Pulsar Race (Starship’s Mage #9.5) - Glynn Stewart Page 0,6
him.
“And if I refuse?”
“We go on our way and the next invitation is significantly less polite,” she told him. “You will meet with my employer, Mage Halloway.”
She’d dropped the military rank after the first time, Ivan noted absently, but she was at least getting his last name right.
“Fine,” he said grumpily. “Where are we going?”
“Get in the car,” she instructed.
Sighing, Ivan obeyed. It turned out to be a more spacious vehicle than he’d guessed from the outside, with two sets of benches facing each other rather than forward. The door closed behind him, and the threatening woman entered the front of the vehicle to join the driver.
Ivan was not alone in the car. He didn’t recognize the heavyset man sitting across from him—but he did recognize the golden medallion the stranger wore at his throat. Ivan wore the same medallion: the marker of a member in good standing of the Mage’s Guild, a recognized wielder of the Gift.
Where Ivan’s simply had the three letters RMN to note that he’d been trained as a Navy Mage, the stranger’s medallion had the three stars of a Jump Mage and the paired swords of a Guild-trained Enforcer, a Combat Mage.
“Jester, take us for a drive,” the stranger ordered. “Loop our friend’s apartment block a couple of times; that should give us plenty of time for our conversation.”
There was no response from the front of the car, but a privacy barrier slid up, leaving Ivan alone with the other Mage.
“In answer to the question you asked my lovely associate, we aren’t going anywhere,” the stranger told him. “You may call me Aquila, Mage Halloway. May I call you Ivan?”
“I prefer to keep that to my friends,” Ivan said, trying not to quail too visibly under the hard gaze of his new companion. The stranger had got it right, though, which was better than most.
“What is all of this about?” he asked.
“You’ve taken a new Ship’s Mage position, Mage Halloway,” Aquila said. “One aboard a ship of some interest to me: Restoya.”
“If the ship is of interest to you, you should talk to her Captain,” Ivan replied. “I’m just helping out a friend.”
“Oh, I know, I know.” Aquila made a throwaway gesture, one that drew Ivan’s gaze to his long, delicate fingers—fingers that had the distinctive small burn scars that came from using fire magic.
A lot of fire magic.
“And…representatives of mine have spoken to Captain Charpentier. He has proven unwilling to negotiate, and quite frankly, Mage Halloway, I have run out of patience with him.”
Aquila’s tone was ice and Ivan found himself physically trying to move farther away from the man on the other side of the car.
That brought a thin smile to the big man’s lips that chilled Ivan even more.
“I had arranged one fall for Captain Charpentier, but with your assistance, he has found what may well be a way out of my trap,” Aquila said. “So. I find myself required to assemble a new trap, which I find irritating, but one that will put Restoya in my hands with no one the wiser.”
“As Ship’s Mage, I am expected to defend the ship,” Ivan managed to squeak out. Aquila regarded him curiously, like an owl studying a mouse that had just tried a particularly dumb trick.
“You could certainly make the task of my team significantly easier, yes,” he noted. “And I have the greatest of admiration for the officers of His Majesty’s Royal Martian Navy. It would upset me to order your death, Mage Halloway.”
He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it took Ivan half a second to process what had just been said.
“I have an alternative that will serve both of our needs,” the crime lord told him. “We will pay you, of course,” he added with a vague wave of those strangely delicate fingers.
“Charpentier is already paying me,” Ivan replied.
“Charpentier is offering you a portion of a prize he hasn’t won,” Aquila pointed out. “A prize he will not win.”
Ivan wasn’t even sure how Aquila knew that part—or if it was just a lucky guess. Or an educated one, he supposed.
“We will pay you ten thousand now and one hundred thousand once my team has taken possession of Restoya,” Aquila continued. “Martian dollars by credit chit. There will be appropriate invoices and tax deductions filed. Everything will appear completely aboveboard.”
And if Ivan refused, the only question was whether he died on Anthony or in deep space aboard Restoya somewhere. He wanted to protect his friend, but he knew where his