Listening to November’s history lesson was fascinating. I’d thought that by now, when it came to the Council, I was well-informed. I’d been very wrong. November’s position had given him a bird’s-eye view of all of Levistus’s dealings, and it was eye-opening to learn how much had been going on.
For example, Levistus had had plans in place for years to have me assassinated, and the only reason he hadn’t pulled the trigger was because of all the attacks and assassination attempts I’d drawn from everyone else. Basically, he’d decided it wasn’t worth spending the resources to have me killed because there was such a good chance that if he waited long enough, someone else would do it for him. He’d been happy to point other people in my direction though: he’d been the one to supply the Nightstalkers with my name and address, and he’d had a hand in getting the Council intelligence services to order my death during the operation in Syria. Once I’d been raised to the Council, he’d been planning to step that up further, but he’d been distracted by a behind-the-scenes power struggle between him and Bahamus.
On that subject, November’s files had also contained Levistus’s notes on the other members of the Senior Council. Right at the top of the list was Undaaris, a water mage who’d been largely responsible for my first death sentence. I’d noticed for a while that Levistus seemed to have a lot of influence on Undaaris, and the files made it clear why. Undaaris had been a heavy user of White Rose before its destruction, and the report had gone into detail as to the kinds of activities he’d pursued there. With attached audio and video files. I’d unwisely had November show them to me and was forced to take a break while my digestive system tried to crawl up my throat and spit acid on my brain.
Sal Sarque had also been under Levistus’s influence, though for a different reason. Apparently back when Sal Sarque was a captain in the Order of the Star, he was given command of a sensitive operation where he screwed the pooch in a major way. It had been covered up, but not well enough. Levistus had dirt on Bahamus as well, though in his case it had taken the form of family secrets. Bahamus’s father had also been a mage, and active in Council politics. He hadn’t been as successful as his son, and his family had accumulated some of the sorts of favours that it’s a bad idea to owe. Bringing that all to light wouldn’t have brought Bahamus down, but it would have seriously damaged him. Bahamus, in turn, had evidence of Levistus’s own breaches of the Concord during the first struggle over the fateweaver, and as a result Levistus and Bahamus had settled into an uneasy truce.
That left Druss, Alma, and Spire. In Druss’s case, Levistus had turned up some irregularities concerning Druss’s past romantic relationships (of which it turned out there had been a lot). However, when Levistus had approached Druss on the subject and offered his silence in exchange for Druss’s support, Druss told Levistus to go screw himself, and Levistus backed down. Finally, with Alma and Spire, Levistus had been unable to find any significant blackmail material at all. The lack of dirt on Alma was irritating, since she’d consistently been my third-worst enemy on the Council, but that’s how life goes. Just because someone’s your enemy doesn’t mean they’re evil. Or at least no more evil than any other politician.
It was a weird thought, but in helping get rid of Sal Sarque, I might have done the Council a favour. With him and Undaaris under Levistus’s thumb, Levistus had only ever been one vote away from a straight majority. In another five years, he probably would have been running the country. I wasn’t sure how happy I was about cleaning up the Council’s messes for them, but it wasn’t as though I had much of a choice.
“Well,” I said once November had finished. “That was . . . educational. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Your Council’s problems sound familiar,” Karyos said. “Perhaps humans haven’t changed so much after all.”
“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” November said, “what are you going to do now?”
“Now?” I said. “I get back in touch with the Council and try again to call a truce.”
“Even with Levistus?”
“Even with Levistus. I’m not in this for revenge. If I can make peace, I’ll do it.”
“Ah,” November said. “I’m not sure how to say this, but . . .”
“No, I’m not going to give you back to Levistus,” I said. “Firstly I made you a promise, and secondly I wouldn’t trust him to keep any deal he made.”
“That’s certainly a relief,” November said. “But do you think you can negotiate with the Council at all?”
“Well, that’s the problem,” I said. “As long as they see me as just some turncoat mage, talking to them is going to be a waste of time. I have to make them realise that pursuing me isn’t worth it. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re going to take my word for that. Which means I’m going to have to prove it to them. And on that subject . . .” I looked at Karyos. “Remember when we were talking about how we first met? You told me you’d been to a lot of shadow realms over the course of your life. Do you still remember them all?”
“My memories are distant, but they have been growing clearer.”
I nodded. “I’m looking for a shadow realm with some particular characteristics. Specifically, a deep shadow realm.”
“What characteristics?”
I explained.
Karyos frowned. “I believe there are one or two. But much time has passed. I do not know if they may have changed.”
“It’s a place to start,” I said. “Give me the details and I’ll go check them out.”
“Do you really think these negotiations will work?” November asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The Council might decide that now I have access to your files, it’s too dangerous to try to destroy me. On the other hand, they might decide it’s too dangerous not to try to destroy me. It’s too big a decision for me to swing. I’ll just have to wait and see which way they jump.”
“When will you know?”
“I’ve already put out a feeler to Talisid,” I said. “I don’t think it’ll be long.”
—
Talisid got back to me only a couple of hours later, arranging a call for that same evening. It was nice to know I’d be getting a definite answer, but I had no idea whether it’d be a good one.
As evening approached I went to a similar location to the one I’d used for my last call, and went through a similar set of preparations. One thing was different: the futures didn’t have any Council Keepers gating in on top of me. Apparently the Council had suspended their hunting operations, which was a hopeful sign. Once I’d finished, I leant against a tree and closed my eyes. The day’s warmth had faded with the setting sun, and the breeze felt cool as it stirred my clothes and hair.
Faces swam in my mind’s eye. Cinder and Rachel. Morden and Richard. Arachne, Anne. Links and plans and traps, past and future, all shrouded in fog.
Once I’d been a simple shopkeeper. I’d had little power, but with that lack of power had come freedom. I’d lived as I pleased, and no one had noticed or cared. Now I had all the power in the world, and no freedom at all.