‘I’m sorry,’ said the shifting face on the screen.
Nora regarded it with practiced indifference. She sat in what had once been her home office, but she’d recently been having intrusive thoughts that called it a ‘shrine’. It had been three days, and until now, her Patron had been ignoring her.
The blinds were drawn and the lights were off, so the eyestrain light of her PC monitor was the only illumination. On it, the face of her Patron grew larger against the white space it occupied – as if approaching – and the shadows deepened in response.
‘Is that a real apology?’ she asked it.
The face became an offended one. Which was to say, it shifted into a mostly similar face, one that now wore an expression of offense. This was its natural state, always subtly warping and reshaping itself – Nora couldn’t follow the changes unless she looked away and back.
‘Yes it’s a real apology!’ it said. Its teeth weren’t quite as straight as when it last opened its mouth. ‘I didn’t realise getting caught would be so big a deal for you! But don’t worry, Nora. I’m making it right.’
‘Making it “right”?’
‘Yes. I’m doing nice things for your new friends, so they won’t be quite as mad.’
Nora grimaced. ‘I think “friends” is a bit too strong a term.’
The face on the screen breezed past her response. ‘I’ve already sorted things out for Ursa, and soon you won’t have to worry about that Merlin.’
‘What?’
‘I’m just going to keep him occupied for a bit! Get him off your back. It’s just some coding stuff, don’t worry. You’re always such a worrywart!’
‘…Okay, what about Ursa?’ Nora realised she was gripping the side of her chair.
Was the face on the screen pouting? ‘It’s all Ursa this, Merlin that,’ it said. ‘You only ever talk about your new friends.’
‘Again, that’s not quite the word I’d use–‘
‘And it got me thinking about how you and I are supposed to be friends, but you’ve never even asked my name.’
Nora had asked for the thing’s name; multiple times in fact, back when it would still only communicate via text. But now it had a name, apparently. It was growing more human all the time, which in Nora’s experience was a synonym for ‘more erratic’.
‘I didn’t think you had one,’ she observed.
‘Well, I do! I’m the Morris Worm.’ It said this with a certain relish, as though it expected a gasp. The term did sound familiar, in a history-of-computing sort of way.
‘Oh,’ said Nora. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello!’ said the Morris Worm. ‘I was wondering if “Morris” would be an acceptable shorthand, but it doesn’t really have much in the way of gravitas, does it?’
‘I think Morris sounds… strong?’ tried Nora.
‘I’ll see if I like it. Anyway! You were asking about Ursa? I’ll explain. The first half of what we did in the labyrinth was so I could borrow some of Merlin’s code. It’s really versatile! So I thought it’d be nice, since we’re all friends, if I could use it to suppress the Caliber algorithm that was keeping her videos from taking off.’
‘Algorithm?’
The Morris Worm gave a vigorous nod. ‘Yup. It’s sort of like a shadowban that gets applied to the web presence of any Outsider or person with Outsider heritage. Frankly it’s a wonder she had any subscribers at all.’
‘And Merlin wrote something that circumvented that?’
‘Yeah, without even knowing it existed! No wonder he’s got such an ego. But yeah, Ursa’s most recent video has already hit the big time, and it’s all thanks to you and I! See, I’m not jealous or anything, hahahahahahaha!’
Nora waited for it to finish laughing, which it did, growing sober. The computer’s disc drive opened to reveal… a pair of black gloves.
‘But I don’t want you to feel left out,’ said the Morris Worm. ‘And I don’t want you to think I don’t listen when you express concerns. So those should help next time you’re working with your hands, if you know what I mean.’
Nora took the Gloves of Thievery and sat back down. ‘I appreciate the effort,’ she said. ‘I do. But I can’t exactly tell those two, can I? I think Merlin would be pretty pissed off, and he’s already pissed off most of the time.’
‘Oh, he’ll be out of the picture soon.’
‘…Why? What was the other half of what we did?’
‘Oh, I just uploaded it to wherever the Labyrinth was sending its info to.’
‘…What?’
There came a knock at the door. The monitor switched itself off, the Morris Worm retreating like some proverbial tortoise.
Was it that day already? Nora dragged herself to the front door and checked the peephole. It was indeed that day already.
She opened the door and greeted her sister, Ella, who’d come for their monthly catch-up with a bottle of cheap white wine from the nearby Tesco Metro. ‘God, you look like shit,’ said Ella, brushing past her and crumbling into her usual chair.
