Forged

chapter 10

But the interior defences are another story,” Chalice finished. “And those are likely to be the most important.”

“That’s fine,” I said. It was Monday and we were in the same park in which I’d met Cinder, shielded by the greenery. I was leaning against a tree, flipping through the folder that Chalice had handed me. “It’s the location I’m most concerned about. You’re sure this is his primary base of operations?”

“As sure as I can be,” Chalice said. “It’s very likely that he also has a personal bubble or shadow realm that he keeps for private use. But this is definitely his primary base. There’s too much traffic for it to be anything else.”

“Good.”

There was a pause. “You don’t need to worry,” I said without looking up. “The Council aren’t tracking me. At least not at the moment.”

“You may say that,” Chalice said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that right now you’re one of the most wanted mages in Britain. Even Crystal wasn’t this high priority a target.”

“Crystal’s dead.”

“Really?”

I flipped another page. “Anne killed her a few weeks back.”

Chalice is slim and a little shorter than average, with light brown skin. She has a graceful, composed manner, but she’d seemed uncomfortable from the start of this meeting. Her next words confirmed why.

“Verus, I haven’t asked you any questions about why you wanted this information,” Chalice said. “However . . . there really aren’t all that many possible explanations.”

I closed the folder and looked up. “Is this the kind of thing you’re uncomfortable with?”

“Frankly, yes,” Chalice said. “Back when I did that research on Lightbringer and Zilean, I thought it was a one-off. I wasn’t expecting you to make a habit of it.”

“Are you concerned I might come after you?”

Chalice paused, her dark eyes weighing me. “No,” she said at last. “But there will be consequences.”

“I understand,” I said. What Chalice was leaving unsaid was that I was running out of credit. This was the second such favour she’d done for me in a short time, and she wanted something back. I tapped the folder against my leg, thinking. “From some of the things you’ve said, you’ve made it sound as if you care about the way this country works. There are things you’d like to see happen, and things you’d like to avoid.”

“Yes . . .”

“How interested would you be in politics?”

“In what sense?”

I shrugged. “For all their talk, the Council hasn’t actually gotten around to revoking that law about having a Dark mage on the Junior Council. Once all this is over, they’ll need one, and that person’ll need an aide.”

Chalice looked taken aback.

“Have a think about it,” I said. “If not, we can work something out.”

“I . . . will,” Chalice said slowly. She started to turn away, then paused. “You’ve changed a great deal.”

“A lot of people have been telling me that.”

Chalice nodded and left.

—

My conversation with Talisid had taken place on Saturday. Nailing down a time and place for the exchange took far too long, but I was finally able to get him to agree to meet at the shadow realm of my choosing on Tuesday noon.

The delay left me tense and on edge. I needed the time—I had a lot of things to set up—but the clock was ticking and everything was taking longer than I’d hoped. When I first thought up this plan, I’d figured that if things went wrong, I could always back off and try again. Now, I wasn’t so sure. If I didn’t pull this off, I might not be able to do it at all.

Tuesday dawned bright and clear. I went to London to make final preparations.

—

All right,” I told November. “Mike and speakers should be connected. Give it a try.”

“Testing, testing,” November said, his voice sounding through the speakers. “Feedback is good. I believe everything’s operational.”

“Good,” I said, managing not to roll my eyes. For someone who communicated largely through radio signals and the internet, November was absurdly picky about audio equipment. I suppose if the only ears I had were electronic ones, I’d have high standards too. “The rent on this flat is paid through the next three months, and you’ve got the bill accounts. There shouldn’t be anyone coming to the address, but if there is, get in touch.”

“Yes, well . . . ,” November said. “About that. I’m not quite sure how to say this . . .”

“You’re wondering what you’re going to do if I end up dead,” I finished.

“Well, yes. I mean, this operation of yours does have a disturbingly large number of potential points of failure.”

“It seems that way to you because you’re used to planning everything in detail,” I said. “I’m a lot more used to what you might call short-range adaptation.”

“It still seems inadvisable.”

“You’re welcome to come along.”

