It looked luxurious, almost enough to be a real palace . . . but not quite. It might have been the absence of people—the club had been designed to hold nearly a thousand, and the fifty or so figures scattered across the main floor left it feeling vast and empty—but I didn’t think it was the guests. Jagadev is the owner of the Tiger’s Palace, and there’s little love lost between him and mages. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I could feel something of his presence in the building, a kind of cold indifference. Jagadev might live amongst humans, but he doesn’t like them.
We’d attracted attention the instant we walked in, and I could see half a dozen people eyeing us from across the wide expanse of the floor. “Vari,” I said. “We’re in. Alex out.”
“Received,” Variam’s voice said into my ear.
“Here’s where the fun begins,” Luna murmured. Behind the mask, her eyes were bright with anticipation.
“I’ll take the adult mages,” I said quietly. “You cover the apprentices.”
“I’ll start with the ones on the far wall.”
“Stay in touch.” A man moved away from a group ahead of us and looked towards me. “Go.” Luna split off, angling past the duelling ring towards a cluster of Dark apprentices standing in the shadow of the balcony. The man took a few steps towards me, and I slowed to let him intercept my path.
The funny thing is that what I was trying to do here would never work at a Light ball. Light mages are so much more organised; you don’t even get in the door without an invitation, and the guest list is examined carefully. Their society is more close-knit, and even the most reclusive Light mages have colleagues. Dark society, on the other hand, isn’t really a society at all. Amongst Dark mages security and relationships are all handled on an individual level; if you have a problem, then by default it’s up to you to do something about it. While there’s a loose code of conduct, the only way rules are imposed is if the one in charge is powerful enough to enforce his will on a collection of Dark mages (rare) or if the Dark mages in question are willing to submit to him (even rarer).
Secrecy and paranoia are also much bigger deals in the Dark world—Light mages aren’t exactly trusting, but Dark mages take it to the extreme. I wasn’t the only mage here wearing a mask, and it was a safe bet that I wasn’t the only one pretending to be someone I wasn’t, either. The really paranoid mages wouldn’t be physically here at all; they’d be miles away, utilising projections or simulacra. The man in front of me wasn’t one of them, though, as far as I could tell—he was wearing a mask, but my best guess was that he was here in the flesh. “Avis,” he said with a nod.
As soon as he’d made a move towards me I’d begun searching through the futures in which I spoke to him, cross-referencing against the names I’d seen from Jagadev’s guest list. Futures flashed past, there and discarded in a fraction of a second, flick-flick-flick: Ansek, Chance, Chojan, Emerel, Ever, Fabius, Gorith—close but not quite, similar sound—there. “Ordith,” I replied.
Ordith fell into step beside me. I didn’t know anything about the man except his name and that he was a mage. He was wearing brown and silver, and radiated no magic. “Generous of you to show up.”
The tone was slightly mocking, but Ordith’s body language was cautious. “I did not come here for you to waste my time,” I told him. “Get to the point.”
I felt Ordith’s eyebrows rise. “Sensitive,” he murmured. “I was just curious about your position on the new proposal.”
What proposal? A figure caught my eye at the foot of the stairs, slim and deadly: Onyx. If Onyx was here, then so was his master, and Talisid had—I stopped and turned on Ordith. To approach me first he must be at the bottom of the chain, not the top. “Is that your game now?”
“What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “Tell Morden to run his own errands.” I was trying lines of dialogue through the futures. I didn’t need to get it perfect, just to avoid the puzzled reaction that indicated a misstep.
“Come on,” Ordith said. He was wearing a smile intended to take the edge off his words. “You’re hardly an active player.”
“I hope you aren’t expecting anything for free.” What was Morden up to? I should have paid more attention to what Talisid had been telling me. “What about Jagadev?”
“Jagadev knows not to take sides in such matters.”
I didn’t really have any idea what we were talking about but one of the things my first master drilled into us was that when you’re uncertain, you attack. “I have no intention of rearranging my plans to suit Morden’s convenience.”
Ordith’s smile didn’t change. “Morden can be quite persuasive.”
“Don’t try to threaten me. I will support whoever offers the greatest benefit—as will those I represent.”
Ordith’s smile faltered a little. “Those you—?”
“Enough,” I said curtly. I couldn’t see any way I could bring Anne into this conversation, which meant I was wasting my time. “I have other business.” I changed direction and walked away.
Without looking, I knew that Ordith was staring after me; after a moment he turned and headed towards the foot of the stairs. Maybe messing around in Dark politics wasn’t the smartest thing I could possibly be doing. Oh well.
The communicator in my ear gave a quiet two-tone beep, followed by Caldera’s voice. “Testing. Verus, do you read?”
“Receiving,” I said, turning away from the bulk of the crowd.
“We’re approaching the Tiger’s Palace. Did you manage to scout it out?”
“Yep,” I said, turning to look back over the floor. I could see an interesting-looking group of people near the stairs. “Got a really good view, actually.”
“Any guests I should know about?”
“Morden.” And possibly me, but no point worrying her with trivialities.
“Should have guessed.” Caldera broke off for a second, then resumed. “Sonder and I are ten minutes out. Keep up observation and let us know the instant something happens. Don’t go inside. Clear?”
It looked as though the one at the centre of the crowd was Morden. I started walking towards him. “Stay where I am,” I said. “Got it.”
“Good. Heading in now.” The communicator beeped as the connection closed.
For a diviner, going into the middle of a crowd like this is dangerous. The major limiting factor on how far divination magic can look into the future is unpredictability; the more variables in your surroundings, the shorter your viewing range. In a sealed room with no extraneous movement I can see ahead for hours, days if I push it. Here, I could see ahead for maybe a minute at best. Different futures branched and broke off ahead of me, shadowy and twisting, individual Dark mages noticing me, approaching, interacting, every possibility changing at a moment’s notice. The futures in which I spoke to someone broke up almost immediately, thousands of branching choices all packed in upon each other, the unpredictable elements building upon each other and multiplying into an ever-changing blur.
If something went wrong here, I’d have very little time to react. When divination’s your primary defence it’s much safer to avoid these gatherings, and that’s exactly what most diviners do: hide themselves away in some deserted location where they can see any potential threats a long way off. But divination magic works in close quarters too, as long as you don’t mind a little risk. When you’re talking face to face with someone you might be able to see ahead only a few seconds, but they’re an important few seconds, and you can learn a lot more than you would staying at home.