Burned (41 page)

‘And what, you think you’re going to win this on your own? All those times you told me that I was more powerful than you – were you lying all that time?’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Then why are you
doing
this?’ Anne’s voice was pleading.

‘Because I’m not going to win.’

‘What—’ Anne said, then stopped.

‘It was never on the cards, Anne.’ Wearily I straightened, looking ahead into the futures. Barrayar’s men would be here in a few minutes. ‘Too many of them, too few of us. From the minute Barrayar made that phone call, there were only three ways this could go. In the first, Luna died. In the second, you and I died. I took the third choice.’

‘Don’t do this,’ Anne said quietly. ‘Please. There has to be another way.’

‘I’ve always had a feeling this would catch me up sooner or later. Didn’t know how many of you would be caught up in it too. Vari’s okay. Luna’s okay. Sorry I couldn’t do more for you. Tell Luna…’ I took a breath. ‘Sorry I missed her graduation. Would have liked to see her as a mage.’

‘Alex—’ Anne’s voice broke.

‘Goodbye, Anne.’ I hung up, then leaned against the wall, sagging.
That was harder than I expected.

I stood alone in the dark, waiting. In the distance, the sounds of the city ebbed and flowed, but here, in the ruined offices, everything was quiet.

I’ve thought about my death. I think most people who go in for my sort of lifestyle do. I’ve read a few writers who claim that no one can ever really believe in their future demise (apparently they think everyone in the world is secretly delusional enough to believe they’ll live for ever, or something), but frankly, it’s bullshit. The truth is that once you make a habit of getting into danger on a regular or semi-regular basis, then it doesn’t take long for it to sink in that you have a finite life expectancy, and that goes triple when you’re a diviner and you can actually
see
yourself die over and over again.

You can never completely rule out an accident. It wouldn’t take much – a bullet slipping past my precognition, a fireball when I was just a little off guard. But I’d always had the feeling that it was more likely to be something on purpose. I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, too many for any one mage to handle alone. Just as Arachne had said, the problem was my independence. Too many foes, not enough friends.

So I’d had time to think about what I was going to do in this sort of situation. Not
exactly
this situation; I hadn’t seen the threat to Luna, though with hindsight I probably should have. Maybe if my preparations had been better, I could have avoided it … but then again, maybe not. I’d considered outcomes in which I fought, and others in which I didn’t. I’d made plans to run if I had to. But one thing I’d decided for sure: I wouldn’t sacrifice Luna or Variam or Anne. In the end, all of this was about paying for old mistakes, and the mistakes were mine, not theirs. What goes around comes around, and I’ve taken enough lives in my time. Maybe it was my turn.

I felt a flash of gate magic, followed by another.
Finally.
I moved down the hallway, navigating in the pitch-darkness, feeling rubble crunch under my feet. Path-walks located Anne’s tripwires, and while I was at it I double-checked the weapons I’d hidden. Just because I was going to die here, I didn’t see any reason to make things easy for them.

Five minutes passed, then ten. I could feel movement outside. The sky was overcast, showing neither moon nor stars, and the wasteland outside the building was an expanse of darkness. I kept moving, slipping from hall to hall.

My phone rang and I picked it up. ‘Are you going to sit out there all day?’

‘I was about to ask you a similar question.’ Barrayar’s voice was smooth. ‘Is there any way I can motivate you to come out?’

‘Hmm, nope,’ I said. I glanced through a window-frame, checking the rear quadrant. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I’ve been authorised by Levistus to guarantee your safety, as well as that of your apprentice,’ Barrayar said. ‘Should you fully co-operate.’

‘Gosh, what a great deal,’ I said dryly. ‘Sounds a lot like the one he gave me the first time we met. Has he told you that story, by the way? I wonder how long
you’ll
stay useful to him?’

‘Yes, he didn’t think you would take him up on the offer.’ Barrayar sighed. ‘You realise I can send enough waves of men into that building to fill it from floor to ceiling.’

‘Sounds like my kind of odds.’

‘Come now, Verus. You’re just being childish.’

‘You want me?’ I dropped the pretence, letting my feelings show through in my voice. ‘Then come and get me, you prissy little fuck.’ I hung up.