“No, no, no,” November said hastily. “That last time was more than enough.”

“Anyway, your connection should be good enough for today,” I said. “Your radio reception’s probably more limited than you’re used to, but I can’t really set up an antenna forest on a south London flat without drawing the wrong kind of attention.”

“I was hoping for a proper array, but . . . maybe another time,” November said. “Actually . . . this might sound strange, but would you mind using that mental communication technique rather than audio signals?”

“I thought you wanted a proper microphone. You were complaining constantly about the one you had in the Hollow.”

“It was terrible,” November said, “but I have to admit, since I’ve been introduced to your telepathy, I’ve been realising how much I lose when I have to rely on voice analysis. The mental communication you use is so much richer. I’m starting to understand why humans prefer to speak face-to-face.”

“Hmm,” I said, and reached out through the dreamstone. Better?

I do think I prefer it, yes, November said. You’re quite sure you’re going through with this plan?

Sure as I can be.

Well . . . in that case, please do be careful.

I smiled. Nice of you to say.

I don’t mean to take liberties, November said hurriedly. But it’s rather nice having a human mage willing to show me a minimum of consideration.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to be dying today, I said. Next week was another story. But I’ll give you Luna’s contact details just in case. She’s a good person for you to get to know if you want another contact.

Actually, I already have two phone numbers for her.

I rolled my eyes. Freaking Levistus. Time to move.

I walked outside and took out my phone. The flat I’d rented for November was in south Lewisham, and was about as back-end-of-nowhere as I’d been able to find. No one moved on the street as I leant against the wall and dialled a number. It rang twice before being answered. “Hello,” Morden said in his calm voice.

“Ready,” I told him.

“Time window?”

“Best guess, six to ten hours depending on level of paranoia,” I said. “But I should be able to give you at least two hours on the other end.”

“Sufficient,” Morden said. He hung up.

I put the phone away and let out a long breath. “All right,” I said to the empty street. “Let’s do this.”

—

I stepped through into the shadow realm, and let the gate close behind me.

Karyos had directed me to many shadow realms which fit my requirements to a greater or lesser extent, and the one I’d eventually selected was called Hyperborea. According to legend, Hyperborea was supposed to be a mythical land of perfect beauty. Either whoever had named this shadow realm had thought he was being funny, or something had gone very, very wrong, because the place was a wasteland of sand and barren soil. A dusty haze hung in the air, thickening as it approached the edges of the shadow realm until it became opaque at the borders. A pale yellow sun gave little heat. There were no trees, no plants, and not so much as a rock formation to break the monotony of the level sands. It wasn’t hard to see why no one had moved in.

The Council wasn’t here, which was good news. I’d been careful not to give them any hints to the location, and I’d path-walked extensively just to make sure, but it was still reassuring. I gave the perimeter a quick circuit, then took out my communicator to call Talisid.

Talisid answered right on time. “Mage Verus.”

“Talisid,” I said. “Are you and your escorts ready?”

“We are.”

“The exchange will be made in the shadow realm of Hyperborea,” I said. I gave the real-world mirror location and the information required to find it. “I’ll be within the deep shadow realm accessible from within. The access point is at the centre.”

“A deep shadow realm?”

“Correct.”

I could tell that Talisid was frowning. “Our agreement did not mention a deep shadow realm.”

“We agreed on a shadow realm of my choosing. This is the one of my choosing.”

“Can I ask why you’ve chosen such a remote location?”

“Because I don’t trust you very much,” I said. “Go check with your bosses if you like, but I’m not moving.”

There was a long pause. I was ready to argue if I had to, but I was pretty sure Talisid would accept it. Sure enough, in a couple of minutes, his voice spoke from the communicator. “We are . . . provisionally . . . willing to accept this location. However, we will need additional time to verify its security.”

“How long?”

“Two hours.”

That was actually better than I’d hoped for. “Fine. Just remember, three people including you. I see more than that, the deal’s off.”

“I understand. Who are your escorts?”

