Marked

2

Two minutes’ work confirmed my suspicions. I made a quick side trip to pick up an item, then gated to the War Rooms.

The War Rooms are the seat of the Light Council, and the primary political power centre of British magical society. They’re made up of a vast network of tunnels and caverns hidden away beneath central London, and they house not only the Light Council itself, but also the vast bureaucracy that carries out the Council’s decisions. Up until a few years ago I’d never seen the War Rooms, and would have been turned away at the front door. Now I’m there more days than not.

I nodded to the guards on duty as I went in. I didn’t quite run – I had enough time, and sprinting would send the wrong message – but I didn’t hang around either. Even so, I couldn’t help but pick up the mood as I walked through the tunnels. Once upon a time, the mages and adepts and functionaries I passed in the polished stone corridors would have stared as I went by; today, I barely got a second glance. Part of it was familiarity, but mostly it was that right now, the Council had bigger problems to worry about.

In October of last year, Morden had sent me and a team of Dark mages to raid the Vault, the Council’s highest-security storage facility. The Council had been displeased, to put it mildly, which was the reason that I was currently occupying Morden’s place on the Junior Council while Morden himself was sitting in a cell on a charge of high treason. But despite the personal consequences for Morden, the raid had been a success, and by the time the Council response team retook the facility, the Dark mages were gone, along with the Vault’s entire stockpile of imbued items.

Magic items can be divided into three categories – one-shots, focuses and imbued items. Most people rank them by power – one-shots at the bottom, focuses in the middle and imbued items at the top – but while that’s true, it misses the point. Imbued items aren’t just objects, they’re living things, and they have as much in common with a one-shot or a focus as you do with your mobile phone. From experience I’ve learned that it’s very hard to make newcomers to the magical world understand just how dangerous imbued items are. They can grasp that imbued items are powerful, but they think that they’re powerful in the way that a gun or computer is powerful – a tool that just needs you to push the right buttons. The truth is that wielding an imbued item is more like riding a large and not entirely domesticated animal. It might decide to do as it’s told, and then again it might not, and if it comes down on the side of ‘not’, there’s a good chance it’ll decide that it should be the one calling the shots. Fast-forward a few months and you’re living out of a warehouse in Deptford, kidnapping people off the street to turn into mind-controlled slaves, and believing the whole thing’s your idea.

It would have been bad enough if the imbued items released into the wild had been a random collection, but they hadn’t been. Despite their drawbacks, imbued items pack a hell of a punch, and while the Council might be bureaucratic, they’re not in the habit of letting resources go to waste. If the best use they could come up with for an imbued item was to leave it gathering dust in the Vault … well, that should tell you something. According to the Council, Morden’s team had taken away 127 imbued items from the Vault, and I suspected the real number might be slightly higher. That had been eight months ago. Since then, we’d recovered thirty-eight. The Splinter Crown would make it thirty-nine.

Having over a hundred of the most dangerous imbued items in the country go missing at once had caused complete chaos. Not all of them had resurfaced – in fact, most of them hadn’t, probably because the Dark mages were keeping safe hold of them – but all too many had, and the ones that had resurfaced had tended to be the most destructive, controlling and just plain evil out of the whole set. It was coming to the point that I was starting to think that Richard or Morden had deliberately let the most dangerous items fall into the hands of the kinds of people who would misuse them. The Splinter Crown hadn’t been the worst of them by a long shot, and since the start of the year the casualty rates for normals injured or killed from magical causes had tripled. For now, the police were managing to cover up the worst of it (mostly by calling injuries ‘accidents’ and deaths ‘missing persons’), but I knew the Directors were afraid that if this went on for much longer, it was going to start leaking into the public eye. It wasn’t just normals who were being hurt either – the casualty rate for Council security had gone through the roof, and they’d had to take in as many new recruits in the last six months as they usually did in three years. And that wasn’t counting the activities of those Dark mages who did know what they were doing with their new items, nor the ongoing problems with the adept community.

