Forged

by Benedict Jacka

  In the end, I couldn’t come up with anything better than my original plan. I left formal meeting requests with the Council via two different sources. Usually I’d have just called Talisid, but either he was still stuck in that deep shadow realm or he wasn’t answering his phone.

  I heard back from the Council within the hour. Apparently I finally had their attention. As afternoon came, I prepared for what I hoped would be the last time I’d ever have to speak to them.

  chapter 13

  I stepped out of my cottage to find Karyos and Luna waiting in the clearing. “Heard from Vari?” I asked Luna.

  “Yeah, he’s on standby. Again.” Luna shook her head. “I can’t believe Levistus is finally dead.”

  I shut the door behind me. “Wanted to settle the score yourself?”

  “No, I got over that way of thinking a long time ago. You really think you can pull this off?”

  “One way or another. You good to stay here for a few hours?”

  Luna frowned. “Be nice if you’d tell me why.”

  I sighed. “I wish I knew.”

  “You could always try, I don’t know, divining the future.”

  “Don’t be snarky,” I told her. “I’ve tried. No matter how I conduct this audience with the Council, I can’t see any direct threat.”

  “So what are you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “That’s the problem. The futures look . . . volatile. I can’t see any threat right now, but that could change. And the sort of interview I’m about to have, with lots of unpredictability and decision points, is exactly the kind of thing that’s virtually impossible to see past.”

  “But why do you want me here and not in my shop?” Luna asked. “If the Keepers are watching, it’s going to look suspicious as hell.”

  “I know, but if anything happens, the Hollow’s a lot better protected. Please, Luna, just do this as a favour. It’ll put my mind at rest.”

  Luna shrugged. “Well, I suppose I didn’t have anything really important to do. I’ll stay here till you get back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why did you also warn me?” Karyos asked. “You believe the Council will connect us?”

  “Honestly, no,” I said. “It’s much simpler than that. I’ve lost too many people I care about by now, and you’re two of the only ones left. I’d have asked Vari to stay here as well if I thought he’d do it.”

  “Yeah, fat chance,” Luna said. “Shouldn’t you be going?”

  “Yes,” I said. But I still hesitated. “Hermes is here, right?”

  Luna rolled her eyes. “Will you stop fussing? Look, we put up the gate wards on this place together. If the Council or someone else decides to break in, we are going to have more than enough time to do something about it. Now how about you start worrying about the problem you actually have?”

  I wanted to say that Levistus’s shadow realm had had gate wards, too, and that hadn’t stopped me. But I knew that Luna’s response would be to ask whether there was anyone else running around with a fateweaver, and I’d have to answer no. There was still Richard to worry about, but if Richard had wanted to go after Luna, he’d had more than enough chances already and he hadn’t seemed to—

  “Alex,” Luna said. “You’re going to be late.”

  “All right. I’ll come back as soon as I have news.”

  * * *

  —

  I gated to the spot I’d picked out for my audience with the Council. It was a clearing in a forestry area in Wales, in a dip between two hills. I’d picked out a selection of spots like this before my first time contacting the Council, and this was number three of ten. The others had been mostly in North and South America, but Wales felt appropriate. A lot of things had started here; this was a good place for them to end.

  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 b
etray 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.”

  “My authority is the two empty seats at your table.”

  Alma’s voice was cold and menacing. “Are you attempting to threaten us?”

  “That was not me threatening you,” I said. “This is me threatening you.” I leant forward and put every bit of my intensity into my voice. “There were seven of you at that table when you voted to sentence me to arrest and interrogation and death, and when you sent those Keepers to hunt me to the corners of the earth. There were six of you at that table when you refused my offer of a ceasefire and ordered Talisid’s team to ambush me. There are five of you at that table now. If you refuse my offer again, I will continue this war with every resource and ally at my disposal. I will use the information from Levistus’s files to sow discord in your ranks and destroy your base of support. I will ally with your enemies and use the information I’ve gathered over the years to strike where you are most vulnerable. And if that still doesn’t work, then I will come after you personally. I will arrange your destruction at the hands of others, as I did Sal Sarque, and I will kill you with my own hands, as I did Levistus. I will hunt you down one by one, so that there are four of you around that table, then three, then two, and if you still won’t listen then I will keep going until every last member of the Senior Council is dead and the Star Chamber is empty except for a records clerk sitting in an empty room!”

