Favours Page 3

  “Him,” I say, tapping a page.

  Caldera looks down at it. “You sure?”

  I hesitate for just a second. Are you sure? is the big question when you’re working for the Keepers, and every time I hear it I feel this little thrill of worry. I’m not just being nervous – very bad things can happen to you if you answer that question wrong. There are time mages who’ve tanked their careers and had their reputations ruined for the rest of their lives for saying ‘yes’.

  But saying ‘no’ too many times can hurt you almost as badly. This moment – doing these timesight scans and making an identification – is what the Council pays you for. They want you to put your reputation on the line, and get it right.

  And I’m good at being right.

  “I’m sure,” I tell her.

  “David Freeman,” Caldera says to herself, and nods. “Not a big surprise.”

  “You know him?”

  “Adept with some low-level stealth ability,” Caldera says. “I’ve pulled him in for burglary before. Warned him to go straight but he likes the easy money too much. Hadn’t heard from him for a while, thought he might have finally listened. Guess not.” She walks away a few steps, speaks into her comm for a minute, then comes back. “All right, word’s out. Now comes the hard part.”

  “Waiting?” I ask.

  Caldera snorts. “That’s the easy part. No. Someone wants to talk to us.”

  I frown. “About what?”

  “Wrong question,” Caldera says as she turns away. “Should have asked who.”

  ∞

  I like the feel of the War Rooms better than Keeper HQ. The floors are polished, everything’s clean . . . it just generally feels nice, instead of like a dump. I never understood how the Keepers are supposed to be the most important part of the Council, yet they work out of such a crappy place. Even the air here smells nicer.

  We pass a group of mages laughing and talking in the middle of the Belfry. Caldera doesn’t break stride as we go by, but from the snatches of conversation it sounds like something’s going on in the Cathedral; they’re talking about a duel they just watched.

  The duel makes me think of Luna. We haven’t talked for nearly a year; we had that big fight last April, and I tried to get in touch a couple of times afterwards, but the conversations were always kind of uncomfortable and then I got distracted by the trip and once I got to Washington I always seemed to be busy with something. Though I still kept thinking about her from time to time. Which got really awkward after I started going out with Joanna . . .

  I wonder if Luna’s still with Alex? She said she wasn’t interested in finding a new master, but she might have changed her mind. Now that I look back on it, I wish I’d fixed things up with her before leaving. It’s been long enough now that it’d feel awkward approaching her. Maybe I could go through someone else . . . ?

  While I’ve been thinking, we’ve passed through the second set of security gates and into the inner chambers. We turn a couple of corners, then the air starts to become fresher and the sound of running water echoes from ahead, growing louder and louder until the corridor opens out into an underground conservatory filled with colour.

  The conservatory smells of greenery and flowers. Water splashes and bubbles from a fountain, and branches reach out from the planters to half-hide the walls. Standing in front of the pool is a smallish man with neat brown hair wearing a suit that looks like it came from Savile Row. “Keeper Caldera,” Barrayar says with a nod. “Mage Sonder. Thank you for coming.”

  I’ve seen Barrayar a few times, but I think this is the first time we’ve talked. He’s personal aide to Councillor Levistus. Council aides are a big deal – people sometimes act like they’re just glorified secretaries, but they’re really not. Most of the time, when an aide tells you something, they’re acting as their boss’s mouthpiece: it’s the closest you’ll get to a Councillor giving you a direct order. There’s no-one else in the conservatory. We passed a security man on the way in, and I’ve got the feeling he might have had orders to not let anyone else by.

  “Mage Barrayar,” Caldera says curtly. “I hope this is important.”

  “I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t,” Barrayar says, then glances at me. “Sonder, good to see you again. I hear you impressed quite a few people in Washington.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “You going to tell us why you dragged us away from work?” Caldera asks.

  “This does concern your work.” Barrayar turns away and inspects the leaves on one of the small trees by the pool. “I understand you’re engaged in some follow-up concerning White Rose.”

