59
Interlude
In a dark room beneath the city, two figures sat at a small table as they watched a recording of a meeting between Milo and a mage from the Mage Court.
The recording was playing on a small cracked slab of dwarven glass. A small recording crystal was slotted into its side.
The first figure wore a hood. Her voice was soft as the recording flickered and finished with the mage leaving the room. “There you have it.”
The other figure shook his head. “It seems he got away with it.”
“For how long, though?”
“That we cannot guess.”
“It’s been difficult. The kid’s poked the hornet nest and mages are buzzing about all over the place. There’s even talk of an official Mage Court observer being assigned soon. That’ll be troublesome.”
“Mages are all troublesome.”
“Yeah, but these ones are worse. They’re paranoid and crazy.” She set the little pad aside. “It was hard to get here tonight. If it goes on much longer, they might start finding things.”
“The Keep will look after itself.”
“It ain’t the Keep I’m worried about. It’s us!”
“We shall need to be careful.”
“We can be as careful as we like, but he’s running around with a buncha golems like they’re nothing. What’ll happen if the Observer gets hold of one? Them mages will start pulling everyone apart to see who’s who and what’s what.”
“You worry too much,” he said. “The boy has shown he has both the desire to understand and the coldness to adapt.”
“Yeah. He really did a number on little Fergus.”
“It provided a scapegoat. And a plausible one at that.”
She grunted. “You’re easily impressed.”
“And you’re too cynical.”
“I’m old.”
“So am I.”
“I’m older.” She grinned at him. Then she sighed. “He’s got access to the Workshop, and now the Prime has spoken to him. It’s a matter of time before he unlocks access.”
“You think he will earn it?”
“You think he won’t?”
He considered it carefully.
On one hand, the boy had shown talent. And ruthlessness. Which were signs of being able to work to a single goal no matter the cost.
But also the boy was young.
And youth was a difficult thing to overcome. To access the Prime would require maturity and patience, too.
“I agree,” he said at last. “We should adjust our plans to prepare for it.”
“I ran into Stonks on the way here, ya know. Wanna guess where he was headed?”
“Stonks?” He looked surprised to hear the Old Guard’s name. “How is he?”
“He’s headed to the Workshop.”
“What?”
“He said he was invited.” She scowled. “By the engineer. He was going to get his arm repaired. And his knee. And some ache in his back.”
“The boy has offered such a service?”
“Well, he offered it to Stonks.”
“Perhaps he wants to further his knowledge on something practical.”
“That’d be smart of him.”
“It might also be beneficial. Stonks has been dormant for too long.” He showed a small smile. “It would be pleasant to see him in action once more. It might also help resolve some of our mage problems.”
“Or make them worse.”
“I doubt that. The mages known not to interfere with the Old Ones.”
“You’re relying too much on their superstition.” She shook her head at him. “They’re changing. Getting more impatient. Add to that, their supply of cores is dwindling as they drain them. What will happen when they get desperate? They might start acting against the Old Ones to get their cores.”
“The boy has resolved that already, though he does not know it.”
“How?”
“The Workshop has clearly allowed him access to all its systems,” he said. “Including the Recharge Stations.”
She gasped at that. “No!”
“Yes. A fully-charged core sold recently at auction. You might hear about it soon. It was bought by the Farringham Family. Their daughter is going to attend the Academy next year.”
“He’s going to ruin everything!” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “We have to stop him.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“Kill him?”
“He is shadowed everywhere he goes. You know this. Whether by the 11-B which has formed an attachment to him, or the little 27-B constructs who observe. It would be dangerous to upset the 11-B, I think.”
“Ugh.” She frowned deeply, the shadows within her hood crawling across her face. “We have to slow him down at least.”
“The Prime I think has accomplished this. It will no doubt press him to fulfill a task to gain access. It will not be an easy one.”
“Hmm. I wonder what it will want him to do.”
“At the very least, learn the language. It will most likely also want him to demonstrate an understanding of the Core Concepts of the Makers.”
“That’s gonna take him a while,” she said, thinking fast. “I hope. He’s a smart little squirrel.”
“Let us continue to monitor him. There’s still a chance this will be beneficial.”
“I hope so.” She scooped up the glass and tucked it into her cloak. “I don’t wanna wait around another few hundred years for the next brainy little sap to develop a smidge of mana capacity.”
“Yes. The combination is rare.”
“Rare? It’s practically impossible.” She got to her feet and gave him one more look. “Alright. I’ll zip my lips and relax my hips. Let him do what he wants for now. But if he steps outta line…”
“Then we take him out,” he said calmly.
“If we can.”
“Of course we can. We need only convince Stonks to do it for us.”
“Hmph.” She rolled her eyes. “That old bucket of bolts can’t do all that much.”
“He can still kill a human.”
“Maybe.” She turned to the door. “I’ll see you next week. Same time. If I don’t make it, blame the mages buzzing around my ass.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Yeah yeah.” She trotted out into the dark. Checked the street.
Then she headed back up the hill. Her head was low as she mulled everything over.
Milo made her feel uneasy.
The boy looked simple. He looked kind and honest. He had a gentle manner to him which made people think he was an innocent kid.
But he wasn’t.
The more she’d watched him plan The Paddstone boy’s downfall, the more she was sure he was colder than Stonks. The boy’s mind hadn’t even considered mercy for Fergus.
It had known the other youth would need to die for his plan to work.
Had even done the deed himself to be sure.
That took a level of commitment and cruelty that she never expected him to have. When she’d first spoken to him, he’d seemed so naive and wide-eyed.
How much of that was an act?
Just how frigid was his heart?
The closer she got to her destination, the more she began to think her worry was justified. She was afraid of him. Afraid of what he might become. Humans were passionate creatures.
And one thing she’d noticed was the colder they were, the more capable of horrific acts they became. As though the passion which should have been directed towards their family was instead twisted and deformed. Turning into something resentful.
Milo clearly resented the mages for having taken him from where he thought he belonged.
Would that resentment translate into something more murderous? Was Fergus the first step in a path of bloody vengeance?
She shivered as she approached her room.
Then she paused.
Her door was unlocked. Closed. But unlocked.
Stepping inside, she put her hands on her hips and scowled. The place was empty. Nothing had been touched as far as she could see.
Except for there being three new forms sitting on her desk.
Not shuffled into the others like they had before. This time just laid out in front of her chair as though to mock her.
One was an application for a room for a new student. The other was a transfer request to push one student out from a room next to Selma to make room for the new one.
Selma being on the left of Milo’s room. And Tania being to the right.
The third form wasn’t completely filled in.
But she scowled at it anyway. Because every form had a number followed by a letter to label them by type. And this one’s number was one she knew well.
11-B.
A form to permit a student to have a pet.
The only field that was filled in was the student’s name.
And in it, in Tania’s clean clear writing, was a name.
Ket Darrowfern.
“Bloody tramp,” Ket snarled. “You’re too darned slick for your own good!”