Barrayar didn’t call back. A tube train went by to the south, the carriages going past one after another, rattle and bang, rattle and bang. The futures shifted and as I looked ahead I saw danger zones opening up on the eastern side of the building. If I showed myself in the open window frames, I would take sniper fire. The shots didn’t seem to be lethal; they must still be hoping to take me alive.
Good.

Minutes ticked by, tense and slow. I kept moving; it was a safe bet that they had a mage or adept from the living family reporting my position, and I didn’t want to give them an easy shot. I was expecting the first wave to be unaugmented humans, Council security working as Levistus’s hit squad. They wouldn’t enjoy the experience. When I’d told Barrayar that I liked the odds, I hadn’t been lying. I have a whole set of tricks up my sleeve that I never normally get to use, because they’re too extreme or desperate or cause too much collateral damage. It would be fun to cut loose, just once. After they lost enough security men, they’d send in the constructs. Then if those weren’t enough, it would be the turn of the mages. Sooner or later, they’d have enough to overwhelm me. I’d let them drive me back, into the room with the mines. And then … well. End of the road.

More time passed, and I started to fidget.
They’re taking their time.
I found my mind wandering … what were my odds of getting one of the mages? I figured I could probably catch one or two. That many mines, with the element of surprise, could overwhelm even the shield of a battle mage. I wondered what it would feel like. From looking into the futures, I didn’t think it would hurt. The speed of the projectiles would outpace my body’s nerve conduction velocity; I’d be ripped to pieces before my brain could process the damage.
Suppose if I get bored of waiting, I could just go up and press the button. But I’d really like to take a few of the bastards with me.

Futures shifted.
There.
A squad was advancing from the building to the south, covered by the snipers. I darted up to the first floor, finding a viewing point where I could see them without exposing myself to fire. Leaning against a wall, looking through a doorway and a window, I could just glimpse movement in the darkness. I looked into the futures in which I moved out for a better look. They’d be in range in only a minute.
Here we go …

Suddenly the futures changed. The lines in which the squad kept advancing vanished. I pulled back, expecting an attack, but nothing came. I took a closer look with my divination, and frowned. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but one of the men seemed to be using his radio. As I watched, the squad hunkered down.
A diversion?
I checked, but no one was approaching from any other direction either. Before, I’d only been scanning for movement, but now, as I looked ahead, I realised that I couldn’t see any attacks at all. Even the futures in which I was shot for walking in front of a window were gone. They were holding fire.
What the hell?

A minute dragged by. It became five, then ten. My hands were shaking from adrenaline. Were they going to come, or what? At last the squad of men out in the open began to move … in the opposite direction. Staring in disbelief, I watched them withdraw back into the night.

I checked the futures, and checked again. No attacks. I couldn’t see any trace of danger, not even if I walked out into the open and waved my arms. The only movement I could see was …
phone calls
? ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ I muttered under my breath, and pulled out my phone to dial Barrayar’s number again.

It rang and kept on ringing. My irritation rose. It was bad enough that the guy was going to murder me; he could at least have the courtesy to be punctual about it. Still Barrayar didn’t answer, and I wondered what he was doing. Maybe he’d spotted the mines?
But then why hold back the snipers …?

Barrayar picked up with a click, and I didn’t hide the annoyance in my voice. ‘Can we hurry this up?’

‘I suppose you think you’re very clever.’

‘Apparently not enough. Are we going to get this started?’

‘Please don’t play stupid.’

I paused. There was something wrong with Barrayar’s voice. Before he had been calm, relaxed. Now all of a sudden his tone was cold. He was … angry?
Angry about what?
‘What are you talking about?’

‘Do you really expect me to believe that you knew nothing about this?’ Barrayar said. ‘Or that the timing was a coincidence?’

‘What is going on with you?’

‘I suppose I should have expected it,’ Barrayar said. ‘Congratulations, Verus. You have your victory. I wonder how much you’ll have to pay for it.’ There was a click and the line went dead.

I stared at the phone, then looked out into the darkness. The men who had been moving to surround the building were gone. Looking into the futures in which I left the building, I couldn’t sense any contact. I was alone.

