Page 35 of Serpent and Shadow

“I do not know the answer to that, I’m afraid,” the worm replied, holding out his palms in mock innocence. “You will have to direct that question to him, when he returns. I would not presume to speak for a mage of his stature.”

Josef and a few others, including Esalia, let out derisive scoffs.

“Undoubtedly,” Saladin remarked, holding eye-contact with the worm as if he hadn’t heard the irritated noises from his crew.

“Yet you seem to have no trouble refusing an official edict of your actual King,” he enunciated next, clearly mocking the One True King moniker those in Dark Cathedral all used for Malefic. “…Even though to refuse is a blatant act of treason. In addition to your insubordination, you are impeding a high-priority investigation… yet another illegal act, with its own set of repercussions. Shall I continue, messenger, or is life imprisonment and death inside the Gaol enough to motivate you?”

The hunched-over prick had the audacity to feign shock, a shock so blatantly false, it would have embarrassed a better man. He made his eyes and mouth wide. His hand fell to his chest as if he’d suffered some deep wound from Saladin’s words. He then gasped so falsely, it might have been funny under different circumstances.

“Treason?” the man said, his voice feigning a ludicrous surprise. “That is a horrifying thing to say, sir, about me, a mere humble servant, but even more so to insinuate about my master! For his loyalty is demonstrably without equal! He is more loyal to the bloodline of his family and crown than any wizard or witch of his generation!”

Valor couldn’t hold back that time.

He scoffed loudly and derisively.

Louder than any of his comrades had done.

He got the same warning stare from Saladin, a leader whose orders he’d never failed to follow, but still had to bite his tongue to not say more.

Most infuriating of all, he already knew where this was going. He knew they could not stay much longer, or they risked shaming their entire order.

Sadly, this prick’s arrogance was at least partly justified.

They could not break into the Bones Estate, not without running afoul of the King’s wishes. Further, they likely couldn’t do it at all, not without aid from its master or a much larger army of sorcerers and magically-enhanced machines. If Malefic Bones flatly refused them entry, there was little they could do apart from break down the walls via brute force.

To get inside would mean dismantling centuries-old chimaeras and other magical protections, and likely losing people on both sides.

Which meant actual military.

It meant Warlocks, Oracles, at least a handful of Obeah to assess the magical protections, and yes, machines. It meant dragons brought down from Scotland and the Shetlands, and millennia-old chimaeras ripped apart by firewyrms and dark sorcery.

It meant days of fighting, and potentially heavy loss of life.

The King had not authorized them to take those steps yet.

He had actively ordered them not to take those steps, not even in threat.

Saladin had even made the request, in front of Valor and a handful of others, after predicting the exact scenario unfolding now. Saladin warned the Magus Imperius that if they came out here and made demands without the means to back them up, it would only make them look weak, which would work in Malefic’s and Dark Cathedral’s favor.

Valor had been unable to tell if the Magus Imperius agreed with Saladin’s assessment of the situation, but he’d been nervous enough to pass the same caution on to the King.

The King had been immovable.

He ordered them to “obtain Malefic’s cooperation” and “get him to see reason” without specifying exactly how they were supposed to accomplish that. They had nothing real to offer him, no credible threats to make, and the famed dark sorcerer refused to even grant them an audience. Even with an audience, Valor suspected the end result would be the same.

It irritated Valor that Malefic had likely known this, too.

Malefic had known the King wouldn’t want to challenge him outright.

Malefic, who was infamous for his ruthless political maneuverings, had no-doubt known no one from the Central Magical Authority, nor the Palace of the Lions, nor the Ethnarch’s stronghold outside Paris, would have the will to follow through with anything but superficial shows of officialdom and vague finger-wagging.

He would have known he could refuse.

He’d no doubt counted on the King doing exactly what he’d done.

Even after his time in the Pyramid, he seemed to have no fear of them.

Moreover, in setting them up for this exact outcome, he’d made certain that the toothlessness of the Praecuri, the British Magical Government, and the King himself would be apparent to all, merely by not-doing what they wanted him to do, without ever once appearing outright defiant.