FOURTEEN

The trouble with having done what you might term a moonlight flit from the White Horse, albeit in the afternoon and leaving adequate payment behind, was that Tait had no guidance about where to find this Cato, other than ‘in the squats’. And then there was the possibility of being followed, or spotted, or…

It ought not to be that much of a risk, not really. You couldn’t reliably tell Teren from Marek folk by sight; Tait didn’t stand out that way. But if you were looking for someone of Tait’s specific description… Tait was taller than average, and they were gloomily aware that they didn’t move like a local, and they didn’t know their way around the city.

But what they could do was blend in with all Marek’s other visitors. It was a cosmopolitan city, and strangers were common. So Tait took a circuitous route over to the squats, wandering around and doing their best to look like any other visitor with no care in the world. They peered in shop windows and stopped in Marek Square to look at the carvings on the Guildhalls, each trying to outdo its neighbour, and at the weird architecture of the Salinas embassy, which was presumably trying to give a Salinas feel to a building that was basically Teren/Marek standard brick, and succeeded only in looking peculiar. They sat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the Square for a while, trying to look relaxed and instead feeling hideously conspicuous. And finally, they meandered over Old Bridge and up the road to the edge of the squats.

They were slightly formidable buildings, five or six storeys high, and built in a single row with only occasional passageways through into the next parallel street, cut through the buildings with a single-storey height, so more rooms could be fitted in on top of them, and reminding Tait uncomfortably of tunnels.

“You looking for someone, mate?”

The lad who tapped Tait on the shoulder – giving them a very uncomfortable moment as they spun around, heart in mouth – had a friendly smile, and a red armband around one arm. That meant something, didn’t it? A messenger, was that right?

“I – uh – ”

“I’m Tam, mate. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve not seen you round here before, and you don’t look like you’re that clear where you’re going to. So – can I help? Where is it you’re after?”

“I don’t know the address,” Tait admitted.

“No address? Right. Got a name, then?”

“I’m Tait.”

“A name you’re looking for,” Tam said, patiently.

“Oh! Um.” Tait thought for a moment, trying to work out if they should risk asking directly. Then again – what else were they going to do? Wander round in circles waiting for Cato to shoot sparks out of his window? “Cato. The sorcerer.”

Tam’s eyebrows went up. “You sure, mate?”

Tait swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I need to find him.”

“Well.” Tam sounded a bit dubious. “I can give you directions, but I’d look out for your stuff, if I were you. Keep your bag close, kind of thing. There’s some less friendly folk, up there, and it’s coming on to get dark.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tait said, feeling relief. Ordinary foot-pads they could deal with; they’d lived in a couple of very unsavoury parts of Ameten. And one of the things about blood-sorcery was you always had a nice sharp knife about your person.

Tam gave them detailed directions, took them to the right passage, and left them with a friendly wave, refusing the Marek penny Tait offered.

“Nah, I just like to help out where I can, you know? Less’n’ you’ve got a message you want delivered,” he shrugged the shoulder of the arm that wore the armband, “I’ll happily take for that.”

“Sadly not,” Tait said, and Tam grinned and turned to jog off back towards Old Bridge.

Tait squared their shoulders, made sure their bag was strapped tight to their chest, and set off towards Cato’s house. They only had to dissuade one potential footpad on the way, when they noticed someone coming fake-casually out of a doorway. Putting their hand to their knife and pulling it out, just a little, was enough for the person to hesitate and change direction.

Tait found the correct number on the fifth street away from the river, and went up to the first floor, where a large red painted C decorated the first door on this level. This was the place, then. Tait took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It swung open.

“Come in, and keep your hands where I can see them,” someone called from inside the dimly lit room.

Cautiously, Tait advanced, blinking in the hope that their eyes would adjust faster to the half-dark. It was still daylight outside, but curtains had been pulled across the windows. There were a couple of candles lit by the bed that was opposite the door, and someone lounging on it, propped up with a couple of pillows. As Tait’s vision improved, they could see that the figure – Cato, presumably? – had his hands behind his head.

“Oh,” Cato said. “You’re not – who I expected.” He sat up a bit. “Who are you, then?”

At a guess, Cato was a bit shorter than Tait, with dark hair; more than that, Tait couldn’t currently see. The candles were slightly behind Cato, no doubt deliberately, throwing his face into shadow.

