“So what are his plans?”
“What exactly are you expecting me to do here?” I said. “Break into Morden’s office and grab a PowerPoint presentation lying on his desk titled ‘World Domination in Six Easy Steps’? Here’s an idea for you. Has it occurred to you that Morden might know perfectly well that I’m giving you these reports?”
Talisid’s voice was suddenly alert. “Has he hinted at that?”
“No,” I said. “And no, I wasn’t traced to where I am right now, and yes, I’ve taken precautions. The point I’m making is that it doesn’t matter. I could be the perfect employee and do everything Morden possibly wants, and he still isn’t going to trust me with anything top secret, because he’s not fucking stupid.”
“But do you think he suspects anything?”
I closed my eyes and banged my head against the headboard. “Jesus Christ.”
“All right,” Talisid said, his voice soothing. “I hear what you’re saying.”
“Right from the start, you knew that Morden was the face of Richard’s operation,” I said. “He can’t exactly do that if he’s breaking the Concord every five minutes, can he? If you want my advice, you’d spent less time looking at Morden and more time at whatever the hell Archon’s doing.”
“Has there been another meeting?”
I’d seen Archon twice more since our first encounter in February. He’d returned in late March, and again in April. One of the meetings had been in Birmingham, and one in London, but other than the location, things had gone pretty much the same way. We’d been met by a bunch of adepts, who’d questioned me to make sure I was really Morden’s aide, then they’d all disappeared into a private room. There had been no more opportunities to eavesdrop, but if Archon knew I’d been spying on him that first time, he hadn’t given any hint of it. “Not since April,” I said.
“Hm.”
“I don’t understand why you haven’t moved on this,” I said. “The whole reason you wanted me as a spy was to know Richard’s plans. Now that I’m reporting on them, you don’t seem to care.”
“We care very much,” Talisid said. “But it’s Morden who’s the priority now.”
“And the whole reason that Archon’s bringing me along to these meetings is so that I can represent Morden.”
“But not officially,” Talisid said. “He’s being too careful for that. Even if we could prove that this Archon is involved in something illegal with these adepts—which is by no means certain—there’s no direct link to Morden. Without that, there’s no case.”
And that’s what you really care about, I thought. The Guardians and Crusaders hated having a Dark mage on the Council. “What about the adepts Archon’s been talking to?”
“We’ve done some follow-up,” Talisid said. “Several of them have links to political groups—agitating for changes to the Concord, that sort of thing. Nothing serious.”
“You haven’t found out anything more?”
“We don’t want to tip our hand just yet.”
I was silent. What Talisid had told me didn’t seem like much to have turned up in all this time, and I had a feeling I knew why. Adepts just aren’t taken seriously by the Council, and Talisid probably had standing orders not to report further on the subject unless something changed.
And that worried me. Yes, adepts are less powerful than mages, and they don’t have anything like the organisation of the Council, but there are a lot of them. By most estimates there aren’t much more than five thousand mages in all of Britain. The exact number of adepts is hard to pin down, but I’ve heard guesses ranging between five and twenty times that. The idea of Richard having dealings with them made me uneasy, but I didn’t see what I could do about it. Talisid had no more news, and after a few more exchanges he hung up.
The summons came two days later.
| | | | | | | | |
“And if Tarantis comes asking about Columbia, tell him that I’m willing to meet with him privately to discuss the matter,” Morden said. “Give him the usual number, but be sure to make it clear that none of his Guardian associates will be welcome.”
“Sure,” I said. We were just leaving the War Rooms, walking out from the entrance hall. It was a warm summer’s day, but the high buildings all around blocked out the sunlight. “What about the War Rooms security?”
“Tell them whatever you like.”
“They’re still convinced that you might know something about any possible attacks,” I said. Recently a rumour had been going around that Dark mages were planning some kind of assault on Council headquarters. The Keepers hadn’t been able to turn up any evidence for the claim, but it had still provoked a flurry of activity.
“I really have no interest in enabling their paranoia,” Morden said. “But if they insist on an official response, then tell them that it is my personal opinion that their fears are exaggerated and that the War Rooms will be equally safe whether they enact new security measures or not.”
Probably my biggest surprise in the five months I’d spent working for Morden had been coming to realise that he wasn’t actually a bad boss. He was ruthless with any challenges to his authority, but as long as I didn’t do that, he was fairly easygoing. He didn’t threaten or bully, or give me pointless tasks just for the sake of it. Oddest of all, he actually seemed willing to listen. He’d rarely change his plans based on my input, but he did pay attention, and if I didn’t understand what he was doing, then he’d take the time to fill me in.
I suppose it sounds weird for me to talk like that about someone who’d threatened to murder my entire family, and I have to admit, it’s a bit hard to explain. I suppose the best way to put it is that Dark mages are a known quantity to me. Morden had never pretended to be anything other than what he was. As far as he was concerned, authority derived from power. He had power over me; therefore I was under his authority. A equals B equals C. I might not like it, but I could live with it.
Then again, it might also have been because all the Light mages kept treating me as a Dark mage. When you’re surrounded week in, week out by people constantly lumping you in with a particular group, it’s hard not to start thinking of that group as “your side” and the others as “their side.” I’d caught myself falling into that trap over the past month, and each time I’d had to remind myself that I wasn’t doing this by choice.
“Oh,” Morden said. “One more thing.”
I paused, having just turned to go. “Richard has a job for you,” Morden said. He tossed me a small pouch and I caught it reflexively. “Report to that address tomorrow morning.”
“What?”
“Address in the pouch, tomorrow before noon,” Morden said. “Don’t be late.” He started to turn away.
“Wait.”
Morden looked back at me. “Is there a problem?”
“What is it?” I said. It wasn’t the most coherent of questions, but I was off guard.
“A gate stone.”
“I’ve got a gate stone for the mansion,” I said.
“You’re not going to Richard’s mansion.” Morden smiled. “That stone is for Vihaela’s shadow realm. You’ll be reporting to her for instructions. Good luck.” He turned and walked away.
| | | | | | | | |
With hindsight, I wonder whether Morden went out of his way to tell me the day before just to make me sweat. If he did, it worked. I did not have a good night’s sleep.
The next morning found me in Plymouth, standing on a narrow, sloping street near the city centre. A fresh breeze was blowing from the south, carrying the smell of salt air, and the sky was cloudless and blue. I was standing outside a tall building made of grey stone blocks with high windows. Carved into the stone were the words STOKEDAMEREL HIGH SCHOOL FOR GIRLS. According to the directions Morden had given me, the access point to Vihaela’s shadow realm was somewhere inside. I couldn’t see a door.