Alex Verus 5: Hidden (10 page)

“True, but not necessarily to you. From what you and Luna have told me, you could just as easily leave the work and the danger to the Keepers.”

I had to think about that one for a few seconds. As soon as Sonder had confirmed my fears last night about what had happened to Anne, I’d decided to drop everything else to try to find her, but I hadn’t thought about why. “You remember what you asked me last year?” I said eventually. “About what kind of person I want to be?”

Arachne made an affirmative gesture. “I never used to care about anyone else,” I said. “Not really. I mean, I’d do something nice now and again, but I always came first, you know?” I looked over at where Luna was making some point or other to Variam, using her hands for emphasis. “I’m not sure who changed that, you or Luna, but . . . I think it was Luna. You helped me when I needed it most, but I always saw you as above me, I guess. I could never really imagine you needing me for anything, not until that.” I gestured up at the jagged gash in the rock above one of the side tunnels, a souvenir of two years back. Arachne could have repaired it, but she’d chosen to leave it untouched, maybe as a reminder. “But Luna
did
need me. So I started thinking more and more about my friends. I kind of divided the world up into them, and everyone else. If you were inside that group, you mattered.”

“And now?”

“Now . . .” I shrugged. “Anne isn’t really one of my friends anymore. She made that pretty clear.” I was quiet for a moment. “For a while I thought that if I could save her, then I could prove . . . I don’t know. That what I did last year was okay? That my way of doing things was right? But it’s a bad reason. Helping her just so that she’d be grateful, that she’d owe me something . . . I think even if we
do
manage to pull this off, if Anne does end up safe again, then we still won’t be friends.”

“But you’re still going to do it?”

“Yeah, I am.” I looked up at Arachne. “Because after you strip away all the history and all the arguments, she’s in trouble and she still needs help. We might not manage to do this. Maybe we’ll fail and maybe we’ll give up. But it’s still worth doing.”

Arachne looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. I had the odd feeling it was almost as if she were smiling. “Good luck.”

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“S
o,” Luna said. “Not bringing the armour?”

We were in Soho near the Tiger’s Palace, standing in a doorway just a couple of buildings down. I’d needed to be close to get a good angle on the reactions of the door security. Neon lights shone down from above, blotting out the stars, and the air was filled with the din of overlapping music. Groups of people were scattered across the street, laughter and yells echoing between the buildings. Occasionally a passerby would give us a glance, but we didn’t get many catcalls; it was a Saturday night in Soho and our outfits weren’t even close to the weirdest ones out there.

“Sends the wrong impression,” I said. Arachne made me an imbued item last year, a suit of reactive armour; it’s very good at what it does, but now wasn’t the time to break it out. “You don’t want to look like you need it. Your communicator working?”

Luna tapped her ear. “I think so. Calling Vari, can you—?”

“Hitting it doesn’t help.”

Luna made a face at me. “Vari, can you hear me? Alex is being mean again.”

“You probably deserve it,” Variam’s voice said in my ear.

The transparent focus set into my ear was a synchronous communicator, one of the nicer toys that Council mages get to play with. They’re lightweight, voice-activated, and allow you to talk to someone without a radio signal, which is handy when some of the people you’re sharing a room with can see electromagnetic waves. “Calling Vari, Luna,” I said. “Can you hear me?”

“Receiving,” Variam said.

“I’m right here, you know,” Luna said.

“Don’t be a smart-arse. Vari, you’ve found a good place?”

“I’m on the lower roof overlooking the front door and the back alley entrance,” Variam said. “You got the position?”

“Yeah. Keep us updated once we’re inside. You’re sure these things can’t be intercepted?”

“Sure. Unless the Council aren’t as good as they think they are, but what are the chances of that?” There was a chime and the channel closed.

“So, you going to tell me who we’re supposed to be?” Luna asked. She was carrying her focus weapon, and Arachne had made her a red silk cover for it, attached at the focus’s narrow end to a long braided rope, coiled in her hands. Disguising a whip as a whip: Arachne does have a sense of humour.

“I’m going to be a fairly reclusive Dark mage named Avis,” I said. “He’s important enough that he gets invited to these sorts of get-togethers, but he doesn’t like taking sides so he always turns them down.”

“Sounds fun. How about me?”

“It looks like Avis has just taken on a new apprentice. Come up with a name for yourself, and don’t use any kind of pun on ‘moon.’”

“Like I’d want to. I’m going to be Zarine.”

“Zarine?”

“If I’m a new apprentice I wouldn’t have a mage identity, right? Anyway, I always liked that name.”

“Zarine it is.”