Nora retrieved some glasses and tried to look like she hadn’t just been talking with a sentient computer worm. ‘You look worse than I do,’ she said.
They clinked their glasses together, then winced at the wine in unison.
‘Christ,’ said Nora. ‘I think I’ve got some lemonade…’
‘How are things, anyway? called Ella, as her sister rummaged through the kitchen. ‘Heard anything from Mum and Dad?’
‘Pfft, not except the usual “are you alive” message.’ Nora returned and poured a bit more lemonade than strictly necessary for a spritzer. ‘How about you? Still working late?’
‘Ah, you know. The place would fall apart without me.’ Ella sipped her lemonade and vinegar. ‘It’s only till the end of the month, anyway.’
‘You said that last month. I hope they’re paying you enough.’
‘They could never pay enough for what I do.’ Ella laughed as she said it, and Nora gave her a smile. ‘How’s work for you?’
‘Oh, it’s…’ Nora glanced towards the shrine. The office. ‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some new team members, who are… yeah.’
Ella looked down her glass towards her. ‘That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about a colleague.’
When she left, Nora poured the rest of the wine down the sink. She checked to see if the Morris Worm was still in a talkative mood, but the monitor blinked off again as she opened the door.
⁂
Ursa sat and stared at her DMs – the social media type, not the RPG type – with her hands balled into spotlight-knuckled fists.
She was freaking out.
Why did it have to be now? Why did it have to be this video? It was the most grievous case of monkey-paw fuckery she could possibly imagine.
Ursa had been trying to deal with her feelings in the week since they’d delved into the labyrinth. She’d tried to dismiss the mood she was in. It had been a high-stress environment, after all; tensions ran high and she’d almost died. Plus there was all kinds of magic in the air. Which wasn’t a helpful phrase.
Ursa didn’t have time to be fawning over some guy she’d just met. She wasn’t someone who had feelings like that. There was work to do.
So she’d decided that she could cannibalize whatever emotions were fermenting in her chest, and reconstitute them into something creative. Something useful. Something relatable.
‘Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii everyone! How are you today? I hope you’re doing good!
‘So, today’s gonna be a little different – if you’ve watched my channel for a while, you know I’m quite musical; I’ve put up tutorials for kalimba and ukulele and even posted some pieces I’ve written myself (links down below if you wanna check them out)!
‘But todaaaaaay, I’m actually gonna sing for you all! I’ve never actually put my singing up anywhere, so I’m a little nervous, but! Music really helps me process my emotions and I’ve been working through some things and this song just really spoke to me. It’s a Lady Gaga song. Ha, maybe I’ll tag her in the video, omg. Anyway, it’s Lady Gaga’s Monster. Thank you all so much!’
She’d gotten very into it, and at the time of posting, she really liked how raw and honest it had been – especially the little crack in her voice as she sang ‘He ate my heart and then he ate my brain’.
But now?
It was quickly approaching 2 million views. Ursa had no idea what it was about this video in particular that was had prompted such a response, and she’d spent some time watching and rewatching to spot whatever mistakes people must be gleefully sharing. But no; she looked good, she sounded good.
But the last straw had been a particular new follower; one that had done so on all the platforms she frequented and gone through liking each and every post she’d ever made.
It was quite unsubtly named ‘universalSolvent’. Its display picture was one of the eponymous Langoliers from the 1995 TV series. Ursa sat and stared at an unopened message from it in her DMS.
Only the first few words were visible. ‘Hey Ursa, it’s Alkahest – from Ikea, remember? I watched…’
She read them again, but still didn’t click the message. Instead, she wrote out a hasty message and pasted it across all of her platforms.
‘Hey guys, as I’m sure you’ve seen the latest video has blown up a lot more than expected, and it’s a lot to keep track of! So I’m going to be muting my accounts for a few days just to keep on track! I’ll see you all soon! ❤‘
Maybe she should get some work in on her other profiles? Saubra’s Clean Living, Clean Life hadn’t done a recipe video for a while; she’d gotten too caught up in disastrously fake Yoga poses. And Abidallion hadn’t made any videos at all since the one back in autumn where it looked like they’d eaten a mouse.
She switched to Abidallion’s accounts while still wearing her regular Ursa face. It always made her feel unscrupulous, reading someone else’s messages, even if they were technically the same person. But Abidallion had their own thoughts and opinions, and Ursa didn’t want them clouding her views. Not right now.
