The figure stepped forward into the light. He—at least I thought it was a he—was clothed from head to toe in black body armour, with thick gloves and boots and a full-face helmet with an opaque visor. Not an inch of skin was visible. “Your presence is required.”
It sounded as though the guy was using a voice distorter. It’s not unknown among really paranoid Dark mages. “And you are?”
“You may call me Archon. I represent Richard Drakh.”
It was exactly what I’d known he’d say, and what I’d been desperately hoping not to hear. “Anyone can use a name,” I told him. It was a weak retort, but I was grasping at straws.
“If you doubt that I am who I say,” Archon said, “then perhaps you should contact him directly.”
I stood there for a moment, studying Archon. “You know what, I think I will,” I said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Archon stood unmoving as I withdrew back through the door. Once I was out of sight, I studied the futures in which I waited. Archon wasn’t going to move, and that, more than anything, killed any hopes I had that he was bluffing.
But I might as well play things out. I picked up my phone and dialled the number Morden had given me. He had claimed that it would put me in touch with Richard, and that it was only to be used when strictly necessary. The line rang, clicked and paused, rang again. Maybe no one would answer and I’d have an excuse to turn Archon away . . .
Click. “Hello, Alex,” the old, familiar voice said.
My heart sank. “There’s some guy called Archon at my front door.”
“Yes, I know. You may treat him as my representative in these matters. That includes following his orders. Is that understood?”
I let out a breath. “Yes.”
Richard hung up. I looked out the window. Archon was still waiting.
| | | | | | | | |
“I assume you’re satisfied with my credentials,” Archon said when I finally stepped outside.
“Let’s get on with it,” I said curtly. I’d taken the time to change into my armour, and I was carrying several items on my belt that were not the kind you’d take for a meeting with someone you trusted.
If Archon noticed, he gave no sign. He lifted a hand and a black disc appeared in front of him, the air darkening and shifting to become a portal. “This way,” he said, and stepped through.
I stared at the portal, frowning. That had looked like a gate spell, but the magic hadn’t been anything that I’d recognised. Archon hadn’t used a gate stone, but it hadn’t been the standard space-derived effect, either. How had he . . . ?
Archon’s mechanical voice floated through the portal. “Today, please, Verus.”
The gate led into a small alleyway, smelling of dust and old brickwork. The sky was lit up in faint orange, and the sounds of a city were all around. Usually mages will gate through several staging points before forming the one that leads to their destination; it’s rare to do it in a single jump. Archon led his way out of the alley, and I followed.
We’d entered an old industrial district, tall warehouses with darkened windows reaching up into an overcast sky. Trains rumbled past nearby, and from somewhere over the rooftops I could hear the mournful hoot of a boat’s horn. I’d already figured out that we were in Manchester, but I didn’t know much more than that. Instead, as we walked, I took the opportunity to study Archon. I’d never heard of or met anyone by that name before, and that on its own wouldn’t have been a cause for concern—there are lots of Dark mages who keep to themselves—but if he really was Richard’s new enforcer, then I wanted to know everything about him that I could. I looked into all the futures of my possible interactions with him, fishing for anything I could find. He was willing to talk, but not at length, and while he wasn’t going to attack me unprovoked, he’d react swiftly to aggression. The main thing that struck me as unusual was the magic he commanded. Visually it took the form of thin black strands, not especially powerful but quick and precise. I couldn’t figure out what type it was—it felt as though it should be universal, but it wasn’t anything like the darkness or radiation magic I’d seen. If anything, it seemed closest to the general multifamily spells that apprentices learn, but that didn’t make sense . . .
I didn’t have long to speculate before Archon halted in front of a warehouse complex, several differently sized buildings overtopping each other. “We are here for a negotiation,” Archon told me. “You may respond if questioned, but do not draw undue attention. I expect that the bulk of the meeting will take place between myself and two or three others. During this time, you will wait outside.”
“And do what?” I asked. “Bodyguard you?”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Then if you don’t want me as a guard and you don’t want me to talk or go into the meeting, what am I here for?”
“I believe Richard Drakh instructed you to follow my orders.”
In other words, don’t ask questions. I rolled my eyes and followed Archon in.
The inside of the warehouse held metal crates stacked on top of one another, with stairs running up to a catwalk and windows high on the walls. Six people were clustered around the far end, five men and one woman. They watched us warily as we approached.
Archon came to a stop some distance from the group. “Good evening.”
“Who are you?” one of the men said.
“We know who he is,” another man said. Something about his stance and the way he spoke made me peg him as the leader. He was thin and balding, with glasses and a hooked nose, and he watched the two of us closely. “Where’s Morden?”
“Councillor Morden is unable to attend.”
“That’s bullshit,” the first man said.
The leader flicked his eyes at the first man but kept his voice level. “We want to talk to Morden.”
“As I have told you, that is not practical,” Archon said. “Councillor Morden has sent his personal aide. That is the best you are going to get.”
The men looked at each other, and I saw one lean in to mutter something. I’d had long enough to study the group now to peg them as adepts, or something close. Magic, but not much. They were also carrying weapons, concealed but not concealed enough, and there were other adepts nearby too, hiding behind one of the doors and ready to rush in at the first sign of trouble. Whoever these people were, they didn’t trust us much.
The leader looked at me. “You’re Verus?”
“Yes,” I told him. There had been an odd inflection to his words, as though he was purposely not giving me a title and inviting me to make an issue of it.
The leader looked sideways. “It’s him,” the woman said.
“You sure?”
She nodded.
The leader turned to Archon. “All right, Archon, or whoever you are,” he said. “We’re listening.”
Archon nodded. “Wait here,” he told me, and walked forward. Most of the group fell in around him, keeping an uneasy distance from the Dark mage. One of them opened the door, leading Archon in, and three others trailed him inside. I had a brief glimpse of a lit room with a table and chairs before the door closed with a clang.
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” one of the two remaining men told me.
I looked back at him silently and saw him take an involuntary step back before steadying himself. They really are scared of me. I suppose it made sense; I’d have been scared of anyone acting as Morden’s emissary, too. I turned and headed for the door.
“Hey,” the man called. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” I said over my shoulder. “Call me when they’re done.”
“You’re supposed to . . .” the man began, then trailed off when he saw that I wasn’t stopping. I opened the warehouse door and stepped through.