We set off up the street. “No ribbon this time?” I asked as we approached the Tiger’s Palace.

“God no. Those things
absorb
my curse. I want to be at full strength.”

The entrance to Jagadev’s club is via basement level. We skirted a laughing pack of drunken twentysomethings and started down the stairs. “Arachne would make you another if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. Having it turned off for a few hours is great, but when it’s done I feel
worse
. If I’m going to fix this, I want it so that
I
can do it.”

“I think you will. Someday.”

Luna gave me a quick smile. “All right,” I said. “Game face on. Ready?”

“Let’s do it,” Luna said. I strode through the front entrance of Jagadev’s lair.

The outfit Arachne had made for me was a long military-style coat with gold tracing at the lapels and wrist and a white ruff at the neck, combined with a waistcoat and narrow trousers. It made me feel like I was going to a steampunk convention, but from examining myself in the mirror I had to admit it looked good. Whoever Avis was, he had a sense of style. A dark blue mask covered the upper half of my face, while Luna wore a narrower dark red band at eye level. We’d put them on before making our final approach.

The bouncers on the door were a different lot from the usual: more social graces, fewer broken noses. Evidently this evening rated a higher class of doorman. “May I take your name, please?” the one at the front asked. His manner was pleasant, but his eyes and those of the men behind him were alert and ready.

“Avis,” I said, meeting his gaze. I’d changed my posture subtly as I approached, standing a little straighter, my movements a little more deliberate. My voice was flat and calm.

The doorman nodded. “Welcome to the Tiger’s Palace.”

I walked towards the door at the other end, ignoring the doormen; Luna followed a pace behind. No one tried to stop us. The door swung shut and we were walking down a stone corridor. I’d known we were going to get this far; from now on things would get interesting. We reached the door at the end and I pushed it open, and the two of us walked out onto the main floor of Jagadev’s lair.

T
he last time I’d visited the Tiger’s Palace had been a year and a half ago. When I’d seen it then it had been a dance club, hundreds of boys and girls in their teens and twenties packed into a concrete box filled with the pounding of industrial music. Now the concrete walls had been hidden by drapes of red cloth, and Indian artwork had been set up around the edge of the room. Carpets and tables were spaced across the floor, and the upper balcony had been decorated as well, though no amount of decoration could hide the dominating view it gave over the lower level.

It looked luxurious, almost enough to be a real palace . . . but not quite. It might have been the absence of people—the club had been designed to hold nearly a thousand, and the fifty or so figures scattered across the main floor left it feeling vast and empty—but I didn’t think it was the guests. Jagadev is the owner of the Tiger’s Palace, and there’s little love lost between him and mages. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I could feel something of his presence in the building, a kind of cold indifference. Jagadev might live amongst humans, but he doesn’t like them.

We’d attracted attention the instant we walked in, and I could see half a dozen people eyeing us from across the wide expanse of the floor. “Vari,” I said. “We’re in. Alex out.”

“Received,” Variam’s voice said into my ear.

“Here’s where the fun begins,” Luna murmured. Behind the mask, her eyes were bright with anticipation.

“I’ll take the adult mages,” I said quietly. “You cover the apprentices.”

“I’ll start with the ones on the far wall.”

“Stay in touch.” A man moved away from a group ahead of us and looked towards me. “Go.” Luna split off, angling past the duelling ring towards a cluster of Dark apprentices standing in the shadow of the balcony. The man took a few steps towards me, and I slowed to let him intercept my path.

The funny thing is that what I was trying to do here would never work at a Light ball. Light mages are so much more organised; you don’t even get in the door without an invitation, and the guest list is examined carefully. Their society is more close-knit, and even the most reclusive Light mages have colleagues. Dark society, on the other hand, isn’t really a society at all. Amongst Dark mages security and relationships are all handled on an individual level; if you have a problem, then by default it’s up to you to do something about it. While there’s a loose code of conduct, the only way rules are imposed is if the one in charge is powerful enough to enforce his will on a collection of Dark mages (rare) or if the Dark mages in question are willing to submit to him (even rarer).

Secrecy and paranoia are also much bigger deals in the Dark world—Light mages aren’t exactly trusting, but Dark mages take it to the extreme. I wasn’t the only mage here wearing a mask, and it was a safe bet that I wasn’t the only one pretending to be someone I wasn’t, either. The
really
paranoid mages wouldn’t be physically here at all; they’d be miles away, utilising projections or simulacra. The man in front of me wasn’t one of them, though, as far as I could tell—he was wearing a mask, but my best guess was that he was here in the flesh. “Avis,” he said with a nod.

