“Don’t look so thrilled, Varona, it’s monstrous,” she hissed, though Atlas answered for her.
“With Mr. Caine’s help, Miss Rhodes dispatched one of the world’s most wanted illusionists,” said Atlas, giving Tristan an additional nod of deference. “Her partner, a hand-to-hand combat specialist, was dispatched by Mr. Nova. They are both favored operatives of the Guihún, an intelligence operation from Beijing. Conveniently, they were both wanted globally for war crimes,” he informed Libby kindly, “which we will be pleased to inform the authorities they will not have to concern themselves with anymore.”
“Did we miss anyone?” asked Libby, who clearly couldn’t be deterred from her apprehension, but before Atlas could open his mouth, Reina had spoken.
“Yes. Two got away.”
The other five heads swiveled to hers, and she shrugged.
“They couldn’t get what they came for,” she said placidly. “Wards were too complex.”
“Yes,” Atlas confirmed. “Miss Mori is correct. There were, in fact, two medeians from the Forum who attempted unsuccessfully to penetrate the defensive wards of the library’s archives.”
“The Forum?” asked Callum.
“An academic society not unlike this one,” Atlas confirmed. “It is their belief that knowledge should not be carefully stored, but freely distributed. I confess they greatly misunderstand our work, and frequently target our archives.”
“Why do you know all this?” asked Tristan, who was growing rather frustrated by the Caretaker’s upsettingly careless tone. “It sounds as if we were all sitting ducks for something you already knew was going to happen.”
“Because it was a test,” Callum cut in.
Atlas gave him an impatient smile. “Not a test,” he said. “Not strictly speaking.”
“Try speaking less strictly, then,” Parisa advised tightly. “After all, we did nearly get killed.”
“You did not nearly get killed,” Atlas corrected her. “Your lives were in danger, yes, but you were selected for the Society because you already possessed the tools necessary to survive. The chance that any of you might have died was—”
“Possible.” Libby’s lips were thin. “Statistically, that is,” she added, inclining her head towards Atlas in something Tristan disgustingly guessed to be deference, “it was possible.”
“Many things are possible,” Atlas agreed. “But then, I never claimed your safety was a guarantee. In fact, I was quite clear that you would be required to have some knowledge of combat and security.”
Nobody spoke; they were waiting, Tristan expected, to be less annoyed about the fact that while they had never specifically signed anything saying they preferred not to be shot at in the middle of the
night, some principles of preference remained.
“It is the Society’s practice to ‘leak’ the date of the new members’ arrival,” Atlas continued in their silence. “Some attempts at entry are expected, but it was never for us to know who or what those attacks would be.”
“The majority of the attempts were deflected by preexisting enchantments,” Dalton added, surprising them with his presence. “The installation allows us to see the ways our enemies may have evolved.”
“Installation,” Nico echoed. “What is that, like a game?”
He seemed delighted about having been invited to participate.
“Merely common practice,” said Atlas. “We like to see how well our potential initiates work together.”
“So, in short, a test,” said Callum, sounding none too pleased about it.
“A tradition,” Atlas corrected, with another steady smile. “And you all did quite well, truth be told, though I hope having seen each other in action allows you to put together a more thorough defense system. Collaboration is very important for the sort of work we do here.” He turned to Dalton, arching a brow. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Ellery?”
“As I said, every class of initiates consists of a unique composite of specialties,” Dalton supplied neutrally, addressing them as a group. “You were selected for a team as much as you were chosen as individual members. It is the Society’s hope that, moving forward, you will act accordingly.”
“Yes, quite,” Atlas concluded, returning his attention to the group of them. “There will of course be some relevant details to see to as far as any structural or magical damage, but seeing as the house has now been emptied and the wards have resumed their usual work, I would invite you to get some rest and revisit the house’s security in the morning. Good night,” he offered crisply, nodding to them as a group, and then turned on his heel, followed by Dalton.
Parisa, Tristan noted, watched Dalton go with intense and possibly excessive interest, frowning slightly in his wake. Tristan waited for the others to move—first Reina, who headed to bed without a word, and then Callum, who rolled his eyes, followed by Nico and Libby, who immediately started arguing in hushed tones—before he approached Parisa, sidling up to her as she turned away in troubled thought.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her gaze flicked up to Callum, who was a few strides ahead of them.