Alex Verus Novels, Books 1-4 (9780698175952)

by Jacka, Benedict

  “You could rise—”

  “To the top of that old boys’ club?” Crystal’s voice was cool and precise. “After decades of bowing and scraping and cutting deals and begging for favours? Then once I’m old and grey, I could rise? I think not.”

  Lyle was silent. “I know what you want to ask,” Crystal said.

  “Could we—?”

  “No,” Crystal said. “Not as long as your first loyalty is to the Council.” She turned to Lyle. “But there are alternatives. You made me an offer, now let me make you one. What if I could offer you something better?”

  Lyle sounded taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “A way to have what we want without depending on the Council.”

  “How—”

  Crystal shook her head. “Not now.” She walked past Lyle, towards the door. “I have a tournament to oversee. Think about it.”

  I’d seen Crystal coming and was inside the room with the door drawn to by the time she stepped out into the corridor. She turned and left, heels clicking on the wooden floor. Lyle followed a minute later.

  Once they were gone I stepped out again, looking after them quizzically. Lyle and Crystal . . . Well, it was interesting, but I couldn’t see how it was much use. Crystal’s words were much more suspicious though. Whatever Crystal’s “something better” was, I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.

  * * *

  I’m always reluctant to take off my mist cloak. Invisibility is such a safe feeling and it’s so tempting to stay there rather than make yourself vulnerable again. But it doesn’t make your problems go away—all it does is delay them. I hid the cloak and sat down.

  There was something I’d been putting off and I couldn’t ignore it much longer. My formal reply to Onyx’s challenge was due in a few hours; I’d been avoiding thinking about it in the hope that it’d go away. It hadn’t, and I needed to figure out what to do.

  My odds of winning a duel against someone like Onyx were basically zero. Duels are designed to be fair fights, and I’m very bad at fair fights. With no cover it would come down to strength against strength, and even the weakest elemental mage outclasses me several times over in terms of raw power. I might give Onyx a surprise or two but there was only one way it could end.

  What if I went in expecting to lose? I couldn’t beat Onyx, but losing a duel wouldn’t kill me. It’d be humiliating and I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I’ve had worse.

  But while losing a duel wouldn’t kill me, losing a duel to Onyx might. Traditional duels aren’t supposed to be fatal but more than a few mages have died from “accidents” in the ring. Onyx would never get away with it, not in front of so many witnesses, but that wouldn’t be much consolation to me. And I really didn’t feel like trusting my life to Onyx’s self-control.

  I leant back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. I hate dealing with this stuff. So much of mage politics involves these no-win situations. I’m much happier hanging out with Luna and Arachne or minding my shop.

  How would I deal with this if I were in my shop? If some random guy walked in off the street and challenged me to a duel, what would I do?

  I’d tell him to get lost. Then if he tried to start a fight anyway, I’d make sure it wasn’t a fair one.

  Was there anything stopping me from just saying no? Now that I thought about it I didn’t think there was. By custom a mage is supposed to answer a challenge, but there aren’t any actual penalties for refusing. Traditional Light mages would see it as dishonourable, but the traditional Light mages don’t like me anyway.

  The real danger was that I’d appear weak. But elemental mages already think diviners are weak, and it works to my advantage as often as not. Besides, I couldn’t see how declining the duel could do any more harm to my image than having Onyx publicly kick my ass.

  I noticed that I was about to get a call. I took out my phone and hit the green button midway through the first ring. “Hey, Talisid.”

  “Glad I caught you,” Talisid said. “There’s been a development.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Two Keepers have been sent to Fountain Reach. Avenor and Travis.”

  I frowned. “What are they doing here?”

  “They’re assigned to the apprentice investigation, so if they’re coming to you it’s a safe bet they’re following some lead.” Talisid paused. “It seems you’re starting to convince people that Fountain Reach may be the right place.”

  “Well, I don’t know who convinced them but it wasn’t me.”

