“I’ve lived in this world for over two hundred years,” Annis said, mumbling slightly. “Haven’t made one friend. No one’s ever loved me, no one’s ever cared for me. It won’t be so bad, seeing the world being burnt to a cinder.”

“Wilhelm?” said Vex. “You can’t tell me you want to die.”

Wilhelm licked his lips. “I just... I don’t want to die, no, but... But if I do this, I get my reward. We all get our rewards. I’m really sorry about, you know, about being a traitor and everything, but it was an offer I couldn’t turn down...”

“Don’t apologise,” said Tanith. “It’s boring. Become one with your spineless nature, Wilhelm. It’s the only way people will like you.”

“Tanith Low,” said Vex, “you’re under arrest.”

“You can’t arrest me from all the way over there.”

“What do you say we meet in the middle?”

“I can do that,” Tanith said, grinning as she went for her sword.

And then the alarm went off.

25

eavy doors slammed shut, alarms wailed and all around them Cleavers were appearing. Mages burst from a hidden tunnel, hands and eyes glowing with power, flames burning in their palms. It was a trap. It was a trap and they’d all walked right into it.

“Nobody,” said a narrow man as he approached, “move.”

Vex looked at the others, making sure they weren’t about to do something stupid. Then he looked at Tanith and her gang. Annis was whipping her head around, eyes wide in alarm, but as yet her skin wasn’t turning blue, so that was a good sign. Wilhelm shrieked, of course, and Tanith stayed calm, a slightly mocking smile on her face.

The narrow man’s name was Palaver Graves. When Grand Mage Strom had been killed, Cothernus Ode moved up to take his place, and Graves in turn had stepped in to fill Ode’s place as an Elder. Vex hadn’t had much to do with him over the years, had met him once or twice, but had no idea if he liked him or not.

“Look at all you pesky little flies,” said Graves slowly, enjoying the moment, “all trapped helplessly in my web.”

Yeah, Vex was pretty sure he didn’t like this guy.

“Dexter Vex,” said Graves. “Saracen Rue. Gracious O’Callahan. Three Irish mages breaking into the English Sanctuary to steal a weapon of unstoppable power... some might say that is reason enough to go to war.”

“This has nothing to do with the Irish Sanctuary,” said Saracen. “We’re here on our own behalf.”

“Yes, yes,” Graves said, “you would say that, wouldn’t you? And who do you have with you? Frightening Jones, operative from the largest Sanctuary in Africa. Donegan Bane, rogue English mage.”

“I’m a rogue,” said Donegan, sounding pleased.