All in all, the Council had been in more or less permanent crisis mode since autumn, with no sign of things calming down any time soon. Which was why, instead of eyeing me, the adepts and mages I passed in the corridors were caught up in their own worries. A few years ago, I might have appreciated it, but I’d learned enough since then to realise that at least in this case, the Council’s problems were also everyone else’s problems, and if not they were going to get that way.

Of course, none of that was stopping certain members on the Council from doing their best to get rid of me. I guess some things don’t change.

I passed through the Belfry and into one of the anterooms leading to the Star Chamber. A little over half a dozen mages were scattered around the room, talking in booths, and unlike the mages I’d passed on the way in, they did turn to stare. These were the aides of the Council members meeting in the room beyond, and if I hadn’t known already, their reactions would have been a big hint that I wasn’t expected. You can make a good guess at the number of Council members in a meeting by the number of aides outside: in this case there were eight, suggesting that most of the Junior and Senior Councilmen were present, but not all.

The corridor behind was dominated by the two huge eight-foot, six-limbed golems flanking the door at the end. These were gythka, the personal guards of the Light Council, and their gold eyes watched me expressionlessly as I approached. There was a man between them, the sergeant-at-arms, and he didn’t look happy to see me. ‘Evening, James,’ I said. ‘I see you got the late shift.’

James looked uncomfortable. ‘Uh, yes. Councillor Verus, I don’t think—’

‘That I’m welcome here? Let me guess, a certain someone hinted that they’d rather not be disturbed by any guests, me in particular.’

‘That’s not … I mean, could you … ?’

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t.’ I came to a stop in front of James. ‘This is a meeting of the Junior and Senior Councils, yes? Not Senior only?’

‘Yes …’

‘Then as a member of the Junior Council, I request and require entry.’ I nodded at the mantis golems. ‘You’re noticing they’re not moving to block me? Pretty sure you know what that means.’

James looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else, and I knew why. Whichever side he took, he knew he was about to get in the middle of a quarrel between Council mages. ‘This isn’t your call,’ I told him. ‘Now do the job that you’re legally required to do, and open that door.’

James unlocked the wooden door and stepped out of my way. He didn’t announce me, and I couldn’t really blame him. I walked in, hearing the door swing shut behind me.

If the War Rooms are the centre of power of the Light Council, the Star Chamber is its heart. It’s named after an old court of law from English history famous for its vast powers and lack of accountability. Maybe the Light mages who named it didn’t know the associations of the name … on the other hand, maybe they did. From this room, generations of Light mages had sat and ruled, issuing the resolutions that spread to touch the lives of every mage in the British Isles and beyond. I’d never thought I’d be one of them.

For such an important room, the Star Chamber looks weirdly ordinary. Windows along one wall look out onto an illusory landscape of fields and sky, and a fresco of constellations is set into the ceiling. The room is dominated by a long mahogany table surrounded by comfortable chairs. Right now, eleven of those chairs were occupied: one by the secretary, four by members of the Junior Council and the remaining six by members of the Senior Council, the voting members of the Light Council and the most powerful mages in Britain.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Sal Sarque snapped. He was dark-skinned and dark-eyed, and his grizzled white hair was cut short enough to reveal an old scar running the length of his scalp. His normal expression was a scowl, and he was wearing one now, his eyebrows lowered as he stared at me.

‘Apologies for being late,’ I said pleasantly as I crossed the room. ‘It seems that, by some oversight, I wasn’t informed of the meeting.’ I pulled out a chair and sat next to one of the other Junior Council members, sensing her shift away slightly as I did. ‘Don’t let me interrupt.’

‘You weren’t informed because you weren’t invited,’ Sal Sarque said, biting off his words.

I sat back, meeting Sal Sarque’s gaze. ‘Seems to me what you were discussing is rather relevant to my interests.’