  “You haven’t spoken to them?”

  “No. When did they leave?”

  “An hour or two ago. I’d expect them to be at Fountain Reach by now.”

  “Um.” It bothered me for some reason. It sounded as though someone had tipped them off. But who?

  “Have you made any progress?”

  “Yes, but not over the phone. Talk to Sonder; he’s working on something from his end.”

  “I will. Oh, and next time you go for a drive, make a little less mess, will you?”

  “Yes, Talisid, the next time I have a bunch of unkillable construct assassins after me I’ll make it my number one priority to make sure you don’t have too much mess to clean up afterwards.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Talisid sounded amused. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I hung up and went to the duelling hall.

  chapter 12

  Heads turned as I walked into the hall. Onyx was there and I didn’t see any point in waiting for him to find me first. I walked towards the end of the hall, past the groups of apprentices and the mages turning to look at me.

  Onyx watched me as I approached, arms folded. “You challenged me,” I told him once I was close enough. I didn’t keep my voice down and I could feel the mages around me listening. “Here’s my answer. No.”

  Onyx’s lip curled. “Not fighting?”

  “I’m not fighting.”

  “The charges?”

  “There are no charges,” I said. “You have a problem, take it to the Council.”

  I’d been expecting Onyx to rage or threaten. He didn’t do either. Instead he stared at me for a long moment before giving a very slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he walked out.

  Luna was waiting on the other side of the crowd. “You’re okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Was that it? You just had to say no?”

  It wasn’t it. That smile worried me. If Onyx had been counting on my accepting the duel he should have reacted more. But that was my problem, not Luna’s, and I didn’t want to put anything else on her mind just now. “Pretty much,” I said. “When’s your match?”

  “They’re going to announce it,” Luna said. She’d dressed in a black form-fitting outfit I’d never seen her wear before and she was spinning the whip handle between her fingers. To my mage’s sight her curse spun about her, agitated.

  I looked around. “Where’s Variam?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isn’t he a bit late?”

  Luna looked at me in surprise. “He’s not in the tournament.”

  “He got knocked out?”

  “He forfeited. He didn’t show up to last night’s match; I guess he was with you and Anne. I thought you knew?”

  I remembered how Variam had appeared suddenly last night. As soon as he’d seen that Anne was missing he must have come after us, abandoning his match without hesitation. I was getting the feeling that I was starting to understand what Variam really cared about. “Did you tell Variam we were working for Talisid?” I asked Luna.

  “What? No.”

  “What about Anne?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I was wondering how he found out.”

  “Well,
it wasn’t from me. You said not to tell anyone.”

  I nodded. I could only think of four people who knew that it was Talisid who’d come to talk to me that day at the duelling class: me, Luna, Sonder, and Talisid himself. And I was pretty sure none of them had told Variam.

  But there was someone at that duelling class who could have found out that Talisid was there without being told. And now that I thought about it, that might explain the message too . . .

  A chime sounded from the podium and conversation across the hall fell silent. More than half of the apprentices competing in the White Stone had been knocked out by now, but the number of spectators had gone up if anything. There’s a lot of prestige to these tournaments.

  Crystal was standing on the podium. She’d tied up her gold hair in a professional-looking style and was dressed in yet another cream-coloured suit of a slightly different cut. I wondered if she had a rack of them somewhere. She was looking confident and as everyone turned to watch she gave them all a smile. “Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the second day of the White Stone. The third round will now begin. The first match is between”—Crystal’s eyes travelled up—“Gunther Elkins and Michael Antigua.”

  Gunther was a tall, serious-looking boy with Germanic features and a blond ponytail, and he strode onto the piste to face Michael, who was a head shorter than him with light brown skin and dark hair and eyes. Two mages were standing at opposite ends of the hall behind the tuning-fork focuses, and as I watched they activated them. Thin walls of energy sprang to life along the edges of the piste and shield bubbles appeared around Gunther and Michael. Both were invisible to normal eyes and even to my mage’s sight they were faint and translucent. These were the conversion fields of an azimuth duel; they radiated no energy, but under the monitoring of a skilled operator they could react instantly to any attack that struck them. There was no ceremony; the formalities had been done yesterday. The arbitrator, a white-haired mage in ceremonial robes, glanced at Gunther. “Ready?”

