Taken

I walked straight towards Jagadev. Faces turned to watch as we approached, and I had the sudden strange feeling that I was at a court, the inhabitants watching us draw closer to the king on his throne. An Asian guy in sunglasses stepped in front of us, blocking our way.

I stopped and met his gaze. “Alex Verus.”

The man glanced back towards Jagadev. Jagadev made no movement that I could see, but the man stepped away. I walked up and stood before him. The girls to either side eyed me appraisingly. The room was silent but for the pounding beat of the music below.

Jagadev made a small gesture with his free paw towards the sofa behind me.

“Hi,” I said. “Sorry, was that an invitation to sit down? I’m not that familiar with the code.”

“Sit,” Jagadev said. His voice was a rumble, midway between a purr and a growl.

“Thanks.” I sat and glanced around. “Interesting place you’ve got here.” Without turning I could sense Luna’s presence behind me; she’d taken up a position a safe distance from the other people in the room, not too far from the exit. Although I kept myself relaxed, I was very aware of how many people were surrounding us. There were thirteen other people in the room apart from us and Jagadev, of whom four or five were between us and the exit. If things went wrong this could get ugly fast.

Some things are much easier to predict than others. Machines and other inanimate objects are simple. When you flick a light switch, the light comes on. You can flick the switch a hundred times, and the light will go on the same way every time. Sure, there’s a tiny chance something will go wrong—the bulb might blow out, there could be a power cut—but even those can be predicted fairly reliably if you know what you’re doing.

Forecasting what a living creature will do is much harder. Free will is one of the points at which divination breaks down; if someone genuinely hasn’t made a choice then no divination magic can see beyond it. You can see the branching futures, see the consequences of each, but the final decision is always theirs.

But while everyone has free will, one of the odd things you learn as a diviner is that not everyone actually uses it. A surprising number of people don’t make choices, not most of the time anyway —they just react on predefined patterns until something happens to shake them out of it. A thoughtful person, though, someone who makes decisions based on what they hear and think and see—to a diviner’s eyes they look totally different. By looking at the shape of someone’s futures, I can actually make a pretty good guess at what kind of person they are. So as I spoke to Jagadev, only a part of my mind was in the present. Most of my attention was on what he was going to do.

The shape of Jagadev’s actions was . . . odd. Normally I see a swirl of futures, changing and adapting to my own actions. Jagadev’s futures weren’t like that at all—they were impassive, still. In all the futures of all my words and actions, Jagadev sat like a statue, controlled and steady. I could sense a powerful intelligence behind that mask, but what and how much he would reveal I didn’t know.

It all took only an instant, and as Jagadev spoke I snapped back to the present. “I have always been here.”

“You’ve gone for a different setup than mages usually do.”

Jagadev’s eyes drifted past me, looking over my shoulder. “And yet,” he murmured, “mages come.”

I looked back, following Jagadev’s gaze across the balcony towards the stairs up from the floor below. The two Keepers I’d seen earlier were visible across the gap, their outlines dim through the glass. They looked around, then moved towards where Lyle and Crystal had been sitting. “So,” I said, turning back to Jagadev, “not that I’m not grateful for the invitation, but why did you ask me here?”

“Why did you assist my ward?”

“You mean Anne?” I shrugged. “I’m a diviner.”

“That is the how,” Jagadev said. “I wish to know why.”

Behind me, across the balcony, I could feel the two mages talking to Lyle and Crystal. Without turning to look, I sensed Lyle point them in our direction. The men started towards us. “Would you prefer I hadn’t?”

“Answer the question.”

“Let’s just say I don’t like seeing apprentices getting killed.” I tilted my head. “Not intending to interfere in your business, of course.”

Jagadev held my gaze for a few moments. “You have my gratitude,” he said at last.

He didn’t sound grateful. But then I was getting the definite impression that Jagadev didn’t show much of anything. “Quite a well-planned attack,” I said. “Somebody wanted to make sure she didn’t get back.”

“Those responsible will be dealt with,” Jagadev said. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent that gave me a chill.

“So I’m curious,” I said. “What exactly is your relationship with Anne and Variam? You called Anne your ward?”

“That is not your concern.”

“Fair enough.” The two mages were heading towards us. “But seeing as I was able to provide some help, is there any chance you could tell me something about a related matter?”

Jagadev gave a single nod. “This wasn’t the first attack on an apprentice,” I said. “Others have been going missing. Know anything about it?”

From behind came the sound of voices. The other people in the room turned to look; I didn’t. Instead I looked into the futures in which I did, seeing behind me without having to turn my head. The Council Keepers were right outside and the Asian guy in sunglasses was in the doorway blocking their way. One of the mages said something. I couldn’t make out Sunglasses’s reply, but I got the gist: Lord Jagadev is busy. The mage’s answer was short and threatening, and it wasn’t a request. Sunglasses folded his arms.

I felt the snap of a spell: air magic. Sunglasses hit the wall to my right with a whump, crumpling to the floor. I turned my head to look over the back of the sofa as the mages walked in.