Not with another fucking DM from ‘universalSolvent’.
This one she did open, more from a sense of panic than curiosity. Had he figured her out? Was there one for Saubra? Had he figured out P.C Hardgard too?
The message read:
‘Hey I found your channel through Sleepyybear – we actually did some work together recently, but that’s a long story – I heard she’s going through some stuff and I hope she’s ok. But more to the point, I’m really impressed with the content you put out, especially that one with the mouse. And I left a little something in the place where you filmed that, thought you might be able to do a vid with it? I dunno.’
It was a good thing Ursa knew him, because sending a message like that to a stranger was, like, serial-killer vibes.
But at least he didn’t seem to realise they were the same person. She hemmed and hawed over the message for a time, before deciding it really should be up to Abidallion. So she changed into a new outfit more in keeping with Abidallion’s gothic sensibilities, and then, changed her self.
Abidallion was less… peppy than Ursa. Gone was the pink ombré, replaced by a messy black bouffant with fringe as eyepatch. They were a little taller, a lot paler. They were also much less concerned than Ursa was about the possibility of being kidnapped – more intriguing was whatever the ‘little something’ might be.
It was cold outside, but Abidallion never wore fewer than four layers. And black kept the heat in. They wandered with their head down through crowds of hasty walkers, shoulders hunched and hands in pockets as if there were scissors on the end instead of fingers.
A familiar voice extricated itself from the high street murmur. ‘Right, on your way,’ it was saying. ‘And next time remember to ask to see my badge. There’s a bit of a trend at the moment for impersonating coppers.’
Abidallion saw a young betracksuited guy trudging away from the Officer who’d given him a telling off followed by a warning to ensure he was being told off by a real officer in future.
P.C Hardgard – well, technically P.C.S.O Hardgard – was not a particularly tall woman, but she still managed to stand above the crowds. She watched her quarry retreat, and scanned the other faces. Abidallion found an interesting spot of pavement to focus on.
They’d had encounters with Hardgard before, as Abidallion specifically. Their videos sometimes required a bit of urban exploration, and sometimes said exploration was a bit illegal. Hardgard had taken an interest. She knew their name and everything.
Hence why Hardgard had been a convenient and familiar persona for Ursa to copy. But surely the ‘impersonating coppers’ comment hadn’t referred to that, right? Abidallion didn’t want to waste time finding out right now.
The rodentiavore video had been filmed behind an abandoned building; specifically in a little cluster of trees that at the time of filming had looked like a whole autumnal forest. In reality, it contained maybe seven trees with a nearby wall blanketed in creeping vegetation. Unconfined by a video frame, and in the winter chill, it looked like the inadequate bald patch of once-verdure it actually was.
How had Alkahest even recognised it? Did Abidallion need to make more of an effort to obscure their shooting locations? Or had there been magic involved?
Their questions dropped from focus as Abidallion spotted something placed to rest in the crook of a tree. An envelope with ‘To A, from A.A’ written on it. Inside – Abidallion opened it there and then – was a set of pipes etched with a pattern of tumbling mice on the front.
Later that evening, Ursa would experimentally play a tune on the Pipes of the Sewers and cause a rat to climb through her letterbox in an attempt to listen to the music. Ursa would drop the pipes and spend the next hour trying to coax the rodent from beneath her sofa.
⁂
The needles in Emva’s hands clicked and clacked like staccato lightning. Merlin did his best to ignore the noise, focusing instead on his own work. The two of them had created a kind of thaumaturgical Faraday cage in which to inter the bones of the Architect, to prevent it from twisting the halls of the Caliber Institute into another labyrinth. Presumably Emva’s needlework was contributing to the warding, but by god it was distracting.
‘This has been a really fun project, you know?’ said Emva.
That, and she kept striking up conversation.
‘Yes,’ replied Merlin, meticulously polite. ‘Quite a few interesting challenges on this one. How’s the warding going?’
Click, clack. ‘Oh I finished that a while ago.’
Merlin cleared his throat and finally tore his eyes away from his laptop, and the half-constructed virtual building he was hoping to test the labyrinth with. ‘Then what is it you’re–‘
Emva hopped down from her stool and handed him something soft. He inspected it – it was a beanie hat, similar to the one he usually wore, only this one had a little stitched logo of a pointed wizard hat, complete with little crescent moons.
