I could be doing something productive. Or useful. But instead I’m here. I mean, Ali asked, and she’s right. People tend to like me more. Tell me more. Because, unlike my dear friend and bad influence, I don’t reek of scheming politician. I am, but I’m better at hiding it. And I might even have had a good time, enjoyed working things out. But yesterday, she showed up. Why does the world hate me so much? She’s laughing at some joke made by one of the Greater Maestros. I’m not sure I recognize him, but it’s her polite laugh, not her real laugh. Not that it’s any less.
There’s a sharp pain on the back of my head. “Ike,” Ali says from beside me, “Head in the game.”
“Ah. You didn’t need to slap me,” I complain, turning away from Sierra to look at my old friend. Ali is shaking her head at me. At my bad habits. “What, you’re the one who said I needed to be here.”
“You should be here,” Ali counters. She adds a quick shrug. “You need to learn the players of this battlefield at some point, and maybe if I get it into your head now, we won’t need to worry about trying to teach you later.”
“And, what about our noticeably absent friend?” As soon as I say it, I know how dumb it is. Of course Ter isn’t a worry in knowing about the players of any game. I mean, I was in the Swiss Villa for all of a day before Ter sent me all the information on my bosses, and none of them have the ambition to affect her evil schemes in any real way.
Ali shoots me an incredibly judgemental look. “Ignoring that,” she says, brushing the comment off once she could see my instant regret. “Have you done anything productive, or just spent the last couple days ogling your ex?”
“She’s only been here since yesterday evening,” I counter, before realizing that doesn’t exactly help my case. Backpedaling, I add, “And yes, I have been drinking with and talking to quite a few of the youths. Don’t worry, you won’t need to know that yet, I’m giving my evals to the crazy one and she can give them to you.”
Ali chuckles, then looks around skittish. We talked before this whole thing. Evidently Ter told her to make sure we both keep her name out of our mouths. I don’t know why, it’s not like she’s particularly secretive about her evil scheminess, but hey, I can have fun with the monikerizaiton of our emotionally lacking partner in politics. She shakes her head and starts leading me away from where Sierra is half-heartedly flirting with some old guy. As we walk away, I smile and give polite nods to several of the people I know from my prior three nights of political drinking. But someone I don’t know approaches smiling. “Alina,” she says with the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, “It’s so lovely to see you again. Is this strapping gentleman your boyfriend?” She’s talking loud enough to be heard. Intentionally so.
Ali responds slightly quieter, but still loud enough that eavesdroppers would need not strain to hear, “No, just a friend from the Villa. Ike, this is a dear old friend of mine, Hilarie. Hilarie, this is Isaac.”
“Always happy to meet an old friend of Ali,” I say with a smile. Ali doesn’t have any old friends. Before the Villa, she was in private schools for Magisterial kids. And she always implied her classmates were terrible monsters. Though, thinking about the fact that she’s friends with me and Ter, doesn’t really preclude friendship, I suppose.
“Come, let me introduce you to a friend of mine,” she says to Ali. and she starts leading us to a table.
“More interesting than Paul, I hope,” Ali says, causing Hilarie to chuckle, then shoot a look at Ali. I’m guessing that’s her ‘not in public’ look. Sitting at the table we’re being led to is a lovely young woman, about our age, with flat brown hair falling just past her shoulders.
“Alina, Isaac, this is Isolde. Izzy, this is my dear old friend Ali, and her new friend Isaac.”
This Isolde woman looks us over, smiling pleasantly. I could swear I’ve met her before. Or at least seen her somewhere. “Please,” I say, “Call me Ike. Only terrible people call me Isaac.”
Hilarie chuckles as she sits down at the table, “Are you calling me a terrible person?” she muses.
I smirk right back, “Only if you call me Isaac,” I reply.
“If you insist, Ike,” Isolde says. She’s clearly thinking hard about something as well. Does she recognize me? If only I could place her face. “And you can call me Izzy, I suppose.”
As soon as we’re seated, Hilarie drops all pretenses. “You only brought this one?” she asks Ali, entirely ignoring me.
“I take it she’s a member of your entourage?” Ali counters, gesturing towards Izzy. Entourage. Something clicks.
“Munich,” I say aloud. I can tell the same thing clicks in her head.
Izzy replies, “The American. Curious seeing you here.”
“And you.” I smile, understanding what Ali meant by old friend. Not in the actually being friends sense. In the more alike than she’d like to admit sense.
“You two know each other?” Hilarie asks.
“Tell you later,” Izzy says.
Ali looks at me curiously. “We travel in similar circles,” I say, adding some facial emphasis to the word circle. Hopefully she understands.
She does. “I see,” Ali says, and turns back to her old friend, “I am glad you found the help you needed.”
“You two do know we’re right here?” I say to the pair.
Izzy nods in agreement. “It does kind of feel like we’re being slighted.”
Hilarie ignores us. “If you didn’t already know that, perhaps you do need my help after all.”
“I think we are,” I add with a smile. Izzy laughs.
Then a man walks over. He’s a short man, with a dark demeanor. He leans in and whispers something in Izzy’s ear. I try my best, and am pretty close, but can only make out something about trouble and quiet. Izzy’s smile drops, her face becoming cold. She nods and says, “Please excuse me.” And she stands and walks away with the man.
