“Don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” I said. “Let’s put this another way. I think you were at the audience last night?”
Darren didn’t answer. “I’m sure you saw what happened,” I went on. “Miss Walker’s disappearance has caused . . . disruption. We’d be interested in resolving this with as little fuss as possible.”
“Yeah? So who’s this guy?”
“Some individuals who value their privacy,” I said. “They also want Miss Walker back—alive and in good condition. That’s not negotiable.”
I felt Darren tense slightly, and the futures of violence loomed larger. “On the other hand,” I said, “they aren’t unreasonable. They’d be willing to compensate you for her safe return.”
Darren looked at me for a long moment, and I felt the futures shift and swirl. “You a mage?”
Divination spells can’t generally be detected by magesight. My armour’s a different story, but the greatcoat I was wearing was long enough to cover it and there was a good chance that Darren wouldn’t be able to see any magical auras when he looked at me. “Does it matter?”
“How come you’re talking to me?”
“Because you’re the one who did the job,” I said. “Look, I don’t see any need for your name to come into this, as long as we can work this out. Why should someone like Anne Walker matter to you, anyway? You can have any other girl. Just not this one.”
Darren studied me. “Sounds like you haven’t told anyone else.”
Uh-oh. I kept still. “Don’t get stupid.”
“Oh, you think I’m stupid? Yeah, I guess you do, Verus.” Darren tilted his head. “You think I didn’t know?”
Shit, shit, shit. The futures were still branching, but now all of them looked bad. “Who I am doesn’t matter.” I kept my voice calm. “You—”
“I think it matters,” Darren said, and my heart sank as I saw the way he was standing. “I think it matters a lot. See, the way I heard it, you’re a rogue. Council doesn’t like you, Dark mages don’t like you . . . You know what I think? I don’t think there’s a bunch of mages behind you. You’re all on your own.” He took a step forward, squaring his stance.
I held quite still, flicking through the possible futures. Violence, violence, excessive violence, really excessive violence . . . New plan.
“You’re supposed to be pretty good, right?” Darren cocked his head. I felt magic beginning to build, and black light flickered at his hands. “Let’s see how you do against the real thing.”
I held still a moment longer, then my composure broke. “Okay, okay!” My voice cracked, became high and wavering. “It wasn’t my idea!”
Darren stared at me. I drew back, raising my hands. “I didn’t want to do this! I don’t even know her, it’s nothing to do with me. Just let me go, okay? I’ll do anything you want!”
“That was it?” Darren said, staring. “That’s the best you got?”
“It’s not me, I didn’t want to get involved, they made me. I just wanted—”
“Shut up,” Darren said. He raised his voice. “I said shut up! Jesus, this is pathetic.”
“No, you’re going to kill me, I know you are—oh God, please don’t, I’ll do anything.” I dropped to one knee, my hands out, pleading. “Please, I’ll do anything you say, just don’t kill me, it’s not my fault—”
“Will you shut the fuck up already?”
“Please don’t kill me, please, I’m begging you—”
“This is just fucking embarrassing.” Darren looked at me in disgust. “I thought you were supposed to be tough.”
I kept begging and pleading. “What a waste of time,” Darren muttered. He’d dropped his spell, and now he walked forward to give me a kick. “Get—”
Interesting bit of trivia: most men will instinctively shield their groin against a kick, but not against a punch. A rising leg registers as a threat, but a dropping hand doesn’t. Another bit of trivia: you can lunge really hard from one knee.
My fist slammed into Darren’s crotch with my weight behind it, and he doubled over, his eyes bugging out. I surged to my feet and caught Darren’s kicking leg on the way up, lifting it up and over his head. He tumbled over; he was clearly in agony but a black shield flickered into life around him just as my heel came down.
Against a veteran Dark mage, none of this would have worked. They wouldn’t have let their guard down so easily in the first place, and their shield would have been strong enough to hold off the blows. Too bad for Darren that he wasn’t a veteran. I stomped on Darren while he was still down and nauseated, slamming my foot down onto him again and again in short, brutal, rib-breaking kicks. The shield took the worst of the impact and the death energy stung my ankles but it wasn’t enough to hold them off, and the rain of blows thudding into his body kept Darren stunned and off-balance, unable to counterattack. A kick landed in his kidney and he convulsed, his shield winking out. I yanked a slim silver needle from one pocket and stabbed it into his thigh. Green light flickered and I saw the spell flash through Darren’s body. He jerked, then his eyes rolled up and he went limp.
I straightened, heart racing. Check surroundings, check the futures . . . no threats, everything was clear. I looked down at Darren and saw that he was out cold. “Well, shit,” I said to no one in particular.
The focus I’d just used was a nerve scrambler; it disrupted signals to a living brain. Enough to keep someone out for a few minutes but no more—I had to move fast. I rolled Darren onto his back; there was blood on his face from where one of my kicks had cut his forehead, but I ignored it and started going through his pockets, tossing out the contents. Money, keys, wallet, phone . . .
“Well, hello there,” I murmured. The object was a fluted rod eight inches long, ringed at either end, and it radiated magic. I know a gate stone when I see one. I looked through the futures in which I activated it and . . . yes, this was it.
Now what was I going to do about its owner?
I looked down at Darren, flicking quickly through possibilities. Keeping him restrained was not an option. My scrambler was discharged, and I didn’t have anything else that’d keep him unconscious. Anne would have been able to do it easily . . . why do you always need a mage’s abilities when they’re not there?
(For the record, no, at no point did I consider just killing him, and I suppose some of you are wondering why. Point one: killing the apprentice of a recognised mage would violate the Concord and would give Sagash full grounds to demand that the Keepers arrest me. Point two: it would escalate things and cut off any possibility of negotiation with Sagash, which was still a viable way of resolving this even if it was getting less likely by the minute. Point three: What the hell is wrong with you? You seriously think I want to be responsible for more dead kids? Jesus.)
I could take the focus and find the others, but as soon as Darren woke up he’d miss it and raise the alarm. They’d put a guard on the shadow realm’s entrance . . . assuming they hadn’t done that already . . .
. . . why not take a look and see?
I quickly looked through the futures in which I tried the gate stone; some failed unpredictably, making the path unstable, but by piecing them together I managed to get a vague impression of what was waiting for me. I ignored details, looking for encounters or danger, and couldn’t sense either. No security—that was strange. That couldn’t last.
On the other hand, the front door was open now . . .
When in doubt, attack. I grabbed Darren’s phone and pocketed it, then started channelling my magic into the rod, using it as a focus. As I did I pulled out my own phone and speed-dialled Luna’s number. It went to voice mail and I dialled again. This time she picked up.