  “Maybe.”

  Barrayar nods. “Certain quarters would appreciate it if you could delay this investigation.”

  “Which quarters?”

  Barrayar acts as if he hadn’t heard. “I would be happy to do anything feasible to help you and your department if it could help us in coming to an arrangement.”

  “You offering me a reward for co-operation?” Caldera’s voice doesn’t change, but there’s a sudden hardness in her eyes. “Is that it?”

  Barrayar shakes his head. “I’m not trying to bribe you, Caldera. I’m appealing to your sense of duty.”

  “Duty to what?” Caldera asks. “Because the way it looks to me, the only one benefiting here is you.”

  Barrayar sighs and starts to stroll down the conservatory path. “Walk with me, please.”

  I step forward to follow him; Caldera shoots me a look but follows. We fall in at Barrayar’s right side as he moves slowly through the garden, weaving from left to right to avoid brushing any of the branches.

  “The Council has been seriously disrupted as a result of the events of this past month,” Barrayar says as we walk. “The fallout from the White Rose affair brought down two Councillors, as well as many more in lower-ranking positions. Given your involvement in the case, I’m sure you’re well aware of the chaos that followed.”

  “Maybe they shouldn’t have been buying sex from a bunch of slavers,” Caldera tells him.

  “I’m not blaming you, Caldera. You did your job.”

  Neither Caldera nor Barrayar are paying me any attention, and I figure that if I’m being ignored, I might as well take the opportunity to have a look around. I scan backwards with my timesight, searching for any trace of Barrayar in the past. If he’s meeting us here, then he might have met other people as well. Eavesdropping on a Council aide sounds awfully interesting . . .

  But I hit a wall straightaway. Barrayar’s got a personal shroud, too, and it’s much better than the one I broke this morning. It’s not a lattice, it’s like a wall of solid rock that I can’t look through and which doesn’t budge. I work at it for a few minutes, getting increasingly frustrated, then give up.

  Barrayar’s still talking. “. . . the effect of this being that Morden was raised to the Junior Council unopposed,” he’s saying. “Now, there’s nothing we can do to get rid of him right at the moment. Not without cause. There is, however, a broad agreement that we should be taking action to limit his influence. Several Council members from across the political spectrum have privately expressed their concerns to me on the subject.”

  “Yeah, look, this is all very interesting—” Caldera begins.

  “However, to limit Morden’s influence, the Council needs to be focused. It needs to be unified. What it does not need is for the White Rose case to be reopened.” Barrayar looks at us. “Do you understand?”

  Caldera studies Barrayar for a second. “Levistus is hoping to get raised to that vacant seat on the Senior Council, right?”

  I look from Caldera to Barrayar. Barrayar looks back at Caldera without expression.

  “What, you thought I didn’t know?” Caldera tells him. “I might not get the inside scoop, but I’m not a bloody idiot. You want us not to rock the boat until the election’s over. That about describe it?”

  “It would be appreciated.”

  “Right,” Caldera sa
ys. “I’m still missing the part where this is my problem.”

  Barrayar is starting to look a lot less friendly. “Do you want Morden gaining influence on the Council? I promise you, he’s done far worse than anything White Rose ever did.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Your job is to serve the Council’s interests,” Barrayar says. “Don’t give me that letter-of-the-law stuff, Caldera. The Council spends a lot of resources staffing and funding your organisation. You work for us.”

  Caldera smiles at Barrayar. It’s not a nice smile. “Then give me an order. You know, all official-like, with a paper trail. Us Keepers aren’t so smart, you know, we need stuff written down.”

  Barrayar doesn’t answer.

  “No, you don’t want that, do you?” The smile slides off Caldera’s face. “You want it all off the record.”

