“I’ve met plenty of mages who want to be grand and imposing,” Luna said. “I didn’t like them much. I’m sticking with Vesta.”
“Sounds good to me.” I held out my hand with a smile. “Congratulations, Journeyman Vesta.”
Luna laughed and took my hand, pulling the curse back along her arm so that we could shake hands without the silver mist touching my skin. Then she opened the door and I followed behind her to take a look at the rest of what would one day become the new Arcana Emporium.
chapter 14
Everything changes. Pick any constant about your life and wait long enough, and it’ll be different. We all know that, but for some reason, it’s a hard lesson to remember. I suppose it’s because to do anything, we have to assume that things won’t change—you can’t make plans without assuming a certain degree of permanence. And for the most part, that assumption turns out to be true. Until it isn’t.
But one of the things I’ve noticed as I’ve grown older is that while everything changes, the change usually isn’t obvious. Sometimes that’s because the change is so slow and gradual. A pair of shoes wears out, a person ages, the tree outside your window grows; every day it’s different, but in such tiny increments that you never notice. But sometimes you don’t notice not because the change is slow, but because it’s invisible. All too often, the really big changes—the kind that go through our lives like a tornado and throw everything upside down—happen where we can’t see them. Somewhere far out in the ocean, the sea breezes meet, and the breezes turn into eddies, and the eddies into gusts, and the gusts build into a storm that whirls faster and faster into a roaring hurricane. The satellites watching from space see it and piece it together, but to the people on the ground living under a blue and cloudless sky, it seems like nothing’s happening. Until it’s too late.
Now that I look back on it, that had been what had happened over Christmas. The seeds had been sown when I’d rejected Levistus’s threat during the business with White Rose the winter before. After that battle was over I’d gone home, and in time I’d forgotten about it, but Levistus hadn’t forgotten. He’d planned and waited and finally later that year, when the time was right, he’d made his move and had me sentenced to death. To me it had seemed as though nothing was happening, but things were happening, just not where I could see. And so I’d gone about my business in blissful ignorance, until one Saturday evening Talisid called me and everything fell apart.
As it turned out, the same thing had been happening this year as well. Now that I look back on the whole thing, I can see the clues I missed, but that’s how it works with hindsight. When you know what’s relevant and what you can ignore, then everything is obvious, but it’s not so obvious when you’re caught up in surviving from day to day. At least until life reaches out and smacks you over the head.
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“But that’s a matter for another time,” Morden said, “For now, a different task.”
I looked at Morden, instantly wary. It was late October, only a week after my conversation with Luna. Luna was still working away on the shop, Variam was still training for his journeyman tests, Anne was still avoiding everyone and spending too much time alone in the Hollow, and I was still working for Morden. We were at the end of a workday and my mind immediately flashed back to how he’d given me the last “job.” It had been in a similar manner to this. “What kind of job?”
“Tomorrow night, you and Anne Walker will be accompanying some of my associates on a little expedition,” Morden said. “I’d suggest you come prepared. There’ll be opposition.”
“What kind of opposition?”
“The kind you get at the Council War Rooms.”
I stopped dead. We were walking along the street away from one of the War Rooms’ entrances, and Morden slowed slightly, giving me an inquiring look. “Wait,” I said, hurrying to catch up. “What was that?”
“We’re going to launch an attack on the Council,” Morden said. “Or you will, at any rate. I’m afraid I won’t be personally accompanying you, but I have every confidence in your success.”
I stared at Morden, trying to figure out what to say. The Dark mage navigated around a pedestrian, nodding to the man as he was given space. “I don’t understand,” I said once we were out of earshot again.
“It’s not complicated,” Morden said. “We’re launching an attack on the Council. The ones participating in said attack are the mages who work for me. You are a mage who works for me, therefore you will be participating. Which part of this chain of causation is giving you difficulty?”
“This is . . .”
“I hope you’re not going to say that this is morally objectionable,” Morden said.
“I was going to say ‘insane.’”
“Oh?”
“Did I hear you right?” I said. Normally I watched my words more carefully around Morden, but my guard was down. “Did you seriously just tell me to attack the War Rooms?”
“Isn’t it exactly what the Council have been expecting me to do?”
“Which is exactly why it’s insane!”
“You worry too much, Verus.”
“You told me back in the summer that they were just paranoid!”
“Actually, what I said was that the War Rooms would be equally safe regardless of any new security measures,” Morden said. “A subtle but important difference. And a judgement I’d still agree with. I’ve seen no sign that anything they’ve done will make any difference.”
“Not the slightest . . .” I stared at Morden, lost for words.
“Was there anything else?” Morden asked.
“Have you gone completely nuts?” I demanded. “Has being made a Council member made you as delusional as they are? You think you can just give any order, no matter how crazy, and it’ll happen?”
“I can understand that this must be something of a surprise, but please remain civil.”
I struggled to control myself. Morden watched with an expression of mild interest. “Then do you mind telling me,” I said at last, “exactly how you are planning to carry this out?”
“I’m afraid the details are being kept a secret for the time being,” Morden said. “Operational security. I’m sure you understand.”
“You have to be planning to attack the place from range,” I said. “Right? There’s no way you could be mounting a manned assault—”
“Oh no, it’s manned,” Morden said. “We’re doing this the old-fashioned way. And please do stop saying ‘you.’ As I explained, you’ll be coming.”
“But that’s insane,” I said. “Literally insane. As in, you can’t be a rational person and expect that to work. The Council has bound elementals. Mantis golems. Devourers. Every kind of spell ward and attack ward you can think of. And those are just the things I know about. There’ll be other kinds of guardian constructs and creatures that I’ve never even heard of because they keep them an absolute secret. They’ve been working on fortifying that place for hundreds of years. Dark mages have attacked it I don’t know how many times, and they’ve always failed. The Council literally have more security and fortification measures at the War Rooms than at every other facility in Britain put together. And that’s in times of peace. With all those rumours going around, they’ll have made it even stronger. Attacking the War Rooms is suicide.”
Morden kept walking, listening patiently. “Are you finished?”
“. . . Yes.”
“Your reservations are noted,” Morden said. “Your orders stand. Oh, and since you and she seemed to work so well together last time, you’ll be under Vihaela’s orders again.”