“This is such bullshit. So what—the guy lies low for a while, then goes right back to doing the same thing?”
Caldera didn’t answer. “Okay, this?” I said. “This is why people don’t trust the Keepers. Those adepts at the bar, how do you think they’re going to see this? They just saw one of their friends get fried right in front of them. When Torvald shows up again two or three months later and no one’s doing anything about it, what do you think their takeaway message is going to be?”
“And what do you think we should be doing?” Caldera said. “Kick Torvald’s door down, and go in shooting? Start a fight with whoever’s there, maybe end up with a few dead bodies? Is that your plan?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Really? ’Cause that’s what it sounded like. What did you think was going to happen if we got the go order? You thought Torvald would come along quietly?”
“. . . No.”
“So what? You want to see dead bodies that much?”
“I’m not looking for a fight. It’s just . . . I don’t like being able to do something about it and doing nothing.”
“No.” Caldera pointed at me. “You don’t get it. You’re not the one who makes that decision.”
I was silent. Caldera gave an irritated shake of her head and went back to her typing. “You know, if you want to be an auxiliary, you’re going to have to shift that attitude.”
“I thought the reason I was probationary was because I was a murder suspect.”
“No, that’s the reason the other Keepers have a problem with you.”
I paused at that. “Wait. Does that mean you actually trust me?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it either.”
“Let’s just say I’m not worried about you going psycho on us,” Caldera said. “But it takes a bit more than that.”
“Like?”
“You have to be part of a team,” Caldera said, looking up at me. “You’re still thinking of this as a solo act. That’s not how it works. When you’re on call, you’re part of something bigger than you, and that means you’re not in charge anymore. If head office says no, you listen to them and you drop it. You don’t pretend you didn’t hear them, and you definitely don’t go and do what they specifically told you not to do and then pretend it was all just a misunderstanding.”
“You’re still pissed about that thing at the Tiger’s Palace last year, aren’t you?”
“I know you can handle the practical side of the job,” Caldera said. “That’s not the issue. You’re on probation because I want to see if you can follow orders.”
“I haven’t broken any of your rules,” I said. “Which you should already know, given that you’ve been checking up on me.”
“That just means you haven’t done it where I can see.”
“Are you always this paranoid?”
“It’s called taking precautions. Look, just keep doing what you’ve been doing this last month and you’ll be fine. You done with your report?”
I shrugged. “Can’t exactly finish it, but it’s up to date.”
“Let’s knock off, then. You coming to Red’s?”
“Yeah. Let me pick up my stuff and I’ll meet you there.”
There were some perks to working with the Keepers.
I wasn’t a Keeper auxiliary, so I didn’t get the full package. I didn’t get a Keeper signet, or even the limited version that auxiliaries carry, and I didn’t get one of the access keys that would have let me gate in and out through the wards around the Westminster station. But I got paid, and I had a temporary access card that got me past the front desk, and it did give me a bit more status in dealing with Council personnel.
More interestingly from my point of view, it opened up a few doors I hadn’t known about beforehand. It turned out that when they weren’t on the job, Keepers were still human beings, and they had hobbies like everyone else. Shouldn’t have come as a surprise, I guess, but it’s always easy to forget that members of an institution do actually have personal lives. And one of the centres for those hobbies was Red’s.
The best way I can think of to describe Red’s is that it’s kind of like the magical version of a mixed martial arts gym. When I say “mixed,” I’m not talking about the bare-handed fights you see on TV, I mean really mixed. It’s also got a highly restricted guest list, and that list doesn’t extend to ex–Dark diviners with dubious reputations. It does extend to Keepers, though, and the more martially inclined ones hold practice sessions there on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. This was the third time Caldera had brought me along.
By the time we’d arrived and changed, things were in full swing. There wasn’t a guest teacher this time, meaning that everyone was broken up into small groups, and even though I’d seen it before, I still paused to watch. The group on the left side of the gym was practising elemental magic, shields and lances of fire and wind slamming into each other in controlled explosions. They were keeping a check on their power level, but I could still feel the heat in the air from the flame bursts. Another group was practising with rubber knives and staffs, while a third group was standing facing each other in pairs; it didn’t look as though they were doing anything, but I could feel traces of mind magic. Caldera headed off to join the weapons group, and I was left on my own.
I took a few minutes to check what sort of reception I’d get if I just walked up and introduced myself. Divining how a conversation will go is difficult; predicting the first line or two of the exchange is hard enough, and reliably calling it any further than that is virtually impossible unless the guy you’re talking to already has made up his mind about what he’s going to say. Human interactions are close to the absolute worst things to try to predict with divination—they’re too unpredictable, dependent on sudden decisions and random chance. But there are ways around it, and one of the more effective ones is not to try to predict exactly what someone will say, but to look at the general shape of the possible replies—they might vary, but from where they’re clustered, you can get a sense of what kind of reception you’re going to get. It’s a good way to figure out if somebody likes you or not.
From looking at the futures in which I approached the mages here, I was pretty sure the general answer was “not.” It’s not really a surprise. Keepers tend to lean towards the Guardian side of the political spectrum, and they aren’t the most trusting of people. As far as they’re concerned, once a Dark mage, always a Dark mage. I suppose they’ve got reasons to see it that way, but it’s hard not to get frustrated about it sometimes.
In this case, as far as receptions went, about half the Keepers in the room were going to be guarded, and most of the rest would be anywhere from unfriendly to downright hostile. They’d also noticed me—they weren’t being obvious about it, but I knew I was being watched. Following Caldera was an option, but if I kept doing that it would seem as though I were hiding behind her. Instead I approached one of the few other Keepers I knew, a mage called Haken. “Oh, hey, Verus,” Haken said. “Ready for me to kick your arse again?”
“You wish,” I said with a grin. “Give me a sec to warm up and I’ll join you.”
Haken was the same guy who’d been in Caldera’s office that first day—tall and fit, with blond hair, blue eyes, and an easygoing manner. He was also one of the few Keepers who didn’t seem to have a problem with me, and I’d liked him immediately. I picked up a focus weapon and squared off against him.
Despite our banter, the fight wasn’t very serious. Haken’s a fire mage, and while fire magic is very good at hurting things, it’s hard to use nonlethally. Fire magic has a natural tendency towards aggression and destruction, which means that fire mages tend to go one of two ways: either they learn a lot of self-control, or they’re the kind of people you really don’t want to spend time with. Haken was the self-controlled type. Although the sword of carved flame in his hands looked dangerous, the fire was tightly focused and didn’t expel much heat, and none of his strikes came close to touching my skin. I returned the favour by being careful to pull my blows. When you’re dealing with someone who’s considerate enough to restrain themselves from hurting you, it’s a good idea not to provoke them.