“Who are you?” the first boy said. He was tall and fit, with short black hair and watchful eyes, and his hand was by his hip in a stance that signalled he was ready to draw a weapon.
“My name’s Alex Verus,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you could let your master know I’m here.”
At the sound of my name, the boy’s eyes narrowed. The taller of the two girls stiffened. “What are you doing here?”
“As I said, I’m here to see your master. Don’t do anything stupid, please.”
The four of them tried to keep their eyes on me and glance at one another at the same time.
I knew what they were thinking without even having to look. “I said don’t do anything stupid.”
“We know who you are,” the taller girl said. She had dark brown hair in a severe-looking ponytail, and a face that would have been pretty if her expression hadn’t been so hostile. “You were the one who sold out Morden.”
“Did Morden tell you that?”
The girl hesitated.
I nodded. “Ask him next time you get the chance.”
“You want to go after him,” the boy said, “you’ll have to deal with us.”
I gave the boy a flat look; he shifted but held his ground. “Your show of loyalty is noted but unnecessary. I am here to talk.”
“Yeah, right,” the girl said.
I paused, letting my gaze touch all four of them, and when I spoke, my voice was cold and clear. “Do not mistake my courtesy for weakness. I arrived without an invitation, and in recognition of that fact I am treating you with patience. There are limits to that patience. I would rather not do your master the discourtesy of harming or killing his followers within his own shadow realm, but that is exactly what I will do if you follow through with your idiotic plan of attack.”
The four adepts—I’d had time to figure out what they were—held quite still. For a moment futures of combat flickered, then one by one they died out. None of the adepts were sure what to do instead, and I didn’t break the silence. We stared at each other across the grassy lawn.
Then a voice spoke from the direction of the house. “I appreciate your restraint.” The tone changed, becoming a command. “Stand down, all of you.”
The man in the open doorway had black hair and wore a black suit and shirt. He stood in a relaxed posture, with his hands clasped easily behind his back, and looked quite unworried. “Hello, Verus,” he said, his voice carrying across the lawn.
“Morden,” I replied. “If it’s convenient, I have some matters I’d like to discuss.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
“Actually, I’d prefer to walk in these woods.”
“Of course.” Morden stepped down off the porch and started along the path. “Go back to your practice, you four. I’ll be along shortly.”
—
Morden and I walked side by side. The rush of water echoed from around us, the sound muffled and redirected by the trees so that it was hard to tell in which direction it was coming from.
“Beautiful shadow realm,” I said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Morden agreed. “It took some effort to secure, but it was well worth it. I always thought those mages who spend their lives barricaded in fortresses and prison realms were displaying the worst kind of foolishness. What’s the point of power if you have to live in a home you hate the sight of?”
“Did it have a name?”
“The Waterwood. You didn’t know?”
“Even diviners don’t know everything,” I said. “Oh, and you’ve got a flaw in the gate wards near those oak trees just off the path I entered by. It’s at the centre of three overlapping nodes, and two of them are slightly out of phase. Creates a three-foot section where they cancel each other out rather than reinforcing.”
“I see,” Morden said.
We walked a little way in silence, the path winding around a grove of silver birches. I waited for Morden to ask why I was here, but apparently he was content to wait.
“Do you remember the conversation we had all those years ago in your mansion?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“You spoke to me about rogues,” I said. “About mages who turned their back on the tradition in which they were trained. And how they often came back.” I looked sideways at Morden. “Did you know something like this would happen?”
“You’re the diviner, Verus.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Morden shrugged slightly. “In politics, there are always unpredictable elements. It was possible for you to have won yourself a place with the Council. If you’d gained a powerful enough patron, if you’d avoided making the wrong enemies, if events had made you sufficiently indispensable. But it struck me as unlikely. Remember that by the time we met I’d been dealing with the Council for many years. I’d seen enough mages rise and fall within their ranks to have a good idea of how well you would fit within their institutions.”
“I remember you told me that the Council would never accept me,” I said. “With hindsight, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d just taken your word for it.”
Morden shook his head. “If you’d followed my advice without understanding why, you’d have learned nothing.”
I nodded. “What do you want?”
Morden smiled slightly but didn’t answer.
“You asked me that question quite a few times, back then,” I said.
“As I recall, you spent most of the conversation evading giving me an answer.”
“Yes, and so did you,” I said. “Because I threw that question right back at you, and you told me you wanted the fateweaver.” I stopped and held up my right hand, letting my sleeve fall back to reveal smooth white not-quite-flesh. “Well, here it is. Are you going to take it?”
Morden turned to face me, his hands still clasped behind his back. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think you care about it at all,” I said. “It was just a playing piece to you. Which means you weren’t telling the truth any more than I was.”
We looked at each other for a moment, then Morden nodded to himself, turned, and carried on walking. I fell into step beside him. “I find the question a useful one when discussing the Path,” Morden said. “The less sophisticated assume the purpose of such discussions is to probe an enemy’s weaknesses. The real value of the question is that it forces one to examine oneself.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been learning that.”
“I told you back then that a true Dark mage has purpose,” Morden said. “You had will, but you lacked a clear perception of yourself and your goals. That is no longer the case. You have an objective which you are determined to accomplish. You are also significantly more powerful. This is not a coincidence.”
“None of which answers my original question.”
“No.”
“The Council never really understood you, you know,” I said. “I sat in on God only knows how many strategy meetings where they were trying to predict what Richard’s cabal would do. They had Richard pegged as the would-be Dark Lord type. The Council have dealt with enough of them over the years that they’re pretty used to them by now. Dark mages who think the logical conclusion of their philosophy is for them to rule as many people as they can. Vihaela was even easier. She’s what you might call the smaller-scale version. Power over one person at a time.” I looked at Morden. “You, though? They could never find an explanation for your behaviour they were happy with. The best one they could come up with was the public face. Richard as the mastermind, you as his political representative. Their idea was that Richard had some kind of leverage over you that made it impossible for you to betray him.”