Veiled (11 page)

I peered at the thing warily. It looked like a wide-bodied dart, about the size of my hand, with a body of beaten copper that gleamed in the daylight through the window. I could also feel fire magic radiating from the thing, and a
lot
of it, which made me more than a little nervous. Fire magic's good at what it does, but “what it does” mostly involves burning things.

“It's very nice,” Caldera said. “But what we came for—”

“But time and tide wait for no man, eh? Or woman, or child, or elemental spirit, so no sense admiring the weather.” He tossed the dart to Caldera, who caught it; I felt Variam flinch. “Now just take a twiddle at the top and we'll be on our way.”

Caldera sighed. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Disassembly, my dear girl—give that gadget you're
holding in your delightful hands a closer inspection by way of its inner parts, field-strip and cleaning, don't you know?”

“Oh, I give up,” Caldera said. “Fine—like this?”

Caldera fiddled with the dart, trying to find a way to open it as Landis watched eagerly. After a moment, she found the right angle and unscrewed the top until it came off in her hand. Beneath was a complex arrangement of crystal rods, each glowing with a small but powerful orange light. Together they looked like a weird miniaturised furnace, and very dangerous. Out of reflex I started searching through possibilities, figuring out whether this thing was safe.

“Excellent!” Landis clapped his hands happily. “There you go, Variam! Doubting Johns, eh?”

“Are we done here?” Caldera said. “It's not as though—” She started to move her hand towards the glowing crystals.

A future suddenly jumped into my sight in horrible clarity. “Don't touch that!” My voice came out as a yelp.

Caldera paused. “Don't touch what?”

“That thing's a bomb!” I couldn't take my eyes away from Caldera's fingers, only a few inches away from the central rod. I'd just had a vivid image of what would happen if she touched it. “The crystal in the centre's a pressure sensor. You hit it and it's going to blow up the whole room!”

Caldera stayed still for a second, then, very carefully, moved her hand away from the trigger. “Landis?” There was a dangerous note to her voice. “Would you mind explaining?”

Landis had disappeared to a bench in the corner and was digging through spare parts. “Yes, yes, the tragedy of our violent natures, but what can one do, hmm? Certainly can't deny the artistry in the affair . . . Ah! There you are, you little rascal!” He strode back with a slim-handled tool in one hand.

“Mind telling me
why
you wanted me to open it?”

“Fluctuations, my dear girl! No use in setting the circuit if it'll lose containment as soon as it brushes up against some unfriendly spell, eh?” Landis paused, stroking his chin. “Though earth's not quite the
ideal
test, should really have brought a water mage—no chance you're planning to spontaneously change to that type, is there?”

“I don't know why I expected anything else,” Caldera muttered. She thrust the bomb and its cap at Landis. “Take your little do-it-yourself suicide kit back, all right? I'm not your lab assistant.”

Landis took the parts from Caldera and spent a moment juggling the things in a way that made me cringe. He ended up with the bomb in one hand, the tool (which I recognised as a conductor probe) in the other, and the cap in his mouth. “Look,” Caldera said, following him back to the bench. “You said you knew what that focus was, right?”

“Mf crth uh dr,” Landis said around the cap, his attention on the bomb as he fiddled at it with the probe. “Brth urf yrr crld yrf way uh mrmuh . . .”

“How often does he do this?” I said under my breath to Variam.

“All the bloody time,” Variam said gloomily. He'd withdrawn to behind a bench, and I could sense he had a fire resistance spell up.

“Hah!” Landis dropped the tool on the bench, spat out the cap, and looked at the bomb in delight. “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever, eh? Well, until it goes off, but only in life's transience do we truly see, et cetera et cetera.”

“Landis?” Caldera said.

“Hm?”

“The focus?” Caldera was obviously trying very hard to be patient.

“Secrets hidden in the craftsman's hands! Of course!” Landis flung himself into a chair and put his feet up on one of the desks, crossing his legs. “Variam, make us some tea, there's a good chap. They must be parched.”

