Anne and I arrived a few minutes early and waited out in the street. Pigeons pecked on the pavement. Every now and then a black cab would drive down the road, turning off onto the one-way system at the end, but for some reason they never seemed to stop.
Morden arrived exactly on the stroke of nine o’clock. “Anne, Verus,” he said as he walked up. “I’m glad to see you’re on time.”
Morden is a Dark mage, one of Richard’s oldest allies, and—as of last year—the first Dark mage ever to sit upon the Light Council of Britain. He’s dark-haired and dark-eyed, with smooth features, and he looks a lot younger than he is. He smiles a lot, as though at some joke that only he can see.
Even without his political power, Morden is in the top ten of the most deadly mages I know. Part of what makes him so dangerous is that he usually doesn’t reveal what he’s capable of. The last time I’d met him had been two days ago, when he’d told me that we were working for him. I’d told him no and he’d beaten me to a pulp. I’d got the message.
“You’re here on your own,” I said. Morden passed us without slowing and I followed, falling into step beside him. Anne stayed a couple of paces behind.
“You seem surprised,” Morden said.
“I was expecting an entourage.”
Morden smiled. “That would be you.”
We passed through the surface building which held the shaft down to the War Rooms. There were two Council security men on the door; they said nothing as we walked into the lift.
“Why are we here?” Anne asked once the doors had closed and we’d begun descending.
“To take up your duties,” Morden said. “You, for instance, are meeting Hieronymus from the healer corps.”
“And what about me?” I said. I couldn’t help noticing that Anne was only two steps from Morden. If she went for him, he’d have very little time to react. I could sense spells layered within Morden’s body, and if there’s any other magic type that can withstand the touch of a life mage, it’s death magic, but Anne is very good at what she does . . .
Anne’s eyes met mine, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. I glanced up at the corner of the lift to see the half sphere of a security camera. Later.
“You’ll be working as my personal aide,” Morden said. “When you aren’t otherwise occupied with your new duties as a Keeper.”
The doors opened and we stepped out into a large rectangular chamber. There was no indication of how far down we were, but I knew it was a long way. The walls were made of grey stone, flecked with tiny white sparks which gleamed in the light, and on the far side were more lifts; one had just opened, and people were filing out. There was a set of security gates to the left, with a small queue and a team of Council security questioning them one at a time, but Morden walked straight past and a gate swung open at his approach. The security men gave us flat looks but didn’t get in our way. The gate swung shut behind Morden, and Anne had to hop forward to avoid being caught.
“So I’m your PA now?” I asked Morden.
“So to speak,” Morden said. Another mage in formal robes passed us in the hall, and Morden gave him a nod and a smile. The other mage nodded cautiously back, then swivelled to stare once he thought we weren’t watching.
I looked sideways at Morden. I don’t know much about Light Council politics, but I do know that the position of personal aide to a Council member is high status. One of my old acquaintances, Lyle, is the aide to a Senior Council member called Undaaris, and getting there had taken him fifteen years. “That seems like a very senior position.”
“You’re welcome.”
“As in, the kind of position that’d normally be given to someone with a little more experience.”
“I have every confidence that you will be up to the challenge.”
I decided to abandon subtlety. “You’ve already got a Chosen. Why me?”
“Despite Onyx’s many and varied strengths, I felt after due deliberation that this particular position might prove a poor match for someone of his particular qualifications.”
In other words, he’s a violent sociopath with poor impulse control. But something didn’t add up—Morden had been on the Council for nearly a year. “Have you really gone this long without an aide?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve had two,” Morden said. “Unfortunately, they’ve had rather poor luck. The first disappeared in the summer and the second committed suicide.”
“Suicide?” Anne asked.
“Yes, it seems the stress of the position proved too much for him. He broke all his fingers, cut his own throat, then set himself on fire.”
Anne and I stared at Morden. Morden kept walking.
“He set himself on fire,” I said at last.
“Yes.”
“After cutting his own throat.”
“One has to admire his sheer dedication to avoid counselling,” Morden said. “As a point of interest, the Crusaders had recently approached him in the hope of gaining some insight into the names and details of my supporters. The Keepers assure me that this fact is entirely unrelated to the case.”
Anne didn’t answer, and neither did I. All of a sudden, those mages watching me made me feel a lot less comfortable.
We emerged from the hallway into the Belfry, the central crossroads of the War Rooms. Circular pillars ran up to buttresses and a high arched ceiling, and mages and clerks and functionaries walked across the coats of arms engraved on the grey-white floor. A mage was standing by an alcove nearby, and Morden led us towards him. “Ah, Hieronymus,” Morden said. “I’ve brought your newest recruit.”
“You’re really going through with this?” the mage said in a sour voice. He was grey-haired, with a narrow, pinched face, and he wore robes with the staff-and-serpent insignia of a healer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Morden said blandly.
“Waste of my bloody time,” Hieronymus muttered, then turned to Anne. “So this is her?”
“This is Mage Anne Walker, yes,” Morden said. “Anne, meet Mage Hieronymus, the operations manager of the healer corps. He’ll be providing your orientation.”
“‘Mage’?” Hieronymus said with a snort. “Get something clear, Morden. I’m only doing this because the Council ordered me to. I might have to take her in, but I’m not putting her to work.”
“Go with him please, Anne,” Morden said. “Once you’re done, you’re free for the rest of the day.”
Anne hesitated, and I didn’t blame her, but Hieronymus had turned and started marching away. Anne gave me a last glance, then hurried after him.
“Oh, stop looking after her as though she’s going into the dragon’s den, Verus,” Morden said. “She’ll be quite all right. Now come on, we’ll be late.”
| | | | | | | | |
The doors Morden led me to were ones I’d never gone through before. From what I’d been told, the route we were following led to the Star Chamber, the meeting room where the Council actually sits. I’d never seen it, and I was curious to lay eyes on the place, but Morden stopped me. “You’ll wait here.”