The path wound through the trees and led up to a clearing with a long, wide house on the other side of a grassy lawn. The house was made of yellow-brown stone, irregularly shaped, with grey tiles making up half a dozen gables and small roofs. The path crossed the lawn, bent around what looked like a goldfish pond, and went up a couple of steps to the front door. It all looked very pretty. I leant against a tree and waited.
A group of four people came running from around the back of the house. They changed direction to head straight towards me, spreading out as they covered the distance. There were two girls and two boys; all looked to be around twenty, give or take a few years. “Stay there!” one of the boys called out at me.
I didn’t move. The group of four slowed to a walk, then stopped about thirty feet away. All were dressed in casual clothes; they looked alert and hostile.
“Who are you?” the first boy said. He was tall and fit, with short black hair and watchful eyes, and his hand was by his hip in a stance that signalled he was ready to draw a weapon.
“My name’s Alex Verus,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you could let your master know I’m here.”
At the sound of my name, the boy’s eyes narrowed. The taller of the two girls stiffened. “What are you doing here?”
“As I said, I’m here to see your master. Don’t do anything stupid, please.”
The four of them tried to keep their eyes on me and glance at one another at the same time.
I knew what they were thinking without even having to look. “I said don’t do anything stupid.”
“We know who you are,” the taller girl said. She had dark brown hair in a severe-looking ponytail, and a face that would have been pretty if her expression hadn’t been so hostile. “You were the one who sold out Morden.”
“Did Morden tell you that?”
The girl hesitated.
I nodded. “Ask him next time you get the chance.”
“You want to go after him,” the boy said, “you’ll have to deal with us.”
I gave the boy a flat look; he shifted but held his ground. “Your show of loyalty is noted but unnecessary. I am here to talk.”
“Yeah, right,” the girl said.
I paused, letting my gaze touch all four of them, and when I spoke, my voice was cold and clear. “Do not mistake my courtesy for weakness. I arrived without an invitation, and in recognition of that fact I am treating you with patience. There are limits to that patience. I would rather not do your master the discourtesy of harming or killing his followers within his own shadow realm, but that is exactly what I will do if you follow through with your idiotic plan of attack.”
The four adepts—I’d had time to figure out what they were—held quite still. For a moment futures of combat flickered, then one by one they died out. None of the adepts were sure what to do instead, and I didn’t break the silence. We stared at each other across the grassy lawn.
Then a voice spoke from the direction of the house. “I appreciate your restraint.” The tone changed, becoming a command. “Stand down, all of you.”
The man in the open doorway had black hair and wore a black suit and shirt. He stood in a relaxed posture, with his hands clasped easily behind his back, and looked quite unworried. “Hello, Verus,” he said, his voice carrying across the lawn.
“Morden,” I replied. “If it’s convenient, I have some matters I’d like to discuss.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
“Actually, I’d prefer to walk in these woods.”
“Of course.” Morden stepped down off the porch and started along the path. “Go back to your practice, you four. I’ll be along shortly.”
* * *
—
Morden and I walked side by side. The rush of water echoed from around us, the sound muffled and redirected by the trees so that it was hard to tell in which direction it was coming from.
“Beautiful shadow realm,” I said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Morden agreed. “It took some effort to secure, but it was well worth it. I always thought those mages who spend their lives barricaded in fortresses and prison realms were displaying the worst kind of foolishness. What’s the point of power if you have to live in a home you hate the sight of?”
“Did it have a name?”
“The Waterwood. You didn’t know?”
“Even diviners don’t know everything,” I said. “Oh, and you’ve got a flaw in the gate wards near those oak trees just off the path I entered by. It’s at the centre of three overlapping nodes, and two of them are slightly out of phase. Creates a three-foot section where they cancel each other out rather than reinforcing.”
“I see,” Morden said.
We walked a little way in silence, the path winding around a grove of silver birches. I waited for Morden to ask why I was here, but apparently he was content to wait.
“Do you remember the conversation we had all those years ago in your mansion?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“You spoke to me about rogues,” I said. “About mages who turned their back on the tradition in which they were trained. And how they often came back.” I looked sideways at Morden. “Did you know something like this would happen?”
“You’re the diviner, Verus.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Morden shrugged slightly. “In politics, there are always unpredictable elements. It was possible for you to have won yourself a place with the Council. If you’d gained a powerful enough patron, if you’d avoided making the wrong enemies, if events had made you sufficiently indispensable. But it struck me as unlikely. Remember that by the time we met I’d been dealing with the Council for many years. I’d seen enough mages rise and fall within their ranks to have a good idea of how well you would fit within their institutions.”
“I remember you told me that the Council would never accept me,” I said. “With hindsight, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d just taken your word for it.”
Morden shook his head. “If you’d followed my advice without understanding why, you’d have learned nothing.”
I nodded. “What do you want?”
Morden smiled slightly but didn’t answer.
“You asked me that question quite a few times, back then,” I said.
“As I recall, you spent most of the conversation evading giving me an answer.”