13 - A narrow road

If the Council is useless, there’s no reason for it to exist.

If the Council is useful, it means it has power, and thus it’s too dangerous to exist.

This is the fine line we walk, since our organization regrouped after the Moonbreaking. Little more than a prison, at times. Little more than a graveyard, at others.

The Alliance will never trust us. The Agency hates us, because they need us. The magical factions hate us because they fear us.

We must accept endless humiliations and restrictions, just to survive. We’re watched all the time, we have no allies and countless enemies.

For all that, the Glass Tower stands. And we watch out for each other, because no one else will.

* Archmage Doruk, Secretary of the Council of Loyal mages, in an unofficial speech to the Inner Council.

{Althea}

These Thaucon agents are growing on me, for several reasons.

First, thanks to all their physical training, they’re so much fitter than all the smart, sickly kids in the Council. I was afraid to break half the mages I dated, back there.

As for behavior, they aren’t as bad as I expected. They’re bigoted, but not more so than most people. They’re pig-headed military guys, who love saluting and saying yes sir and bash their heads against walls to show how tough they are, but surprisingly, some of them can hold a decent conversation.

Frankly, they’re friendlier to me than I expected. Well, my team is. Team Green looks like they’d tear my guts apart if they could, but given their mage is Jaeleri, I can’t entirely blame them.

Kaelich has a pretty face, an amazing smile, and damn, xe has gorgeous abs. Pity for the total lack of brain.

I wish Cerical wasn’t such a prude, I barely got a good glimpse of her in the bath, but she looked pretty amazing, with all that smooth muscle and graceful movements. Abyss, she’d be a ten out ten if she had facial expressions beside disgusted and glowering. She made a really funny face when I kissed her, though.

And, I got side-tracked. My point was – ThauCons aren’t as bad as I expected, but that doesn’t mean I should share everything with them. What they don’t know won’t hurt their small military brains.

Also, ignorance is the best defense, when demons are involved.

I check the time on my tablet. Half past midnight. My teammates are sleeping like good soldiers. Time to do a mage’s work.

I’m not doing anything illegal. But I’ll still be happier if no one asks me what I’m up to. Also, the less people are awake while I talk about demons, the better.

What will I tell Kaelich, though, if he finds traces of my activities on some log - or more likely, if xe gets up to pee and notices my bunk is empty? I’d hate lying to xem, and Sorivel is suspiciously good at spotting lies.

Well, that’s a problem for tomorrow. And it won’t be a problem at all, if I sneak out and come back unseen.

I fumble to wear a night robe and slippers in the gloom. It’s hard to suppress the reflex to summon Else-light, but that would wake at least Sorivel – he’s a light sleeper.

I cross the room, and since I’m a focused, serious person, I only steal a quick glance at Cerical’s bunk. There would be room for two, if we squeezed, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. Also, we’d be really fucking obvious, and I bet she wouldn’t like that. I think South Zelenians only mate in secret caves in the desert, reachable only by camel.

Where do people get some privacy in this base? I mean, twenty-odd people live here, a good half of them young, with nothing to do but watch the snow and fuck – I won’t believe for a second they rent a hotel room every time they need some privacy.

It doesn’t matter, right now. I open the door, which tries to creak horrifically, because this whole base is crumbling. But sound is a bunch of green circles in the Else, like a stone thrown on a pond. It’s easy to grab it and make it go away, so the door opens in perfect silence.

Our dorm has decent heating, but it’s fucking cold outside. How can a base with its own nuclear reactor be so cold? One more piece of brilliant design from Landfall. In the Capital, they think a cold winter means you might want to wear a shirt.

As soon as I close the door, I reach into the Else, shape its essence into a fine, wonderfully warm powder, and spray it all over my skin. It took me a week of frantic trial and error to make this spell work – it’s not really my path, but once I discovered I’d be sent to Vorok, I realized it was a matter of life or death. I’m not going to wear their stupid thermal pajamas, and I’m not going to suffer the cold like some mundane.

