I saw Chimaera’s eyes flicker. He really wasn’t good at this, but then that’s what you get when you send kids to do this kind of work. ‘You wouldn’t have got it, by the way,’ I added. ‘A discreet assassination is one thing, but getting caught red-handed? Levistus isn’t going to associate himself with something as clumsy as that. Of course, they wouldn’t have let you be sentenced to death either – too much chance you’d turn on them. Some sort of suspended sentence or probation, I think. Enough to make sure that the next time they came asking for a favour, you didn’t have a choice.’
Chimaera hesitated, but there was no violence in the futures now. Still, it was worth making sure that the lesson had sunk in. ‘Ever heard of an adept called Talis?’ I asked him.
Chimaera frowned.
I nodded. ‘No reason you should have. Death magic adept, a life-drinker. Illegal under the Concord, of course, but he and certain Council members had an understanding, you might say. They’d turn a blind eye to his activities, and in return, every now and again, someone inconvenient to the Council would be removed. A few months ago, he had a conversation with Barrayar too. I suspect it went much the way yours did.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘With you? Nothing at all.’ I paused. ‘Talis showed up at that party of Levistus’s two months ago. Or at least part of him did.’
Chimaera didn’t understand, at least not at first. It took a few seconds for him to get it, then his eyes widened and he went stiff. ‘Wait, that was—?’
‘Talis was quite experienced in his line of work,’ I said. I didn’t take my eyes off Chimaera. ‘So the next time you’re thinking about shooting me in the back, like you were on that rooftop, just remember what happened to the last person who tried.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
I leaned in slightly and saw Chimaera flinch back. ‘That,’ I said softly and clearly, ‘is why you’re still alive.’
‘Did the conversation go well?’ Ilmarin asked.
I gave Ilmarin a glance. We were out in the street in front of the factory, with the security men loading up the thralls into the vans. Most of them looked dazed; a couple were crying. They hadn’t removed the headpieces yet – that would be done under controlled conditions. ‘Which one?’
Ilmarin nodded towards Chimaera. The younger Keeper wasn’t looking at us. Actually, he’d been careful not to look anywhere in my direction since we’d met up with the others. ‘With your young friend.’
‘So you were listening.’
‘It seemed prudent,’ Ilmarin said. ‘I hope you weren’t actually intending to kill him.’
‘No, but it won’t do him any harm to believe otherwise.’ I gave Ilmarin a sidelong look. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Levistus’s offer is an open one, as far as I’m aware,’ I said. ‘You haven’t been tempted?’
‘To commit murder in exchange for the favours of our esteemed Councilman?’ Ilmarin said dryly. ‘No, I have not been tempted. Somehow I doubt the reward would be worth the price. Besides, not all of us look favourably on the Council’s attempts to use the Keepers as a way to remove their political opponents.’ Ilmarin looked at me, tilting his head. ‘Since we seem to be sharing confidences, were you telling the truth about that adept?’
‘You mean Talis?’
‘I was thinking more of what happened afterwards.’ Ilmarin leaned against the van, eyes resting on me. ‘Specifically, the incident at Levistus’s party.’
‘Oh, that party.’
‘Levistus had invited over some visitors over from Washington. I understand he’d been hoping to make a good impression. I still don’t know how that package came to be delivered to him right in the middle of appetisers. You’d have thought he’d know better than to open it, but I suppose they’d only scanned it for weapons, instead of for … other things.’
‘I do remember hearing something, now that you mention it,’ I said. ‘Hope it didn’t spoil their appetites.’
‘I rather suspect that it did.’ Ilmarin paused. ‘So?’
‘So?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes, Talis. Well, I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have his severed head delivered to Levistus in the middle of their drinks and canapés. That would be wrong. Not to mention quite time-consuming to arrange.’
‘I see,’ Ilmarin said. He stood looking at me for a second. ‘You know, you’ve changed somewhat from when we first met.’
‘I suppose I have,’ I said. From one of the other vans I saw Little signalling me. ‘Excuse me a moment.’
‘Trouble,’ Little said quietly as I approached.
‘The thralls?’ I asked. The last of them were being loaded into the vans. ‘Did we miss some?’
Little shook his head. ‘Nothing to do with that. I just got a call from the dispatcher. He had a call from head office. Was supposed to be a routine check-up, but the guy seemed really interested in whether you’d gone out. When he found you had, he hung up.’
I frowned. It’s never a good sign when people take a sudden interest in your movements. It might be to check up on Chimaera, but I couldn’t see how that made sense. As far as Barrayar was concerned, Chimaera would either kill me or he wouldn’t. No reason to care about where I was.
But what if that had been the backup plan? If the goal had just been to keep me busy, then it didn’t matter whether Chimaera succeeded or failed …
A nasty suspicion jumped fully formed into my mind. ‘I have to go,’ I told Little. ‘Can you wrap this up?’
Little nodded. ‘We’ll handle it from here.’
2
Two minutes’ work confirmed my suspicions. I made a quick side trip to pick up an item, then gated to the War Rooms.
The War Rooms are the seat of the Light Council, and the primary political power centre of British magical society. They’re made up of a vast network of tunnels and caverns hidden away beneath central London, and they house not only the Light Council itself, but also the vast bureaucracy that carries out the Council’s decisions. Up until a few years ago I’d never seen the War Rooms, and would have been turned away at the front door. Now I’m there more days than not.
I nodded to the guards on duty as I went in. I didn’t quite run – I had enough time, and sprinting would send the wrong message – but I didn’t hang around either. Even so, I couldn’t help but pick up the mood as I walked through the tunnels. Once upon a time, the mages and adepts and functionaries I passed in the polished stone corridors would have stared as I went by; today, I barely got a second glance. Part of it was familiarity, but mostly it was that right now, the Council had bigger problems to worry about.
In October of last year, Morden had sent me and a team of Dark mages to raid the Vault, the Council’s highest-security storage facility. The Council had been displeased, to put it mildly, which was the reason that I was currently occupying Morden’s place on the Junior Council while Morden himself was sitting in a cell on a charge of high treason. But despite the personal consequences for Morden, the raid had been a success, and by the time the Council response team retook the facility, the Dark mages were gone, along with the Vault’s entire stockpile of imbued items.
Magic items can be divided into three categories – one-shots, focuses and imbued items. Most people rank them by power – one-shots at the bottom, focuses in the middle and imbued items at the top – but while that’s true, it misses the point. Imbued items aren’t just objects, they’re living things, and they have as much in common with a one-shot or a focus as you do with your mobile phone. From experience I’ve learned that it’s very hard to make newcomers to the magical world understand just how dangerous imbued items are. They can grasp that imbued items are powerful, but they think that they’re powerful in the way that a gun or computer is powerful – a tool that just needs you to push the right buttons. The truth is that wielding an imbued item is more like riding a large and not entirely domesticated animal. It might decide to do as it’s told, and then again it might not, and if it comes down on the side of ‘not’, there’s a good chance it’ll decide that it should be the one calling the shots. Fast-forward a few months and you’re living out of a warehouse in Deptford, kidnapping people off the street to turn into mind-controlled slaves, and believing the whole thing’s your idea.