  Gunther nodded.

  “Ready?” he said to Michael.

  Michael nodded.

  “Fight.”

  Michael attacked, strikes of water magic hammering at Gunther’s shield. Gunther parried the first strike, and the second. As Michael began another attack, Gunther slammed a blade of air through Michael’s defences, so fast that Michael had no time to raise a shield of his own. I had just a glimpse of the razor-edged shard before it vanished in a flash of light, the conversion field disintegrating it an instant before it cut into Michael’s flesh. It wouldn’t have been fatal, but it would have hurt.

  “Point, right,” the arbitrator announced. “One-zero. Places.”

  Gunther and Michael returned to the starting lines. The first round had taken less than three seconds.

  “Fight.”

  The duel continued and it quickly became obvious that Gunther was both swifter and more skilled than his opponent. By the end the score was 3–0 and Gunther shook hands with a surly-looking Michael. I glanced down to see that Luna looked nervous.

  “Victor Kraft and Oscar Poulson,” Crystal announced.

  Both apprentices were using focus weapons this time. Victor wielded a longsword, which was sharp and dangerous-looking even without the trail of frost it left in his wake. Oscar held something more like a fencing épée. The épée was fast and so was Oscar, but not fast enough.

  “Fay Wilder and Barbara Cartwright.”

  Barbara was a plain-faced stocky girl. She carried no weapon but relied instead on touch spells. Fay had curly hair and a ready smile, and she was an illusionist. Barbara’s touch spells hit only phantoms of light and shadow, while Fay’s small dagger found its mark reliably.

  “Anne and Variam are here,” I commented as Fay walked off the piste to be congratulated by a smiling man in expensive-looking clothes.

  “How am I supposed to beat these guys?” Luna asked. She was biting her lip. “Did you see what she just did?”

  “Relax.”

  “I couldn’t even see where she was. How can—?”

  “Relax,” I said. “Focus on the one you will be fighting.”

  Crystal was still on the podium and her gaze was resting on Fay Wilder, just as she’d watched every other apprentice who’d stepped onto the piste. I narrowed my eyes. Why are you watching them so closely?

  Crystal turned away and raised her voice. “Natasha Babel . . .” Her eyes came to rest on us. “And Luna Mancuso.”

  I felt Luna go stiff. “Go for it,” I said.

  “It’s—”

  “I know who it is. Kick her ass.”

  Natasha was already walking onto the piste. Luna stepped out a moment later. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail instead of her usual bunches, and as she took her place to the right end she looked quick and agile, standing balanced on the balls of her feet. The conversion field flared up around the piste and bubble shields appeared around Luna and Natasha. “Ready?” the arbitrator asked Luna.

  Luna nodded. She was keeping the handle of her whip hidden and I nodded approvingly to myself. As I watched, the silver mist of her curse spread and unfurled around her, tendrils snaking out to a distance of two or three yards and causing faint flickers as they brushed the edge of the piste. Luna’s learnt over the past year to hold her curse in, but it’s more powerful when she doesn’t.

  “Ready?” the arbitrator asked Natasha.

  Natasha said something under her breath, not quite loud enough for me to hear. Luna frowned and Natasha gave her a thin smile. Just as in their first duel, Natasha carried no weapon. With her water magic she didn’t need one.

  “Are you ready?” the arbitrator repeated to Natasha, more loudly.

  “Ready,” Natasha said without taking her eyes off Luna.