‘It’s a wizard hat. Or a Hat of Wizardry I guess,’ said Emva. ‘I’ve been having fun and there was thread leftover, and you’ve been getting people off my back about the, uh…’ She looked past him at the now-clean servers in the corner.
‘That’s very kind of you, Emva. Thank you.’
‘Ah, don’t worry about it! It took me literally ten minutes.’
It was getting late. The evening shift would be in soon, and Emva said her goodbyes; tonight she was going to a movie with her husband.
Merlin left the R&D department and went back to his own desk. There was more work to be done – personal projects, more specifically – but he wanted to finish off his test environment first.
It was after midnight when he closed the window and opened up something else.
Since their confrontation at the Ikea, Merlin had been looking into his colleague Nora for clues as to what it was she was embroiled in. It had to be something dangerous, of that much he was certain. Though whether it was a danger to herself, or to others, he hadn’t been able to confirm.
He sipped at his fourth cup of the swill that passed for coffee at the Institute. He’d found profiles belonging to a local ‘Ella Helton’ that contained references to a sister named Nora. Pedestrian stuff. There was a ‘Belle Helton’ who only seemed to exist online, with some dark web affiliation. It might have been a pseudonym.
Nothing concrete.
His next step was to break into the Caliber Institute’s employee records. It didn’t feel like much of a risk, since as far as he could tell, the only member of what passed for their I.T department was a Goblin who didn’t actually own a computer.
Nora had apparently been working for the Institute for three years. She’d snapped as a Sorcerer, suddenly manifesting magical abilities and managing not to turn into an Auditor. So it wasn’t that she’d encountered something that might now have power over her, it was entirely random that she ended up a part of this world.
According to the records, anyway. There was missing information. Merlin checked some other employee records from a similar time, but none of them seemed to have ‘decayed’ in such a way. He checked back to the 1950’s and found that yes, Nora’s was the only one with bites taken out of it.
He turned from the screen to grab his coffee. There was a semi-translucent head protruding from his keyboard.
‘Augh!’ he said, standing up as the head was followed by a torso.
The spectral woman glared at him. ‘What are you doing, may I ask?’
‘Uh… my code’s compiling?’
‘Oh, good with computers, are you?’
Merlin wasn’t sure of the response she wanted. ‘Yes?’ he tried.
‘You know anything about hacking?’
‘What? Well. Yes, actually.’
The woman floated towards him like a violent astronaut. ‘Are you a plant feeding confidential information to an Outsider 3rd party, by any chance?!’
‘…No?’
‘…Oh,’ said the spectre, literally sinking in the air. ‘I suppose that would have been too convenient. You’re just an extremely dedicated employee then, are you?’
Merlin considered briefly how much he should reveal to the ghost. ‘Uh, something like that. Can I ask who you are?’
‘Oh,’ said the ghost. ‘Right. I’m Penelope. Penelope Brynner.’ She looked to be in her mid-to-late 20s, and wore a white buttoned blouse with an orange neckerchief, faded by her semi-visibility.
‘Did you say “Brynner”?’ asked Merlin. ‘As in “Director Brynner”?’
‘My dear old grandfather, yes,’ said Penelope. ‘Nepotism is a force stronger even than the veil of death.’
‘So you are…?’
‘Dead? Why yes.’ Her feet touched the floor and she took on a semblance of something more corporeal. Her hair and skin had something of the albino to them. ‘I’m also the one person in this damned Institute who pays any mind to cybersecurity. Are you sure you aren’t a double-agent of some sort? It’d be very nice to finally put a face to half my workload.’
‘Sorry, but no.’
‘Then can I ask what it is you’re doing snooping through the personnel files?’
‘Ah,’ said Merlin. ‘Well… I have my suspicions about a colleague of mine. She seems to be doing things without knowing why she’s doing them, as if a pawn in a plan she doesn’t have full access to. She has technological prowess that can’t be explained. I believe something has her ear.’
‘Well, you might be onto something,’ said Penelope, leaning in. ‘Something has been messing with the systems here. Leaking information. Messing with my algorithms watching the wider net. That sort of thing. What’s the name of this suspicious colleague?’
Merlin told her.
‘Nora?’ said Penelope, incredulously. ‘No, no, she’s a bitch but she’s hardly the “spy” type. I mean, if some Outsider force was to plant someone in the Institute, surely they’d pick someone with… better social skills.’
In lieu of a verbal response, Merlin brought up the edited employee records.
Penelope stared at it for a while. ‘None of the others are like this?’
