by Andy Boot
Two levels, then they hauled him out as the doors opened. Dragged him along a corridor lit with muted lighting and soft wall hangings. Three doors along, they stopped and knocked. A voice murmured from beyond, and the doors were opened.
Simeon was thrown into the room. He fell face first onto a rug. At least, he considered with some bitterness, this was a better class of floor to be thrown on...
"Well, well... I think you've got a lot of explaining to do," growled a familiar voice.
Daliel had led the investigation himself. As Simeon's superior officer, it was his place. Which, of course, suited him just fine, there was a lot to understand about what had occurred.
Repeated study of the surveillance tech Simeon had installed told them nothing. There were some images of the strike force as they gained access and hunted down their prey. All that really told the investigators was these were well-trained men. The disruption caused by the explosion left a hole in the evidence. They appeared to vanish without trace.
The only conclusion was that something magical had occurred.
Daliel alone knew that the attack did not come from within. In truth, no-one had been more surprised than him when the alarm had been sounded. His adept had not been ordered to act, and certainly he had not deployed any of the warrior security who he knew to be personally answerable to him. In truth, even the deputy minister with whom he colluded did not know of their existence. They were Daliel's own fail-safe plan.
This meant that the attack must have come from another source.
Like any true son of Bethel, Daliel thought first of Varn. Intel reports had stated that their Mage and Chief Minister had been meeting with a greater frequency than usual. This had been followed by the Mage's meditational retreat. Although there was no way of following him into the depths of the Institute, there had been no indications of his leaving the grounds.
Daliel was not so sure. He checked Intel reports on the Varn embassy in Belthan. Although there was still a large amount of construction work going on, the embassy staff had elected to stay. Which was unusual. Other nation state embassies had temporary offices during this time of adjustment.
The heavy-set and grim-faced security chief shut himself away with surveillance recordings from the day of the attack, taken from a number of imagers surrounding the Varn embassy building. Some were in public, some were not...
It took several viewings and the use of a cross-indexing and a bit-matching programme, but eventually he had identified eight men who appeared to leave the embassy although there was no trace of their entry. Six of them had been picked up by imagers near the Institute walls just before the time of the initial attack. Two had evaded initial detection. The imagers were blurred and distorted by simple magic, but when enhanced gave enough detail to suggest that these men, stripped of their work clothes, were the strike force that had attacked and taken the Mage.
Given the indication of magical activity, Daliel wondered further if it could be that Vixel was involved. He ordered up the Intel reports of arrivals from Varn within the last period, particularly those who were affiliated to the embassy staff.
One old man, hidden away in a delegation, seemingly a minor bureaucrat. It was impossible to tell, even with a bit-match programme on the separate holovid images. Impossible because a low-level masking charm had been used. Either an error on the part of the Mage, or a piece of hubris. In masking, he had given himself away. Had he just assumed that no-one would check?
Daliel pieced together the plot for himself. He knew that Simeon had no part in this, but the greater populace demanded a scapegoat. Daliel needed one too. There would be a public enquiry, if not a trial. In this, previous magical attacks may come into public domain, leading to questions about why nothing had been done earlier, why there had been no precautionary measures taken. Which may, in turn, lead to the discovery that these attacks had not originated from a foreign nation state.
Daliel had to avoid this. The best way to do it would be to simply give the public what they wanted: a scapegoat. To merely brand Simeon an incompetent would not be enough. To completely defer public attention, to cover every last track, it would be necessary to create a figure of public hate.
Who better than the bodyguard who had let the nation state's greatest treasure and greatest defence be taken? Better yet if it could be suggested that he was somehow in league with the enemy.
The taking of the Mage - and he had to assume that was what it was, as no body had been recovered - had a purpose that he could not yet define. It was still possible that it could be turned to his advantage, in the same way that his initial plan had revolved around the blame of Varn. But that was for the future.
For now, his carefully laid plans had been shattered. It was a time to limit the damage.
And the best way to do that was to question Simeon himself, turn him inside out so that the fool would condemn himself with his own words. He had kept him sedated for several days, isolated from the outside world. Simeon would have no idea how long he had been kept in the cell; nor what the outside world may be thinking of him. He would be confused. He would expect his old friend to go easy on him...
All of this passed through his mind as he waited for the guards to bring Simeon to him. Passed through and out as he heard the sharp rap at the doors. As he bade them enter.
"Well well... I think you've got a lot of explaining to do," he growled as Simeon landed at his feet.
Two men sat in a room, on either side of a desk. One was Daliel, the other the deputy minister with blonde hair and an expensive taste in wines. They had been sitting in the room for some time. In silence, each absorbed with their own thoughts.
Finally, the Deputy Minister spoke.
"The talk is that there will be a show trial. The man is condemned from his own mouth. A certain grace will be shown to the idea of a defence, but there is little doubt that the man is a traitor through and through. There is even evidence of his having colluded with the enemy during his tenure on a prison farm. A nice touch."
"I thought so," Daliel murmured.