“I’m Tait.” Tait had thought about how to introduce themself; whether to try, as they had with Reb, not to talk about what had happened, or to be entirely honest. They hadn’t come to a decision, but here they were, and they had to say something. “I’m from Teren. I’m, uh, a sorcerer.”

“A Teren sorcerer,” Cato said, slowly. “Really. Are you, by any remote chance, the Teren sorcerer who summoned a demon outside Ameten which is currently causing some concern to, among other people, the Teren Lieutenant?”

Oh, shit.

“I – how did you know?” Tait blurted, then, too late, “But I didn’t.”

“Well, mostly, I knew because you just told me.” Cato sat up and swung his legs onto the floor; stood up and came over to Tait, turning so the candlelight caught both of them.

Close to, the first thing Tait thought was: but he’s pretty. From the reputation Cato seemed to have, Tait had half expected some grizzled scowling sorcerer, like every storybook illustration of a villainous wizard; despite knowing fine well that was all nonsense. Cato was maybe in his late twenties, a little skinny, perhaps, his short dark hair shining a little red in the candlelight which from this angle now outlined his sharp, curious features. Tait blinked, and Cato gave them a little smirk. Tait, to their slight horror, became aware they were blushing, and hoped like hell that the candlelight wasn’t enough to show it.

“Also,” Cato added, “just yesterday evening I was hearing all about this terrible demon business from the Teren Lord Lieutenant, and it seemed like an obvious guess.”

“Reb took longer,” Tait said, without thinking, then cursed themself again when Cato’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’ve already been to see Reb, have you? Well. How about you sit down, and tell me all about it. From the beginning.”

Cato sat back down on the edge of the bed, and Tait looked around, more than a little off-balance now, for a chair. A stool shot over from the other side of the room, scattering floor-detritus in its wake. Tait gasped, and Cato smirked again. That was a lot of power, and applied in a way Tait didn’t even know how to approach. How did Marek magic even work?

“Sit down. Tell me a story,” Cato said.

Tait sat, slowly, and tried to marshal their thoughts.

“We’ll take the ‘summoned a demon’ bit as read for now,” Cato said, “though I may want to hear more about that later. How about after that?”

“I banished it,” Tait said, gloomily aware that if Reb hadn’t believed them, Cato was hardly any more likely to.

“You banished it?” Cato repeated.

“I thought I did.” Tait stared at their hands. “I suppose… I did, though. I’m sure of it.”

“The Lord Lieutenant says it’s still running around out there.” Cato sat back, looking thoughtfully at Tait. “If you thought you banished it, why did you run away?”

“Because they’d make me do it again.” Tait might as well be honest with Cato now, right? There wasn’t much to lose.

“Call a spirit?” Cato said. “Was that a surprise to you?”

“No, but…” Tait struggled for words to explain everything that had happened in Ameten. “I didn’t expect what they… I didn’t think about it enough beforehand,” they said in the end, miserably.

“Hmm.” Cato scratched at his chin. “Very well, let’s leave that for now. But you said you banished it, and the Lord Lieutenant says it’s still out there. That’s… interesting.”

Tait frowned, and risked looking up. Tait couldn’t read Cato’s expression.

“But you believe the Lord Lieutenant,” Tait half-asked.

“Not necessarily,” Cato said. “What did you do after you ran off, then?”

“I thought I’d come to Marek,” Tait said. “Because you don’t use blood, and you don’t use spirits, here.”

“Well, there is the cityangel. But you’re right that it works differently. Go on.”

“I mean, I could still use blood-magic, but…” Tait rubbed at their forearms. “But that’s limited. So I wanted to come here, but I – the Academy don’t like people to leave. I figured they’d be looking for me. So I went to the mountains. I grew up there, and people there – they wouldn’t necessarily turn me over. Maybe. I thought I’d stay there a while, let things die down.” That had been a very unpleasant few days, hiking at night and sleeping in the day, constantly terrified that they’d wake to find an Academy sorcerer standing over them. “Then when I got up there, there was this bunch of Marekers, looking to go over the pass to Exuria, with a bunch of trading stuff – huge packs, they looked like travellers – but they’d just found out it was dragon-bear season.” Tait rolled their eyes. “Dunno how they’d missed that when they were planning it.”

“Ah, the Exuria traders,” Cato murmured. “Of course.”

“And I thought – Marek. And the cityangel. I hadn’t thought of it before, but if I was in Marek, the Academy couldn’t send anyone after me. No spirits can come into Marek. And maybe even I’d be able to do sorcery again, if a Marek sorcerer would teach me.”