Sal Sarque and I had rubbed each other the wrong way pretty much on sight. He’s the leader of the Crusaders, the most militant faction within the Council. They hate Dark mages in general and Morden in particular, so given that I was taught by a Dark mage and appointed by Morden, we were never going to get along. Events last autumn had only made things worse.

‘I would tend to agree,’ a second man said. With silver hair and a lined face, Bahamus is only missing a beard to look exactly like the popular image of a wizard. He has a measured way of speaking, and I’ve never seen him lose his temper. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to an ally on the Senior Council, though I’m careful not to push it. ‘Councillor Verus is clearly an interested party. I would be interested to learn the reasons for this … oversight as regards his notification.’

A couple of mages shot glances at the man sitting at the end of the table, but it was Sal Sarque who answered. ‘I don’t care who didn’t inform him. He shouldn’t be here.’

‘I’m afraid I have to side with Sarque,’ the woman sitting opposite from him said. Her name was Alma, and after Levistus, she’s probably the member of the Council I’m most wary of. She has brown and grey hair that falls a little past her shoulders, and regular features that might be handsome but for a certain hardness to her eyes. ‘Verus’s suitability to sit upon the Council is precisely the issue in question. Until it is settled, I think it would be appropriate for him to remain outside.’

There was a snort of laughter from the man to Alma’s right. He was big in every dimension with a thick beard, heavily muscled but running to fat, and his name was Druss the Red. ‘Issue in question?’ he said. ‘You mean he,’ he nodded at the man at the end of the table, ‘is still trying to get rid of Verus, and you, for God only knows what reason, do what he tells you.’

‘Given the security considerations—’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Regardless,’ Bahamus said, ‘Councillor Verus is still a member of this Council, and as such, has the right to be present. Unless anyone has an alternative interpretation of the law?’

There was silence. Futures flickered in which several Council members spoke up, but as I watched they faded. ‘Fine,’ Sal Sarque growled. ‘Let’s get on with it.’ He nodded at Alma.

‘As I was saying,’ Alma said, turning to the rest of the Senior Council, ‘I think, with hindsight, it is safe to say that elevating Morden to the Council was a mistake. It is now time to correct that mistake. Despite our usual reluctance to overturn an existing resolution, I believe that the decision to allocate a Junior Council seat to a Dark mage has proved unwise.’

‘Morden has not yet been found guilty,’ Bahamus said.

‘Oh, come on,’ Sal Sarque said angrily. ‘Are you having a fucking joke?’

‘You know perfectly well that I am no friend of Morden,’ Bahamus said levelly. ‘However, at present, he has been accused of a crime, rather than convicted. Until that changes, we cannot and should not reassign his office.’

‘We’ve all seen the evidence against Morden,’ Alma told Bahamus. ‘His conviction is a formality.’

‘Perhaps so,’ Bahamus said. ‘However, justice must not only be done, but be seen to be done. Taking this step before his conviction will clearly signal that we have no intention of abiding by the decision of the court.’ Bahamus cocked his head. ‘Besides. If the evidence is so overwhelming – which I do not dispute – then why the hurry? Morden has already been suspended from office.’

‘Hmph,’ Druss said. ‘Not much of a mystery there. It’s so that he,’ he nodded at the end of the table, ‘can get rid of him.’ He nodded at me. ‘This isn’t about Morden.’

‘So?’ Sarque demanded. ‘I call it cleaning up your mistakes. I told you Morden was a bad idea and you didn’t listen. Now you want to keep his apprentice around to carry on where he left off?’

‘Are you even paying attention to what’s happening right now?’ Druss demanded. ‘We’ve got a hundred imbued items tearing this country apart, and you want to be doing a purge?’

‘He’s the reason we’ve got those items tearing the country apart!’ Sarque snapped, pointing at me. ‘He helped steal them!’

‘Councillor Verus’s presence at the Vault was authorised by us,’ Bahamus said calmly. ‘As you should remember, since you were there. You should also remember that Councillor Verus gave us multiple warnings that our defence of the War Rooms was a mispositioning of forces. Given that your reconnaissance team singularly failed to prevent the theft – a team that you took personal responsibility for – I don’t think you are in a position to cast blame.’

