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“Do you? Then give me an army.”
And, okay, I was getting pissed again, probably because that had sounded a lot like an order.
“I am not your servant, Mircea.”
“I am not treating you as one. I am pointing out the best course of action under the current—”
“You are treating me exactly like one. You aren’t asking me; you’re telling me—”
“I am telling you what we need to do to survive!”
“And I’m telling you that taking out Tony won’t solve the problem! Ares has other supporters—Agnes’ old acolytes, for example. I think they may be after the Tears of Apollo to shift him across the barrier—”
“The barrier that has stood for thousands of years? Your acolytes are likely after the Tears to avoid capture by you.”
I shook my head. “One of the Corpsmen overheard them talking. He said they are planning to bring back a god—”
“And what did Mage Marsden have to say to this, when you told him?”
“I didn’t tell him. Rhea did—”
“Then what was his response to her?”
“He didn’t appear too concerned.”
“And did this tell you anything?”
“Yes! It told me he doesn’t take me seriously. I had hoped for better from you!”
“I do take you seriously—”
“No, you take my power seriously. It’s not the same thing! If you respect me at all, give me—”
I stopped, because Mircea had just crossed his arms over his chest, an implacable piece of body language that he never used. His normal style was approachable, open, relaxed. There was a reason that, despite his being a powerful first-level master and a senator, people talked to Mircea, in ways they just didn’t to others of the same rank.
Only it didn’t look like he was too interested in talking right now.
“So that you can get killed with them?” he demanded.
“So I can do my job!”
“Your job is here, finding your acolytes and helping your allies. How exactly is the war effort to be served by running about time after a single war mage?”
“This isn’t just about him—”
“On the contrary, this is wholly about him. Don’t you see what they are doing? What Marsden is doing? He was the last Pythia’s lover—oh yes, we knew—and is now trying to exert the same measure of power over you. But he is too old to use his own charm these days; therefore he uses another—”
“Pritkin?” I stared at Mircea incredulously.
“Ironic that it should be the man who began his association with you by trying to kill you,” Mircea said grimly. “But you have come to rely on him—too much. And this has not gone unremarked, by us or by the Circle.”
“Pritkin has never tried to influence me—”
“Has not tried to influence you yet. But it will come, if you keep him in your service. Perhaps whatever calamity he finds himself in is for the best, before he becomes even more of a problem than he already—”
“Pritkin is not a problem! And this is not about him. This is me making a formal request of an ally—”
“As I just did?” A dark eyebrow raised. “You know how our world works, Cassie; you have always known—”