Variam disappeared quickly, probably glad to be out of the blast radius. “Right then!” Landis said. He was still holding the bomb in his left hand, and the safety cap was still off. The pressure sensor glowed menacingly; I knew it would only take a strong tap to detonate it, and I had to restrain myself from flinching as Landis waved it in my direction. “Good old Vari told me the story. Fascinating
account, wish I'd seen the fellow who went after you, Verus, must have been quite the spot of exercise, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Wish I'd been there, but we're still on standby. Tedious business, but ours not to reason why.” He sighed for a moment, then visibly brightened, set the bomb down on one arm of the chair, and rooted around in his pocket to produce the same focus I'd given Variam last night. “Not much to look at, is it?” he said with interest, studying the green marble. “Hidden depths, though, the data array is mightier than the sword, hmm? At least when we're talking Council politics.”

I kept a wary eye on the bomb. Landis had balanced it on end on its fins. It would only take one jerk of the chair to knock it to the floor, in which case it had roughly a fifty-fifty chance of landing on its tip and blowing apart the chair, the benches, the floor, and probably us. “Data array?” Caldera said.

“Indeed! Good old-fashioned storage device. Lovely craftsmanship, don't see many of them these days.” Landis studied the focus admiringly, then glanced up as Variam came back. “Ah, man of the hour! Just in the nick of time.”

Variam distributed teacups. Landis leant forward to take his, making the chair sway, and I winced. “Okay, so you're saying . . . um . . . is there any chance you could put the cap back on that bomb?”

“Eh? Goodness, you're right! Memory like a sieve.” Landis caught up the bomb, twirled the cap back onto it, and then threw it without looking in the direction of the sofa. Even though I knew it wasn't going to blow up I couldn't help but close my eyes briefly. The bomb thumped into the cushions, bounced once, and lay still. I let out a sigh of relief and shared a glance with Caldera. She looked relieved too. Variam hadn't moved—maybe he was desensitised to it.

Landis, meanwhile, was in full cry. “. . . marvellous design! Completely stable once they've been set to the user, and no energy requirements at all. You see that distinctive little fractal pattern at the centre, little universal-tinged beggars? That's
the Halicarnassus influence. Tricksy things, bugger to forge but worth the effort.” He beamed at the two of us.

“So let me get this straight,” Caldera said. “It's a data storage?”

“Right on the bull's-eye!”

“Can you read it?”

“My dear girl, weren't you listening? What'd be the point of a signature lock if any Tom, Dick, or Jehosaphat could come along and take a gander?”

That rang a bell. “Wait,” I said. “It's a signature lock?”

“The very same!”

“Okay,” Caldera said to me. “You know what he's talking about, right? Any chance you could say it in English?”

Landis watched with interest, steepling his fingers, and gave me an approving sort of nod. “It's a type of security system,” I said. “I've read about them, but . . . oh.” Suddenly it all made sense. “
That's
why the thing didn't respond. I mean, I was looking for a password, but if it's signature-based—”

“Then no more use than common pebbles!” Landis looked very happy. “So nice not to have to explain everything, you wouldn't believe how slow these young fellows can get.”

“Yeah, well, I
don't
get it,” Caldera said, “so if you don't mind slowing down for the benefit of those of us who
don't
spend their free time messing around with magic items, maybe you could spell it out?”

“It's a data focus,” I said. Now I understood how the thing worked. “Mind magic core, you channel a bit of energy in and access the information telepathically—you guys use them, right?”

Caldera frowned. “
Those
things? We stopped using them years ago. Capacity's great but you can't transfer the data, and finding anything is a pain in the arse.”

“But those were the regular kind, right?” I said. “Anyone could use them?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because these are signature locked,” I said. “That's their selling point. They're made in a morphic state, can't hold anything to begin with. Once a mage uses them, they shape
to that specific magical signature and they won't react to anyone else. Kind of the magical equivalent of a DNA lock.” I glanced at Landis. “Right?”

“Seven out of ten!” Landis said. “This particular design is set to two signatures, not one.”

“Does that mean we can read it?” Caldera asked.

“'Fraid not, dear girl. Set, locked in, and unchanging for ever.”

“Any way to break the encryption?”

“None whatsoever. Otherwise they'd hardly keep using the things, given that searching for any one particular piece of data inside them is, as you so succinctly observed, a pain in the arse.”