Sal Sarque glared at me from across the table, and I met his gaze calmly. That ‘reconnaissance team’ had been led by a mage called Jarnaff, Sal Sarque’s personal aide. Officially, they’d been there to secure the Vault from hostile attack and recover any stolen items. Unofficially, once we ran into each other, Jarnaff had decided to score some bonus points with his boss by getting rid of me, and he would have done exactly that if the same thing hadn’t happened to him first.

The ironic thing was that I was being blamed for something I hadn’t done. I hadn’t killed Jarnaff. But it wasn’t as though Sarque would believe me if I told him, and given the things I had done, coming clean wasn’t exactly an option. The problem from Sal Sarque’s point of view was that while he could expose me, he couldn’t do so without revealing the fact that his ‘reconnaissance team’ had broken the law first, and he had more to lose than I did. So he just sat there and stared at me in silent rage.

‘It seems to me,’ Bahamus said, ‘that we are discussing the issue without hearing from the one most directly affected by it.’

‘Because it isn’t his decision,’ Alma said.

‘Nevertheless, I feel that his input could be useful,’ Bahamus said. ‘Councillor Verus?’

All of the other faces in the room turned to me. I paused for a moment, looking back at them. Some looked hostile; most neutral. None were friendly. I knew that trying to argue was pointless. Debates in the Council rarely change the votes: those are bought and sold before the meeting takes place, and generally speaking, no one brings a proposal unless they know they can pass it. But it was a chance to make the rest of the Council listen, and that doesn’t happen often. Besides, I still had one card to play. I just needed to lay some groundwork.

‘Let me ask a question to all the members of the Council,’ I said. ‘Ever since the attack on the Vault, we’ve been tracking down imbued items and sending out teams to retrieve them. How many of those missions have you each led?’

‘I don’t see how that’s relevant,’ Alma said coldly.

‘It’s a simple question.’

‘It doesn’t matter who’s leading the missions,’ Sal Sarque said, a little too quickly. ‘What matters—’

Druss laughed. ‘He’s got you there, Sarque.’

‘As far as I know, the number is three,’ I said. ‘All of which were led by Druss.’ I looked at Sal Sarque. ‘Though maybe you know better? I know that going after Dark mages is something of a special interest of yours.’

Sal Sarque flushed. ‘I’m a Council member,’ he snapped. ‘Not some … adventurer.’

‘I have to agree,’ Alma said, cutting in. ‘Verus, while your enthusiasm may be commendable, we on the Council are directors, not soldiers. Perhaps your lack of experience is showing. Our role is to give orders; that of the Keepers is to carry those orders out.’

‘I think you misunderstand,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t casting aspersions on your courage.’ I didn’t look at Sal Sarque, but I paused for just a second before going on. ‘Instead, I would like to make the point that since the start of the year, I’ve led ten item retrieval missions. Nine were successful. That means that, counting tonight, I’ve been responsible for slightly over twenty-five per cent of the imbued items recovered.’

‘You do not need to sit on the Council to go hunting around for lost items,’ Alma said. ‘Perhaps a position in the Keepers would suit your temperament better.’

‘I’d argue that you don’t really understand a situation until you’ve seen it on ground level,’ I said. ‘But again, that’s not my point. My point is that out of all of the members of the Council to attempt to remove, you’ve selected the one who’s doing the most to resolve this crisis. Now, as you say, I may be inexperienced, but to me this rather suggests that resolving the current crisis is not, in fact, your highest priority.’

‘The proposal concerns Morden, not you,’ Alma said smoothly. ‘We don’t mean to make any judgements about how qualified you may be for the position.’