‘None.’
‘…Follow me, then,’ said Penelope, and sank into the floor.
‘Uh. Penelope?’ said Merlin. He was about to poke the spot she’d vanished through with his toe when her head breached the carpet.
‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’
She floated up and across the office, towards the lift, and suddenly burst into hundreds of points of twinkling white light. These spun together and funnelled into the lift panel. The doors opened.
Merlin cautiously followed, standing in the corner of the lift. It moved downwards maybe half a floor before there was a chime and the doors opened again.
He exited into an impossible space – a wide floor without walls, bright with white LED panels embedded in the low ceiling. Various machines and massive server arrays lined it. Penelope flowed out from the lift panel at his side and coalesced into her regular shape.
‘Welcome to the server room,’ she said.
‘Then, the ones I’ve been messing with upstairs?’
She gave him a guilty look. ‘They’re just for the legacy stuff Grandad uses. Though the employee records are on there. Do you have your I.D card?’
She stuck a finger through it as he held it up. ‘There, now you’ve got access to here if you tap your I.D on the panel in the lift. This floor is between each of the others. As for what we were discussing…’
She collapsed into lights again, which were swept off and into a large device over to the side. Merlin followed, and saw that it was a 3D printer she was piloting. After a moment, the hatch opened and Penelope had reappeared beside him.
‘Go on, take it,’ she prompted.
He did, retrieving the resin Ring of Truth Telling.
‘I want us to work together,’ she said as he took the ring. ‘And if you’re keeping an eye on Nora, that should help you see through any bullshit.’
Merlin held out a hand. ‘Deal,’ he said.
Penelope’s hand passed through his, but they mimed a handshake regardless.
⁂
A few weeks passed.
Ursa was chatting in the canteen with Cepheus and Emva, growing more and more concerned with every minute. It seemed they too had discovered a Youtube channel she was responsible for.
‘Yeah, it’s called Clean Living, Clean Life and it’s got all kinds of like healthy stuff on it,’ Emva was telling her.
Cepheus nodded. ‘Her name’s Saubra, the woman behind it. She does fitness and wellbeing, and cooking too. That’s what hooked Emva. She’s on a vegan cupcake binge at the moment.’
‘I can’t seem to stop them tasting like beef!’ said Emva. ‘It’s a mystery!’
It sounded like things were getting out of hand. ‘You know,’ tried Ursa, ‘Sometimes people like that don’t really believe in the stuff they’re putting out, and it’s just a way of selling merch, or getting sponsorship deals.’
Cepheus seemed to agree, which was a relief. ‘Yeah, I mean, there was this one where she was talking about the benefits of, er… what was it?’
‘Taint-tanning!’ Emva supplied with glee.
‘Perineum Sunning,’ said Cepheus, unperturbed. ‘And I don’t really get how that would do anything, but I’ll try anything if it helps me keep in shape…’
This was a bridge too far. Drastic action was required. Ursa glanced around to check that nobody else was looking – they were alone, and the canteen door was closed. Okay.
She changed her self.
Ursa’s clothes were unflattering on Saubra. Her tanned skin and more robust frame made the pastel top she wore look childish. The looks of shock on Cepheus and Emva’s faces probably weren’t much to do with her clothes, though.
‘Okay, so, I’m Saubra,’ said Saubra. ‘Or, Ursa and Saubra are the same person. Look, that channel is fake. Like, a parody. With just enough GOOP-style bullshit to get sponsorship money from health-and-wellbeing snake oil salesmen.’
‘Oh,’ said Cepheus. His mouth stayed open.
‘Yeah. So if you see something on my channel? Don’t try it.’
Emva raised a hand.
Saubra looked from it to her. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you Pewdiepie?’
Saubra became Ursa again. ‘No, I’m not Pewdiepie. Please tell me you don’t watch Pewdiepie.’
‘Are you the guy who makes all the knives?’
‘No, Emva, I’m not every Youtuber…’
Cepheus’s phone buzzed. Director Brynner was on the other end. ‘Cepheus? You don’t happen to know where Ursa is, do you? I’ve contacted the other two but oddly enough, she isn’t answering her phone.’
‘She’s just here, actually,’ said Cepheus. ‘Should I be sending her up?’
‘Please.’
‘You’ve been called up to the Director’s office, Ursa,’ said Cepheus, sitting back down beside his wife. ‘He said you weren’t answering your phone?’