"You will, of course, not name her?"
"Of course. Once she is known, then she has a chance to explain the truth. If she is blackened anonymously, she will stay in the background for fear of stigma."
"You appear to have thought of everything."
"I hope so." Daliel rose and went to the side table where a decanter and two glasses were laid. He poured drinks, then brought them back to the desk. It did not escape the minister's notice.
"I did not..."
"Understand this," Daliel said softly, but with an undertone of threat that cut across the minister's protest, "the balance of our relationship has changed. As a junior minister, destined for greatness, you were the one with the ability to lead the campaign. You had the contacts, the profile. I had the ability to carry out the real work, to soil my hands.
"But I have all that I need to go my own way. I can change this trial. I can direct it any way that I wish. If I choose to reveal that there were previous attacks, and that they were not directed from outside, I can bring forth evidence to place you firmly in the middle."
The minister smiled indulgently. "But surely you implicate yourself if you implicate me. Even if you believe you have covered your tracks..."
"I have. Of course, you could always attempt to drag me in if the matter came to trial, but really... the word of an obviously guilty man, seeking to lessen his punishment by blackening others? Who would give that credence?"
The minister pondered this for a moment. "Do not think for one moment that your threat has in any way caused me fear. Nonetheless, I applaud your playing of the system. You leave me little option other than to concede that the balance has shifted in your favour." He raised his glass. "I salute you. I will, of course, regain the upper hand if at all possible."
Daliel raised his own glass. "Naturally. I would expect nothing less. As long as we understand each other."
The two men drank in s
ilence for a while.
"Very well," the minister finally said. "We have made our own keep secure. But what now? What of Varn's plans for Ramus-Bey?"
"I think that they matter little," Daliel said at length. "Whatever they choose to do, they have created a vacuum. It is, I think, time that we groom our man. He has a breach into which to step. Once he is there, then the fate of Bey is immaterial."
Year Zero - Period Three
The young adept Najwin had been uncomfortable for some time. It had seemed to him that Simeon was to bear the brunt of the blame for the disappearance of Ramus-Bey. In truth, the adepts at the Institute had grown attached to the bodyguard. He had come through the testing time after the termination of Tamlin, and in their eyes had proved himself to be a true warrior on the night that Ramus-Bey was taken. This was something that all at the Institute had sought to impress upon the warrior security who had conducted the investigation.
If any others had noted the hostility of the warriors, they had not remarked upon it. But Najwin had known it. He could feel it in every movement and glance, dripping from every syllable they uttered. And he knew that Daliel was leading the investigation. It was obvious that it would have only one conclusion.
Simeon 7 was dead, even though he still drew breath.
This was not what the adept had wanted. This was not right. And there were, he was beginning to discover, many things of greater import than the acquisition of power.
So if no-one else was prepared to do something to aid Simeon, then he would.
Timing was everything, the trial would begin in a few days. It was all over the holovid broadcasts. Simeon was to be beamed live across the globe, while the nation states waited for Varn to come out and confirm that they had mounted the raid. So far, they had neither denied nor confirmed their part in the affair. They had stayed aloof, confident that Bethel would not attack them while deprived of their ultimate deterrent.
Najwin had to act quickly. There was one thing that he could give Simeon, one thing that would enable him to make his escape at the right time. But it was something that he could only teach, perfecting it would be down to the bodyguard, and he would need some small amount of time in which to practice.
So it was that the lanky young adept found himself walking out of the gates of the Institute and into the cold city morning. He had spent sleepless nights trying to decide the best time of day to go; trying to work out when he would be least missed. Eventually, he realised that he must risk all to chance. He may be missed at any time, or not at all.
Fortune, he hoped, would favour those who showed courage.
Courage was something that Najwin needed badly. He felt as though the weight of Inan was upon his shoulders. It had seemed so simple to begin with, so easy. Magic had always interested him, and it was something to which he took instantly. The casting of charms, the power of the will, and the understanding of how these things worked was something for which he had to spare little thought. While others had to sweat to make even the simplest charm work, he had been able to spin spells from a very early age. It was obvious that he was gifted, and that his future lay in the Institute.
Yet it was also at this early stage that he realised that to be too precocious would be to invite spite. Tutors would mark him down; fellow students would sneer. So he began to downplay his talent, to pretend that he had to try hard.
It made him fit in better, but it also did something inside. A part of him had grown bitter and resentful. It was not his fault that he found magic easy. Why should he have to pretend it was hard, when nothing more than an accident of fate had made it otherwise? When he looked at the Mage, it made him even more resentful. In his time at the Institute, he could not recall the Mage ever casting a charm of his own. He would teach the theory of magic, and instruct on how to prepare for a charm. But actually demonstrate? Never, to his knowledge, had this happened.
He had begun to wonder if Ramus-Bey were not, in fact, some kind of charlatan. The thought that a fraud was proclaimed Mage, while he had to pretend that magic was hard so as to avoid being picked on... it became too much.