Bitch, I thought. She was lying through her teeth, but I couldn’t call her on it. ‘For months, we’ve been hearing a constant stream of reports about how bad it is out there,’ I said, looking around at the rest of the Council. ‘Missing persons are at an all-time high, casualty rates with the Keepers and security personnel are enormous, and the Order of the Cloak are strained to breaking point trying to keep it hidden. At the risk of sounding naïve, this strikes me as the absolute worst time to get rid of the Council member most involved with the recovery efforts. Particularly for something that’s going to happen anyway. To the best of my knowledge, none of you have the slightest doubt that Morden will be convicted. Why the rush?’

The table was silent, and looking around, I knew I hadn’t changed anyone’s mind. Morden once told me that Council meetings mostly consisted of sitting around listening to reports, and that all of the real decisions took place outside. Since taking his seat, I’d learned he was right.

But then, that was why I’d come prepared. I reached into my pocket and took something out.

‘Enough wasting time,’ Sal Sarque said. ‘Let’s vote on this.’

Alma nodded. ‘I vote for the proposal.’

‘So do I,’ Sal Sarque said. ‘Should have done this months ago.’

‘What, get rid of anyone Levistus has a grudge against?’ Druss said. ‘I say no.’

‘I agree, but for different reasons,’ Bahamus said. ‘Once again, this sends all the wrong messages. It will damage our political credibility, not to mention the war effort. I also vote no.’

There was a pause. The secretary had been tallying the votes, and the scratch of his pen now stopped as he glanced towards the head of the table. One by one, everyone else did the same.

Vaal Levistus is one of the newer members of the Senior Council, but possibly also the most influential. He’s a man in his fifties with European looks, thin white hair, a patrician cast of face and pale, almost colourless greyish eyes that fade into the background. Like Bahamus, he rarely shows expression and never raises his voice, but the two men give off very different impressions. There’s a coldness about Levistus, something dispassionate that comes through in his manner and bearing.

From the moment I’d walked in, Levistus had watched the debate without saying a word. Quite possibly he hadn’t been speaking before I came in either, and I knew why. Levistus might not have been the one to put forward this proposal, but it was his creation, and he didn’t want to be associated with it any more than he had to. So he’d sat back, letting Alma and Sarque do the work for him. He’d already counted his votes and knew how this was going to play out. Or at least he thought he did.

‘Councillor Bahamus makes valid points,’ Levistus said. Levistus has a measured, almost atonal manner of speaking, smooth and precise. ‘In ideal circumstances, we would prefer not to take actions that could be seen as pre-empting the trial’s verdict. However, these are less than ideal times, and I believe that given the current crisis, security should be uppermost in our minds. We must remove not only Morden, but his appointees. Thus, while acknowledging Verus’s service, I must agree with Alma. I also vote yes.’

Three to two, I thought. Everyone turned to look at the last Senior Council member sitting at the table.

Like Levistus, Undaaris had stayed quiet throughout the meeting, but for very different reasons. While Levistus is an empire-builder, climbing his way to power, Undaaris is a waverer who follows whatever current seems safest. I’ve wondered sometimes how the guy even got on the Senior Council. My best guess is that he was a compromise choice from long ago that the other Council members all agreed was no threat.

Undaaris shifted, visibly uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze. ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well.’

Seconds ticked by. ‘Well, what?’ Druss demanded.

‘Ah,’ Undaaris said. ‘It does seem a little …’

Levistus made a very small movement, so tiny that I’d never have seen it if I hadn’t been watching. I knew that Levistus wouldn’t have called this meeting if he hadn’t bought Undaaris’s vote already. How he’d done it I didn’t know – promises or gifts or threats – and honestly, I didn’t much care. I raised my hand above the table and into plain view.

‘But I think we do need to …’ My movement caught Undaaris’s eye and he stared, his eyes fixed on what I held between thumb and finger.

‘Need to what?’ Druss said in annoyance. He glanced at me, saw nothing of interest and turned back to Undaaris. ‘Get on with it.’

‘What …?’ Undaaris swallowed. ‘What’s that?’

