Cursed

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.”