“And you were low on other options,” Cato agreed. “Yet you didn’t go straight there?”

Tait shrugged. “No money, and you can’t get passage down the river for free. I’d have been obvious on the road, and you can’t get through the swamp less’n you know it proper. But I said to the Marekers, I’ll come with you, keep the dragon-bears off, keep the journey down the river after nice and smooth.”

“But you couldn’t do magic,” Cato said. “What if a dragon-bear attacked? You were just going to let them die?” He’d leant forwards a little. A few locks of hair had fallen forwards over his eyes, and he brushed them back impatiently.

“Blood sorcery,” Tait said. “Like I said, I wasn’t about to summon another spirit. The Academy would find me, if I did that.”

“The academy,” Cato repeated. “You’ve mentioned that a couple of times.”

“The Academy of the Court,” Tait said. “In Ameten. They teach sorcerers.”

“Right. Huh. So you went up into the mountains prepared to open a vein if you met any dragon-bears or fell off any cliffs.” He sounded a bit mocking.

“Didn’t fall off any cliffs,” Tait said. “Did meet a dragon-bear.” They knew they sounded defensive.

Cato’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? What happened?”

“Like you said. Opened a vein. Translocated it.”

Cato’s eyes widened. “And you were still upright afterwards? That’s a hell of a lot of power to pull from your blood.”

“I felt a bit off afterwards,” Tait said, with serious understatement. “But we got through. I got through.” They’d needed a lot of support from Bracken, but after just saving everyone from a dragon-bear support was readily forthcoming. Though it was just as well there hadn’t been another one immediately afterwards.

“Lucky thing they don’t hunt in pairs,” Cato said.

“How do you know?” Tait demanded. “You’re from the mountains?”

“Not a scrap of it,” Cato said. “Never left Marek in my life. Never wanted to. Only ever seen a picture of a dragon-bear, which was plenty alarming enough for me. I’m making assumptions from the fact that you’re not a blood-drained corpse halfway up a mountain somewhere. So. You fought off a dragon-bear, which, well done,” he sounded genuine, “you went to Exuria and back with these Marekers, and then downriver. When did you get here, then?”

“Yesterday,” Tait said. “Then, this morning, I asked after sorcerers.”

“And they sent you to Reb, of course, because everyone makes horrible faces when they talk about me.” Cato sounded pleased. “And Reb… ?”

“She said there’s a demon roaming Teren looking for me, and kicked me out,” Tait said, suddenly desperate for this to be over. They hadn’t the first clue what they would do next, but going over all of this, waiting for Cato to kick them out, was becoming too awful. “She said she wouldn’t apprentice me. She didn’t think I was telling her the truth.”

“And were you?”

“Yes!” Tait said. “But… I don’t know. I thought I was. Maybe I was wrong.” They took a shaky breath. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Tait startled a bit at Cato’s vehemence. “Sorry. No. Don’t go just yet. So Reb sent you off with a flea in your ear.”

“She told me to go back and sort my own mess out.”

“Is she going to turn you in?” Cato asked. He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought it of Reb, to be honest.”

Tait shook their head. “No. She said not, but… I don’t know if she told the truth.” They were a little reluctant to accuse Reb of lying – it surely wouldn’t endear them to her fellow-sorcerer – but Cato seemed to want all the details.

Cato tilted his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together. “Why not?”

“I got back to my room, and there’d been someone looking for me. The Teren sorcerer, staying at the White Horse. And it was a Teren person, the barman said. But then, I didn’t tell Reb where I was staying, and I did tell her my name, so… But I don’t understand how else anyone could have known.”

“If Reb said she wouldn’t tell, she wouldn’t tell,” Cato said, shaking his head. “Reb drives me absolutely up the wall on a regular basis, but she’s honest.” He grimaced. “Unpleasantly so, at times. Must have been someone else. One of your Marek trading-expedition, maybe? Deliberately or otherwise, mentioning their Teren sorcerer friend?”

“Maybe,” Tait said. “I don’t know.”

“So what did you do?”

“Left money on the table and went out of the window,” Tait said.

“And came to find me,” Cato said.

“I didn’t know what else to do. You’re the only other sorcerer in Marek.”

“No longer entirely true, even if we don’t count your good self, but I take your point. And so, you want to apprentice to me, do you?”