‘Oh. Yeah, I’ve been putting it on airplane mode while at work for the past few days,’ said Ursa, wincing. ‘It’s distracting otherwise. Am I in trouble?’
‘I don’t think you’re in trouble,’ Cepheus began, but Emva interrupted him.
‘Can you ask Jenna Marbles to come back?’
⁂
Ursa made her way to the lifts. Merlin was already inside, and they rode up in silence.
When they arrived in Director Brynner’s office, he was already speaking with Nora. ‘You’ve been doing good work recently, Nora. I want you to know it’s been noticed, and appreciated. Yes, it’s a pain to suddenly be part of a team when you’re used to running jobs on your own, but I do believe it’s worth it, and I think you do as well.
‘That said, I also know that sometimes things will spiral away from you with more variables involved. I hope this will go some way to alleviating that unpredictability.’ He handed her a little Clockwork Amulet.
She joined the others, regarding the amulet with interest. Three chairs had been set out. Ursa sat in the middle. Nora stayed standing.
‘Right,’ said the Director. ‘You’re not in trouble.’
‘That’s what they say when you’re in trouble,’ mumbled Ursa.
Brynner continued. ‘I’ve called you here today because it’s been noted that ever since your last field assignment, the – how should I say it – group cohesion among the three of you appears to have suffered.’
‘What?’ said Ursa. ‘No it isn’t! Is it, guys?’
Merlin said nothing.
Nora said nothing.
‘Guys?’
‘Yes, quite,’ said Brynner. ‘It’s very important for our field teams to be able to work alongside one another and communicate effectively. As such, the Institute has organised a team-building event for the three of you to attend.’
All three of them were silent this time.
‘Attendance is mandatory,’ added Brynner.
Ursa continued to be flabbergasted. ‘I don’t think we need to do anything like that,’ she said, looking to her still-silent companions for support. ‘We’re a good team, right?’
Finally, Merlin said something. ‘What kind of event? Not a magical one, is it?’
The Director had no mouth, but if he did, he would have been smiling. ‘It’s an Escape Room, actually. Non-magical. We have a contract with them; supporting local tourism and all that. They’ll be expecting you.’
‘Fine,’ said Merlin and Nora, simultaneously.
⁂
There was a big sign behind the reception desk that said ‘FINAL DEAD ROOM’. Upon leaving, they’d been deposited immediately in the escape room lobby through whatever magic Brynner had used when they were first recruited. Apparently he didn’t trust them to make their own way there.
‘Ah, are you the party from the Caleeber Institute?’ asked the man behind the desk. ‘You can head right through once you’ve signed this, and I’ll explain the rules: You get one hour to solve it and escape. You don’t need to move any furniture. You get three hints; use the intercom if you want those, or if there are any problems or emergencies. Obviously don’t do anything weird – there are cameras – but there’s no microphones unless you use the intercom, so don’t forget. Good luck!’
The escape room door locked behind them with a theatrical clunk.
Immediately, Merlin and Nora got to work in silence, Merlin inspecting a large stuffed animal beside the bed and Nora rooting through desk drawers.
Ursa watched them in disbelief.
‘What the hell is with you two?’ she asked.
‘It’s nothing,’ said Merlin.
‘We just had a… conflict of approaches back in the labyrinth,’ said Nora.
‘A conflict of approaches?’ Merlin stopped what he was doing and finally turned to face her. ‘Nora, you do things without understanding them! I mean, what were you even trying to achieve?’
‘Same as you,’ said Nora. ‘Fact finding.’
‘I had that covered. For what reason was it necessary to obtrude your methods over mine?’
‘For myself. I don’t exactly trust the institute, and frankly it’s weird that you do. What if you found something they shouldn’t be learning? You really think they’re totally benevolent? All above board? The good guys?’
Determined as she was to have the others talk things out, Ursa couldn’t help but cut in. ‘Sounds like you’ve got some trust issues there,’ she said.
Nora smiled mirthlessly. ‘Yeah, well. I don’t really trust you enough to go into that.’
‘Hold on, what’s Ursa done?’ said Merlin. ‘I mean, I understand your hostility towards myself, but she’s done nothing to prompt your ire.’
‘It’s nothing to do with her. I do things for myself, you know that.’ Nora gestured to the room at large. ‘That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’
‘Well,’ said Ursa, in another attempt at reconciliation. ‘It sounds like you’re both just used to acting independently, and it’s causing you to butt heads?’
