‘Wait,’ a third voice said. Deleo stepped in front of me. She was still wearing her mask, and her eyes watched me coldly. ‘Give him a second.’
Cinder glowered but obeyed, and a moment later my head cleared. Cinder’s grip was digging painfully into my shoulders; I didn’t think I’d have much chance of breaking it even without the other mages in front of me. ‘Using the annuller was very neat,’ Deleo said once I’d gotten my breath back. Her voice was calm. ‘It stopped us from tracking down your girlfriend. So we decided it would be simpler to track you instead. We knew you’d go back to the museum. All we had to do was wait for you to leave.’ She leant in close, her blue eyes staring into mine, and there was a sudden fire burning behind them. ‘I told you this wasn’t over.’
I looked back at Deleo silently.
Deleo drew back, calm once again. ‘You’re leaving this warehouse in one of two ways. With us to where you hid that cube, or in a bag. Choose fast.’
I hesitated. Cinder grinned. Khazad was staring down at the floor. Deleo nodded. ‘Go ahead, Cinder. Start with his legs.’
‘Wait,’ I said quickly, trying to think. I needed time.
But as I spoke, Khazad did as well. ‘Something’s wrong.’
Cinder and Deleo looked at him, frowning. Khazad was staring around at the walls. ‘There’s something …’ His head snapped around. ‘A ward. This place is warded!’
‘They’re ours,’ Cinder grunted. He didn’t relax his grip, and didn’t look pleased to be interrupted.
‘Besides ours, you idiot! Someone’s been inside!’
‘That’s impossible,’ Deleo said. ‘No one could have gotten through the defences without us noticing.’
‘And I’m telling you they did!’ Khazad shook his head. ‘It’s too risky. We should kill him and go.’ Black energy flared up around his hand, and I knew my time was up.
But before Khazad could strike, a voice spoke from one side. ‘Your attention, please.’
Cinder dropped me to the concrete with a thump as he spun around. A man with dark hair and dressed in black had stepped out from behind a pile of crates. It was Morden.
If Morden was bothered by the sight of three Dark mages a hair’s breadth from attacking, he gave no sign of it. ‘Good morning, all of you.’ His voice was pleasant, and he held his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Cinder, Khazad, I’d prefer if you attempted no attacks.’
‘You said it was clear!’ Cinder hissed at Khazad under his breath.
‘I said we should go! If you hadn’t screwed up-’
Deleo made a quick motion and Cinder and Khazad fell silent. All three seemed to have forgotten me completely, their attention locked on Morden. ‘Master Morden,’ Deleo said levelly. ‘I don’t think this is your concern.’
‘Oh, don’t take it personally, Deleo.’ Morden sounded quite friendly. ‘You’ve done very well. But now it’s time you came with me.’
‘Thank you for the offer,’ Deleo said, her voice carefully controlled. ‘The answer is still no.’
Morden smiled then, just slightly. ‘I’m afraid you’re under a misconception, Deleo. This time you’re not being given a choice.’
Deleo stood quite still. Khazad took a pace forward, and his voice was soft and deadly. Black energy flared around his right hand. ‘There’s three of us and one of you, old man.’
I craned my neck, trying to look around, but Morden seemed to be alone. I wanted to run but knew any movement would draw everyone’s attention. ‘Yes, yes,’ Morden said tolerantly. ‘Bravado is all very well, but please realise you’re in no position to argue. Now, I’m quite impressed you were able to detect the carrier ward, but if you think for a moment you should realise there must be many more, and quite frankly, at your level of ability-’
‘Shut up!’ Khazad said with a snarl. ‘I can see your ward! It’s nothing!’
Morden sighed. ‘Do pay attention, Khazad. As I was saying, behind that ward are many others, and all of you are well within the blast radius. I’d prefer to do this peacefully, but-’
‘Del,’ Cinder rumbled.
Deleo hesitated, then made a swift motion. Cinder darted left, and energy flared up around Khazad as he drew back to strike.
The entire area vanished in a black wave. A light-eating pulse swept over all of us, nauseating and weakening and dazing me all at once. I felt my strength fade, and crumpled to the ground.
There was a moment of silence, then as if from a distance, I heard Morden speaking. His voice seemed to be fading, growing fainter and fainter. ‘They always have to learn the hard way, don’t they? Pack them up and make sure they’re still alive.’
There was more, but I didn’t hear it. Blackness swallowed me, and everything went dark.
9
I opened my eyes.
I was lying on a warm bed in a small, comfortable room. The walls were panelled with wood. Furniture crowded the room, neat and expensive, and a fire was burning in a fireplace. To one side was a long window; although the room was well lit, the light outside was dim and rain streaked the glass. Something told me not to move, and I didn’t. Instead I lay where I was, letting my memory come back. I was wearing the same clothes as when I left. All I could hear was the faint crackle of the fire and the distant sound of the rain as it beat against the window.
I didn’t have the first idea where this place was, but I knew exactly what it was: the mansion of a Dark mage. I don’t know how I knew it was a mansion, or how I was so sure of who owned it. I just knew: memory and instinct, a feeling in the air.
When my relationship with Richard Drakh went sour — about the same time I realised how stupid I’d been agreeing to become his apprentice in the first place — I was imprisoned in his mansion. For all that time I was a slave, and I was treated like one. From time to time Richard or one of the others would spend some time with me, either to try and persuade me, or in the later months, just for amusement. Very occasionally I’d be taken out under supervision when Richard had some job he needed me for, and it had been on one of those trips that I’d finally managed to escape. But the rest of the time I’d been a prisoner.
Just like now.
It’s strange. Ever since getting away from Richard’s mansion, even after he was gone, the one thing that I’d been terrified of, more than anything else, was the thought of going back. Now it had finally happened, I wasn’t scared at all. It was more like a relief, as though something inevitable had finally arrived. What I felt more than anything else was the old alertness, that animalistic sense of danger. Everything but the present fades away and there’s nothing but surviving, one hour and one day at a time. I understood quite clearly that my mistake at the museum, allowing myself to be ambushed, had been the last one I could afford. This was my last chance.
I took stock. I was still wearing my clothes, and I was in a bedroom instead of a cell. I wasn’t injured and I couldn’t feel any bruises from the crash; I must have been healed. Adding it all up, that meant I was about to be offered some sort of deal, and that meant I had something to work with, at least for now. With that, I got up, working my arms and legs to lose the stiffness.
The room was small and cosy, the walls made of some kind of reddish wood. Outside, I could hear the wind whining, though inside the air was warm. My pockets were empty, but piled neatly on the table beside the bed was everything I’d been carrying. I went through it and found it all there, from my wallet to my weapons to even the gate stones.
Interesting. Even with my items, they didn’t consider me a threat. Good faith, or overconfidence? Or both?
Old instincts took over and I checked my lines of retreat, looking through the futures of myself trying to leave. The window was locked and warded. The door wasn’t. What about my gate stones …?