. “It’s just me.”

“What is?”

“All the time, she was talking like me and Anne were going to be somewhere different. If I signed up with some Keeper we’d be split up, right?”

“Well, there might be some way . . .”

Vari looked at me.

I raised a hand. “Okay, okay. Yeah, you probably would be. You’d still be able to see her, but apprentice training is pretty focused. You wouldn’t be able to do everything together anymore.”

Vari went back to throwing the ball. “Would that be so bad?” I said.

“We’re supposed to stick together,” Variam said.

“Hard to fit in with getting a master.”

“What if I get one and Anne doesn’t?”

“It’s not like I’m going to kick her out. She can still stay here.”

Variam threw the ball to go thud again. “Supposed to be my job.”

“Why does it matter to you so badly?” I said curiously. Since I’ve known Variam he’s always watched over Anne, but I’ve never asked him why.

Variam was silent and I knew he was thinking about answering, but when he finally spoke all that he said was, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I glanced at my watch. It was ten to seven, and looking through the futures ahead I could tell that Luna would arrive in five minutes. “Luna and I are going to be out till late,” I said, getting up. “If you get hungry there’s a fish in the fridge.”