I was looking into the distance over Undaaris’s shoulder, pretending not to hear. After a moment I feigned surprise. ‘What?’ I said. I held up the item. It was a small green marble, about an inch in diameter. ‘This? Just a storage focus.’

‘Is there a reason you see it as an appropriate item to bring here?’ Alma asked, her voice cool.

‘Well, I did learn about this meeting at short notice,’ I said. ‘It caught me in the middle of something. Still, it might be useful. If the proposal goes through and I’m removed from the Council, I’ll need to disseminate some information. Pass it on to my successor, that sort of thing.’

‘Fascinating,’ Alma said, in a tone of voice clearly indicating it was nothing of the kind. She turned to Undaaris. ‘Councillor, your vote?’

Undaaris hadn’t taken his eyes off the marble. ‘Ah …’ He took a breath, then tore his eyes away, staring down at the table. ‘No.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I vote no.’

There was a pause. Sal Sarque stared at Undaaris, then shot a look at Levistus. ‘Perhaps you need time to consider,’ Levistus said, his voice cool. ‘If you require—’

‘I don’t need any more time to consider,’ Undaaris snapped. He didn’t look up at Levistus. ‘All right?’

‘Something wrong with your ears?’ Druss asked Levistus.

Levistus stared at Undaaris, not looking at Druss. Undaaris didn’t lift his eyes off the table. ‘Well then,’ Bahamus said when no one spoke. ‘Unless we hear from Spire, the resolution is rejected. Does anyone have any further comments?’ He glanced around the table. ‘In that case, the next order of business is the ongoing situation with the adepts. Our reports still indicate that there should be room for a negotiated settlement, but it’s proving difficult to bring them to the table …’

The meeting was over, and the Council members were filing out into the anteroom. ‘Ah, Verus,’ Bahamus said, walking up to me. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘Of course,’ I said. The two of us were standing off to the side by one of the booths, close enough to benefit from its privacy wards. Some of the other mages shot covert glances at us. ‘Thank you for your support, by the way.’

Bahamus nodded. ‘I must apologise for not giving you an earlier heads-up. We were notified as to the meeting, but for some reason Levistus felt it appropriate to leave his proposal off the agenda. I wasn’t aware you hadn’t been informed until the doors were closed.’

‘Yes, that sounds like his usual way of doing things.’

‘Perhaps, but it’s still inappropriate,’ Bahamus said. ‘I’ll have a word with Alma and Sarque and try to discourage them from supporting anything similar in future.’ He paused. ‘How exactly did you convince Undaaris to change his mind?’

Undaaris was just entering the room. He walked straight to where his aide was sitting, a mage named Lyle. The two of them spoke briefly: Lyle looked at me, then they headed for the door. ‘I reminded him of a prior discussion,’ I said, watching Undaaris go. ‘Must have changed his mind.’

‘Apparently it did,’ Bahamus said, eyeing me. ‘Do you think it’ll stick?’

‘That’s always the question with Undaaris, isn’t it?’ I said. Levistus appeared in the doorway to the corridor. ‘Oh, excuse me a moment. Thanks again.’

Levistus saw me coming and paused, waiting for me to approach. ‘Councillor,’ I said to him with a nod.

Levistus watched me without expression. ‘Is there something you need?’

‘Actually, I was hoping you could pass on a message to your aide Barrayar.’ I kept my tone friendly, but the expression in my eyes was another matter. ‘Tell him the next time he has an issue with me, come settle it himself instead of sending a boy to do a man’s job.’

‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean.’ Levistus glanced down at my pocket. ‘That data focus you were playing with looks similar to the one that was recovered in the White Rose case.’

‘Does it?’

‘The penalties for appropriating such a piece of evidence would be severe.’

‘These focuses all look so similar.’

‘Apparently they do.’ Levistus stepped around me. ‘Goodbye, Verus.’

‘Goodbye, Councillor,’ I said to Levistus’s retreating back. He didn’t turn to look at me, and as he disappeared through the doorway I gave an inward sigh. And that’s another day.