Tait hunched their shoulders. “I guess you won’t have me.”

“I don’t know,” Cato said, frankly. “On the one hand, you are clearly in trouble up to your neck, and I am very nervous indeed about how Beckett will feel about this. On the other hand, it would piss Reb off, which is nearly enough reason to do it all by itself. And, unlike Reb, I think you’re telling the truth about what you thought happened, whether or not you screwed it up. Although I’d like to know…” He paused, then shook his head. “Anyway. You can’t stay here and not learn Mareker magic, and I’m not that keen to send you back to Teren to choose between slicing yourself up and getting eaten by a demon eventually, regardless of what happens with this particular one. I don’t mean to be rude – well, not very rude – but it doesn’t sound like your spirit work is up to much, and there’s a hard limit on blood-work.” He paused, then said, lightly, “That is, if you limit it to your own blood.”

“Yes,” Tait said, with emphasis. “Reb asked me that too. Yes.”

“Well then.”

Tait’s shoulders sagged. “I could just – not do sorcery,” they said. “Here, or in Teren. Just – stop.”

“Really?”

Tait looked up, but as far as they could see, Cato’s expression was just one of curiosity.

“Do you really think you could give it up?” he asked. “Because I sure as hell couldn’t.” He snorted. “And I am in a position to be moderately certain of that, though that’s a story for another time.”

“Maybe,” Tait said.

“I suspect not,” Cato said. “But you can’t do your sort of magic here. Beckett won’t stand for it. I work with spirits, sometimes, but… well, not the way you do, let’s leave it at that for now.” He seemed to be thinking of something else, then shook his head briskly. “Anyway. You want to do magic, you want to stay, that means learning our magic.”

“Who’s Beckett?” Tait asked. “You’ve mentioned them twice now.”

“The cityangel,” Cato said.

Tait blinked. “The cityangel has a name?”

“For about the last two months they do, yes. It’s – another story for another time, perhaps.” Cato chewed on his lip. “I’m loathe to make a decision without some kind of conversation with them, to be honest, but I kind of hate talking to them…”

“Hello,” someone said from behind Tait, and Tait screamed.

“Shit,” Cato said. “Tait, it’s fine. Probably.” He put out a hand, and Tait grabbed onto it, white-knuckled, beyond embarrassment at this point. “Beckett, you arse. What do you think you’re doing?”

Someone stepped forwards from just behind Tait’s right shoulder, and Tait took another gasp. Cato’s hand was warm in theirs, and reassuring. Whoever had just walked in – appeared? Tait hadn’t heard the door – was tall, taller than Tait, and slightly angular, and their pale head was smooth. Their expression wasn’t human.

“You wanted to speak to me.” Their voice wasn’t human, either.

“Most people knock,” Cato said, sourly.

“I am not people.”

“Yes, well. Beckett, this is Tait, a sorcerer from Teren who wishes to learn Mareker magic. Tait, this is Beckett, Marek’s cityangel.”

k k

Cato was impressed that Tait hadn’t just passed out cold when Beckett appeared. They were clearly in a high state of nerves – understandable, in the circumstances – and it hadn’t been very considerate.

But then, being considerate wasn’t Beckett’s style. It wasn’t usually Cato’s, either, but – well. Tait was easy on the eye, no question, and Cato was shallow. He found himself liking Tait, too, even if they were far too naïve. Whatever Reb might have thought, Cato was confident Tait wasn’t lying about the business with the demon. They believed they’d banished it, and Cato couldn’t see how you could make a mistake on the matter. Which raised some interesting questions with regard to what exactly was going on, and whether someone else might be lying instead, and if so, who. Plus, Cato would quite like to know what was going on with this Academy in Ameten, and why Tait had left in such a hurry.

But that could wait. Right now, Beckett was standing in Cato’s room, and Tait was staring at the cityangel with their mouth open, looking terrified.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Beckett said again.

“Right. Well, Tait wants to learn Mareker magic, and since you are, as it were, the source of Mareker magic,” not quite true, it was more like Beckett mediated it, but close enough, “I thought, best not agree to such a thing until I’d asked you about it.”

“You did not ask about Jonas.”

“You knew Jonas already. And you like him. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Beckett blinked, once, slowly. “Why?”

“Why what?” Cato asked, deliberately obtuse. He wanted to buy as much thinking time as possible, plus Beckett’s conversational style irritated him and perhaps if he irritated Beckett back, Beckett might change. Unlikely, but one could hope. As long as he didn’t irritate Beckett enough to be cut off, which apparently was a threat Beckett was now willing to make.