As soon as he’d made a move towards me I’d begun searching through the futures in which I spoke to him, cross-referencing against the names I’d seen from Jagadev’s guest list. Futures flashed past, there and discarded in a fraction of a second, flick-flick-flick: Ansek, Chance, Chojan, Emerel, Ever, Fabius, Gorith—close but not quite, similar sound—
there
. “Ordith,” I replied.

Ordith fell into step beside me. I didn’t know anything about the man except his name and that he was a mage. He was wearing brown and silver, and radiated no magic. “Generous of you to show up.”

The tone was slightly mocking, but Ordith’s body language was cautious. “I did not come here for you to waste my time,” I told him. “Get to the point.”

I felt Ordith’s eyebrows rise. “Sensitive,” he murmured. “I was just curious about your position on the new proposal.”

What proposal?
A figure caught my eye at the foot of the stairs, slim and deadly: Onyx. If Onyx was here, then so was his master, and Talisid had—I stopped and turned on Ordith. To approach me first he must be at the bottom of the chain, not the top. “Is that your game now?”

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “Tell Morden to run his own errands.” I was trying lines of dialogue through the futures. I didn’t need to get it perfect, just to avoid the puzzled reaction that indicated a misstep.

“Come on,” Ordith said. He was wearing a smile intended to take the edge off his words. “You’re hardly an active player.”

“I hope you aren’t expecting anything for free.” What
was
Morden up to? I should have paid more attention to what Talisid had been telling me. “What about Jagadev?”

“Jagadev knows not to take sides in such matters.”

I didn’t really have any idea what we were talking about but one of the things my first master drilled into us was that when you’re uncertain, you attack. “I have no intention of rearranging my plans to suit Morden’s convenience.”

Ordith’s smile didn’t change. “Morden can be quite persuasive.”

“Don’t try to threaten me. I will support whoever offers the greatest benefit—as will those I represent.”

Ordith’s smile faltered a little. “Those you—?”

“Enough,” I said curtly. I couldn’t see any way I could bring Anne into this conversation, which meant I was wasting my time. “I have other business.” I changed direction and walked away.

Without looking, I knew that Ordith was staring after me; after a moment he turned and headed towards the foot of the stairs. Maybe messing around in Dark politics wasn’t the smartest thing I could possibly be doing. Oh well.

The communicator in my ear gave a quiet two-tone beep, followed by Caldera’s voice. “Testing. Verus, do you read?”

“Receiving,” I said, turning away from the bulk of the crowd.

“We’re approaching the Tiger’s Palace. Did you manage to scout it out?”

“Yep,” I said, turning to look back over the floor. I could see an interesting-looking group of people near the stairs. “Got a really good view, actually.”

“Any guests I should know about?”

“Morden.” And possibly me, but no point worrying her with trivialities.

“Should have guessed.” Caldera broke off for a second, then resumed. “Sonder and I are ten minutes out. Keep up observation and let us know the instant something happens.
Don’t
go inside. Clear?”

It looked as though the one at the centre of the crowd was Morden. I started walking towards him. “Stay where I am,” I said. “Got it.”

“Good. Heading in now.” The communicator beeped as the connection closed.

For a diviner, going into the middle of a crowd like this is dangerous. The major limiting factor on how far divination magic can look into the future is unpredictability; the more variables in your surroundings, the shorter your viewing range. In a sealed room with no extraneous movement I can see ahead for hours, days if I push it. Here, I could see ahead for maybe a minute at best. Different futures branched and broke off ahead of me, shadowy and twisting, individual Dark mages noticing me, approaching, interacting, every possibility changing at a moment’s notice. The futures in which I spoke to someone broke up almost immediately, thousands of branching choices all packed in upon each other, the unpredictable elements building upon each other and multiplying into an ever-changing blur.

If something went wrong here, I’d have very little time to react. When divination’s your primary defence it’s much safer to avoid these gatherings, and that’s exactly what most diviners do: hide themselves away in some deserted location where they can see any potential threats a long way off. But divination magic works in close quarters too, as long as you don’t mind a little risk. When you’re talking face to face with someone you might be able to see ahead only a few seconds, but they’re an
important
few seconds, and you can learn a lot more than you would staying at home.

As I approached the stairs I saw that Morden had quite an audience going, with half a dozen Dark mages gathered around him. He also had Onyx standing right at his shoulder, which was enough to make me very sure I didn’t want to stop for a chat. Ordith was hovering at the edge of the conversation, looking as though he was waiting for Morden to finish. I stayed out of earshot, but as I did I picked out the futures in which I moved closer, looking to see what I would hear if I joined their group.