“You mean, is Anne with me?” I asked. “Yes. Whether you’ll see her is another question, but trust me, she’ll be watching. I’ll be seeing you soon.” I broke the connection.

—

Two hours passed. Hyperborea stayed barren and empty, but it wasn’t long before the futures became crowded with signs of Council mages sniffing around. As the deadline approached, I saw the future of a gate opening into Hyperborea, clear and steady. Three people would be coming through: Talisid, and two security men. They would take a total of one minute to enter the shadow realm: Talisid would arrive thirty seconds behind the first man, and thirty seconds ahead of the second.

I nodded. All as expected. I focused on my dreamstone, then used it to open a gateway into the deep shadow realm.

—

The deep shadow realm was coloured in shades of purple, lavender and violet and mauve. White lights shone from invisible sources far above, illuminating spiralling ramps and high platforms. The air was hazy, and smelt odourless and dry. The place felt alien but familiar; it hadn’t changed in the two years since my last visit. Of course, it was only two years to me. In this place, it would have been a lot more.

I didn’t let the gate close behind me. Instead, the instant my foot touched the ground, I broke into a run, heading for one of the tunnels leading out of the central chamber. I could feel the strain of holding the gate open mount quickly, and as I reached the tunnel, the pressure became unbearable. I let go and felt the gate snap closed. I would have maybe half a minute before the two realms fell out of sync, at which point Talisid would arrive.

At which point things would get complicated.

I’d spent a long time setting this up, and part of the reason it had taken me so long was to make sure that it wouldn’t be at all obvious what was really going on. So I should probably take a moment to explain.

Deep shadow realms are similar to shadow realms: small pocket realities that can only be accessed via gate magic. They differ from shadow realms in several ways. The first big difference is that deep shadow realms can only be accessed via other shadow realms, and the paths by which you can reach them shift. When I’d first visited this deep shadow realm, the only way to reach it had been via the Hollow. That path had since broken. This meant that for the Council mages to reach me, they’d have to go from our world, to Hyperborea, to here. And likewise, to get back home, I’d have to go through Hyperborea first.

The second thing about deep shadow realms is that their laws of reality can be very different from ours. Some have variable gravity, or mutable terrain. This particular deep shadow realm had an altered flow of time: an hour spent here was the equivalent of days or weeks in our world. The exact ratio waxed and waned, depending on how metaphysically “close” the deep shadow realm was. At the moment, based on my tests, the ratio was around 70:1, meaning that for each minute I spent in here, an hour and ten minutes would elapse at home.

Hence why I’d been in such a hurry to get away from the entry chamber. The Council doesn’t have any great expertise with deep shadow realms, and Talisid and the rest of the Council team would certainly take precautions before entering. But the time dilation meant that from my perspective, even the most exhaustive checks would be finished very fast. It was hard to use my divination here, but my best guess was that I had a minute at most.

Gate spells briefly equalised the passage of time between the two realms, but not for long. Once Talisid and his group stepped through, the ratio would snap back, and time would continue passing seventy times faster than in our world. Talisid and the others shouldn’t notice anything, at least not until they got back. I hadn’t.

The deep shadow realm felt strange, alien. My divination showed me flashes of futures, chaotic and bizarre. It would be dangerous to stay here for long, dangerous to draw the attention of whatever inhabited this place. I could feel the dreamstone stirring as I ran, pulsing to some inaudible frequency. It was here that I’d found the crystal, taking it from a larger outgrowth. There had been other things there too, ones that weren’t crystals, who had worn faces and spoken to me. The experience had shaken me, and I’d walked away intending never to come back. It was only a year later that a chance remark of Arachne’s had set me thinking about a way to use the time dilation to my advantage.

I’d come up with something that I was pretty sure would work, but it was dependent on two things. First, I was betting that this time, the Council wasn’t going to underestimate me or Anne. And second, I was betting that they really, really wanted to get rid of us.

From behind me, I felt the pulse of gate magic. I slowed down and took out my communicator. “Talisid,” I said once I’d caught my breath. “You took your time.”

“We had to take precautions,” Talisid replied.

