I follow Anne’s directions and turn off the path about fifty yards upslope. Trees close in around me. I’ve only been walking a minute when I see a flash of white through the foliage, and when I pause I hear the scuff and rustle of movement. Old habits take over and I soften my footsteps, creeping closer as stealthily as I can.
The trees open up into a clearing, and I lean out from behind a trunk.
Alex is there, wielding a staff. His shirt is off, back and shoulders pale in the dappled sunlight, and he’s moving through some kind of martial arts form, the movements smooth and steady. Leaves crunch beneath his feet, and the staff makes a soft whoosh as it sweeps through the air.
‘Well, look who’s back.’ Alex’s face is turned away and he doesn’t stop his movements, but it sounds like he’s smiling. ‘Shop too much for you?’
‘You have no idea.’ There’s a fallen tree to one side of the clearing and I walk over to sit down. ‘How did you get customers to take no for an answer? Because I swear they don’t listen to a word I say.’
‘Pretty sure I asked myself that a few times.’
I complain for a while. It’s kind of selfish, but after a day behind the counter it’s nice to moan a bit. Alex listens, still working through his staff form.
‘. . . and then the other customer turns to me with this expectant look, like it’s my job to explain why it happened! It’s like he thinks Richard was supposed to follow his plan and the fact that he didn’t is my fault!’
‘Welcome to being a teacher.’ Alex turns towards me; he keeps his eyes up as he brings the staff around in a parry, but I swear he’s got an amused look.
‘I’m not a teacher!’
‘You’re the only person they can ask about this stuff.’ The parry becomes a strike. ‘Works out the same.’
‘Oh, glad you’re getting a laugh out of it,’ I tell him sourly. ‘You didn’t hear this guy. He was doing a play-by-play of the war like he was a football commentator. Except he got like two-thirds of the things wrong, and he expected me to tell him why Richard and Morden did them. I’d say he was my dumbest customer of the week, except yesterday was Monday!’
‘See?’ Alex draws back into a guard. ‘You’re a shop proprietor, you’re a teacher –’ He crouches and sweeps at ankle height. ‘– and now you’re becoming an expert on London magical society.’ Back to guard. ‘Look at all the things you’re learning.’
‘If you tell me this is all part of my education, I am going to throw something at you.’
‘It’s all part of your education.’
I throw a stick. Alex pivots smoothly and it glances off the staff with a clack. ‘Cheat,’ I tell him.
Alex lowers the staff and walks over. As he gets closer, I see his skin is dry. ‘Still not sweating?’ I ask.
‘I should be,’ Alex says as he sits. ‘Anne says the sweat glands work, but they’re not triggering for some reason. Maybe this body just doesn’t produce as much heat.’
Alex looks stranger up close. It’s not his shape so much – his body’s leaner and harder, and the lack of body hair is kind of odd, but none of that looks super-unnatural. It’s the colour that’s the problem. Alex’s skin looks like white marble, only a little darker than the fateweaver. I used to be fairer than Alex, but now when I sit next to him I look like I’ve been tanning in a sunbed.
I still don’t know exactly what Anne did. Both she and Alex tried to explain it, but Anne was really vague, and Alex wasn’t in much of a condition to take notes given that he was, you know, dying at the time. As far as I understand it, Anne couldn’t heal Alex because the fateweaver was transforming his heart, and she couldn’t reverse the transformation because it was too advanced. So she went the other way. She supercharged it, getting the fateweaver to transmute all of Alex’s body until his body and the fateweaver were the same thing.
Alex claims she wouldn’t have been able to do it on her own, that the fateweaver pushed it to work because it was the only way for it to stay alive. It’s weird to think about. I never realised that Anne could do anything like that, but that’s what life magic does, right? Dominion over all living creatures. Though even so, I get the feeling this was right at her limit. Anne’s had to put a ton of work into Alex’s body to get it this far, and apparently she’s still working out the kinks.
‘Oh, right, Saffron dropped by,’ I say. ‘The Council still think you’re dead, but they’ve got her sniffing around anyway. I think they’ve got their suspicions.’
Alex nods.
‘Can you keep blocking their auguries? I know that fate magic’s powerful, but . . .’
‘I’m not blocking their auguries.’
‘Then who is?’
‘No one.’
I frown at him. ‘Their auguries say you’re dead.’
Alex just looks at me.
‘Okay,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘How do you think tracking and divination spells find someone?’
‘Depends on the type of magic, doesn’t it?’
Alex nods, then walks over to where his shirt and top hang from a branch. ‘Most tracking spells are living family,’ he says, slipping on his shirt. ‘Life or death type. They look for your biological signature.’
‘And yours would have changed,’ I realise. ‘So Anne doesn’t need to shroud you.’ I think for a second. ‘That wouldn’t fool divination though. Are you using that trick from Helikaon?’
‘No, my optasia isn’t good enough.’ Alex finishes doing up his buttons and walks back over. ‘But even auguries have to look for something. And for mages, one of the standard things they search for is your magical signature.’
‘Okay?’
Alex reaches into his pocket and takes out a small plaque. It’s metal mounted on leather, coloured silver and gold. ‘Remember this?’
‘Your Keeper signet?’
Alex nods. ‘They personalise them to your magical signature. Like cutting a key from a blank. Once they’ve been set, they won’t work for anyone else.’
‘Okay.’
‘Mine doesn’t work any more.’
‘Really?’
‘My magic’s changed.’ Alex sits back down on the tree trunk. ‘For one thing, the fateweaver’s integrated with me. It doesn’t feel like I’m using it any more; it’s just part of who I am. But my divination’s changed as well. Weaker. My precognition is fine, but it’s harder to path-walk, especially long range. Can’t focus on it the way I used to.’
‘Does that bother you?’ I ask curiously.
‘Weirdly, no.’ Alex leans back on the tree, resting on his hands. ‘It would have once, but I suppose I’m . . . just less interested in the far future? The present seems more important.’
‘Huh.’
‘So you can see why their auguries aren’t showing me up as alive.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. If Alex has a different body and a different magic type, what are they going to search for? But still . . . ‘You can’t hide in the forest for ever.’
‘I know.’
‘Are you ever going to come back?’
‘I don’t think we can.’
‘Ever?’
‘Never’s a long time,’ Alex says. ‘But the fact is, with Richard and Morden gone, we might be the two most hated mages in the British Isles.’
‘Not by everyone,’ I say. ‘People are still figuring out what to think, but from bits and pieces that I’m hearing, most of the adepts and independents out there aren’t blaming you. And the fact that you were the one who finally negotiated that surrender is getting a lot of notice. I think another six months and people are going to be seeing you as a hero.’