I made my preparations with more care than usual. Perimeter alarm focuses to warn me if anyone got close—my divination could do the same thing, but I wanted the extra layer of protection. Tripwires hidden in shadows between trees, where I could jump them but any pursuers wouldn’t see. Antipersonnel mines set up at key locations, where attackers would be funnelled into kill zones. Once I was done, I stepped back and studied my work.
It looked good. If anyone launched an attack, I should have more than enough time to decide whether to escape or to turn and fight. And to attack me, they’d have to find me, which would be quite a trick. I hadn’t used this site before, and in fact I hadn’t even decided to use this one at all until the very last minute. Once I started transmitting, they could track me down, but they’d have to get through my shroud, and it would be enormously difficult not to leave some warning that I’d sense well in advance. I checked back in with Luna and Karyos—they were fine. I checked in with November—he was safe in his new flat and reported nothing to be concerned about. I used the dreamstone to call Variam—he told me that he was on standby and no, he wasn’t being mobilised to go after me, and why was I sounding so worried if I wouldn’t tell him what about?
No matter what I did, I couldn’t sense any danger. Still, the uneasy feeling didn’t go away.
It was half an hour to the deadline when the first thing went wrong. The futures shifted and I could see that someone had the potential to find me. They weren’t here yet, but by the time the meeting was due to start, they’d have narrowed down my location and would be able to gate to me with little notice.
I could get away easily. But I’d spent hours preparing this site, and there was no way I’d be able to do all this setup again for a new location. Besides, if I did, what was to stop them following?
I could find some different and better-fortified location, but that would mean missing my window with the Council. That would send exactly the wrong message. I’d worked towards this for so long, I couldn’t screw it up now!
Shit. I checked the time. Twenty-seven minutes. What to do?
I paced, watching the futures grow more and more defined. I couldn’t see any evidence of actual aggression. Maybe they weren’t here for a fight.
With eighteen minutes to go, I made the decision to hold my ground. I’d wait him out, pretend he wasn’t there, and dare him to do something about it.
Fifteen minutes. Ten. I checked the futures obsessively. At this point it was pretty much useless and I knew it, but old habits die hard. Five minutes. One.
My com focus flashed exactly on time. I took a deep breath, then channelled through it. “Good afternoon, Alma,” I said. “It’s been a while.”
“Verus,” Alma said, her voice cold. “I believe you had something to discuss.”
Futures unfolded before me, different approaches, different words. Enough to tell me who was listening. “And Druss, and Bahamus, and Spire,” I said. “Oh, and can’t forget you, Undaaris.”
“We don’t have time for games,” Alma said. “Say your piece and get out.”
All of a sudden, I was calm. The focus was audio-only, but in my mind’s eye I could see the people I was talking to, sitting around the Star Chamber’s long table. Alma, straight-backed and unsmiling, grey-streaked hair framing a pair of cold eyes. Bahamus, silver-haired and aristocratic, courteous but missing nothing. Druss, a bear of a man with a thick beard. Undaaris, his eyes flicking from one person to another. And last of all, Spire, tall and silent and aloof.
But there were two more chairs around the head of that table, and right now, it was those two empty seats that the remaining members of the Senior Council would be thinking about. I’d sat at that table in the Star Chamber so many times, but always as an observer. This time I was the one in the driver’s seat.
“Oh, I’d say you quite clearly have time for games, Alma, given that for the past week you’ve done nothing else. First you stonewall me while your hunters follow my trail, then you pretend to agree to a negotiation and send a small army. You’ve tried to kill me, you’ve tried to betray me, and most importantly, you’ve wasted my time. On the positive side, this time you’re at least picking up the call yourself, which suggests you might be starting to learn from experience.”
“You have your audience, Verus,” Alma said. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” If Alma’s voice was cold, mine was ice. “You will listen to me because you are fully aware of what the consequences will be if you don’t.”
“Verus,” Bahamus cut in before Alma could reply. “Let us try to stay on point, please. I believe you have a proposal.”
“I have exactly the same proposal that I gave you a week ago. An end to hostilities. It would have saved a great many deaths if you’d taken me seriously the first time.”
“There were reasons for our decision.”
“Yes. The biggest reason was sitting in the chair to your right and he was called Levistus. That reason has now been removed.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “This really all you want, Verus?” Druss said. “Everyone walks away?”
“It’s all I wanted from the beginning. You’re the ones who’ve been making it complicated.”
“Because you still refuse to recognise what you are asking,” Alma said sharply. “You broke the Concord.”
“Deal with it.”
“You cannot break the most important laws of this country and tell the Light Council to ‘deal with it.’”
“Yes, I can.”
“Verus, be reasonable,” Bahamus said. “This is not only about you. Even if we were to overlook your . . . activities . . . the current state of your compatriot Miss Walker cannot be ignored.”
“You are directly responsible for the current state of Anne Walker,” I said. “And when I say you, I mean the Council as a whole. For years you turned a blind eye while mages like Sagash abused her. You voted to sentence her to death. After that was rescinded, Keepers reporting to Sal Sarque and Levistus attempted to kidnap and torture her, not once but multiple times. Maybe not all of you were responsible as individuals, but the Council is very much responsible as a whole, and the five of you lead the Council. And the Council treated her so badly that when she was trapped between that jinn and a Council task force, she turned to the jinn. Do you realise what it says about your behaviour that a jinn seemed like the better option?”
“Regardless of any sympathy I have for her current state—and I do have some, though you may not believe it—the fact remains that in her present condition, she is simply too dangerous. If you really want to help her, you should be trying to bring her in.”
“And if you wanted my help, you shouldn’t have sentenced us to death. Again.”
“The order was for your arrest,” Druss said.
“And how long do you think I’d have lasted in a Keeper cell?” I asked. “Whatever. I didn’t call to argue. I called to deliver a message. Do not go near me, do not go near Anne, and do not go near anyone I place under my protection. Clear?”
“We cannot simply ignore Anne,” Bahamus said.
“I will take care of Anne if it becomes necessary. Until and unless things reach that point, you will not move against her.”
“Your intentions regarding Anne Walker are irrelevant,” Alma said sharply. “You do not have the authority to make demands.”