“You’re probably thinking of your mother and her sniper rifle right now. It won’t work.”
I wasn’t thinking that, but it wasn’t a bad suggestion.
“What I am about to share is a state secret. Technically I’m committing treason.” Konstantin gave me a narrow, humorless smile. “The petrification is Arkan’s active talent.”
Most mages had an active and a passive field. Active magical abilities required conscious effort, while passive powers were autonomic like breathing or sweating. My passive field evaluated strangers for threats and tried to make them like me on its own, which was why I had to constantly suppress it, while singing required a conscious effort and was therefore active. Konstantin’s passive field let him see through illusions, among other things, but to change shape he would need to exert himself.
“Are you telling me that Arkan generates a passive field?” I asked. Nobody had ever mentioned it. Not the Warden Network, not Alessandro’s spies.
“He does. It’s approximately one quarter of an inch deep. No object can penetrate the field without Arkan allowing it to do so. Neither a blade nor a bullet can hurt him. He exerts conscious effort to put on clothes and brush his hair in the morning. He can drop the field long enough to get drunk, although if you tried to pour alcohol down his throat against his will, it wouldn’t touch him. He has allowed himself to be cut on occasion, especially if he suspects he is being recorded and wants to protect his secret.”
Was this real or was he lying? I wished Nevada was in the room with us.
“How does he breathe?”
“The field rejects objects depending on their density and threat level. Gasses are unaffected, liquids are affected somewhat, and solid matter can’t penetrate at all.”
“Then a venenata attack, provided gas is used as a delivery system, would work.”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “Although we are not certain. As I said, it’s not density alone, it’s also the danger that’s a factor. He does get wet in the rain, but he has been repeatedly splashed with acid and it never burned him. Arkan doesn’t have a single poison mage in his inner circle. He employs them but keeps them at arm’s length. He prefers to prepare his own food with ingredients he gets from his own garden. He has a poison tester and travels with his own private shielder who guards his mind. The man is as unkillable as one can be.”
“What about a fulgurkinetic?” I asked.
“Funny you should mention that. That was how we attempted to eliminate him the second time. The field negated the lightning. It also negates flames and enerkinetic fire, we tried that.”
An icy tendril of frost crawled down my spine. “And Alessandro doesn’t know?”
“No.”
This was a game changer. The petrification power was the ultimate move, but it only lasted a few seconds and we counted on Arkan still being semi-vulnerable during it. We had a complex sequence planned including sniper shots, intersecting fields of fire, and poison delivery. That plan hinged on Alessandro not being within Arkan’s range when he stopped time.
None of that would work now.
“Although of course you will tell him the moment we’re done talking.” Konstantin sighed. “It will change nothing. Sasha is an optimist. Must be the Italian side of the family, because in Russia we view pessimism as an Olympic sport. We will kill Arkan tomorrow. Either your brother-in-law, your best friend, or your younger sister will injure him. Perhaps you can sing him to death. Make him slit his own throat. But none of you will be fast enough. Sasha will get to him first, and Arkan will end him. Which brings us back to my original question, what will you do after?”
What would I do once Alessandro died? “I don’t know.”
“Would you remain in the house where you and he were happy?” He glanced around. “This place holds so many memories for you, of making love, of planning a future, of laughing together, and every one of them will be tainted, because he will be gone. Will you stay here, hoping for an echo of that warmth or would it be too painful?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“If the hurt is too much, come to Russia with me.”
I had expected something like that but he still caught me off guard.
“I know it feels like a betrayal. After all, he’s still alive, talking and breathing. You can still hold him. But tomorrow, when all of that is over, you don’t have to face it alone. You can have a fresh start far away from all the things that happened before. No judgment, no guilt. A new life.”
“Is this a formal employment offer from the Imperium?”
“It’s an invitation from a prince of the blood to be his cherished guest,” he said.
“Aren’t the two synonymous?”
“Not necessarily.”
I sighed. “Konstantin, we both know that if I came with you, sooner or later someone would suggest that I should do a little favor for my hosts.”