A voice spoke from across the table. “Bahamus.”
Bahamus turned. The man addressing him looked to be in his fifties, though I knew he was older, with thinning white hair and odd eyes that were so pale they were almost colourless. His name was Levistus, and he was quite possibly the worst enemy I had.
“You are needed for a closed session of the Senior Council,” Levistus said.
Bahamus frowned. “Can this wait?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Bahamus sighed and looked at me. “We’ll have to continue this later. I’ll contact you after the meeting.”
“All right.”
Bahamus left. Levistus’s pale eyes rested briefly on me, then he turned away.
Anne was waiting outside the Star Chamber. “That took a while.”
“Usual holdups.”
Half a dozen other mages were scattered around, though there was a general movement out. The end of the Council meeting signalled the last phase of the workday in the War Rooms. Various mages would stay for after-hours meetings, but from this point on the population would drop steadily.
Any trouble? Anne asked through the dreamstone.
Not so far. Did you hear back from the Keepers?
We kept up a mental chat as we made our way back to my office. Once there, I caught up on work while I waited for Bahamus to contact me. Half an hour passed, then an hour. An hour and a quarter. An hour and a half.
I looked at the clock in annoyance. “What’s taking him so long?”
“What’ll happen if you call him?” Anne asked.
“No answer. Nothing from Druss either.”
“Are they ever going to get in touch?”
I tapped my fingers on the desk, looking ahead. Unfortunately, the futures were murky. It’s easy to predict events that have already been set in motion, but it looked as though in this case, the key decisions had yet to be made. There were flickers of futures in which I had incoming calls, but all the most likely possibilities involved Anne and me sitting around for more than an hour.
“Forget it,” I said at last. “Let’s head to Arachne’s.”
The sun was dipping low by the time Anne and I arrived on Hampstead Heath. The western sky was lit up in oranges and reds, long shadows stretching out across the grass and down towards the ponds below. Shouts and snatches of laughter drifted on the summer breeze. Anne and I emerged from the ravine we use for gating and touched the entry node to Arachne’s cave. Arachne answered after only a moment, and we disappeared beneath the ground. The earth closed up behind us.
As always, I felt myself relax as we walked into Arachne’s cave. Warm lights glowed from around the rock walls, reflecting off a hundred pieces of cloth and silk. There are only really two places I feel safe these days, Arachne’s cave and the Hollow, and I’ve been coming to Arachne’s cave for much longer. While I’m at the War Rooms—and most other places, for that matter—I have to constantly be looking ahead and watching for threats, and it’s exhausting. You can’t live like that 24/7, not if you want to keep your sanity.
I sprawled out on a sofa and got to work on my correspondence while Anne chatted with Arachne. The two of them have always got on well for whatever reason: usually when I introduce someone to Arachne there are problems, but Anne and Arachne seemed to fall into a friendly relationship immediately. Arachne worked away on something as the two of them talked, her legs moving more quickly than usual.
“There,” Arachne said at last. She picked up the article of clothing to hang from her front two legs. “Finished.”
I glanced up from my keyboard to look. It was a dress, black with shoulder straps, but I was more interested in what my magesight showed me. The thing had a magical aura, and it was strong: close to my armour, if not on a par with it. The spells that made it were integrated, smoothly woven in a way that made them hard to identify, though they had the feel of living and universal magic.
“It’s amazing,” Anne said.
“And powerful,” I said. “What’s it for? Wouldn’t work well as armour with that much of the arms bare.”
“Thank you, Anne,” Arachne said with a pointed look at me. “Not everything is about combat effectiveness.”
“Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re going to wear something that’ll catch that much attention, you might as well build some protection in.”
“Protection comes in different forms,” Arachne said. “I’m glad I could finish this in the end. Balancing its compatibility with its internal growth was more difficult than I’d expected.”
“It is alive, isn’t it?” Anne said, studying the dress in fascination. “Who’s it for?”
“Who do you think?”
Anne paused. “Me?”
“Of course, you,” Arachne said. She laid the dress down on the table, folding it neatly. “It needs a little more time to grow, but the spells are done. It should be fully matured in a couple of days.”
Anne hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s beautiful, but . . . isn’t it a lot of work for something you’d only wear on special occasions?”
“Actually, it’s designed for long-term wear,” Arachne said.
“Is it an A-line?”
“More of a skater dress than an A-line.”
“Well, I’ve no idea what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’d look good on you,” I told Anne. “What’s the matter?”
“I’d feel bad about taking something like that if I wasn’t going to use it often enough,” Anne admitted. “Isn’t an imbued dress like that really valuable?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I’d have got you one long ago if it was just about cost. I’ve been trying to talk you into wearing something more protective for years.”
“If I wear something like that, everyone is going to look at me.”
“They’re going to do that anyway.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What, you’d rather have something more modest?”
“Well . . .”
A chime rang out, echoing around the cave. “What was that?” I asked Arachne.
Arachne had picked up the folded dress and was placing it in a small enclave in the wall. At the sound of the chime, she’d stopped moving. “Arachne?” I asked.
Arachne stayed still for another moment, then sealed the enclave behind a panel. “The perimeter alarm.”
Anne and I stared. “The what?”
Arachne was moving to the other side of the room. I shook myself, then path-walked, looking into the future to see what would happen if I went outside. Up the tunnel, out the door, and— “Oh shit.”
“Who’s out there?” Anne asked.
“A small fucking army.” The futures had dissolved into violence, weapons fire, and spells. Lots of spells. “Armed men and magic-users. Adepts and mages, three at least, probably more.”
Anne looked up towards the tunnel in alarm. “What should we do?”
I hesitated. Anne and I had made contingency plans for dozens of situations, but in most cases the plans revolved around breaking contact and getting somewhere safe. Arachne’s cave was the safest place we had.
A noise blared, loud and discordant. Arachne had been moving around the cave, activating devices; now she paused. “What’s that?” Anne asked.
“The communication focus,” I said. “But it shouldn’t sound like . . .”
A voice spoke from the wall, loud and harsh. “To the inhabitants of this cave: you are ordered under the authority of the Light Council of Britain to open this door and submit to questioning. Failure to do so will be considered a violation of the Concord and will be enforced by any means necessary, up to and including the use of deadly force. You have thirty seconds to comply.”
Anne stood very still. I looked ahead to see what would happen if we didn’t answer. They weren’t bluffing. Actually, it was worse than that—the men outside were going to shoot first and ask questions later. When a Council team is operating under those rules of engagement, it means one of two things: either they’re sure the suspects are guilty, or they don’t care.