  “Fi—”

  Natasha struck before the arbitrator had finished speaking, a lance of blue light stabbing at Luna’s chest. Water mages can’t manipulate the water in a human body—that’s the domain of life magic—and they can’t create water out of nowhere. But they can use the water vapour in the air to do pretty much anything water can do in much larger amounts, including hitting someone with the impact of a fire hose.

  But Luna had started moving at the same time, and whether through foresight or the luck of her curse her sidestep took her far enough out of the way for the water lance to streak past. As she dodged, her right arm came up in an underarm swing and the whip came to life, its silvery length slashing upwards and straight into Natasha. The strand dissipated as it struck the bubble of Natasha’s conversion field, becoming a flash of brilliant light that made me shut my eyes.

  “Point, right,” the arbitrator said. He was frowning, but neither Natasha nor Luna had quite jumped the gun.

  “What was that?” Natasha demanded. “That’s not fair!”

  “Point, right,” the arbitrator repeated more loudly. “One-zero.” Luna brought the whip back, the strand of silver mist curling around her feet. I’d expected it to go for the spectators, but it didn’t; it was pointed towards Natasha, coiled and ready. For Natasha’s part, she looked taken aback. This obviously wasn’t going the way she’d expected.

  “Ready?” the arbitrator asked once everything was settled. I could hear murmurs from the crowd, people whispering in undertones. Luna’s curse is very difficult to see; my mage’s sight is better than most and even I can only spot it because I know exactly what to look for. To most of the mages here, it would have looked like Luna hit Natasha without doing anything.

  “Fight!”

  A spherical shield of flickering blue light sprang up around Natasha, the water magic combining magical energy and pressure to repel attacks. Luna’s whip sprang out eagerly and the silver mist bit into the sphere, but the shield held. Luna pulled back and struck again, stepping forward as Natasha stepped back. Light spar
ked from Natasha’s shield at the points of impact, silver-blue instead of the white flash of the conversion field. The whip was fast and responsive and it gathered itself for a new strike more quickly than any normal whip could do, but there was still a slight delay between each attack. Natasha timed it carefully, then as Luna was pulling back for another stroke she dropped her shield and sent a full-strength blast of water magic streaming down the piste. Luna was off-balance and didn’t manage to dodge. The azimuth shield took the brunt of the attack with a brilliant flash, but it couldn’t stop all the kinetic energy of the impact. Luna flew five feet before hitting the floor and slid and rolled for another ten.

  “Point, left,” the arbitrator said as another murmur went up around the hall. “One-all. Is right able to continue?”

  Luna got to one knee, steadying herself and locking gazes with Natasha. There was a small cut on her lip. “Oh, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Natasha said, her eyes wide.

  “You wish,” Luna said.

  “Places,” the arbitrator said loudly.

  Luna rose and walked to the starting lines. Her curse lashed and twisted around her, and it looked pissed off. Over the crowd I caught a glimpse of Anne and Variam watching closely. Anne looked worried. Variam just looked like he was enjoying the show.

  “Ready?” the arbitrator said. “Fight!”

  Both Luna and Natasha started more cautiously this time, neither wanting to risk an attack that might leave them open. Luna attacked first, her whip flicking out to glance off Natasha’s shield. Natasha struck back but this time Luna’s whip met the attack head on, slashing into the lance of water and erasing it in a flash of light before it could reach her. Natasha pulled away.

  Luna began to advance. This time instead of big slow swings she kept the whip in front of her, slashing at Natasha with quick strikes that didn’t leave her vulnerable. Natasha backed off as the whip cut into her shield, the impacts landing left and right and left again. Luna kept advancing, eyes narrowed in concentration, and it became obvious that Natasha didn’t have an answer for the steady beat of attacks. Experienced battle-mages can shield and strike at the same time but Natasha didn’t have the skill. Natasha kept backing away, flinching. Left, right, left—and then Luna changed the pattern. Instead of going back to the right she flipped the whip handle through a complex move and the whip reared up behind Natasha like a striking scorpion, stabbing through the back of her shield where it was weaker in a flash of brilliant white.