“So it's useless,” Caldera muttered, and rose to her feet. “Damn it.”

“Just a second,” I said. “What was that you said about Council politics?”

“Well, Council are the only ones that use 'em, aren't they? The old-fashioned isolationist types. Dull buggers, the lot of them, but if you're going fishing for the owner, that's where I'd try. Here you go!”

Landis tossed the focus to Caldera, who caught it and shook her head. “Yeah, that's not really an option. Thanks for the help.”

Caldera and Landis said their good-byes, and Caldera disappeared downstairs with Variam following. I was about to go after them when I heard Landis say, “Oh, Verus?”

I stopped in the door and turned.

“You might be getting into deep waters.” All of a sudden, Landis's voice was serious. “I'd be careful who you trust the next few days if I were you.”

I frowned, but as I was about to say something Caldera called up from downstairs. “Hey, Verus! You coming or what?”

“Well, you'd best be off!” Landis said, and just that quickly his old manner was back again. “Tally ho and all that, eh? Good luck out there!”

I
came downstairs to find Caldera and Variam talking on the ground floor. Neither seemed to have noticed my delay. “Wait,” Variam was saying. “So you guys were apprentices together?”

“Trainees.”

“Was he always . . . ?”

“Oh, yeah,” Caldera said. “You're lucky you didn't know him back in his tech phase. There was this time in our second year when we were living in the same house. Kitchen table kept wobbling so Landis shoved this metal saucer under one of the legs. Wasn't until two weeks later we found out it was a land mine.” Caldera shook her head. “Crazy bastard. Good guy to have at your back in a fight, but . . .”

“Caldera?” I said. “Does Landis know much about politics?”

“God no,” Caldera said in surprise. “Knows his stuff when it comes to items, but don't take anything he says too seriously.”

I frowned. “Hey, listen,” Variam said. “Can I help you guys out?”

“Haven't you got work to do?” Caldera said.

“He's on standby for that missing apprentice case,” Variam said, pointing up. “So all he does is mess around with his projects. He doesn't need me here, I can gate back if anything comes up.”

“Sorry, Vari,” Caldera said. “If he's on standby, you're supposed to be with him.”

“Oh, come on . . .”

“Don't give me that. You know the rules. We're not running a daycare.”

Variam made a face and disappeared upstairs. “Well, that was a bust,” Caldera said. “Let's head back to the station.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “We know a lot more.”

“Yeah, except none of it's useful.”

“Yes, it is,” I said with a frown. “We know the focus has some kind of information on it, and it's keyed to two different magic-users, probably mages. If we can find out who they are—”

“How? Get every mage in the country to try the thing and see if it works? This isn't bloody Cinderella.”

“So what's your take?”

“Your air assassin tried to commit a murder and broke the Concord in the process.
That's
why we're here. The focus only matters if it can lead us to him.”

“The focus is the
reason
that guy was after me,” I pointed out. “Otherwise he wouldn't have broken off to chase a decoy. Whatever's on there, it's important.”

“Important to him doesn't mean important to us. And yes, I know you've got that famous diviner curiosity, but given that the crime was
your attempted murder
, I would have thought you'd be a bit more focused. He might be getting ready to try to kill you again right now.”

“I thought about that,” I said. “I don't think it's likely. He only went after me to get to the focus, and he'd know that I'd have figured that out afterwards, which means
he'd
know the first thing I'd do once I got back would have been to take the focus to someone else or put it in a safe place. There's no reason for me to be carrying the focus around on my
person, so there's no reason for him to take the risk of coming after me again.”

Caldera sighed. “You know, normal people, when someone tries to assassinate them? They care a little less about finding out what happened and a little more about staying alive.”

“I've got you around to protect me, haven't I? Come on, let's get back to London. I think I know someone who can tell us a bit more about this thing.”

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W
e gated back to London and started working our way through the streets around Brick Lane. “Her name's Xiaofan,” I said. “I met her last year.”

“Mage?”

“Time adept.”

Caldera looked interested. “Timesight? We always need more of those . . .”

“Not exactly. She does objects.”

