Page 11 of The Malevolent Seven

‘That’snotthe usual “human stuff”! This baron of yours sounds like another Lucien, which is a problem I’m already trying to solve, thanks to you.’

‘Puh-lease. This guy makes Lucien look like a tactical genius. He’s already getting his arse handed to him by the locals. You’d like these folks, Cade. Brave mommies and daddies fighting a maniacal fiend to protect their children.’ The diabolic put a hand on his chest where his heart would be, if he had one. ‘Heroes, one and all.’

The thing about Tenebris is, he likes to set up the joke and have you deliver the punchline.

‘Let me guess, you want me to beat up those brave mommies and daddies?’

He grinned from horn to horn. ‘It’s a good gig, man. Two weeks, tops. Turns out a band of wonderists calling themselves the Seven Brothers have come along to help the rebellion. They’rereallypissing off the baron, so we need you to round up a few of your pals and go and murder them real good.’

I opened the ties on the bag of cursed sand all the way. ‘Thanks for the spells, Tenebris. Don’t let the ethereal door hit you on the arse on your way out.’

The wisps of smoke rose up once more, this time enveloping him. ‘Oh, and I almost forgot about the grand prize. . .’

‘The grand what now?’

The fog inside the spell circle was so thick that all I could see were the diabolic’s red eyes and the toothy gleam of his smile. ‘The baron’s got hold of a certain artefact that would come in real handy for you, Cade. . . something he’d be willing to part with if you could get these Seven Brothers off his back. No joke, buddy. This thing would be worth more to you than all the spells in hell.’

‘And just what is this artefa—?’

I stopped myself. I was falling right into the trap, letting myself get sucked into whatever long con he was setting me up for. So I took up a handful of my nasty spell-sand and started flicking the grains into the circle.

The diabolic cried, ‘Fine, fine. You don’t have to be such an arsehole!’ Tenebris left me with one final entreaty before he disappeared. ‘Look, take the day to think about it. When you change your mind about the job, give me a shout. This is the deal of the epoch and I’d hate for it to go to someone I like less than you.’

This is what my life has come to: the person most concerned about my survival is an Infernal diabolic huckster with a lousy sense of humour.

When I turned back, Galass was staring at me, still holding the knife in her hand. ‘So it’s true? Your spells. . . they really come from the Infernal demesne?’

‘All magic comes from somewhere.’

‘But not everyone draws upon the Infernals for their power.’

‘Not everyone,’ I conceded.

Her hand was shaking. She was holding the little blade so tightly I was pretty sure I was going to see blood seeping out between her fingers.

‘I am glad you placed your foul binding on our memories,’ she said, and turned to put her arm around Fidick and lead him as far away from me as they could get without actually leaving the safety of the tent. ‘I prefer to remember you as a pig who violated our bodies rather than a decent man who debased his own soul.’

Chapter 5

The Bat

I left my two guests alone in the tent. They’d rest easier without me there, and I doubted I’d be doing any sleeping myself. Dozens of soldiers and camp followers saw me leave, but I wasn’t concerned; even without the wards I’d placed on the tent, uninvited folk generally don’t risk sneaking into a war mage’s accommodations. We tend to be prickly about trespassers.

I made it about fifteen feet before a bat landed on my shoulder and tried to bite my neck.

‘Don’t you fucking try it,’ I warned.

The bat gave a distressed squeak before making a second, more tentative attempt.

‘I’m not kidding,’ I said, letting the black wisps of a bewilderment fog swirl around the fingertips of my right hand. I’ve always had a fondness for that particular piece of magic. Unlike most confounding cantrips, you don’t have to use it up all at once. It’s basically this big barrel of confusion you can draw on a bit at a time until it runs out.

‘Bats don’t do so well without their sense of direction,’ I said. ‘It’d be a shame to watch you flying into tree trunks over and over until you broke your nose.’

The bat leaped off my shoulder to flutter awkwardly in the air before me. It squeaked mournfully, abandoning whatever sense of shadowy menace it had probably spent its whole life perfecting.

‘Tell the arsehole to send a note like a normal person.’

The bat followed me as I strode through the camp. Regular soldiers paused in doing the things regular soldiers do between trying to kill their fellow regular soldiers on the other side long enough to gape at the sight of me arguing with a bat. I couldn’t say for sure, but I rather thought the bat was even more embarrassed than I was.

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