“Why does this one wish to learn Mareker magic?” Beckett asked, unperturbed.

“You realise that means working with Beckett, right?” Cato asked Tait. “You might want to reconsider.”

It was an exaggeration; before this year, Cato had never once encountered Beckett in person, and even in the last month or two, it didn’t happen often. Well. Not all that often. Certainly not most times Cato used magic, thankfully. Cato was optimistic that as the effects of Daril’s idiocy wore off, it would happen less often. He could quite happily never see Beckett in person again, as long as the cityangel kept doing their damn job.

Tait swallowed, and kept on looking at Beckett. Well, that showed they were a sorcerer, right enough. Cato was more or less inured to it by now – and went to great lengths to resist the effect – but to sorcerer eyes, Beckett was compelling. It wasn’t anything as straightforward as a glow, or something you could put your finger on. The cityangel just – was – magic, and it drew you in.

Tait licked their lips. “I summoned a spirit in Teren. A demon. And I thought – I was sure – I banished it, but someone from Teren says I didn’t.”

Cato shut his eyes. Granted, Beckett was probably going to work the whole business out anyway, sooner or later, but admitting it up-front might not be the best plan.

“I know,” Beckett said.

Right, maybe it had been a good idea, then. Getting caught in a lie was almost always an error.

“But I don’t want to be summoning, or bleeding myself, anyway. Even without what the Academy wanted me to do,” Tait said. And that was the second mention of this academy and their plans. Cato really needed to follow that up. “Marek magic, everyone talks about it like a, a relationship. That sounds better than what I’ve been doing in Teren.” The words were awkward, but Tait’s tone was painfully honest.

“You wish to learn Marek magic,” Beckett said.

“But if you don’t want me to, if… I’ll leave,” Tait said. “I know you have to protect the city, and… if I’m bringing a demon here, I’ll leave.”

“No demon can come here,” Beckett said.

“If Tait got rid of the demon,” Cato put in, “then either there’s no demon coming, and that part’s a lie; or someone else has summoned it. Either way. Not really Tait’s fault.”

Tait looked at him in surprised gratitude. Beckett didn’t react. After a moment, they tipped their head to one side, a very human gesture. Beckett had definitely picked some things up during their unplanned stay on the human plane, beyond this sodding irritating habit of turning up in person.

“Yes,” they said.

“Yes what?” Cato asked.

“Yes, Tait may learn Marek magic,” Beckett said. “But you have an apprentice. Reb needs one. Tait should apprentice to Reb. I will tell her so.” They nodded as if they had come to a decision.

“Please don’t,” Tait said, urgently. “I mean… Reb didn’t want me around. I’d much rather learn from Cato.” They turned to Cato. “If you don’t mind. If you have time.”

Beckett frowned at both of them. “Reb would be better.”

“Maybe we don’t need to manage this right now,” Cato said. “If I might make a suggestion?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “How about, I keep an eye on Tait for a few days, without any kind of apprenticeship,” and without bothering Reb, “while we work out what this demon business is all about. I think something odd is going on. And if I’m right, Reb’s objections evaporate, and all is well.” And if there wasn’t something odd going on, if Tait was just exceptionally good at flat-out lying, then they’d all find that out instead, and that would resolve the problem in another way.

Cato rather hoped that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t like to feel that he was that bad at reading people.

He really ought to tell Reb what he was up to, given this whole Group business and the discussion they’d had with Selene. But Reb had made her decision about Tait without informing him; and if Cato could get more information, it would be rather easier to discuss it with Reb than if he were just relying on his intuition for someone pulling a fast one. The thing was, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that the person who was pulling a fast one might be Selene. He counted quickly in his head. Two days, he’d promised Reb, before revisiting the decision they’d made about helping Selene. Two days would be up tomorrow, dammit. He’d just have to put Reb off for a bit longer, and hope she wasn’t counting herself.

Beckett looked stern. “No demon may enter Marek,” they said again.

“I know,” Cato said. “Look, you know I always use the proper channels and all that, with spirits. The point is, someone is running round Marek claiming that there is one on its way here, and that interests me. It should interest you, as well, if they’re right.”

“Very well,” Beckett said. “You have three days.” They took a step backwards, and vanished.

