“So I’ve heard,” Chalice said. “But no one seems to give substance to the rumours.”
“That’s because Richard keeps it that way,” I said. “He’s a grey.”
Chalice looked blank.
“Someone who keeps their magic type hidden,” I explained. “He won’t cast spells where anyone can see; he’ll use items as substitutes; he’ll rely on creatures and other mages . . .”
Chalice nodded. “So what’s your personal opinion?”
“Okay, so I can’t deny that the mind or charm thing is a possibility. He’s very good at manipulating people, and he always seems to know exactly what their motivations are. The other possibility I’ve wondered about is that he might be a diviner.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only magic type that can rival enchantment for undetectability,” I said. “So if you have managed to keep your magic type secret for that long, that’s evidence for it. Besides . . . Back when I was with him, he had three other apprentices. Know their types?”
Chalice shook her head.
“All elementalists,” I said. “Two fire, one water. By itself, that doesn’t mean much. Fire mages are everywhere and water mages are pretty common too. But three elementalists and one diviner?” I shrugged. “It’s a strange mix. If Richard were a diviner, that would be one way to explain it.”
“Are there any arguments against?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve never actually seen Richard fight, but I don’t think there’s any real doubt that he’s killed a lot of mages in single combat. Right before he disappeared, the Council sent a battle-mage after him leading an entire strike team and Richard killed them all. And that does not fit with him being a diviner.”
“Given your reputation, that seems rather odd for you to say.”
“Because I’m a diviner too?” I snorted. “Half the fights I’ve survived have been by the skin of my teeth, and the other half have been because I’ve had help. Besides, the attitude’s different. It’s hard to explain, but the times I’ve met Richard since he came back, he doesn’t act like a diviner. All the diviners I’ve met, they’re on guard, always watching. Richard doesn’t seem like he’s on guard. He seems relaxed. Like he knows nothing around could possibly be a threat.”
“Could it be a bluff?” Chalice said. “He won his victories by trickery, and now he’s trading off his reputation?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m not picking a fight with him to check.”
Chalice nodded. “One last thing. I assume you know that Morden’s Chosen, Onyx, has something of a grudge against you?”
“I’d noticed,” I said dryly. “I think Morden’s keeping him off my back for now.”
“Well, a little bird told me that Onyx is rather resentful of your new position as Morden’s aide,” Chalice said. “To the point where he was taking active steps to do something about it. He was warned off, but not by Morden. By Drakh.”
I frowned. “Are you sure?”
Chalice shrugged. “It’s only secondhand.” She lifted her cup and drank the last of her tea. “But it sounds to me as though your old master still has plans for you. Be wary.”
| | | | | | | | |
I didn’t need to be reminded that Richard wasn’t done with me. Archon was proof of that.
“Were there any problems?” Archon asked. It was the evening of the same day, and Archon was standing where I’d first met him, in the front garden of my house in Wales. I didn’t use the house as a base anymore, but it still worked as a meeting point and I sure as hell wasn’t letting Archon see where I slept.
“Nothing serious,” I said. “Though it would have been helpful to know that the guy leaving your message was wanted by the authorities.”
My jobs for Archon had continued to prove frustratingly obscure. Over the summer, he’d had me digging up rumours of some Indian relic, and in September, he’d had me out in South America. Both had proven to be dead ends, but if it had bothered Archon, he hadn’t shown any signs of it. Instead, just yesterday, he’d sent me to China to retrieve a message drop in Xinjiang.
It hadn’t been a dead end this time. The message had been exactly where Archon had told me it would be. Of course, Archon hadn’t mentioned the team of Chinese mages and adepts staking the place out. I’d managed to retrieve the thing without a fight, but it had been close.
Archon held out a gloved hand and I handed over the message cylinder. It was a small inlaid tube, pale yellow in colour. “Did you open it?” Archon asked.
I looked back at Archon, my gaze steady. “No.”
Archon looked back at me for just a second—at least I assumed he was looking back at me; with that full-face helmet it wasn’t as though I could really tell—then nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned and disappeared into the darkness.
I waited until I was sure that Archon was gone, then went back into the house. The item I’d handed over was a one-shot message cylinder, just big enough to contain a single rolled-up sheet of paper. The items were developed by the magical government of China some time back, and while they’re outdated nowadays, they’re quite secure. They’re designed to be opened only by a single intended recipient, and if anyone else tries to break or interfere with one in any way, a small charge goes off that incinerates the contents. Bypassing the security to read the contents is very difficult.
Of course, difficult doesn’t mean impossible.
I took out my phone and studied the picture on the screen. Archon’s timetable had been tight, and by the time I’d managed to figure out how to get the cylinder open, I’d only barely had time to snap a picture before I’d had to reseal the item and gate to Wales to make the handover. The cylinder had contained only a slip of paper, with a few lines of Chinese characters. I can’t read Chinese, but I know someone who can.
| | | | | | | | |
“Interesting,” Arachne said, studying the image.
“Can you read it?”
“Oh, that’s simple enough,” Arachne said. “The gist of the message is that the writer is reporting a lack of success. He says that the matter has been studied, and that similar attempts have been made, but that all substitutes for the traditional approach are believed to have failed due to a lack of a specific quality.”
“What quality?”
“That is the interesting part,” Arachne said. We were in her lair and she was leaning over the sofa, the phone held delicately in her legs right below her two rows of eyes. I was sitting in her shadow, close enough to brush her lower legs. It probably would have looked really bizarre to someone walking in. “The word he uses is tóngqíng, which literally means ‘alike feeling,’ but given the context, I think the most accurate translation would be ‘empathy.’”
I frowned. “Substitutes for the traditional approach are believed to have failed due to a lack of empathy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about.”
“Really?” Arachne said. There was a thoughtful sound to her voice. “I think it’s quite suggestive.”
“Then maybe you can explain it to me.”
“What do you think Richard wants with you, Alex?”
The question caught me off guard. “I still don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean, we asked him back in January. He gave us some vague bullshit about the Council undervaluing us.”
“Not untrue, but not the whole truth, either,” Arachne said. “Perhaps a better question would be why Richard would take the risk of trusting you. You’ve made no secret of the fact that you’re working for him only under duress. Which, from his point of view, rather limits your usefulness. No matter how competent you may be, it would probably be possible for Richard to find an equally competent person who is not profoundly opposed to everything he stands for. Which brings us back to the first question: why you?”