The Conclave of Shadow Read Online Free

other displays set up around the atrium were more museum-typical: artfully spaced boards with black-and-white photos and blocks of text. Faceless mannequins with paper hair wearing iconic costumes from bygone days. I caught a glimpse of a familiar hat and trench coat and tensed against an unexpected chill.
    â€œRelax, Mitchell,” Sylvia murmured. “Nobody here is your enemy.”
    I plucked her hand from my arm so that I might remove my trench coat. The scarf and hat, I kept. The perky coat-check girl didn’t even bother to ask for them.
    â€œI don’t take kindly to being manipulated, Sylvia. If you insist on perpetuating this farce that we are friends, pray remember that.”
    â€œWhat choice do you leave me?” She hooked us two wine glasses off a passing tray – kept the white for herself and handed me the red. She sipped. I didn’t. My stomach wasn’t nearly settled enough for drinking. “I need to know what you did in China.”
    â€œYou want to do this here?” I nodded at the atrium filled with mingling people in their evening best. Some were probably harmless. Many were Argent. But that still left an unaccounted-for third contingent.
    â€œHere?” Sylvia chuckled. “Look again, Mitchell.” She swept the room in a gesture. Skyrocket and La Reina were involved in an animated argument near the metallic pin fountain. It involved quite a few swooping hand gestures, fountain rods rising and falling in time with their words. The tawny-tipped feathers of La Reina’s wings puffed and resettled as though she wished to give an aerial demonstration of her argument. Beyond the fountain, Abby already had a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a tumbler filled with two fingers of amber. She lounged against the butterfly dome, idly watching the crowd as she sipped. Around the room, other Aces stood out from the crowd – some marked by their iconic costumes, others by their watchful, ready air.
    And, easily overlooked, blank-faced men and women in suits much like mine stood at the exits, moved along the edges of the crowd, spoke into their cuffs.
    I glanced aside at Sylvia, watching me notice them. “Not everyone here tonight is one of yours,” I said.
    â€œAnd everyone who isn’t has been thoroughly vetted and has an agent tasked to keep an eye on them. There are few places as protected as the Academy tonight.”
    â€œWhy do you need anything from me? Tom’s report–”
    â€œTom’s a fine boy, but he can’t explain the players to me, or what their motivations were, or how they became players. And do not forget, he was incapacitated for much of his time in Shanghai. He would have missed important details. Details I need to know if I’m to keep the world in check. Who is David Tsung? For that matter, who is this young Mr Long who has risen so high so recently? I assume he’s no relation to the Mr Long who Tom indicated was responsible for the New Wall. I need to know how wary I should be in our dealings. I know there’s magic involved, and you know that Argent has always been weak in that department.”
    â€œYes, well. Most practitioners are iconoclasts. Hard to keep one of those on the payroll.”
    â€œTell me about it. Professor Trent, La Reina, Sadakat… they’re the best we’ve got when it comes to the mystical. And you. Until you abandoned us.”
    So much I wanted to say to that, to question, to refute, that I dared not say. But she’d given me much with that admission. Information, yes. But also, power.
    â€œTsung is…” not to be trusted , I wanted to say, but he had been trying to stop his grandfather in his own secretive and duplicitous way. I just didn’t like him for the influence he held over Mei Shen. “Something of a whistleblower. He found out about Mr Long-the-elder’s plans for the New Wall and brought them to my attention. Too late to stop it from