Cato flopped backwards onto the bed. “Ugh. I hate when they do that. Appear out of bloody nowhere. They never used to do that.” He sat back up again. “Well then. Welcome to Marek magic.”

Tait, still looking at the place where Beckett had been, didn’t reply. Cato ruthlessly suppressed a slight flare of pique.

“Is – Marek magic involves Beckett?”

“Beckett mediates it,” Cato said. “The detail is perhaps something to go into another time, say, tomorrow, because it is late now and I have had enough. But as a rule they don’t actually show up in person when you’re doing magic, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“But I won’t be doing magic yet, will I?” Tait said.

Cato raised a shoulder. “We-ll. I said I wouldn’t apprentice you. I can probably show you a thing or too, though, without too much trouble, since you’re not a total beginner. A little taster, as it were.”

Tait’s eyes went wide, with hope and apprehension. “But won’t Beckett disapprove?”

“Well, if Beckett disapproves then they won’t help,” Cato said. “But Beckett wants Marek magic to expand, so my guess is we’ll get away with it.” He looked at Tait and felt an unusual urge to reassure them. “It’ll be my responsibility, not yours, if Beckett gets in a flap.”

Tait was fiddling with the braid that fell down their back. Cato wondered what their hair was like when they let it down. Cato was suddenly glad that he’d avoided the apprentice thing. He was moderately certain that he shouldn’t make a pass at his apprentice, whereas if it was someone he was just, kind of, helping out, it was probably all right. Maybe. At the very least, if he saw Tait doing magic, he’d have a clearer idea of whether making a pass at them would be taking advantage, or whether Tait was competent enough to know what they were about. They had fought off a dragon-bear with blood alone, after all.

“So,” Cato said. “Tomorrow, we can see how you go with Mareker magic.” Cato himself generally stayed up late, but Tait looked done in. Perhaps not surprising.

He rather expected Tait to get up and go, but they hunched their shoulders slightly, and looked awkward.

“Oh. You’ve nowhere to go, have you? And someone might be after you.”

That would be, was, really, a perfect opportunity to try something on – Cato’s bed was large, plenty of room for two, all that business – except that whether or not Tait was generally competent at such things, they quite clearly weren’t right now. Cato wasn’t in the business of taking advantage of anyone. He strongly preferred enthusiastic agreement from his bed partners. He could, however, flirt a little, see what happened.

“I’d invite you to stay,” Tait’s eyes flickered over to his, startled, but, as far as Cato could see, not alarmed. Tait licked their lip, then swallowed, and Cato upgraded that to ‘possibly slightly interested’. He grinned, and carried on, “but it’s been something of a tiring evening for both of us, and you’ve had what sounds like a tiring time all round. There’s no one in the room next door at the moment, and I’ve a spare blanket. I can set you up in there.”

“The room next door?”

“This is the squats,” Cato said. “If the room’s free, you can stay in there. Free. That’s how it works.”

In fact, the room next to Cato’s was almost always free, because anyone who moved in moved out again very shortly after realising who they were living next to. Cato found this convenient.

“And it’s… safe?” Tait asked.

“We’re sorcerers,” Cato reminded them. “People worry about being safe from us, not the other way around.”

Tait didn’t look any less worried.

“If you can tackle a dragon-bear, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be bothered about the useless lumps round here,” Cato said.

“I’d rather not do blood-magic here.”

“Best not,” Cato agreed. “Beckett isn’t keen.” Also, it was illegal, inasmuch as that mattered.

“And I don’t know who might be after me or what they can do. I’ll be asleep. I can hardly knife anyone in my sleep.”

Cato made a mental note that Tait obviously felt that they were competent to knife someone whilst awake, which seemed like it ought to be useful information. “Wards?” he asked, and Tait looked baffled. “Right, well, I’ll show you how to do that tomorrow, but I can ward your room myself for tonight. Guaranteed no entry for anyone,” except Beckett, probably, but Tait would hardly sleep well if Cato mentioned that, “and very unpleasant consequences for someone foolish enough to try. But, um, remember to come in here in the morning, don’t just sod off down the stairs, or it’ll set the whole thing off.”

Cato saw Tait into the next door room, blankets and all, scattered wards-mixture over the threshold on his way out and set the wards in only a slightly excessively dramatic fashion, and retired to his own room with a sense of having done well and acted in an unprecedentedly noble fashion. Marcia would be proud of him. He made a rude face at the ceiling, and settled down to sleep.