“Yes,” I said, “I noticed it took a whole minute for you to go through the gate into Hyperborea.”

“As I said. Precautions.”

“So I see.”

I’d arrived in a small, curving corridor. From here I’d be able to use the dreamstone to gate back to Hyperborea, but if I did that now, there was too high a chance that I’d be detected. I needed a better head start. I waited, looking down at the communicator, feeling the futures flicker.

“So,” Talisid said. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“To make the trade.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Ready as you are.” I paused. “Why did you agree to that last demand, Talisid?”

“I’m sorry?”

“For me to be put back on the Junior Council.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“A truce was on the table,” I said. “Maybe. But getting my seat back? After what happened with Sal Sarque? Levistus would never agree to that. Bahamus would never agree to that. Neither would Alma, neither would Druss.”

“I am not fully privy to Senior Council discussions, but regardless of how they came to it, they have agreed on this exchange.”

“Yes,” I said. “An exchange that would put me and Anne and Levistus’s synthetic intelligence all in the same place at the same time.”

“Verus, I understand that you have reason to be cautious,” Talisid said. “But we’ve abided by all the terms of our agreement. I even elected to bring two members of the Council security forces, rather than Keepers, in a show of good faith.”

“I’d say you brought considerably more than two people.”

Through the communicator, I heard Talisid sigh. “I brought two, Verus. Only two. I know you’re using your divination magic to watch us. Go ahead and observe. If you like, have Mage Walker employ her lifesight. No matter what spells you employ, what sensory magic you use, they’ll tell you the same thing. There are only three of us here.”

“I already used my divination,” I said. “Back when you entered Hyperborea. And you’re right. As far as I could see, there were only three of you.”

“So we’re agreed?”

“Not quite,” I said. “Why did you hold the gate open for one minute?”

“As I said, we were ensuring that it was safe.”

“So, funny story,” I said. “Remember back when I was a journeyman Keeper? None of the other Keepers were willing to work with me, so I had nothing to do but sit in my office all day. So one of the things I did to pass the time was read. I read the whole Order of the Star doctrine manual cover to cover.”

“Good grief, really? Even most Keepers don’t read that thing.”

“It was pretty boring. But it was interesting seeing where a lot of Council habits come from. Like, you know how Keepers will send someone through a gate the instant it opens? If it’s dangerous, they might send a security man first, but they always follow through right after. It turns out that the doctrine manual says that Council operatives should make a point of keeping gate exposure as low as possible. And it’s a funny thing, but everyone in the Council follows it without thinking. From open to close, they usually keep a gate running no more than fifteen seconds.”

“I . . . suppose they do.”

“You hid all those people very well,” I said conversationally. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it sometime. I’m guessing a combination of illusion and divination. Divination to lay a false future, and illusion to conceal them every other way. Illusionists can do a lot, can’t they? They can make a subject invisible, hide the sounds they make, even conceal them from exotic senses like thermographic imaging or lifesight. But no matter how good they are, they can’t hide the amount of time it takes to send that many people through a gate.”

“You’re being paranoid, Verus,” Talisid said. But his voice had changed.

“Am I?” I said, and made an educated guess. “Then what was that signal you made just now?”

There was a second’s pause.

Then dozens of magical signatures lit up from the room I’d just left. Elemental magic, air and earth and fire with the signature of utility spells, space and time magic flashes, barriers and protections, wards spreading outwards. The Council had taken the bait in jaws of steel.

A dozen voices spoke at the same time through the communicator. “—spread out, spread—”

“Alpha team, perimeter!”

“Wards up NOW, I want wards—”

“Clear, cle—!”

The light on the focus winked out and the voices cut off.

I was already working on my gate, using the dreamstone to weave the fabric of Elsewhere to join the deep shadow realm back to Hyperborea. The Council’s search ring was expanding fast, but I’d known what was coming and they hadn’t. The gate opened, and I stepped through into Hyperborea.

The hiss of Hyperborea’s desert wind was very loud after the silence of the deep shadow realm. I took out my phone and checked the time. Excluding sync time, I’d been in there with the Council team for . . . call it four and a half minutes. Out here, it had been about five and a half hours.