“I see Micah’s still working out for you,” Ali says as they leave.
“Better than your third. You still haven’t said why they aren’t here.”
Ali smiles. “They were busy. But I’m sure they’re here in spirit,” she jokes.
I can’t help but laugh at that one. And Hilarie’s confusion just makes it funnier. I mean on the one hand, it’s ridiculous to think she could sneak a scry-spying spell into this place, it’s so heavily warded to prevent exactly that. But on the other hand, if anyone would do something like that, it’s Ter. “Clearly that means something,” Hilarie muses aloud.
“Of course,” Ali replies, “All words do.”
Hilarie sighs. “That isn’t what I mean…” she begins, clearly exasperated, which again only serves to make the joke funnier.
My eyes start to wander as I hold back my chuckle. Whatever Sierra was trying to achieve with the flirting is finished, for good or ill, as she’s made her way over to the open bar. A small voice in the back of my mind wonders if the flirting was for my benefit, if she noticed I was watching and wanted to make me jealous, but I push that voice back down. I know better. Sierra could be a lot of things, but unnecessarily cruel wasn’t one.
Hilarie, clearly noticing my gaze drifting towards the bar, asks aloud. “What has your right hand man so distracted, I wonder?”
My eyes shoot back to the two women at the table with me, scheming about some terrible plans. Ali shakes her head, clearly once more disappointed in my lack of discipline. “Ike’s a genius, and he’s great at a lot of things. But he had something of a … bat habit when we were apprentices.” Then with a sigh, she adds, “Though I honestly thought he’d already gotten past the worst of it.”
“I had,” I counter, “Blame the universe for reminding me.”
Hilarie chuckles. “Don’t be rude, let the gentleman indulge himself. After all, Everyone else in the conference is indulging in their bad habits.”
Ali looks at me and sighs. “They do need to be checked in on,” she admits mostly to herself. Then staring me in the eyes, she says, “Get something useful, don’t get too distracted, and remember, it’s only for the conference.”
“Yes, mom,” I mock, shaking my head. She’s right, of course. It’s not feasible to expect it to be anything else. Hell, it’s barely feasible to expect it’ll work for the moment. I take a moment to breathe. Standing up, I begin to make my way towards the bar. Towards the six other America-based Magisters, Maestros, and Great Maestros here. I’m seven steps from the table when my pocket begins to buzz. Pulling out my phone, I don’t even need to check it. There are only four people who might call me at this hour. Ter, Demi, Amanda, and Mister Litholm, my boss at the collider. I answer the phone with a simple, “Hello?”
Ter doesn’t even bother with pleasantries. “I don’t care if it’s before or after you sleep with her,” she says bluntly, “But at some point can you check in with Magister Leyten about Apprentice Omari’s progress in her new role?”
I look around. “Alright, where the fuck’s your bug?” I mutter loudly, mostly into the air.
She lets out two short chortles of laughter. “Curious you believe the singular is apt in that sentence,” she muses aloud over the phone.
“It better not be on me,” I press.
“Again with the singular,” she replies.
I sigh. “Where are you? Ali’s weird friend from childhood clearly knows you exist.”
“In the abstract, certainly. But the fascinating gentleman she is working with knows what information is useful at what time.”
Fascinating? She hardly ever finds anyone fascinating. “Do you have a crush?” I ask with a smile.
“Isaac.” Her voice is menacingly cold. So not a crush. A puzzle. She has yet to figure out something about him. Curious.
“Alright, Ter, fine. If I talk to Sierra, I’ll ask her about Fadila’s progress, whatever that means.”
“In her new role, not in her apprenticeship.”
“You know, you’d be a lot more fun if you were more fun,” I say with a smile.
“No I wouldn’t. Enjoy your evening of poor decisions.”
“Are you making good ones?” I ask her.
She lets out a single laugh. “Not exactly. I’m meeting some acquaintances of a recent acquaintance. They’ll likely try to kill me. But, you know how curiosity can be.”
“That I do,” I reply, looking back up at the bar. At the woman standing there, leaning against it.
“Good luck,” Ter says before hanging up. I can’t quite tell if she meant it facetiously or earnestly. I’m not sure it really matters.
I put my phone back in my pocket and make my way up to the bar, by where the bartender is. I need to be at my best. Taking a deep breath, I say, “Could I have a gimlet?”
The bartender nods, and says, “A moment.”
As he’s making my drink, I look at my reflection in the ice bucket, nervously fixing my hair. I barely notice as a figure turns and is standing beside me. “Really? You’re that vain?” Sierra asks. I recognize the words, the voice, the tone. Everything the same as the first time.
The bartender finishes my gimlet. Taking it, I turn to face her. I can tell from the look on her face, she knew what she’d said.. “You and I both know, this conversation leads to trouble,” I reply.
“Is there any conversation we could have that wouldn’t?” she counters, taking a sip of her own drink. She’s right, of course. She generally is.
I smile, take a sip, and shake my head. “It is good to see you again,” I admit.
“You, too,” she replies. And at that moment, I decide Ter’s question can probably wait until tomorrow.
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