I waited there for over an hour, searching the futures. Barrayar didn’t come back and neither did the Keepers. Inside me, hope warred with fear: I was alive, but I was afraid to believe I was safe. It had to be some sort of trick. As the minutes crept by, I started to shiver. The January air was icy cold and I was still wearing the thin clothes I’d been using in Nigeria.

It was almost 3 a.m. when my phone rang. I pulled it out, vaguely recognised the number and answered. ‘Landis,’ I said. ‘Long time.’

‘At least you’re alive to answer the phone,’ Landis said. Despite the hour, he sounded alert. ‘Now perhaps you can explain to me just what on God’s green earth is going on here. I’m woken up in the middle of the night by Variam, who tells me that
he’s
been woken up in the middle of the night by Anne, who has a garbled story about bombs and blackmail and that you’re planning to commit suicide by immolating yourself somewhere down in the East End. Since you’re talking to me, I’m going to take a wild leap into the unknown and speculate that you haven’t emulated our lord and saviour by returning from the dead.’

‘Not so much.’

‘Good. So what the devil is happening?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said wearily. To the west, a truck rumbled along the raised A-road, the concrete pillars vibrating in the night.

‘Not the best time and place to be under the veil of ignorance and all that. You do know that the Keepers still have an open warrant on you?’

‘It’s not the Keepers I’m worried about,’ I said. ‘Barrayar’s men just had me, but then they pulled back. Can you find out what’s going on? I’m spinning in the dark.’

‘You don’t ask much, do you?’ Landis sighed. ‘All right, all right. I suppose it can’t hurt to check. But don’t expect quick answers.’ He hung up.

I kept waiting, and kept shivering. I wanted to leave this place, but I was afraid of what would happen if I did. My fingers were starting to tremble when Landis rang back.

‘Thought you said no quick answers,’ I said. I had to work to keep my teeth from chattering.

‘It seems a few things have changed.’

Something about Landis’s voice made me sit up and pay attention. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re now a Council Keeper.’ Landis’s tone was … neutral. All of a sudden, somehow, I had the feeling he was studying me. ‘Of the Order of the Star. There was quite a commotion in the office. It seems the documentation was brought in just a couple of hours ago.’

I stood very still, staring into the darkness. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘I … No. How?’

‘You’ve been appointed as Light Council liaison to the Keepers. Turns out the position grants Keeper status. They had to look it up to make sure that was really how it worked.’

I looked at the phone. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘Verus? Are you there?’

‘…Yeah.’ I tried to process what had just happened. ‘I’m a Keeper?’

‘And as such, you’re a recognised Light mage. Which also means that you have the right to a full trial before any judgement can be passed upon you. Until that happens, the resolution delivering your death sentence is suspended. So, on the positive side, I’m not obliged to go execute you, which frankly I think is an improvement on the existing state of affairs.’

Landis’s earlier words caught up with me.
A couple of hours.
That was the call that had stopped Barrayar. ‘Well then,’ Landis said. ‘Since the excitement appears to be over, I think I’ll bid you goodnight.’

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘How did this happen? Was there a resolution?’

‘No resolution,’ Landis said. ‘Just an appointment. By one specific Council member.’

‘Who …?’ I stopped.

‘Yes,’ Landis said. ‘Your old friend Councillor Morden. Apparently you’re now his personal liaison.’ Landis paused. ‘Welcome to the club.’ He hung up.

I stood very still, the phone still held to my ear. I stayed there a long time, the cold seeping into my body, alone in the ruined building.

I’d planned for all the different ways I could die that night. I hadn’t planned on staying alive. Now that I’d been left alone, I didn’t know what to do. The after-effects of adrenaline shock had set in, and I was shivering and exhausted. I used the gate stone to travel back to the hotel room in Melbourne, wondering if Anne would be there. She wasn’t, but the bed was. I collapsed and was asleep in seconds.

I woke up to find that the sun had set. My body clock was out of sync and I felt disorientated, out of place. I lay awake in the room for more than an hour, listening to the city and feeling the warm breeze through the blinds. Eventually I got up and emptied out my dwindling supply of gate stones on to the bed, then stared down at them for a long time, trying to figure out where to go. In the end I picked out the one for my safe house in Wales. It seemed as good a choice as any other.