It wouldn’t take Talisid’s team long to figure out that I was gone. But not long was going to have a very different meaning for them than for me.

Movement in the futures caught my attention and I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Time to deal with the rearguard.

Shapes emerged out of the desert haze, two, five, a dozen. There was a large Council security force in full battle gear, wearing body armour and holding submachine guns. The guns rose up to point in my direction as I came into view and didn’t come down. Two unarmoured figures walked at the centre of the squad: mages. There was a man, tall and middle-aged, and a stocky woman with a mouth full of chewing gum. They slowed as they saw me.

“Avenor,” I said. “Saffron.” I kept my tone courteous. If there’s a good chance you’re going to have to kill someone, you should at least be polite about it.

Avenor and Saffron halted, their eyes shifting from me to behind me. They looked on edge, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. They would have heard Talisid’s team go in, then settled down to wait, expecting to be here for no more than ten or twenty minutes. Instead they’d been left alone for over five hours.

“Mage Verus,” Avenor said cautiously.

I looked at the security men. “Sergeant Little,” I said. “It’s been a while. Nowy, Peterson, good to see you as well.”

The men watched me warily. They didn’t lower their guns, but from looking at the futures, I could tell they weren’t about to fire. I’d spent a long time leading combat missions as a Junior Councilman. Half of these men knew me personally, and the other half by reputation. From their body language and the shape of the futures, I knew they really didn’t want to get into a fight.

“Where’s Talisid?” Avenor said.

I raised my eyes. “Did you lose contact? Your communicator stopped working as soon as that gate closed behind him, maybe?”

Avenor watched me closely.

“Awkward,” I said. “Well, it’s been nice to catch up, but I’m afraid I have to go.”

“We’d prefer you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Avenor’s voice was hard. “Until your agreement with the Council is concluded, you are still a wanted fugitive under Council law. Attempt to leave and you will be placed under arrest.”

I looked straight at Avenor and spoke softly and clearly. “Talisid’s entire strike force just tried that and failed. You think you’re going to stop me with what you’ve got here?”

Avenor went very still. I felt a couple of soldiers take a step back. Avenor’s eyes flicked past my shoulder, and I knew what he was thinking. He was hoping that Talisid’s reinforcements would appear, and was starting to realise that they wouldn’t.

Saffron was less hesitant. “You’re under arrest.”

I looked back at her.

Saffron turned to glare at the security men. “Sergeant! Have your troops arrest that man.”

There was a dead silence, broken only by the whine of the wind. Several of the Council security men looked at each other.

“Sergeant!” Saffron shouted. “Little, or whatever your name was!”

Little nodded to her cautiously. “Keeper.”

“I gave you a direct order! Arrest that man!”

“Keeper Saffron,” Little said respectfully. “I feel that in this particular case this would be an inadvisable way to commit my men.”

“I don’t give a shit what you feel!” Saffron turned, addressing the men. “Arrest him now! Shoot him if you have to!”

The security men looked at her, at me, at each other. Then one of them lowered his gun. Two more glanced at him and followed suit. One by one the barrels descended to point down at the sand, until none were aiming at me.

Saffron stared, apparently lost for words.

“What’ll it be, Avenor?” I asked. “By the way, very shortly you’re going to be getting an urgent message from the Council. I’d suggest that you and your security team would be much better served by responding to that message than by getting yourselves killed in an attack on me. But it’s your call.”

Avenor looked from side to side. None of the men met his eyes, and the last futures in which he tried an attack faded away. He looked back at me, face hard. “This isn’t over.”

I let Avenor have the last word. With a nod to him and Saffron, I walked past. Both mages and the security men watched as I walked through the crowd, out through the other side, and disappeared into the desert haze. No one tried to stop me.

—

Once I was clear of the shadow realm, I made a short call to Morden. Then I went to the Hollow to gear up.

