K. Mills - Witches incorporated

Surprised by the sudden chill in Sir Alec’s voice, Gerald frowned. “Well, no, not exactly. I mean, if he’s been selling proprietary government information, well, obviously that’s wrong. But-”

“But because he’s not spilled blood, because he’s not a murderer, because, really, how much trouble can you get into with a dull set of chaps like the Department of Industry, you don’t think I should be taking this quite so seriously?”

Sir Alec’s voice was so cold icicles were practically forming in the air.

“No, sir,” he said, close to shivering. “I didn’t say that, either.”

“Shall I tell you the consequences of this traitor’s actions should we fail to uncover the extent of his perfidy and the identity of every last foreign agent in receipt of his stolen information?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You’ve been out of the way here, Mister Dun-woody,” Sir Alec said, his voice clipped. Still chilly. “And fairly well occupied, so it’s not unreasonable you’re a trifle behind the times. Allow me, therefore, to bring you up to speed. There’s been a breakthrough in the application of artificially agitated thaumicals to certain non-thaumically sensitive items. It’s early days still, but should preliminary tests prove out, the patents will be worth a fortune. And before you ask, no, Mister Markham is not involved. I realise you’re a great champion of his talents but he has only eight fingers and two thumbs and we-the government-have a few more pies to dabble in than that.”

Gerald managed, barely, to keep his face straight. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Can you tell me any more about this breakthrough?”

“Once the process has been sufficiently refined and is applied,” Sir Alec continued, “it will have a significant impact on various sectors of the economy. Enormous benefits will accrue to both government and selected private enterprise-at the expense of several nations currently enjoying certain… monopolies. And that is as specific as I’m prepared to be. The point, Mister Dunwoody, is that should these nations be warned ahead of time as to our progress, or be given access to research on the patents, they could either attempt to usurp the process or take pre-emptive and punitive action that will severely damage our economy.”

Gerald thought about that. “But aren’t we trying to damage their economies?”

“ Trying?” Sir Alec raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not. We are striving to benefit our nation, the primary duty of any good government. I admit there will be some inevitable realignments in some foreign revenues. An adjustment to income for the nations in question. But that is the nature of international trade. Swings and roundabouts, Mister Dunwoody. A loss here, a gain there, and it all comes out in the wash. Eventually.”

Gerald nodded. “I see.” And I’m getting a headache. “So this is about money.”

“It is about sovereignty and security,” Sir Alec snapped. “And preventing a war.”

“ War? How did we get to war? I thought we were talking about trade?”

“Trade is war,” said Sir Alec. “Or at least a close relative. Mister Dunwoody, you are not a stupid man. Ottosland has long been the envy of lesser thaumaturgically-gifted nations. To allow the envious to use our own gifts against us would be to encourage their predations. To give the impression that we are an easy target, disinclined to stand our ground. And as history so amply demonstrates, to give that impression to one’s enemies never leads to a happy ending. In short we must nip this matter in the bud. Before it comes to real war, and people start dying.”

“I can see that it’s necessary,” said Gerald, slowly. “But where do I fit in?”

Sir Alec’s wintry smile appeared again, brief as ever. “You, Mister Dunwoody, are my pruning shears.”

Pruning shears? “ I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The wizard in question has proven himself remarkably… stubborn,” said Sir Alec. “Not only does he steadfastly decline to willingly co-operate with our investigation, he has managed to acquire for himself a shadbolt, to ensure his lack of assistance.”

What? Gerald stared, disbelieving. “Is he mad?”

“Better say desperate,” said Sir Alec. “Or greedy beyond any reason.”

“But not even the thaumaturgical black market deals in shadbolts. Does it?”

Sir Alec sighed. “It deals in everything, Mister Dunwoody. No matter how ill-advised, distasteful or patently illegal. If one can pay, one can purchase.”

“Yes, but a shadbolt?”

“Clearly our friend next door gambled that his rewards would compensate for any… personal inconvenience.”

“Next door? You mean he’s-”

“Through there. Yes,” said Sir Alec, nodding at the small room’s other exit. “Waiting for you.”

Gerald felt his skin crawl. “For me?”

“Indeed.” Sir Alec frowned. “We can’t break his hex, Mister Dunwoody. Whoever designed this particular shadbolt used some… regrettable… incants. After due consideration it’s been decided that we need your particular and peculiar talents to loosen our man’s tongue.”

Oh. “I see.”

“So in you go. I’ll be here, watching through the scryer. Ready to lend a hand should assistance be required.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Ah… Sir Alec? I’m only guessing because I’ve never done this before, but-forcibly breaking a shadbolt. That’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Not for our treacherous friend, no,” Sir Alec agreed. “But I’m inclined to feel he should’ve thought of that before he betrayed his country.”

“Yes. Only, was he thinking about betraying his country? Or was he just thinking about the money. Getting himself out of debt.”

Sir Alec raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Is it relevant?”

“Well… yes. I think it is.”

“Mister Dunwoody, you are an agent of the Ottosland government,” said Sir Alec, impatient. “Committed to its service and the defence of the nation’s sovereignty. You just signed a contract to that effect. And now you’re being asked to honour that contract. Are you telling me you’re not able to fulfil your obligation?”

“No,” said Gerald. His hands were sweaty. “No, I’m not.”

“Then fulfil it,” said Sir Alec. “The clock is ticking, Mister Dunwoody. Lives are depending on what you do next.”

Dizzy, he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The nameless Second Grade wizard jumped as the door into his small room opened.

“Hello,” said Gerald, closing it behind him. “I’m Gerald.”

The wizard looked at him, uncertain. “William.”

“Hello, William.”

William frowned. “So, what are you? My lawyer?”

“Lawyer?” he said, feeling ill. “No, I’m a wizard. Like you.”

“Ha. If you can turn around and walk out of here, you’re not like me,” sneered William.

There was a second chair in this room. Gerald sat down and pressed his hands between his knees. “Look. William. They’ve sent me in here to break your shadbolt.”

“Then you’re wasting your time,” said William, dismissive. Beneath the bravado he stank of fear. “My shadbolt’s the best a small fortune can buy. Guaranteed to make me unbreakable.”

Gerald looked at him. Let me out, let me out. I don’t want to be here. “ No-one’s unbreakable, William.”

Arms folded across his chest, William sat back. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Trust me.”

“All right. Fine. Go on, then, Gerald,” said William, shrugging. “Give it your best shot. The others failed. You will too.”

Deeply apprehensive, Gerald closed his eyes and let his senses unfurl. He felt the shadbolt straight away, saw it in his mind’s eye as a series of chains and padlocks looped and secured around William’s etheretic aura. It was ingenious. Complicated. Diabolically strong. But so was he-and he could sense how to break it. In fact he could break it quite easily, in one fell swoop, if he didn’t mind sending William insane. Or killing him.