We'd reached the place: a dimly lit shop with a faded red sign above the top saying
Libra Antiquities
. Clothing stores were on either side of it, carrying the smell of leather. “Before we go in,” I said. “Xiaofan . . . hasn't had the best experiences with mages. Try to be nice, okay?”

Caldera shrugged. “Sure.”

The inside of the shop was gloomy, weak yellow lights doing their best to push back the darkness. Furniture and household ornaments were piled all around: chairs, coffee tables, mirrors, vases, figurines, silverware, plates, lamps, and everything else, taking up so much of the space that it was hard to move. They created a muffling effect, and when the door swung behind us, shutting out the noise of the street, the shop was suddenly very quiet. “Hello?” I called. “Anyone there?”

There was the sound of movement, and a young woman appeared from behind a carved wardrobe. I'd known she was there, but I've learnt over the years that sometimes it's better not to advertise. Xiaofan was Chinese, conservatively
dressed and pretty, with glasses and long dark hair. Her manner was cautious, but as she saw me she relaxed a little. “Alex. I didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, sorry. I tried to text but it didn't go through.”

“I changed my number,” Xiaofan said. Her English was good, though not perfect; understandable but slightly stilted. She glanced at Caldera. “Hello . . . ?”

“This is Caldera,” I said. “A friend of mine. We were hoping you could help us finding out about an item.”

Caldera nodded. “Hey.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Xiaofan said. “Just let me change the sign.”

Xiaofan locked the door and flipped the sign on it to
CLOSED
, then went back and cleared papers and bric-a-brac off a small cluttered desk while Caldera and I took a seat. I looked at Caldera. Caldera gave Xiaofan a dubious glance but took out the green marble and handed it to her. Xiaofan took it in her small hands, then closed her eyes.

A minute passed, two minutes, five. Caldera shifted and opened her mouth to speak, but I put up a hand. She raised her eyebrows but stayed quiet. Divination magic and time magic are different in many ways, but they have a few things in common, and the informational uses of time magic work a lot like my path-walking. It doesn't look like the spellcaster is doing anything, but they are.

When Xiaofan opened her eyes, she looked troubled. “This is dangerous.” She put the marble down on the table and pulled her hands away.

The marble rolled across the desk, and I caught it as it dropped off the edge. “And you know this how?” Caldera said.

“It is for secrets,” Xiaofan said. “To hold power over others, as a threat.”

“How many owners did it have?” I said.

“Many. One of them was you. You want the ones before?”

“Please.”

“Then, three.” Xiaofan tapped three places on the desk. “Maybe others, but those are too long ago.” Xiaofan moved
her hand up, tapped the first place. “The first owner was a woman. Not young. She was . . . I don't know the word. She held power over others, and others held power over her.”

“Politician?” I said.

“That too.” Xiaofan looked worried. “She was . . . cruel. Very cruel. She worked in secrets, and used this for secrets, too. You should fear her, I think.”

That didn't sound good. “The second is a boy,” Xiaofan said. “Young, afraid. He held it, but only for a little while. A few hours, maybe. He gave it up quickly, to the third.” Xiaofan tapped the last spot on the desk. “A man. Young, but proud. He only held it a few minutes, and he lost it in violence.” Xiaofan looked at me, and her eyes were troubled. “I think he died. I saw it falling from his hand, then nothing. What is this thing?”

“You already figured that out,” I said. “It holds information. Secrets.”

Xiaofan shook her head. “I don't want them.”

“Can you identify any of the previous owners?” Caldera said.

“I'm sorry?”

“The people who held this thing,” Caldera said. “We need to know their names.”

“No names.”

“Faces, then? If you saw them, would you recognise them?”

“I . . . don't know.”

“All right, how about if you come down to the station and we show you some pictures? You think you could identify the person?”

“Wait,” Xiaofan said. “You're with the Council?”

“Yes, I'm with the Council.”

Xiaofan shook her head quickly. “No. I'm sorry.”

“It won't take long,” Caldera said. “Just an hour or two.”

“I'm sorry. No.”

“This is an important investigation. You just told us there was some sort of violence with this thing, and we need to find out what it was. You don't need to worry, we'll keep you safe.”

“I don't want to go with the Council.”

“You might not have a choice if you keep refusing to help.”