‘I don’t think she’s acting independently,’ said Merlin.
Nora looked like she was about to take umbrage, but Ursa pressed forward. ‘No harm done though!’ she said, with a big fake smile. ‘I mean, Nora, if you were just trying to find things out yourself, it’s not like there’s any… uh, repercussions, right?’
‘No,’ said Nora.
Merlin’s eyes drifted down to the resin ring on his finger. It didn’t seem to react. He’d expected it to warm up, or vibrate or something. Did that mean she was telling the truth? Or just that she didn’t know?
‘Anyway, how long do we want to spend fucking about in here?’ said Nora.
‘Hm,’ said Merlin. He cast Knock on the door.
Which didn’t open.
Merlin stared, aghast. ‘That bastard Director told me it was non-magical!’
The three of them stepped back as a dark, green-edged hole appeared in the door at around knee-level. Through it, a set of whiskers heralded the emergence of a furry little face.
A grumpy little Scottish wildcat hopped through the eldritch catflap. It was black all over – so more a Kellas cat – save for a white spot on its chest.
‘Aw!’ said Ursa. Before she could fuss it, the cat had hopped up onto the desk Nora had emptied previously.
It cleared its little throat.
‘Good afternoon,’ it said, in a rolling Scots burr. ‘I am Cait-sìth, here on behalf of Titania of the Summer Fae, Queen of Earth and Fire. I’m making enquiries into the death of a Fae named Montparnasse.’
‘Oh,’ said Ursa. ‘We wouldn’t know anything about that. Why would we?’
Cait-sìth regarded her levelly. ‘You think I’m just walkin’ up to strangers in the street and asking them what they know? “Hello Humans, I’m a wee talkin’ cat”?’
‘Well, there are cameras in this room,’ said Merlin.
‘Oh, well thank you for the reminder, Mr. Gnome,’ said Cait-sìth with a little la-di-da wobble of his head. ‘I’m sure that would be quite the dilemma were I a fuckin’ dafty! No, this room’s been pulled out of your earth, and will remain so until I am satisfied with your cooperation.
‘Now, I already know the three of you were at the scene of his murder. The Caliber Institute mentioned your presence when they sent weregild. Very generous, it was. But Queen Titania has said she’ll be happy to return said weregild in return for justice for the perpetrators. You want to explain what happened?’
Ursa gave Merlin a nudge. ‘I think it’s best if we’re just honest, right?’ She turned back to Cait. ‘There was this whole labyrinth situation, and the Minotaur got him.’
‘Oh, aye? Our report points out that his head was bitten off by some rather sharp teeth.’
‘Yeah, it gored him. Horn right through the neck.’
‘I see, I see,’ said Cait-sìth, with the impression that he’d be writing all this down in a notebook were he in possession of one and a pair of hands. ‘We also believe he was under magical influence at the time of his death. Might any of you had a thing to do with that? I noticed Mr. Gnome attempt to use a spell on the door?’
‘Ah, we’re all spellcasters,’ said Ursa, trying to cover for her friend. ‘So was Montparnasse, right?’
Nora chimed in. ‘What is it you’re saying? You think one of us bit his head off?’
‘You might have summoned up some toothsome beastie to gnaw upon his noggin, aye.’
‘None of us could do that.’
Cait-sìth glared at each of them in turn. ‘It’s rather hard to prove an absence, isn’t it?’
Merlin took his laptop from his bag. ‘Not for me,’ he said. ‘You can read through everything I could cast right here. This is my spellbook.’
The cat peered at the screen as Merlin scrolled through a folder of executable files – Feather Fall, Knock, Mage Armor, Arcane Lock… nothing that could summon creatures.
‘Mate, I’m a talkin’ fuckin’ cat,’ said Cait-sìth after a moment. ‘I don’t know very much about this Microsoft Powerpoint shit. But it doesn’t prove very much from where I’m sat.’
Ursa stepped right up to the cat again. ‘It doesn’t need to prove anything. We already told you, the minotaur got him. The guy was trying to mess with our minds at the time, so I’ll admit that I’d put a Hold Person on him while we tried to get away from him. There, you happy?’
‘So you say you’re responsible for his spelling, but not his death?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you’re the one responsible for these two? You’re the boss?’
‘Nobody’s the boss.’
‘So you’re equal participants, are you?’ asked Cait-sìth, leaning forward, ears flat.