For the meeting with Talisid, I’d deliberately gone in underequipped. It was all but certain that they’d had a diviner or some other mage with a way of getting a look at me, and I’d been doing my best to lull their suspicions. That wasn’t a concern anymore, and I loaded for bear. I took my armour, my dreamstone, and my old MP7, as well as my usual dispel focus. A combat knife and handgun rounded out my weapons, and for defence I added a mind shield, an aquamarine in the shape of a teardrop that hung around my neck. It was the best mental defence focus I’d been able to get my hands on, and for some years now I’d had it stored away, just waiting for the right opportunity. Now I’d see if it was worth what I’d paid for it. I added my usual collection of miscellaneous tools and one-shots, then gated to the Heath, at the old entrance to Arachne’s lair.

I arrived as the sun was setting behind the western hills. Gleams of sunlight penetrated the trees, casting long black shadows that stretched away without end. The air was warm, but the atmosphere was curiously hushed; a few voices were carried on the wind, but not many. The summer evening was quiet and still.

The ravine that had once led to Arachne’s lair was deserted. The tunnel leading down into the earth had been sealed, and the spells that had opened and closed it were gone. If you didn’t know better, it looked like just a mound of earth. There were no guards or alarms: the place had been looted when the Council had raided it, and apparently they’d decided they were done with the place. With no one living there and nothing valuable to find, it would probably be abandoned. Over the years, fewer and fewer would have any reason to visit, until someday, in fifty or a hundred years, no one would remember it at all. Men and women would walk their dogs, and children would play, not knowing that a cavern complex lay beneath their feet.

Maybe Arachne would return sometime around then. It was a nice thought. I wouldn’t be around to see it.

I sat on a fallen tree and waited. Birdsong carried on the evening air. From far above, I heard the distant roar of an airliner, heading westwards.

Soft footsteps sounded, shoes on earth. “This,” Anne said, “had better be good.”

I turned to see Anne half-lit beside one of the trees. Spatters of sunlight fell across her bare arms and legs, swallowed up by the black of her dress. Her expression was shadowed, but didn’t look welcoming. “Sorry about the wait,” I told her.

“I hate waiting.” Anne took a step forward into brighter light. “You made me wait five hours.”

“I told you my best estimate was four to eight, and I explained why.”

“No, you didn’t. You ran off some random crap about deep shadow realms and I stopped listening. Now how about you go back to explaining why I’ve been hanging around these woods all day?”

“If you’d bothered to listen the last time I explained,” I said, “you would have had to wait an hour or two at the most. And if you’d stopped being so paranoid and just given me a phone number, you wouldn’t have had to wait even that long. The reason it’s taken this long is that I had to wait for the Council to—”

“Bored.”

“Okay, let’s try this another way. It took five hours because the time flow—”

“Bored.”

“Do you want me to explain this, or not?”

“Too many words.” Anne made a spinning motion with one finger. “TLDR.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll explain this in terms that are simple enough for your attention span. What do you think we’re here to do?”

“You want me to kill Levistus.”

“And as soon as we go after Levistus, the Council is going to send a response team to kill us. A response team that’s going to have their best combat mages and their best weapons. Right now, that response team is stuck in a deep shadow realm for the next few hours. We’re going to kill Levistus before they get out. Clear?”

“See, you should have explained it like that the first time.” Anne folded her arms. “What’s stopping them sending more?”

“The Council’s first priority is to protect itself,” I said. “Right now, they think there’s an attack being launched against the War Rooms.” Morden was seeing to that. It wouldn’t be a very thorough feint, but it wouldn’t have to be—the Council would be in a state of maximum paranoia after losing contact with Talisid. “They have enough reserves left to defend the War Rooms against a full attack from Richard’s cabal, and they have enough reserves left to send a strike force to crush us. They don’t have enough to do both.”

“And what if they pick Option B?”

I shrugged. “What’s life without a little risk?” I held out a hand. “Coming?”

Anne looked back at me, then a smile flashed across her face. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a really long time.” She jumped lightly across the ravine, then strode up to me, the sunbeams casting her in alternating dark and light. “Let’s do this.”

I gave Anne a nod. Together, we walked away.