“That’s me,” I said.

  She sat opposite, legs together. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room switch to me, comparing the woman’s outfit with my rumpled trousers and sweater. Now that she was on the same level I could see that it wasn’t just the heels, she really was tall, almost as tall as me. She carried nothing but a small handbag. “Coffee?”

  She glanced at a slim gold watch. “I only have half an hour.”

  “Suits me.” I leant back on the chair. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re after?”

  “I need—”

  I held up my hand. “I was hoping you might introduce yourself first.”

  There was a brief flash of irritation in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. “I’m Crystal.”

  I already knew her name. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to find out quite a bit about Crystal in the two days since she’d contacted me to request a meeting. I knew she was a Light mage, one of the “nobility” with lots of connections. I knew she wasn’t a player in Council politics but had friends there. I knew the type of magic she could use, where in England she was based, and even roughly how old she was. What I didn’t know was what she wanted me for—but I was about to find out. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I expect you know about the White Stone?”

  “The tournament?”

  Crystal nodded. “Isn’t it due to start soon?” I said.

  “The opening ceremony will be this Friday,” Crystal said. “At Fountain Reach.”

  “Okay.”

  “Fountain Reach is my family home.”

  My eyebrows went up at that. “Okay.”

  “I want you to help manage the event,” Crystal said. “It’s very important that everything goes smoothly.”

  “Manage how?”

  “Providing additional protection. A diviner would be perfect for that.”

  “Right,” I said. I’ve run into this a lot lately. People hear about my background and assume I must be a battle-mage. Now, it’s true that I’m a mage, and it’s true that I’ve fought battles, and it’s even true that I’ve fought battle-mages, but that doesn’t make me a battle-mage myself. “I’m not really a bodyguard.”

  “I’m not expecting you to serve as a battle-mage,” Crystal said. “You’d be more of a … security consultant. Your job would be to warn me of any problems.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “We’re expecting at least fifty mages for the tournament. Initiates and journeymen, possibly even Dark representatives as well.” Crystal clasped her hands. “There’ll be competition. It’s possible some of the participants will carry grudges off the piste.”

  It sounded like a recipe for trouble. “And stopping them will be …”

  “There’ll be Council battle-mages present. We’re well aware of the potential for trouble. There will be sufficient security. We just need to make sure the security is in the right place at the right time.”

  “You haven’t received any warnings, or threats?”

  “Nothing like that. There’s been no suggestion of trouble so far, and we’d like your help to make sure it stays that way.”

  I thought about it. I’ve usually steered clear of Light tournaments in the past; Helikaon thought they were a waste of time, and I agreed with him. But if there were initiates there, that changed my feelings a bit. Trying to protect adult mages is a thankless task, but apprentices are another story. “What exactly would you be expecting me to do?”

  “Just to keep an eye on the guests. Possibly some investigation if anything comes up. We’re particularly concerned about keeping the younger apprentices safe, so we’d been hoping you could help with that.”

  I started to nod—and then stopped.

  Crystal looked at me. “Is something wrong?”

  I kept still for a second, then smiled at her. “No. Not at all. You mentioned investigation work?”

  “Obviously, some mages are more likely to make trouble than others. We don’t have anybody we’re especially suspicious of, but it’s likely things will crop up to turn our attention to someone. When they do, it would be very helpful if you could find a few things out for us.”

  “I assume the place is staffed?”

  “Oh yes, the servants will handle all that. You’d be considered one of the guests.”

  “And you said the opening ceremony was on Friday. The guests will be arriving by what, Thursday?”

  “Exactly.” Crystal was relaxed now; the interview was going well. “We’re expecting the first guests by the afternoon before, although of course the sooner you can arrive the better.”

  “And regarding payment?” I thought about cash, as soon as possible.

  “Future service, as usual. Though if you’d prefer something more tangible, that’s perfectly acceptable.”

  “When could you arrange payment by?”

  “Immediately, of course.”

  “Well.” I smiled at Crystal. “That settles that.”

  “Excellent. Then you’ll be able to come?”

  “No.”

  The smile vanished from Crystal’s face. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, I’m afraid there are a couple of problems.” I leant forward casually, folding one hand over the other. “The first issue is that I’ve had a lot of approaches like yours over the past few months. And while they all looked good on the surface, the last couple of times I’ve said yes they’ve turned out to be … well, let’s just say I don’t feel like a repeat performance.”

  “If you have a prior engagement, I’m sure we—”

  “No, we couldn’t. Because the second problem is that you’ve been reading my thoughts ever since you sat down.”

  Crystal went very still. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she said at last.

  “Oh, you’re very subtle,” I said. “I’d guess most mages wouldn’t even notice.”

  Crystal didn’t move, and I saw the futures whirl. Flight, combat, threats. “Relax,” I said. “If I was going to start a fight I wouldn’t have told you about it.”

  The futures kept shifting for a moment longer—then settled, stable. “I’m sorry,” Crystal said. She brushed back her hair, looking remorseful. “I shouldn’t, I know. I was just so worried you’d say no.” She met my eyes, entreating. “We need someone as skilled as you. Please, won’t you help?”

