It is raining on top of the office
building, a light rain dancing into an earth made artificial, the
garden atop the JetSyne skyscraper existing to make some kind of
statement. According to Richard, it is an attempt to be hip,
which he said in a deeply sarcastic tone. Richard Brown is as drab as
the name, the kind of person almost destined for management at some
faceless conglomerate of a company. Though, on the face of it, I
probably would be as well if my blandness was not an act of conscious
choice as much as a statement of my nature. I have no idea what he
did to owe favours to the magician Wu Ming, but he did so and she
sent a messenger to me in turn.
Because, as she put it, if she could
not destroy me – not even in her own city – then she could well
use me. I am not like other magicians: I can wander, and I have bond
myself to a creature from Outside the universe who bound himself to
be first. Jay has been left in a hotel room with a TV and snacks and
is desperately trying to hide his fear from me through our binding.
Jay is very, very good at hiding and I’ve borrowed that power to
walk through the JetSyne wards and sit in on a meeting about company
productivity. Which as near as I can tell involves more work for less
pay.
I am starting to think that anyone who
wants to attend meetings should not be allowed to.
The current speaker is one Melissa
Engelbert, the CPO. Chief Planning Officer apparently means
co-ordinating events. It also means making arrangements for the wards
and protections the company has against magicians, especially the one
who is the city. I could take the wards down from inside and let Wu
Ming in; I haven’t yet. It takes an interesting kind of courage to
try and close a part of a magicians city from them, even if it only
one office tower: there are many reasons to do so, and some of them
are even benign.
It is, after all, a very quick way to
get the attention of said
magician if you want to.
Ms. Engelbert, the
‘Ms.’ thrown out into the room like a drawn sword, is talking
about graphs and production values and the company pension plan. I
have no idea if it is my being here, or something Wu Ming asked of
Richard, but he raises a hand.
“Excuse me, but
we import much of our products from China. Whose record in human
rights is frankly appalling at best: I am not sure JetSyne can dare
to claim that it is going to deny insurance to workers for moral
reasons given that. At least not without being duly laughed at.”
She pauses
mid-flow. The CEO, one Albert Spencer, lets out a low rumble of
laughter from his vast seat at the end of the room. He is quiet, the
kind to listen more than speak, and reminds me of a magician as he
stirs in his chair. The stirring triggers a memory and I am almost
certain I know what he is, which is all the more reason to keep
quiet.
“We
are about profits and productivity,” Spencer says. “People are a
distant second to the accumulation of wealth, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t,” Richard says.
“Ah.” The CEO lets out along
breath. “Recently married, are we?”
Richard looks confused but nods.
“That would explain it. It is unwise
to let pangs of remorse limit oneself. Continue,” he says, waving a
hand to Ms. Engelbert.
She talks about mining operations,
though calls it datamining and apparently means the internet. Which
is reason enough for a company to not want magicians to be involved
in their affairs, but perhaps not enough to go this far. I listen for
at least ten minutes to her lecture on a subject everyone else in the
room seems to know before a man with no chin stands and begins
talking about shareholder return and market value and the need to be
trim and lean.
I cough. Heads snap about, suite
rustling like scared pigeons. I’m wearing jeans, a cheap jacket,
t-shirt. I don’t belong and as far as they can tell I wasn’t in
the room a moment ago. I stretch from where I’ve been leaning
against the wall and feel Ms. Engelbert draw up power. Practitioners
aren’t magicians, but they can use magic. Enough time, enough
effort, a large enough source of power and they can do small things
in a small area. It took all her skill to make the wards, that and
more beside. I feel out her power, and the sacrifices made to bolster
it.
“You would solve a lot of issues if
manpower and time wasn’t wasted on wards,” I say softly. “Or if
half the interns didn’t have their own future drained out of them
to help power said wards. There is this saying, you know that we
borrow the land from our children. Which means we’re leasing it
from them at a rather enviable rate, don’t you think? We are always
in debt to the future, especially companies forced to straddle it.”
Ms. Engelbert speaks a Word and the air
shudders under it, the other suits spinning to stare in shock. I
don’t know how many knew of magic, or even her, until that point.
Most large companies have at least one person whose job it is to keep
out gremlins, leprechauns and the like. It tends to be uncommon
knowledge at best.
I catch the Word and unravel it between
my fingers. “I am a magician, Ms. Engelbert. I could unmake all the
wards now, let the magician who claims this city know what you’ve
been doing here. But you haven’t been doing anything wrong, just
being too paranoid for your own good. Being a corporation instead of
people. That, too.”
Richard has gone
still and pale; whatever he expected of me, this wasn’t it. Neither
will be this, I think.
I turn
to the CEO and bare my teeth in a smile. “How has JetSyne been
treating you, Albert Spencer?
Is this an acceptable
hoarde?”
He
stirs, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of banked fires in his eyes
and greed so deep nothing will ever fill it. No
one else recognizes a dragon; myth conditions people deeply. They
expect scales and wings, not a hunger without end, not glimpses of
what a dragon must give up for power. A dragon’s fire can burn a
magician to ashes but can’t he hot enough to replace where their
heart, their soul, where they
used to be. Only wealth touches that coldness, and it’s never
enough at all.
“You
could kill me,” I say, low and hard, for
his ears alone. “But you
would lose JetSyne and Wu Ming would kill you in turn. I would wound
you enough for that at the least, and I am not without allies who
would avenge my death if even my enemies like her failed to do so.”
“Magicians
are not welcome here,” he says for everyone’s ears, and nothing
more.
“If we were, I
would be worried.” I bow to him, and undo the wards about the
place. It is easy from the inside, so easy that Ms. Engelbert grips
the table to stop herself from crying out as how quickly I undo years
of work. I don’t tell her she could have been a magician if she’d
wanted it enough; I have no need to be that cruel.
I just
turn and walk to the door. “We have no reason to interfere in your
affairs, not truly. Your company is not doing anything other
companies would not do if they could. But
if you push this, I will call in the debts owed to the future and you
will learn just how far your hungers take you and to what end they
always need. It would help if you have less meetings,” I finish
with, closing the door and heading down the stairs.
Security
does not stop me when I leave.
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