I don’t meet anyone on the way to the prison cells – only cold, dilapidated concrete corridors which look desperate for some maintenance. The cells are underground, and the only way in or out is a long, narrow stair leading to a heavy steel door.

There are no guards by the door: it’s in the Base Core, so external personnel can’t come in, and the agents won’t waste their limited personnel to guard it. No mage could ever breach it, after all.

As I go down the stairs, a pressure like a stiff breeze pushes against my heating spell. Soon, it becomes so unstable I must let it go, shivering and cursing at the sudden chill. It’s the Theta Disruptor – I can see it in the Else, it looks like a maelstrom of chaotic white energy, stripping my magic away like a furious wind. I could keep up the heating spell, with a lot of effort, but it’s not worth it, and it could trigger alarms.

I reach the huge steel door and swipe my wrist at the pad. After a moment, it flashes green – I don’t have authorization to open the cells, but I can visit them.

Slowly, ponderously, the thick metal door retracts into the ceiling. It’s made of steel and silver, kept open against gravity – it’s designed to slam shut in case of tampering or power outage. Given the sorry state of this base, I hope it won’t glitch and close while I’m crossing. If I died in such a stupid way, I’d have to cross back from the Else to haunt the maintenance teams.

The door closes back behind me, and I take a deep breath, fighting the feeling of oppression. I can leave at any time, I only need a quick swipe of my wrist.

It’s hard to fight the feeling of being trapped, though. I’m not used to being in a place where I can’t leave on my own terms, and I don’t like it at all.

But still, I have a job to do. And in the end, it’s a useful reminder: no matter how likable my teammates are, they’re always one step away from being my jailors.

I forced myself to visit the prison before, but by the Abyss, I hate it. It’s basically a single corridor, lined with silver-and-steel bars on both sides.

Beyond the bars are small, bare rooms, almost like cages. Those closer to the entrance are larger – by cells standard, so not large at all. They’re two meters by three, enough for a bed, a toilet and some room to stretch.

Those are the low-suppression cells, used more often as disciplinary punishment for agents than for actual criminals. Only one is occupied, by a sleeping Team Red agent who took part in a drunk bar fight.

The high suppression cells are much smaller – partly to efficiently use the small region of maximum suppression, partly because ThauCon just likes treating mages like shit. None of the laws governing prisoner rights – or any other rights, really - apply to mages.

Vakris’ cell is barely larger than his bed. He can lie on the thin mattress or stand, but not much else. Opposite the door, there’s a sink and a squat toilet. There are rings on the wall, obviously for chains – at least they’ve not been used.

The teen is asleep, curled in a ball. He’s wearing a sweater way too large for him – I’m pretty sure it’s Kaelich’s. They didn’t even give him a bedsheet. The prison is cold enough that breath mists.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Fuck ThauCon in general, and Sareas in particular. Yeah, Vakris is technically a rogue. But he’s obviously harmless, and he’ll be punished enough in re-ed, why by the Abyss do ThauCon need to be as nasty as they can? They lash at kids and petty criminals, feel great and righteous about it, and forget that they walk side by side with someone who could strip the skin from their bodies with a gesture.

I take a deep breath. I knew what the Agency is. I knew of re-education camps and Memory Square. I still made my choice, for better or worse. But it’s different, seeing the ugly truth in front of my eyes. All the more when I had a part in it.

“Vakris,” I call.

The boy startles awake, jumping on his bed, and scrambles away from me.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m here to help you.”

It’s almost true.

“Please, I…” he starts. “Will you let me go? I’ll run away. I’ll disappear. Never use magic again. I swear.”

“Sorry. I can’t do that,” I say. It’s easier to squash his hopes because I literally can’t free him: only ThauCon agents can open the cell doors.

Not that I would do it anyway. I think.