  I looked back at Crystal for a long second. “No,” I said at last. “I won’t. Good-bye, Crystal.”

  Again the smile vanished from Crystal’s face, and this time it didn’t come back. She watched me expressionlessly for a long second, then rose in a single motion and stalked away, heels clicking on the floor.

  I’d known Crystal was a mind mage, but even so I hadn’t noticed her spell. Active mind magic like suggestion is easy to spot if you know what to look for, but a mage who’s good with passive senses, reading the thoughts that others broadcast, is much harder to catch. The only thing that had tipped me off was that Crystal had been too neat. In a real conversation no one tells you exactly what you want to hear.

  That last reaction had made me wonder, too. Between her magic and her looks, it occurred to me that Crystal probably wasn’t very used to not getting her own way. I’d better be careful around her if we met again.

  I realised suddenly that everyone else in the shop was watching me. For a moment I wondered why, then smiled to myself as I understood what it must have looked like. I left my drink on the table and ran the gauntlet of stares as I walked down to the ground floor and out into the London streets.

  I never used to get offers like these. This time last year, I could go weeks at a time without seeing another mage. In mage society I was an unknown, and all in all, that was how I liked it.

  It’s hard to say what changed. I used to think it was because of that business with the fateweaver, but now, looking back, I get the feeling it was more to do with me. Maybe I was just tired of being alone. Whatever it was, I had gotten involved in the magical world again, and had started getting myself a reputation.

  Although not necessarily a good reputation. I got the fateweaver against some stiff competition, making a couple of very powerful enemies in the process, one of which came back to bite me six months later. A Light battle-mage named Belthas was trying to get sole ownership of a very nasty ritual, and when I tried to stop him, it came down to a fight. When the dust settled, Belthas was gone.

  That was the point at which other mages started to take notice. Belthas had been good—really good, one of the most dangerous battle-mages around. All of a sudden, a lot of people were paying attention to me. After all, if I’d been able to defeat someone like Belthas, I’d be a useful tool to have on their side. And if I wasn’t on their side … well, then they might have to consider doing something about that, too.

  All of a sudden, I had to play politics. Take a job, and I’d be associated with whoever I agreed to work for. Turn one down, and I’d risk causing offence. Not all the job offers were nice, either. More than one Dark mage figured that since I’d knocked off one Light mage, I might be willing to do a few more, and let me tell you, those kinds of people do not take rejection well.

  But I’m not completely new to politics, either. My apprenticeship was to a Dark mage named Richard Drakh, in a mansion where trust was suicide and competition was quite literally a matter of life and death. It’s left me with some major issues with relationships, but as a primer on power and manipulation, it’s hard to beat. Crystal hadn’t been the first to try to take advantage of me—and she hadn’t been the first to get a surprise.

  But right now, I didn’t feel like dealing with that. I put Crystal out of my mind and went to go find my apprentice.

  Mages don’t have a single base of operations—there’s no central headquarters or anything like that. Instead, the Council owns a wide selection of properties around England, and they make use of them on a rotating basis. This one was an old gym in Islington, a blocky building of fading red bricks tucked away down a back street. The man at the front desk glanced up as I walked in and gave me a nod. “Hey Mr. Verus. Looking for the students?”

  “Yep. And the guy waiting for me.”

  “Oh. Uh … I’m not supposed to talk about …”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I opened the door, closed it behind me, and looked at the man leaning against the side of the corridor. “You know, for someone who’s not a diviner, you seem to know an awful lot about where to find me.”

  Talisid is middle-aged with a receding hairline, and every time I see him he always seems to be wearing the same nondescript suit. If you added a pair of glasses he’d look like a maths teacher, or maybe an accountant. He doesn’t look like much at first glance, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he might be more than he seems.

  I’ve never known exactly what to make of Talisid. He’s involved with a high-up faction of the Council, but what game they’re playing I don’t know. “Verus,” Talisid said with a nod. “Do you have a minute?”

  I began walking towards the doors at the end of the hall. Talisid fell in beside me. “So,” I said. “Since you’re here, I’m guessing I’m either in trouble or about to get that way.”

  Talisid shook his head. “Has anybody ever told you you’re a remarkably cynical person?”

  “I like to think of it as learning from experience.”

  “I’ve never forced you to accept a job,” Talisid pointed out.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  The doors opened into a stairwell. Narrow rays of sun were streaming down through slit windows of frosted glass, catching motes of dust floating in the air. They lit up Talisid and me as we climbed, placing us in alternating light and shadow. “Okay,” I said. “Hit me.”

  “The task I’d like your help with is likely to be difficult and dangerous,” Talisid said. “It’s also covered by strict Council secrecy. You may not tell anyone the details, or even that you’re working for us.”

  I looked over my shoulder with a frown. “Why all the secrecy?”

  “You’ll understand once you hear the details. Whether to take the assignment is up to you, but confidentiality is not.”