So Najwin was a perfect target for Daliel. How the scarred man had known of his skill he had never asked. He had only heard the warrior offer him the moons and the stars.
The problem was that it had seemed so simple in theory, but the further he was dragged in, the more complex it became. These were people with real feelings, real pain. Termination was real. His thought creature had caused the death of Tamlin. In the aftermath, he had blamed Simeon: if the bodyguard had acted more swiftly, the young adept would have lived.
He knew he had been lying to himself over this. If not Tamlin, then Simeon and if not him, then some other poor soul who had been in the wrong place at the wrong moment.
There was only one man responsible: himself. He could not turn back from wherever this road would lead him. He was in too deep for that. Daliel would not allow him. He was scared of the warrior, there was no doubt about that.
But he could not allow Simeon to be terminated. One death on his conscience was more than enough.
A simple masking charm allowed him to leave the Institute and make his way through the centre of the city unnoticed. He would not show on Intel surveillance, and none of his fellow adepts had seen him leave. If any missed him, he would think of some excuse later.
He arrived at the military building. He had been here once before, in company with Daliel. He had used a masking charm then, for a similar reason. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he walked into the building, unobserved by man and tech.
He knew that Simeon was here, but he did not know where. If he had the time, he could explore at leisure, eavesdrop until he gained a clue. But time was at a premium.
He waited until the main entrance security were changing shift, and then went to the reception tech terminal. He had a good working knowledge of tech, and so was able to access the floor plans and records for the building. He worked swiftly, and although he could not be seen, anyone who came to use the terminal while he was standing here would bump into him, or see that the terminal was accessing classifieds.
He called up the information he required. Now he needed to make sure that his steps could not be traced. Magic could only work so far on tech like this without leaving traces, but it was enough. A disruption charm shorted the terminal and wiped the records. It would be put down to an energy surge, a wiring fault.
Najwin moved down the levels of the building, hopping between elevators, making sure that nothing anomalous would show on surveillance tech, such as an empty elevator moving by itself. It took longer than he would have liked, but finally he was standing in the corridor where Simeon's cell was housed.
He waited until a guard brought food, then followed him in. He waited until the guard left, then made a pass at the surveillance imager in the cell. Within the databank for that imager, on the central frame, the same few bits of information looped on themselves in a perpetual motion. The imager would not register as defective, yet neither would it record what was happening in the room.
Now it was safe to drop the unmasking charm.
Simeon started back in shock as the adept appeared before him.
"What..." he looked up at the imager. "Surely..."
"It's safe. We won't be seen. Do you know what's happening?"
"I assume I'm going to be held responsible for all that has happened. There has been a certain edge to my interrogations," he said, unable to keep the irony from his voice.
"Who has interrogated you?" Najwin asked.
"A man named Daliel. He was my immediate superior, so he has the authority... but I suspect he has a lot more than that."
"To say the least," Najwin interjected. "Listen, and don't speak. I fear you are to be terminated, at least to further the plans of one man, if not an entire nation state. Not that they are the same..." He caught the question in Simeon's measured gaze, and shrugged. "I have something to confess to you. It leaves me in a light
that... well, I'm not proud of and now I'm scared. So listen..."
Najwin outlined all that he knew of Daliel's plot, and did not flinch from his own part. When he had finished, Simeon was perplexed.
"So why here? Why now?"
"Because I have to draw a line somewhere. I shall never be the Mage I wanted to be as I have another's life on my conscience. It's too late for me - I shall go back to the Institute until you are safe away, and then leave. Magic is all that I am good at, but I am not good enough for it. All I can hope to do is less harm. If you pay attention and you practice what I am about to show you, then you may have a chance."
"I have never been a man of magic. How can I..."
Najwin shook his head. "No, no - we can all do something. This is a very small charm. It is localised, and cannot be sustained long. But long enough for your needs. Now watch..."
He taught Simeon the simple masking charm. Made him go through it until it started to work.
They were still working on it when they heard the approaching footsteps of the guard, returning to collect Simeon's untouched meal.
"I must release the imager and mask myself again," Najwin muttered urgently. "Practice this as often as you can. It may cause a slight disturbance on surveillance, but you'll have to hope that it doesn't get noted. It's not much, but it's all I can offer."
Swiftly, he made a series of passes, fading in a watery blur before Simeon's eyes.
The door of the cell opened. The guard looked down at the untouched meal and sniffed. "I should have eaten that, if I were you. Make the most of all you can get, traitorous scum. Your trial begins in two days. It's just been announced. Three days, and you'll be as dust." The guard emphasised his point by spitting on the floor at Simeon's feet before collecting the untouched food and leaving.
As the cell door closed, the room felt empty. Simeon knew that Najwin had gone. He could not excuse what the adept had done in the past, but he had tried to make amends. Simeon could also see that the experience would scar the young man for life... if he had any kind of life expectancy at all, should Daliel get wind of what he had done. But it wasn't the passing of the adept that made the cell feel empty, now he knew when he was to be tried. He was truly alone with his fate.