That was the point at which other mages started to take notice. Belthas had been good—really good, one of the most dangerous battle-mages around. All of a sudden, a lot of people were paying attention to me. After all, if I’d been able to defeat someone like Belthas, I’d be a useful tool to have on their side. And if I wasn’t on their side … well, then they might have to consider doing something about that, too.
All of a sudden, I had to play politics. Take a job, and I’d be associated with whoever I agreed to work for. Turn one down, and I’d risk causing offence. Not all the job offers were nice, either. More than one Dark mage figured that since I’d knocked off one Light mage, I might be willing to do a few more, and let me tell you, those kinds of people do not take rejection well.
But I’m not completely new to politics, either. My apprenticeship was to a Dark mage named Richard Drakh, in a mansion where trust was suicide and competition was quite literally a matter of life and death. It’s left me with some major issues with relationships, but as a primer on power and manipulation, it’s hard to beat. Crystal hadn’t been the first to try to take advantage of me—and she hadn’t been the first to get a surprise.
But right now, I didn’t feel like dealing with that. I put Crystal out of my mind and went to go find my apprentice.
Mages don’t have a single base of operations—there’s no central headquarters or anything like that. Instead, the Council owns a wide selection of properties around England, and they make use of them on a rotating basis. This one was an old gym in Islington, a blocky building of fading red bricks tucked away down a back street. The man at the front desk glanced up as I walked in and gave me a nod. “Hey Mr. Verus. Looking for the students?”
“Yep. And the guy waiting for me.”
“Oh. Uh … I’m not supposed to talk about …”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I opened the door, closed it behind me, and looked at the man leaning against the side of the corridor. “You know, for someone who’s not a diviner, you seem to know an awful lot about where to find me.”
Talisid is middle-aged with a receding hairline, and every time I see him he always seems to be wearing the same nondescript suit. If you added a pair of glasses he’d look like a maths teacher, or maybe an accountant. He doesn’t look like much at first glance, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he might be more than he seems.
I’ve never known exactly what to make of Talisid. He’s involved with a high-up faction of the Council, but what game they’re playing I don’t know. “Verus,” Talisid said with a nod. “Do you have a minute?”
I began walking towards the doors at the end of the hall. Talisid fell in beside me. “So,” I said. “Since you’re here, I’m guessing I’m either in trouble or about to get that way.”
Talisid shook his head. “Has anybody ever told you you’re a remarkably cynical person?”
“I like to think of it as learning from experience.”
“I’ve never forced you to accept a job,” Talisid pointed out.
“Yeah. I know.”
The doors opened into a stairwell. Narrow rays of sun were streaming down through slit windows of frosted glass, catching motes of dust floating in the air. They lit up Talisid and me as we climbed, placing us in alternating light and shadow. “Okay,” I said. “Hit me.”
“The task I’d like your help with is likely to be difficult and dangerous,” Talisid said. “It’s also covered by strict Council secrecy. You may not tell anyone the details, or even that you’re working for us.”
I looked over my shoulder with a frown. “Why all the secrecy?”
“You’ll understand once you hear the details. Whether to take the assignment is up to you, but confidentiality is not.”
I thought for a second. “What about Luna?”
“The Council would prefer to limit the number of people in the know as far as possible,” Talisid said. “However … due to the nature of the problem, I believe your apprentice might be of some help.” Talisid paused. “She would also be in greater danger. The decision is yours.”
We reached the top floor and stopped at the doors to the hall. “I’ll be waiting down the corridor,” Talisid said. “Once you’ve decided, come speak to me.”
“Not coming in?”
“The fewer people that know of my involvement, the better,” Talisid said. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
I watched Talisid go with a frown. I’ve done jobs for Talisid before, and while they’d generally been successful, they hadn’t been safe. In fact, most had been decidedly unsafe. If he was calling the job “difficult and dangerous” … I shook my head and pushed the doors open.
The top hall had once been a boxing gym. Chains hung from the ceiling, but the heavy bags had been removed, as had the ring at the centre. Mats covered the floor and light trickled in from windows high above. Two blocky ceramic constructions were set up at either end of the hall, ten feet tall and looking exactly like a pair of giant tuning forks.
Inside the room were five students and one teacher. Three of the students were against the far walclass="underline" a small, round-faced Asian girl, a blond-haired boy with glasses, and another boy with dark Indian skin and the turban of a Sikh who was keeping an noticeable distance from the first two. All looked about twenty or so. I didn’t know their names but had seen them around enough times to recognise them as seniors in the apprenticeship program.
The next girl I knew a little better. She was tall and slim, with black hair that brushed her shoulders, and her name was Anne. And standing close to her (but not too close) was Luna, my apprentice.
The last person in the room was the teacher. He was twenty-eight, with short dark hair and olive-tinted skin, well-dressed and affluent-looking, and he stopped what he’d been saying as I walked in. Five sets of interested eyes turned in my direction, following the teacher’s gaze.
“Hi, Lyle,” I said. “Didn’t know you’d taken up teaching.”
Lyle hesitated. “Er—”
I waved a hand. “Don’t let me interrupt. Go right ahead.” I found a spot on the wall and leant against it.
“Um.” Lyle looked from me to the students. “Er. The thing— Well, as I— Yes.” He floundered, obviously off his groove. Lyle’s never been good with surprises. I watched with eyebrows raised and an expression of mild inquiry. I didn’t feel like making it easy for him.
Lyle was one of the first Light mages I met when Richard Drakh introduced me into magical society. We’d both been teenagers then, but Lyle had a few years of experience on me: His talent had developed earlier than mine, and he’d had time to learn the ins and outs of the social game. I’d been a Dark apprentice, and there’d never been any question that Lyle would try for the Council, but all the same, we became friends. We were both the type to rely on cleverness rather than strength, and our types of magic complemented each other nicely. Our goals, unfortunately, turned out to be much less compatible.
At the time I was still feeling my way, unsure of what I wanted to be. Lyle, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted: status, advancement, prestige, a position in the Council bureaucracy from which he could work his way upwards. And when I lost Richard’s favour and with it any standing I might have had, Lyle had to choose between me and his ambitions. Supporting me would have cost him. So when I showed up six months later, alone and desperate, Lyle’s response was to pretend I wasn’t there. Under mage law, the master-apprentice relationship is sacred. An apprentice is their master’s responsibility, no one else’s. I’d defied Richard, fled from him, and it was Richard’s right to do with me as he pleased. So the Light mages shut me out. They knew Richard would come to collect his runaway, and they waited for him to finish things.