  “For—” Barrayar checks himself. For the first time, he’s starting to look genuinely frustrated. “Why are you acting like this? I’m not asking you to stop your investigation. I’m just asking you to let us put out the fire before you throw petrol on it. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the thing,” Caldera says. “No-one ever does. It’s their first time. It was just a little bit. They’re sorry. They didn’t mean it. They did mean it, but not like that. Every excuse in the world.” We’ve walked almost to the corner of the conservatory, and Caldera strides in front of Barrayar and blocks his path, forcing him to stop. “You know what I don’t like about you, Barrayar? People like you, you want it both ways. You want all the awkward little rules smoothed away whenever they’re inconvenient, but you also want to play innocent and pretend you stand for the Council and law and order. Well, that’s a bit more hypocrisy than I’m willing to swallow, so no. Fuck you. That clear enough?”

  Barrayar stares at Caldera, and his expression is very blank. “I see,” he says at last, and looks at me. “Sonder? Do you agree?”

  Caldera turns to look at me as well, and suddenly I wish I was anywhere else. “Um . . .” I can’t think of anything to say. Seconds stretch out.

  “Well,” Barrayar says at last. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” He turns and leaves.

  Caldera and I watch him go.

  ∞

  Caldera and I leave the War Rooms the way we came in. “Never leave me hanging like that,” Caldera says once we’re through the security gates.

  “I’m sorry! He put me on the spot!”

  We head out into Westminster, noise and chatter and car exhausts. A blustery wind is blowing, whipping at my hair and clothes, and I have to raise my voice for Caldera to hear me. “Don’t you think that was a bad idea?”

  “You’re not worth shit as a Keeper if you can be pushed around.”

  “I’m not talking about that,” I say. Though I guess I am kind of talking about that. The British Council isn’t like some places, you don’t get fired just for doing your job, but there are still some people that you really don’t want to have as enemies. Someone like Barrayar can cause you a lot of trouble if he wants to.

  I know Caldera isn’t going to want to hear that, though, so I say the other thing that’s on my mind. “Don’t you think he’s got a point? There hasn’t been a Dark mage on the Council for hundreds of years.”

  The wind whips at Caldera but doesn’t slow her down. “So?” she says.

  “So what if Barrayar’s right? What if Morden’s just the thin end of the wedge and he’s trying to open things up for someone worse? Like Drakh, or Iram, or Vihaela?”

  “So what if he is?”

  “Well, if he is, and if these documents cause enough trouble to let him do it, then I don’t think saying we were just doing our jobs is going to impress anyone very much!”

  Caldera trudges along a few more steps before replying. “Is Levistus getting raised to the Senior Council?”

  “What?”

  Caldera looks at me.

  “Um . . . probably?” The change of subject catches me off guard and I have to think. “I mean, it’s not definite or anything. But when I left Washington, the mages there were all talking as though it was going to be him.”

  Caldera shakes her head. “Figures.”

  “So what about what I was just saying?”

  “Barrayar’s talking through his arse,” Caldera says. “You haven’t spent long enough around these guys. Whatever they want, they’ll always tell you that it’s all for the good of the Council.”

  “But what if he’s right?”

  Caldera shrugs.

  “Don’t you care?”

  “Go home, Sonder.”

  I stop walking, frustration boiling over. I am this close to shouting at her.

  If Caldera notices, she doesn’t seem to care. “If we find David Freeman, we’ll need you for a scan,” she tells me. “Keep your phone on.” She walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the pavement.

  ∞

  I gate home to my flat in St. John’s Wood. The noise and wind cut out as the gate closes behind me, leaving everything quiet and peaceful. I toss my phone and gate stone onto the desk and flop down on the bed with a sigh.

  It’s nice to be home. The apartment the U.S. Council gave me in D.C. was decent, but it’s not the same. Some people on these kinds of placements actually never move at all – they just live in their home country and gate in to work every day. I met one Scottish guy who’d told me he’d been commuting in from Edinburgh every morning and evening for sixteen years, but the few times I’ve tried it, it’s messed up my body clock like you wouldn’t believe. Besides, people take you more seriously if you’re living in the same city.

