Taken

Once we were on the motorway, tailing Anne’s car became easier. Despite the darkness of the winter evening it wasn’t late, and there were plenty of cars to give us cover. Under the harsh orange glow of the motorway lights I pulled in one car behind the Bentley and held distance. After only a few minutes a green sign flashed by that read Services 1 mile. The Bentley pulled into the left lane and began signalling, and I followed. A red-and-white Little Chef sign flashed by and was gone.

The services were contained in a single large building surrounded by banks of grass, a petrol station, and a huge car park. Light shone from the windows, the surrounding trees muting the glow and noise from the motorway. By the time I’d parked and turned off the engine, Anne had already left the Bentley and was walking towards the building. I scanned for danger, found nothing, and followed her, Variam trailing behind.

The inside of the building had the vaguely soulless feel that motorway service stations always seem to have. The floor was linoleum, the lights were too bright, and the shops sold snacks and drinks and travel gear at about three times their actual value. Everything smelt of plastic and disinfectant. “Where is she?” Variam asked.

I turned left into the cafeteria. It wasn’t packed but it wasn’t empty either, and there were just enough people to give us some cover. Mothers kept a watchful eye over children while truckers drank from mugs of tea. “Hey,” Variam said. “I said—”

“To your right,” I said, then blocked Variam as he turned to look. “Don’t stare. Buy something and sit down.”

Variam glowered but didn’t argue. He’d at least had the sense to wrap his sword up in his jacket. I bought something at the counter without paying attention to what it was and found a corner seat shielded by a big plastic children’s area. Only then did I look over.

Anne was sitting at a table on the far side of the cafeteria. The edge of the services was a huge plate-glass window looking out onto the car park, and Anne’s table was right next to it, bright against the darkness. Sitting opposite Anne was a man with grey-white hair wearing a thick coat with the collar turned up to shield his face. I couldn’t get a good look at him but he was talking to Anne.

“Who’s she talking to?” Variam said.

“Apparently his name’s Hobson.” I scanned through the futures but couldn’t see any danger. In every sequence of events the services was filled with nothing but the bustle of travellers.

“Why are you following Anne?” Variam said.

“I already told you.”

“What are you getting out of it?”

I didn’t bother answering. Anne and Hobson weren’t far away and I could have used my magic to eavesdrop if I focused on it, but I didn’t. Instead I kept my attention on a short-to-medium-range scan, watching for danger. If anything moved to threaten Anne I wanted to know about it.

We sat for a little while in silence. Around us, people came and went. “Why’d you help her?” Variam asked.

I didn’t take my eyes off Anne. “When?”

“Three nights ago. With those men.”

“What’s your problem with me, Variam?”

“You’re a mage.”

“So are you.”

Variam scowled. “You know what?” I said. “Fine. It’s not like they’re going to be finished any time soon. I’ll tell you why I helped Anne if you tell me how the two of you ended up with Jagadev.”

Variam was silent. “Fine,” he said at last. “Why’d you help her?”

“Because she needed it.”

Variam waited. “And?” he said when I didn’t go on.

“That’s it.”

“Bullshit—”

“What were you expecting me to say?” I said. “Mages can look after themselves; apprentices can’t.”

Variam looked at me narrowly. “I don’t believe you.”

At the other side of the cafeteria Anne was still talking to Hobson. She was sitting opposite him, leaning slightly forward with hands clasped, listening attentively. As I watched she took out a pad of paper and started writing, pausing every few seconds to glance up. Hobson seemed to be doing most of the talking, but his hand movements were jerky and at intervals he’d look back over his shoulder. Watching his body language I could tell he was nervous, afraid of something, but there was no danger . . . yet. “Your turn,” I said to Variam. I didn’t take my attention off Anne and Hobson. “You and Anne used to be apprenticed to a Dark mage named Sagash, right?”

Variam stared at me. “Apprenticed?”

“Is that true?”

“Is that—?! I’d rip out my own liver before being apprentice to that bastard. You mages talk so much shit. If you knew—!”

“Knew what?”

“You know how we met Sagash?” Variam demanded. “He kidnapped Anne right out of school. Used gate magic to take her away to some huge freaky castle in the middle of nowhere. He wanted her as his apprentice and when she said no he tried to make her.”