  There was dead silence. I could almost hear the shock. No one spoke to the Council like that.

  “You overreach yourself.” Alma tried to rally. “You were fortunate against Levistus. You will not be so lucky again.”

  “Do you have any idea how many mages before you have told me that? Last night it was Levistus, and Lorenz and Caldera, and Levistus’s adepts, and Levistus’s security. Before that it was Talisid and his team. Before that it was Symmaris. Before that it was Jagadev. Before that it was Sal Sarque. Before that it was Onyx and Pyre. Every last one of them at some point looked at me, weighed up what they thought they knew, and decided that they liked their chances. Every last one of them is now defeated, dead, or both. So when you decide you can take me, Alma, I want you to understand very clearly that you are just the latest in a line of hundreds of people who thought the exact same thing!”

  “Is that really all you’re bringing to the table, Verus?” Bahamus asked. “Threats?”

  “Yes. Because for all your talk of law and stability, the only thing that you and the rest of the Council have ever really respected is power and the threat of force. There’s no real difference between you and the Dark mages. You’re both playing the same game; you’re just on different teams. So let me make this very clear. You will accept this ceasefire and you will stop coming after me or I will destroy you.”

  There was no sound at all from the focus. Seconds ticked by.

  “We will consider your proposal,” Bahamus said at last in an expressionless voice.

  “Consider, then choose,” I said. “I’ll be waiting.”

  The focus went dead. I stood in the clearing. Far overhead, clouds drifted in a clear sky. I watched the futures shift.

  It was fifteen minutes later that the focus reactivated. “Verus?” Bahamus said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We have . . . after some consideration . . . decided to accept your proposal,” Bahamus said. “We will cease any offensive operations against you and your immediate associates. Your legal status will become that of an unaffiliated mage. In exchange, you will undertake to take no aggressive action against us or provide any assistance to our enemies in the current war. Further details will be negotiated at a later date. Is this acceptable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” Bahamus paused. “I hope we can develop a better relationship in the future.”

  “I really don’t care,” I said. “Good-bye.”

  I cut the focus. The light on the item went out and the connection went dead. I let out a long, slow breath.

  And then, from the trees, I heard the sound of clapping.

  I turned to see Morden step out into the clearing. The Dark mage was smiling. “Very well done,” he told me.

  “On the one hand, thanks,” I said. “On the other, could you be a little less patronising?”

  “My apologies,” Morden said. “But I meant it sincerely. You conducted your negotiation skilfully and with force.”

  “I suppose I should take the compliment. What are you doing here, Morden?”

  “Nothing very important. This is more of a social visit.”

  “Tracking me down after the amount
of work I put in to stay undetected today is not my definition of a social visit.”

  “I suppose I could have left a phone call, but I felt this would be a better way of getting your attention.”

  “Okay, you’ve got it,” I said. My guard was still very much up. I couldn’t sense any danger, but I wasn’t going to relax until I was back in the Hollow. “What do you want?”

  “It’s a courtesy notice, really,” Morden said. “I thought I should inform you of my retirement.”

  I blinked. “Your what?”

  “I feel as though the time has come for me to exit the political sphere,” Morden said. “The British one, at least.”

  “And do what? Teach adepts?”

  “Possibly. I took up the practice through necessity but I’ve discovered I quite enjoy it.”

  “Right,” I said. “I don’t want to come across as discouraging here, but I don’t think the Council is going to take ‘I’m retiring to become a teacher’ as a valid reason to leave you alone.”

  “Not if presented that way, no,” Morden said. “Which brings me to the other reason I was observing your negotiations. I had something of a personal interest in your success.”

  I frowned.

  “The Council and I have been in contact,” Morden said. “They are currently under the impression that you and I are acting as associates.”

  “I’m not working for you anymore.”

  “I didn’t say you were. Still, given the assistance I’ve provided . . . and that you requested . . . it’s not an unreasonable conclusion.”

  I started to answer, then paused. I’d approached Morden in his shadow realm, and it had been on his guidance that I’d attacked Heron Tower. Then he’d helped with that diversion last night as well . . . “I suppose not,” I said. “Though I don’t see—”