Илона Эндрюс - Emerald Blaze (Hidden Legacy)

“Is that an order?” I kept my voice casual.

“Does it have to be?” Linus asked.

“He shares no information unless his arm is twisted, which makes him unpredictable, and he’s driven by self-interest, which makes him a liability. He has no loyalty, he can’t be counted on, and his principles are murky. I have no problem working with him, but I want my objection noted, so when he cuts and runs at the worst moment, I can tell you ‘I told you so.’” And I would really rub it in.

“I told you before that I would see things through,” Alessandro said. “I kept my promise and I’ll do it again. When I sign on the dotted line, I always deliver.”

I shrugged.

“You do remember what betraying the trust of the National Assembly of the United States means?” Linus said. “There is no place on this planet where we won’t find you.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alessandro said.

Linus smiled again, showing even white teeth. “See? He knows the consequences.” He clapped his hands together. “It’s settled. You will investigate, he will protect you, and everything will come up roses. Moving on.”

This was some kind of nightmare. Not only did Alessandro reappear in my life, now I had to work with him. He would insist on following me everywhere. We would be around each other all the time. I would rather walk on broken glass all day than spend fifteen minutes talking to him.

I had picked my path. I swore an oath to the Wardens. Like Mom said, it was time to put up or shut up.

I wrestled my mind back to the problem at hand. There would be time to vent all of this later. “You don’t know who Arkan sent?”

“No,” Alessandro said.

“Do you think he is behind the two attacks?”

“Unlikely. Arkan’s people are precise and fast. This was stupid.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. “Agreed. First, they attacked Linus in his home where he is the strongest. Second, they attacked both of us and simultaneously. It wasn’t just an assault on two Primes, it was an assault on the Office of the Warden. All of this guarantees that we will drop everything and investigate. Why?”

“That’s what you’ll need to find out.” Linus leaned forward. “The recovery of the serum is your first priority. Get in and shake them up until it falls out. Get me the evidence I need to force my way in. Don’t die.”

He looked at me and said, enunciating every word, “Do me this favor, Catalina.”

“Of course, Mr. Duncan.”

We went through this ritual with every assignment. I called it “Victoria Tremaine’s insurance.”

Linus nodded at Alessandro. “Wait outside. She’ll be along shortly.”

Alessandro rose from the chair with that liquid grace and walked out.

I waited until he’d had time to reach the front door. “How could you?”

“I know it hurts. I know you’re angry. He’s an arrogant jackass, but he is very, very good at what he does. Your survival matters to me a great deal more than your feelings.”

“Anybody but him. I could have taken Pete.”

Linus raised his eyebrows and pointed at the unconscious Pete with his thumb. “He would be difficult to carry.”

My feelings must have shown on my face, because Linus sat back.

“Do you understand why I can’t take this over now?”

“You have no justification. The Office of the Warden can’t just run over the private affairs of Primes. The Houses would scream bloody murder.”

Linus nodded. “I have a lot of things to verify. If what that hotshot said is true, I have to cover a lot of ground. I may not be available to provide assistance.”

“I’m not sure I can count on Alessandro to provide it either.”

Linus steepled his fingers. “You’ve had a chance to observe him here. Tell me what’s different about him from the Alessandro you remember.”

I ran through the last twenty minutes in my head. “He didn’t challenge you. You gave him multiple chances to mouth off, but he didn’t take them.” No, Alessandro was in full Artisan mode. Ice cold, calculating, resolute.

“What else?”

“He offered information without being prompted.” That was new as well. The last time we met, I had to pull every bit of intelligence out of him with tweezers even when our lives depended on it.

“Something must’ve happened to him,” Linus said. “I suspect it was extremely unpleasant. I like his determination. It’s a welcome change.”

I gave up. “How dangerous is Arkan?”

“Dangerous enough that the Imperial Department of Defense let him go rather than kill him, which is their usual procedure. It was judged to be more cost-effective.”

“Wow. He gave the Russian Imperium pause?”

“Yes. The man is a mass murderer, Catalina. He has a black tag. Just him alone.”

In the Warden Network, potential threats were tagged with different colors, from low to high. Black indicated the highest level, critical. It was usually reserved for criminal organizations and small governments rather than individuals. Even my brother-in-law, who could level an entire city once he got going, was marked as brown.

“One wonders how much easier our lives would be if the Russian Imperium had collapsed during the farmer revolt.” Linus opened a drawer of his desk, took out a large box, and held it out to me. “I’m throwing you into a den of wolves. The least I can do is give you a stick to hold them at bay.”

“Thank you.”

I took my present. Made of polished cedar, it was about two and a half feet long. A stylized tree branch with five leaves was carved into the lid, wrapped in a ribbon of Norse runes.

“It’s beautiful.”

“This is a prototype, with all the issues that entails. I planned to refine it, but we have no time.”

I opened the box. Inside on turquoise velvet lay a short sword. It was a straightforward weapon, almost plain: about fourteen inches overall, with a ten-inch double-edged blade, and a wooden grip wrapped in a leather cord. Both the simple cross guard and the round pommel shimmered with blued steel, catching the light. The blade seemed unusually wide for the length, about forty-eight millimeters, at least.

Aww. He made me a sword. He never made swords. He specialized in projectile weapons.

I set the box on his desk and plucked the weapon out. Heavy. And weighted oddly, most of the mass at the hilt. This wasn’t a functional sword, more like a decorative sword-shaped object you would hang on the wall.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a very good sword, but he’d made it specially for me.

“I love it,” I said. Nobody had ever made me a sword before.

Linus sighed. “Flick it.”

“What?”

“Stand up and wave it around.”

I got up and sliced through the air. The blade unfolded like a telescopic pole and I almost dropped it. The new sword was thirty inches long.

Um . . . I raised the sword and studied the blade. Logic said there should have been lines between the segments, but I couldn’t find any. I spun, swinging in a quick combination of slashes. The blade held. Still, the structural integrity of it had to be crap. A good sword was essentially a somewhat flexible length of sharpened steel designed to slash and stab through objects with high resistance and would be sturdy enough to block a strike. A segmented sword, by definition, was hollow. If I tried to cut something, it would snap at the joints. If I tried to block, it might snap at the hilt.

I manufactured some enthusiasm. “Awesome.”

Linus shook his head. “You are a terrible liar. Sink some magic into it.”

I relaxed my hold on my power and let it flow into the hilt. Faint dark lines formed on the blade, growing into an intricate pattern of tiny arcane circles. What was this? Mages used arcane circles to supplement and channel their magic. Some circles amplified magic; others contained or shaped it. The most prominent families developed House spells, which unleashed catastrophic power and required circles of dazzling complexity. But all circles had to be drawn fresh with chalk or other organic substances like soap or wax. That’s why I redrew the trap circles in our house every couple of weeks.