Fated

‘Yes.’ Luna began to say something else but I shook my head. ‘Don’t ask me about it. Not now.’

Luna fell silent. The pause dragged out and became uncomfortable. ‘I should go home,’ Luna said at last. I nodded and rose.

I walked Luna out. She kept at arm’s length just like always, but there was a distance that hadn’t been there before. Over the past months, Luna had started to open up to me a little. Now all of a sudden she was drawing back.

Once she was gone, I locked the door with a sigh. I’d been trying to scare her, and I had. I didn’t like showing Luna that side of me but I knew the safest thing would be for her to stay away for a few days, at least until this business with Cinder was settled. But I had the feeling that it would be a lot longer than a few days before Luna called me again for advice.

Somehow that depressed me. I shook it off. No one likes guys who get sentimental.

I took the red crystal cube and put it somewhere very hard to find. Then I headed for my room. I’d been planning to make inquiries about the cube but Cinder’s reaction had changed all that. If just the sight of it was enough to make him try to kill me, I didn’t want to spread it around that I had it. Instead I’d keep it secret until the fuss had died down, and in the meantime I’d arrange for it to be thoroughly investigated by an expert in magical items … namely, me.

But first I needed to find out more about this Precursor relic that Lyle and Cinder were so interested in. And this time, I wasn’t going out empty-handed.

Being a diviner is all about being prepared; that was why I’d been so scared when Cinder had caught me napping. Diviners can’t do the flashy things that elemental mages can. We can’t fly or throw fire or disintegrate things. We aren’t any tougher or stronger than other men, and our magic gives us no power over the physical world. But what we do have is knowledge, and applied in the right way that can be some pretty impressive leverage.

I set about making sure I’d have something to apply that leverage to. I dressed in a warm shirt and jeans, then put on a pair of black running shoes before turning to the items scattered around my desk. My first choice was a crystal sphere the size of a marble with a fingernail’s worth of mist swirling inside – I dropped it into my right-hand coat pocket, checked to see that I could reach it quickly, then did the same with a small glass rod in the matching pocket on my left. Next was a packet of trail dust – my last one; I’d have to get some more. A tapering crystal wand about eight inches long clipped into my coat, then I filled the rest of my pockets with a general selection of odds and ends: a jar of healing salve, a handful of tiny pieces of silver jewellery and two vials containing a pale blue liquid.

Next I went on to my mundane items. Most mages aren’t fond of technology but I prefer to take every advantage I can get. A small, powerful torch went on my belt along with a few tools and a slender-bladed knife held securely in its sheath. I reached for the drawer which held my gun, paused, then decided to leave it behind. It would probably be more trouble than it was worth.

Finally, I went to my wardrobe and took out my mist cloak. It’s not the most powerful item I own, but it’s the one I most trust. To casual eyes it looks like a length of some kind of grey-black cloth, thin and light and soft to the touch. If you keep looking, the colours seem to shift and flow at the edge of your vision, subtly enough that you might think you’d imagined it. Mist cloaks are woven from moonbeams and the webs of snowspiders, and they’re rare and little known items. They’re imbued items, not simple focuses, and as I put it on the colours rippled quickly before going still. I patted it affectionately, then turned to look at myself in the mirror.

I saw a tall figure, angular lines blurred by the shadows of the mist cloak. From beneath the hood a pale, quizzical face looked back at me, guarded and watchful, spiky black hair framing a pair of dark eyes. I studied myself for a moment, then turned to the door.

Time to get to work.

The sun had long set by the time I stepped off the ladder onto the roof of my flat. A few muted stars shone down from above, their faint glow almost drowned out by the yellow blaze of the London lights. Rooftops, chimneys and TV aerials were all around me, shadowed in the darkness, and from below came the sounds of the city. The air carried the scent of car exhausts and old brickwork.

Mages like to think their magic sets them above everyone else, and I guess in some ways that’s true. But when you get right down to it, mages are still people and, just like other people, they gossip. Lyle might think his Precursor relic was a secret, but I was willing to bet it wasn’t anywhere near as secret as he thought it was. And if the news was out, I knew someone who’d have heard all about it.