  I thought for a second. “What about Luna?”

  “The Council would prefer to limit the number of people in the know as far as possible,” Talisid said. “However … due to the nature of the problem, I believe your apprentice might be of some help.” Talisid paused. “She would also be in greater danger. The decision is yours.”

  We reached the top floor and stopped at the doors to the hall. “I’ll be waiting down the corridor,” Talisid said. “Once you’ve decided, come speak to me.”

  “Not coming in?”

  “The fewer people that know of my involvement, the better,” Talisid said. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

  I watched Talisid go with a frown. I’ve done jobs for Talisid before, and while they’d generally been successful, they hadn’t been safe. In fact, most had been decidedly unsafe. If he was calling the job “difficult and dangerous” … I shook my head and pushed the doors open.

  The top hall had once been a boxing gym. Chains hung from the ceiling, but the heavy bags had been removed, as had the ring at the centre. Mats covered the floor and light trickled in from windows high above. Two blocky ceramic constructions were set up at either end of the hall, ten feet tall and looking exactly like a pair of giant tuning forks.

  Inside the room were five students and one teacher. Three of the students were against the far wall: a small, round-faced Asian girl, a blond-haired boy with glasses, and another boy with dark Indian skin and the turban of a Sikh who was keeping an noticeable distance from the first two. All looked about twenty or so. I didn’t know their names but had seen them around enough times to recognise them as seniors in the apprenticeship program.

  The next girl I knew a little better. She was tall and slim, with black hair that brushed her shoulders, and her name was Anne. And standing close to her (but not too close) was Luna, my apprentice.

  The last person in the room was the teacher. He was twenty-eight, with short dark hair and olive-tinted skin, well-dressed and affluent-looking, and he stopped what he’d been saying as I walked in. Five sets of interested eyes turned in my direction, following the teacher’s gaze.

  “Hi, Lyle,” I said. “Didn’t know you’d taken up teaching.”

  Lyle hesitated. “Er—”

  I waved a hand. “Don’t let me interrupt. Go right ahead.” I found a spot on the wall and leant against it.

  “Um.” Lyle looked from me to the students. “Er. The thing— Well, as I— Yes.” He floundered, obviously off his groove. Lyle’s never been good with surprises. I watched with eyebrows raised and an expression of mild inquiry. I didn’t feel like making it easy for him.

  Lyle was one of the first Light mages I met when Richard Drakh introduced me into magical society. We’d both been teenagers then, but Lyle had a few years of experience on me: His talent had developed earlier than mine, and he’d had time to learn the ins and outs of the social game. I’d been a Dark apprentice, and there’d never been any question that Lyle would try for the Council, but all the same, we became friends. We were both the type to rely on cleverness rather than strength, and our types of magic complemented each other nicely. Our goals, unfortunately, turned out to be much less compatible.

  At the time I was still feeling my way, unsure of what I wanted to be. Lyle, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted: status, advancement, prestige, a position in the Council bureaucracy from which he could work his way upwards. And when I lost Richard’s favour and with it any standing I might have had, Lyle had to choose between me and his ambitions. Supporting me would have cost him. So when I showed up six months later, alone and desperate, Lyle’s response was to pretend I wasn’t there. Under mage law, the master-apprentice relationship is sacred. An apprentice is their master’s responsibility, no one else’s. I’d defied Richard, fled from him, and it was Richard’s right to do with me as he pleased. So the Light mages shut me out. They knew Richard would come to collect his runaway, and they waited for him to finish things.

  But something happened then that the Light and the Dark mages did not expect. When Richard sent Tobruk—the cruellest and most powerful of his four apprentices—to kill me, it was Tobruk who died. And in the aftermath, instead of coming to take vengeance, Richard vanished, along with his last two apprentices, Rachel and Shireen. I was left alive, safe … and alone.

  Technically, under mage law, I hadn’t done anything wrong. It’s not illegal for an apprentice to successfully defend himself against his master; it’s just so bloody rare no one’s ever bothered to pass a law against it. But I’d broken tradition older than law. An apprentice is supposed to obey his master, for good or ill, and no other mage would take me on—after all, if I’d rebelled against one master, I might rebel against another. Besides, no one was quite sure what had happened to Richard. He might be gone for good—or he might reappear, in which case nobody wanted to be anywhere near me when he did. So once again, other mages distanced themselves from me, and waited.

  They waited and waited, and kept waiting so long they forgot all about me, by which time I was glad to let them do it. I started to make a new life for myself. I travelled, had some adventures. As a result of one of them I inherited a shop, a little business in the side streets of Camden Town. I’d only been planning to run it a few months, but as the months turned into years I realised I enjoyed what it brought me. The shop and the flat above it became my residence, then my home. I made new friends. Gradually, I began to remember what it was like to be happy again.

  And then one day Lyle walked into my shop, and brought me back into the mage world with its politics and its alliances and its dangers. This time, I was prepared. And this time, to my surprise, I found I liked it.