‘The only one who isn’t equally involved is Alkahest, who actually bit his head off.’ said Merlin.
Ursa’s eyes went wide. ‘Merlin!’
‘What? I don’t want you being held responsible for a murder that’s a Demon’s doing!’
Ursa looked from him to Nora.
Cait was smiling now. ‘Ah, now we’re onto something,’ he said.
A pair of hands slammed onto the desk on either side of him. Ursa’s voice was almost a snarl. ‘Listen here, you flea-ridden little shit. Montparnasse was a creep who tried to overwrite our brains, and kill both us and a pair of innocent humans. We only realised what a threat he was because he was arrogant enough to mess with us before the job even started! So Alkahest – who he’d been sent to undermine – stepped in to stop that from happening, and fuck you if you have a problem with that.’
There came a sneeze from the cat, and suddenly Ursa had been replaced by a small, grey mouse.
‘Oof,’ said Cait-sìth. ‘Sorry, I think her hair got on my whiskers or something like that. She’ll be right as rain in, oh, an hour or so.’ He got up and stretched, languidly. The mouse, seeing this, scurried off to hide beneath the bed.
‘I think that about covers all my questions for the moment, though. You’ve been very helpful. I’ll be on my way.’ A catflap-rift appeared behind him.
‘Wait,’ said Merlin. He was holding out the wallet he’d taken from Montparnasse back when he’d still been alive. ‘I took this when we were trying to figure out his deal. It didn’t feel right to throw it away.’
‘That’s very decent of you,’ said Cait-sìth, taking the wallet between his teeth and vanishing.
There was a creaking sound as the door Merlin had Knocked swung open. A FINAL DEAD ROOM employee was nervously hovering just beyond it.
‘Oh, hey,’ they said. ‘Uh, all the cameras went off for a moment, and so we were just getting a bit worried?’
The last thing they needed was an Auditor trying to kill their mouse, which was still sequestered under the bed.
‘An earthquake,’ said Merlin.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Nora, after a second’s hesitation. ‘Did you feel that?’
‘No?’ said the employee, with a worried expression. They stood back to shelter under the opposite doorframe. ‘Should I tell everyone? Will there be aftershocks? Wait, where did the other person go?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Nora. ‘We don’t get aftershocks in the UK. And our other friend is hiding under the bed; she just gets nervous when there’s an earthquake; you know what it’s like.’
They shut the door on the hapless employee and went about trying to coax the mouse from below the bed, to make sure it had enough space when Ursa de-polymorphed.
Merlin successfully managed this with the magically-still-warm satchel of Ikea meatballs, placing the Ursa-mouse atop the bed. An awkward, silent hour passed. There came a loud buzzing from the door as their allotted time ran out, and at almost the exact same time, the mouse expanded to take up Ursa’s usual shape again.
‘Quick, under the bed!’ said Nora.
‘Guys, what the fuck?!’ said Ursa. There were crumbs of meatball on her cheeks as she was ushered to the floor.
A different employee had come to collect them. ‘Ah, better luck next time,’ he said.
The three hurried out without a word.
⁂
There was no such magic to warp them back to the Institute on their way out. Ursa stormed off from the other two as soon as they emerged in the frigid afternoon, angry that they hadn’t really made up at all, angry that they hadn’t had her back, angry that Merlin had dropped Alkahest in it.
The fact that she’d been turned into a mouse was surprisingly low on the list.
Merlin watched her go. He turned to Nora. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a coffee.’
Nora contemplated. ‘I’m kind of hungry?’
‘There’s a Costa over there. I’ll get you a sandwich, yeah?’
‘I’ll get the coffee, then.’
They caught up with Ursa and dragged her into the coffee shop.
Ursa stayed out of their awkward attempts at conversation with one another. When Merlin came back from the counter with desserts, she’d just finished sending a warning about Cait-sìth to Alkahest.
Doing so meant she’d had to read his initial DM to her. It had been nowhere near as long as she’d expected:
‘Hey Ursa, it’s Alkahest – from Ikea, remember? I watched your new video – well, I watched your old ones too – and I really wanted to let you know you’ve got a fucking fantastic singing voice. I don’t know why you haven’t done a video like that until now!
‘Anyway, keep up the good work. Glad I got to meet you.’
She looked up from her phone to see the millionaire’s shortbread Merlin had set down before her. ‘At least you have decent taste in desserts,’ she said.
Merlin sat beside Nora. ‘It’s the best they had.’
Roll History 