“. . . be the case,” Morden was saying. He wasn’t wearing a mask; the really powerful Dark mages usually don’t. Dark-haired and handsome, he looked like a politician, though most politicians can’t kill you from across the room without lifting a finger. “I hope I can count on your support.”

“Your interest in this cause is hardly universal, Morden,” another mage said. “The Light mages have little to offer us.”

“Then perhaps those who feel that way would prefer to take it up with my associate.”

A faint ripple, almost too quick to be sensed, went through the audience. Morden looked inquiringly from side to side; when no answer came, he went on. “Neither of us expects any great sacrifice. All you have to do is stand aside and let nature take its course.”

“Nature?”

“It’s the direction things have been going, wouldn’t you say?”

All the time Morden had been talking I’d been moving, and I was reaching the point where I was about to pass out of eavesdropping range. I could linger, but I’d risk detection, and it didn’t sound as though this had anything to do with Anne . . .

. . . except that Anne had once told me a long time ago that Morden had offered her the position of his apprentice. She’d turned him down—did he still hold a grudge?

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.

I took the stairs up to the balcony. A pair of women were speaking quietly under their breath on the landing; they fell silent and eyed me when I passed. Something caught my attention as I searched through the futures, a familiar presence. My eyes narrowed.
Her? Now isn’t that interesting . . .

A man and a woman were by the balcony railing. The man was masked, and beyond checking to see that he wasn’t going to cause trouble I didn’t pay him any attention. The woman was another story altogether. She was small and delicate-looking, with coppery skin and deep dark eyes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate style with lacquered sticks, and she wore a narrow black dress that showed off her figure. Right now she was laughing, one hand resting naturally on the man’s arm. “—isn’t it?” she was saying, her voice warm and captivating. “If you could, that would be wonderful.”

“No problem,” the man said. He looked like he was trying to come across as casual and doing a bad job of it. “This evening, then.”

“See you then,” the woman said. The smile stayed on her face as she watched him go.

I’d timed my approach carefully and reached the woman just as she began to turn away. As I passed I caught her arm and swept her along with me. “Meredith,” I said into her ear. From this close I could smell her perfume, something flowery and expensive. “Nice to see you again.”

Meredith is an enchantress, petite and beautiful and, from my fairly definite experience, entirely self-interested. As soon as she heard my voice her head jerked slightly. “Alex?”

“I’d wondered where you’d disappeared to. Who’s your new friend?”

I’d gotten Meredith as far as the balcony railing; she pulled away and I let her go. As I did her eyes flicked quickly down to the club floor. It was so fast it was almost impossible to see, but I’d been watching for it and I knew that the one she’d been looking towards was Morden. When I’d first met Meredith, she’d been working for a Light mage called Belthas—he was gone now but he and Morden had a lot of things in common, and Meredith wasn’t the sort to be especially concerned about whether someone was Dark or Light.

“What are you doing here?” Meredith asked. She was keeping herself under control, but she was on edge, and for good reason. The last time Meredith and I had met, we’d parted on bad terms and she’d given me more than enough reason to hold a grudge.

“Funny,” I said. “I was just about to ask you that. You like to get yourself into trouble, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The name Anne Walker mean anything to you?”

Meredith shook her head; her eyes were wary but her reaction had been instant and I was fairly sure she was telling the truth. “Hm,” I said. “I guess your new boss works on a need-to-know basis.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Anne Walker’s an apprentice from the Light program,” I said. “She’s gone missing lately. The Keepers are concerned.”

“Well, that’s nothing to do with me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Meredith looked at me, waiting. I counted off seconds in my head as Meredith’s expression began to shade into annoyance. “Is this it?” she asked. “There isn’t—”

Right on cue, a voice spoke loudly from the far side of the club, pitched to carry across the floor. “Announcing Keeper Caldera of the Order of the Star.”

Every conversation in the Tiger’s Palace fell silent at once, as if someone had hit the Mute button. Caldera was a small figure at the front door, with Sonder a step behind, and she was advancing across the floor. The doorman hadn’t announced anyone else that I’d seen, and I was fairly sure the special treatment hadn’t been meant to do Caldera any favours. Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes watched Caldera and Sonder as they came closer.

“What’s she doing here?” Meredith whispered, looking suddenly unsettled.

I smiled slightly. “Done anything the Keepers might object to lately?”

“Don’t be like that!” Meredith kept her voice low. “Do you know why she’s here?”

“Let’s just say that you might want to find out exactly what Morden’s connection with that girl is. Fast.”

“I don’t
know
!”

I shrugged and started to turn away.

“Wait!” Meredith caught my shoulder. “Can’t you tell me?”