Xiaofan looked alarmed. She looked at me, appealing.

“Okay,” I said, and got up. “I think we've got all we need. Thanks for the help, we really appreciate it.”

Caldera looked up at me in annoyance. “We're not done.”

“Yes, we are.”
I met her gaze and held it. “I think we should go.”

Anger flashed up in Caldera's eyes, but I didn't look away. We stared at each other for a second, tense, then Caldera rose with an abrupt motion and walked out. I shot Xiaofan an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”

Xiaofan nodded but didn't speak. She was still looking warily after Caldera.

I followed Caldera out. Xiaofan shut the door behind me, and I heard the sound of the lock.

|  |  |  |  |  |  |  |  |

“O
kay, what the hell was that?” Caldera said as soon as we were together out on the street.

“You were pushing her too hard.”

“That's not your call to make.” We were a few shops down, out in the bustle of the street; Caldera stopped by a postbox and pointed a finger at me. “You are not in charge. You do not get to cut me off like that.”

“She's
my
friend, not yours. The only reason we were there was because I know her.”

“I don't care! You don't act like that, ever. Clear?”

“Okay,” I said. “You remember when I said that you should be nice to her because she's had issues with mages? Do you want me to explain
why
I told you to stop and
why
the way you were acting was a bad idea, or do you want me to stand here while you shout at me?”

Caldera glared at me for a few seconds longer, then turned and started walking down the street. “This better be good.”

I caught Caldera up and matched her pace. “I met
Xiaofan last February,” I said. “She'd come over from China only a little while before. Her English was bad and the most marketable skill she had was her object reading, so she tried to make a living with that. That brought her into contact with mages, and somewhere along the line she met a Dark mage called Pyre. Know the guy?”

“Vaguely. Dark mage based in London.”

“Yeah, well, in Dark society he's got a reputation for other things. Remember Torvald, Mr. I-Don't-Take-Rejection-Well? Pyre's kind of the less-nice version of Torvald. I did some investigating and it turns out he's had quite a few girlfriends who were adepts and sensitives. A handful of them seem to have disappeared. Funny coincidence—the disappearances always came right after they turned Pyre down or broke up with him.”

Caldera was silent, and I knew she'd figured out where the conversation was going. “So Xiaofan tried to break things off with Pyre,” I said. “He didn't like it. Xiaofan saw the way things were going and tried to get help. Went to a bunch of Keepers, they all turned her down. Pyre wasn't breaking the Concord, nothing they could do. You know the story.”

“Yeah,” Caldera said. Her anger had blown over. “I remember the guy now. He's had a bunch of warnings, but . . .”

“Yeah, well. Xiaofan's got a regular job nowadays, so she doesn't have to work with mages anymore. And given what happened last time she got too close to them, I don't think it's that surprising that she wants to keep her distance.”

We walked a little way in silence. “And?” Caldera said.

“And what?”

“You just said she doesn't like working with mages,” Caldera said. “Looked like she got on fine with you.”

“Not really.”

“So what did you do?”

“I just gave her some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Back when she was having that trouble with Pyre.”

“And Pyre just suddenly decided to leave her alone?”

“More or less.”

“Was there a reason for that?”

“Pyre might have picked up the impression that Xiaofan had a curse on her causing anyone who got too close to her to suffer horrible accidents.”

Caldera eyed me. “How exactly did he get that impression?”

“It's hard to tell how these things get started.”

Caldera gave me a look. “Anyway,” I said. “Xiaofan's object reading is metaphorical, not precise. You heard what she told us. She can get a sense of the personality of an object's owner, what they used it for, how it got passed on, that sort of thing, but she can't give you the kind of stuff you'd search a database for. She's not going to read off height, weight, and eye colour.”

“But she might be able to recognise them if she saw them in a picture.”

“It's not really the way she works.”

“But it's
possible
.”

“Maybe,” I said reluctantly.

“Then why didn't you get her to come in?” Caldera asked. “You just said she trusts you.”

“Because she
does
trust me, and I don't want to take advantage of that. If everything hinged on what she could tell us, then maybe, but I'm not going to force her to do it on a tiny off chance of getting something that might help.”