“You’re the mage, right?” He asks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hit you, I…”

“I know,” I say. Did I look that young at seventeen? Abyss, he looks like a terrified child. I definitely never looked that helpless, after age three.

“I’ll go to re-ed, right?” He asks, his voice breaking, “That’s why the officer wanted the aggression on record.”

I grimace at the mention of that dick Sareas. “That was his intention, and it’s the law. But I think you have a way out.”

“I can’t go to re-ed,” he says, “I got punched even in my regular school. They’ll kill me.”

Yeah, the boy does look like a bully magnet. Maybe he’d seem less vulnerable if he weren’t terrified and half-frozen, but I mean, he wanted to go to art college.

I catch myself thinking he should man up or go agender, but that’s old people’s bullshit, and hypocritical too, since I’m hardly the perfect, poised and emotionless lady.

“I can help you avoid re-ed,” I say. If you help me answer a few questions, I should add.

Well, fuck that. I can’t change ThauCon. But I won’t use a terrified boy’s future as a bargaining chip. I’ll help first and ask later.

“Listen carefully,” I say. “You’ll go to trial. Don’t bother explaining that you didn’t mean to assault us, no one will care. Actually, it’s better if you say it was a conscious decision – say you thought Cerical, the girl with the blade, would kill you, and you defended yourself. Then, say you’ve realized how dangerous your magic is, and you’re deeply repented, and wish to pledge yourself to service with the Council.”

“But I don’t want to go to the Council,” Vakris squeals. “And wouldn’t I go to re-ed first anyway?”

I try to remind myself he’s in a terrible situation, so he has a reason to be so whiny.

“In theory, yes,” I explain, “on paper, it makes no difference whether you choose tattoos or Council service. But the Council is eager for recruits. They’ll pressure the tribunal to allow you to serve immediately, so that you can be trained as young as possible. Since anyone with a brain can see you didn’t mean to go rogue, the tribunal will give in. After Council training, you can still change your mind and get the tattoos. Council training isn’t anything like the camps – honestly, it’s a nicer place than most regular high schools.”

The Council Academy is boring as fuck, and full of angsty, whiny teenagers. He’ll love it.

Vakris nods, eyes full of frantic hope. Then he frowns.

“Why doesn’t everyone do this, then?” He asks.

Abyss. A bad time for him to have intelligent thoughts.

“Well, it wouldn’t work if you had actually meant to go rogue. Or if you had hurt anyone,” I say. “It’s much easier to salvage your case, given some leverage.”

I could stop here. But we’re fucking enough with him – I owe him the full truth, at least.

“Also,” I add, “your power is strong, and unusual. The Council wants you, badly.”

There’s no Path of Calling, according to the books. Because most books were written before the Moonbreaking. And the Council isn’t going to teach anyone how to summon demons.

But the power is there, talked about in whispers. And I’m pretty sure Vakris has it.

“I… ok,” he says. “You know I don’t want to be a mage, though? Will they really let me get my tattoos and leave?”

“The Council doesn’t force anyone to be a mage. Morals aside, it would be monumentally stupid. After control training – you need that even with tattoos, for your safety – you’ll be free to go.”

He won’t go, of course. Very, very few people reject magic, after they get a good taste of it. And that’s twice as true for mages of real talent – like Vakris, or me.

“I… thank you,” he says, looking dazed. “Don’t the agents know you’re here? Won’t they hear this in some recording?”

I give him a little smile. “There’s no recording in the cells. ThauCons might learn that I came here, but nothing else.” I’m pretty sure that’s because ThauCons don’t like being recorded when they beat up prisoners, but no need to tell him that.

Vakris looks like he’s about to burst into tears. Abyss, this one will be bullied even by the nerds in the Council Academy. “I… thank you. Really,” he says.

“You can help me, too,” I say, trying not to sound too eager. “Help us all. Can I ask you a few questions?”

He immediately goes rigid, his eyes wary.