  But being in my flat brings back memories, too, and again I find myself thinking about Luna. This was where we had our big fight. Back when it happened, I spent weeks afterwards going over it and wondering what I should have done differently. I really hadn’t expected her to get that upset.

  I think part of the reason it caught me so off guard was that back then it felt like we were on the same team. During the year or two that I hung out with Alex and Luna and Anne, it seemed like we were constantly getting into these crazy adventures. Okay, usually I’d only be involved because Alex had asked me for help, but still. Now that I look back at it, it’s kind of insane how dangerous it all was, but I guess I didn’t really notice because they all treated it as normal. And Luna was always there, and she always seemed really happy to talk to me. I started to like her and it felt as though she liked me too.

  There was her curse, of course, and obviously that was an issue, but she was working on controlling it and after she joined the apprentice programme she started learning fast. Only, the thing was, the more she learned and the more involved she got with duelling and classes and other apprentices, the less interested she seemed to get in spending time with me.

  I guess I should have just found someone else. And I did, I suppose, but it wasn’t the same. I liked the way things used to be with Luna, and all those adventures we’d had, even the ones that scared the hell out of me at the time. It gives you a kind of . . . connection, I guess? I never felt anything like that with Joanna.

  Come to think of it, Joanna sent me an email last night. I ought to reply to that.

  I don’t, though. The jet lag is really doing a number on me – my eyes feel gritty and my mind keeps wandering. I want to sleep but I know it’s a bad idea. It’s not even four o’clock and if I drop off it’ll wreck my sleep pattern.

  You know what, maybe I’ll just get some help.

  ∞

  I take a taxi south of the river. At times like this it’s really annoying not being able to cast the gate spell – sure, there are gate stones, but you can’t exactly keep one of them around for everywhere, and the more of them you have, the harder it gets to keep track of where they all go. Elemental mages don’t have to worry about that, they just pick a place and gate to it. It’s really unfair.

  I clamber out of the taxi, duck my head
against the wind as I hurry into the front garden, and press the bell for the second-floor flat. I shift my feet, shivering as I wait, then when I’m buzzed in I climb the stairs.

  Anne opens the door to me with a smile. “Sonder! How long’s it been, a year?”

  “Ten months,” I say. Anne gives me a quick hug, then an up-and-down glance, and I find myself sucking in my stomach and standing up straight. I’m still shorter than her, which is kind of embarrassing, and I eye Anne as we’re saying our hellos. She hasn’t put on any weight. Actually, she looks prettier if anything.

  We chat a bit as we go through into Anne’s little kitchen. “Did you say you needed help with something?” Anne asks as she clicks on the kettle.

  “Oh,” I say with an embarrassed laugh. “Just jet lag. London’s five hours ahead of D.C., and I hardly slept last night. If you could . . . ?”

  Anne reaches out to touch my chest. Green light glows around her hand, flowing into me, and all of a sudden I’m wide awake. The colours of Anne’s kitchen seem brighter and even the air’s fresher. “There you go.”

  “Oh, wow.” My eyes aren’t itchy any more and I can think clearly again – the dragging fatigue that’s been following me around all day is completely gone. “Did you . . . ?”

  “I reset your circadian rhythm,” Anne says. “You’ll be wide awake for the next three or four hours, then you’ll start getting tired. Go to bed by eight, get a full twelve hours sleep, and by tomorrow you’ll be fine.”

  “Wow,” I say again. “The guys on the U.S. Council would love you. They’re always trying to get more hours in a day.”

  Anne smiles and shakes her head. The kettle is starting to hiss, and she takes some tea down from the cupboard as she talks over her shoulder. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t take away your body’s fatigue, not really. I just stop you from feeling it for a while. I know right now you feel as though you’ve had a full night’s rest, but you haven’t, you’ve still got the same sleep debt and you do need to pay it off. You don’t get something for nothing.”