Alex gave up watching the door to the cafeteria resignedly. Eerie had managed to slip out of the classroom before he had a chance to try to talk to her, and it was obvious by now that she wasn’t going to show for lunch, which made him look like a total idiot for insisting on sitting by himself. He had been considering looking for Eerie at the vending machine — it sold candy, after all — but now he didn’t think he was going to get a chance. He reluctantly motioned for the three of them to sit.
They were an awkward bunch — the plump girl named Hope, who appeared friendly and cheerful, flanked by the dour Grigori and the decidedly aloof Chandi. Hope had a salad on her tray. Chandi had orange juice and a bagel. Grigori had nothing at all, and kept his hands folded across his chest the entire time.
“It’s too bad, really, that you had to arrive when you did, since we were all in field study at the time.” The way Hope said it made it sound as if it really did bother her on a personal level. Alex got immediately suspicious, thinking through a few things Rebecca had told him. “The precognitives made a terrible error.”
“Anastasia Martynova probably had something to do with that,” Chandi offered coolly.
“That is a tragedy,” Alex said sourly, picking disinterestedly at a breaded chicken breast that was overcooked and unappetizing. “You’re an empath, right, Hope?”
“Yes, I am,” Hope acknowledged. “How did you guess?”
“I’m not much for people, but you are immediately likable. That’s a dead give-away,” Alex said. “I don’t appreciate it much.”
“So sorry,” Hope clucked, picking through her salad with a methodical determination. Alex watched, fascinated with the process. He couldn’t help but wonder what ingredient merited such a patient search. “I don’t do it deliberately. I can’t help it if people like me. It’s in my nature as an empath. But Emily should have explained all of this to you by now.”
“Look, I’m really not in the mood,” Alex snapped, tossing his fork onto a plate littered with side dishes he’d picked at without enthusiasm. “If you’ve got something to say, Hope, then say it. I don’t have the energy for all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense. Just tell me what it is that you want.”
“Would Anastasia Martynova do that for you?” Hope asked, stabbing a particularly large cherry tomato with her fork. Alex felt let down by her anti-climactic selection.
“That is probably her only good quality,” Alex conceded. “Anastasia is frank.”
“Well, then, I will endeavor to be so as well,” Hope said. “Your behavior of late, as I am sure you realize, is alarming to my friends and I. We have been informed of events in our absence, obviously, but some of the reports appear to be… erroneous. To be, as you desire, frank, we believe that we have been misled. Further, it seems obvious from recent events and our own brief time here that your life is already entangled with Anastasia Martynova, perhaps unavoidably. Chandi here wants to give Emily another, brief chance. Grigori believes you lost already, to the Black Sun or to that bizarre changeling. He wants us to take appropriate action. I have my opinions, which are not particularly positive regarding your friend Emily and her veracity. Was that frank enough?”
“Yes,” Alex said meekly.
“And? What do you think of all this?” Hope finally took a bite, one small nibble from the miniature tomato, her eyes placid, almost bovine in satisfaction. “What do you think I should do about you, Alex? Is there something that I’ve gotten wrong?”
Alex took a bite of mashed potatoes to buy himself time. It was a transparent gesture, and he knew it, but he genuinely didn’t know what to say. Then he had a flash of inspiration. Alex was thinking of one Michael’s little talks on Aikido, about how any situation could inverted with the proper application of force and control, how advantage was merely a matter of perception.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Alex said firmly. “You are going to stop jerking Emily around. She stays in the Academy until she graduates, no matter what happens. And Eerie, who is not what you are thinking she is, whatever it is that you are thinking, you leave alone. If you want to have any chance of recruiting me, any chance of having me hear you out, then you will promise me these things. If they do not happen then I will march my ass straight over to Anastasia and volunteer. You understand me?”
Alex was trying very hard to imagine himself as the kind of person who said things like this. He was trying very hard to sound not confident but rather nonchalant, as if he didn’t really care about their response, as if the outcome was never in doubt. He didn’t even notice Emily standing behind him, not daring to touch him, but hovering as close as was possible.
“Well, Alex, that sounds a great deal like you want us to do you a favor,” Hope said indulgently. “Which, I might add, we are more than happy to do. But, if you would,” Hope said, nodding at him pleasantly, “remember that we’ve done this for you.”
“Yeah,” Alex said uncertainly as they stood up in rough unison, Hope nodding at him again and Grigori glaring suspiciously, before they left for another table far across the cafeteria, where groups of students having lunch screened them from him.
Emily walked forward and reached for him tentatively.
“Alex,” she said softly, her fingertips on the back of his neck. “I don’t think you should have done that.”
“I didn’t expect you to come here,” Gaul said. His tone was civil, he felt, given the circumstances. Anastasia Martynova was not the most welcome guest, particularly when she announced her intentions in advance and arrived in state, trailing Renton and Timor, both of whom sat patiently in his puzzled secretary’s room. “At least, not so openly.”
“It seemed important to me that this visit be on the record. I need a favor from you, Director, and I need it done so that everyone knows about it.”
“I see,” Gaul said, not actually seeing it. He disliked Anastasia Martynova because she represented a blank as far as his precognition went. It was an unforgivable flaw and, as far as he knew, unique to Anastasia Martynova. On a personal level, however, he found her alarmingly easy to work with.
“I have done you a number of favors in the past, yes?” Anastasia said, crossing her ankles daintily.
“Yes.”
“In perfect confidence?”
“As far as I am aware, yes.”
She nodded firmly, as if emphasizing their agreement.
“Then, you had to have some suspicion that this day was coming,” Anastasia said reasonably. “I want something in return. Nothing major. You won’t have to put yourself out too far.”
“Yes?”
Anastasia explained her request, Gaul adjusted his glasses, and then they regarded each other cautiously.
“The Hegemony will never allow it.”
“They will. They are sending two representatives along, so there should have no complaints.”
“Oh?” Gaul prodded again, when he realized she was gathering herself to head for the door.
“Oh yes,” Anastasia said, smiling indulgently. “The Muir sisters. Surely you’ve heard of them?”
12
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Hey, shut up, boss. You’re ruining my concentration.”
Alistair obediently disappeared from her head. Alice Gallow sighed with relief, and then returned to the task at hand. She was clinging to a ledge twenty-five stories in the air; her feet sideways to make the most of the three inches worth of space the windowsill afforded her. Below, she could barely hear the evening traffic from Fifth Avenue. She had her hands up above her head, trying to find purchase on the sill above her, the twenty-sixth floor, where she wanted to be. She couldn’t remember ever having free-climbed before, but her body seemed to know what to do automatically, by muscle memory, and she figured if she couldn’t trust her body, then she couldn’t trust anything.