“You don’t have to answer me,” I add, trying to sound reassuring, which I’m shit at. Well, I’m still better than Cerical, when she tried to be reassuring she sounded like a killer robot. “The strategy I told you will work anyway. But you could help me, and other people like you.”

“What do you need to know?” He asks. He rubs his hands, blowing on them, then clasps them together inside the way-too-long sleeves of Kaelich’s hoodie. His breath mists as he speaks. Abyss, I should have brought him a blanket. Except giving him any item without authorization would break several regulations and could have bad consequences for us both.

Right now, I truly hate the Agency.

“You’ve said you saw things in the Else, and heard their voices,” I say. “Look – this place is safe. There’s silver everywhere, and there’s a Disruptor – a machine that fucks up the Else. You can speak about demons here.”

He starts breathing faster, his shoulders tense.

“They… they…” his voice breaks, and I half-expect him to faint. But then he recovers, takes a deep breath, and looks into my eyes.

He might be a whiny loser, but he faced multiple demons, with no training and no guidance, and survived to tell the tale. I shouldn’t judge him hastily.

“There were many. But three got close to me,” he says, forcing out every word. “One was… I can’t explain it in words. But it swam, circling me, like a shark. One flew, and its wings were… Lost Stars, it makes no sense, but they were made of silence. And the other one was like a person, but where its face should be, there were only stars. It didn’t move, but it kept getting closer, and closer, and closer. It was next to me when you came in.”

I shiver. I hate all the mystic, can’t-explain-in-words babble about the Else, which some mages love so much.

But I can’t entirely ignore it. Because sometimes, the mystic, unspeakable things come out of the Else and eat your face.

“They can’t come here,” I reassure him - really, really hoping that’s true. “And with the Council, you’ll be safe. The Glass Tower is a magical fortress. No human or demon can reach you there.”

Well, except for the ThauCon division keeping an eye on us, with a nuclear weapon ready to annihilate the fortress in case a mage looks at them the wrong way.

“I couldn’t get away from them,” Vakris goes on, as if he didn’t even hear me. “Whatever I did, they kept getting closer.”

“Those things are giant, eldritch assholes,” I say. “But… last question, I swear. You say they spoke. Did the words make sense? Do you remember any?”

He nods. “They made no sense at first. But then… they weren’t really words. But I understood. The thing that swam kept telling me I had to call it, to call its name, it said it would help me, it said it would kill me, it said… it said its name, and it wasn’t made of words, but I think I could say it if…”

“Lost Stars, don’t fucking say it!” I yell, and barely stop myself from reaching through the bars and putting a hand over his mouth, “Abso-fucking-lutely don’t say it, don’t think about it, and change topic now. What did the other ones say? Unless it was on the same line, then just shake your head, and go back to sleep.”

I’m babbling, and I know I scared the kid, but fuck, I’m breathing heavily now – this boy is a really talented Caller, if he could find an Unspeakable Name without even trying. And I must send an urgent note for the Council to immediately teach him control. At least, now I’m sure he won’t go to any reeducation camp – silver tattoos or not, he’s too fucking dangerous to go anywhere but straight to the Glass Tower.

“I… uh,” he says, looking more surprised than scared. “I thought the name thing was like a dream, not something that would work – ok, I’ll change topic, don’t be mad at me. The demon with wings, it spoke in silences. Sorry, I know it makes no sense, but that’s how it was. It asked me who I was. It asked me where I was. What age of the world this was, and I had no clue what it meant – not that I answered it anyway. In the end it said… it said its lord would help me. Would make me great and powerful, if only I opened a way. Then it kept flying closer, and closer, and you arrived.”

All the Officers help me, this is bad. Two verbal demons, from the deep Else.

“What about the third?” I ask.

“It spoke almost like a human,” Vakris answers. “It… it said it was trying to help, but its words made no sense. It kept telling me to reverse the way-binding, but what does that even mean? Oh, and it asked a question, several times, before that. It asked if I was with the Lady in White.”