Mercy heard her mentor, Mark Kendall, come into the gymnasium, but she didn't pause
her daily workout merely because of an interruption. The uneven bars were a
relief after sitting in an office all day and Mercy welcomed the aching of her
body. The strength and effort required to move smoothly and quickly over and
under the bars easily took her thoughts away from the mind-numbing mudanity of
the previous eight hours.
Mark make his way into the
stuffy gym. Mercy heard a slight squeak as he sat on a battered vaulting horse
and decided that it would be rude to keep him waiting. Mark was no-doubt
bursting with questions following her absence all day. Rather than dismounting,
she easily swung on top of the higher bar and sat there, legs dangling.
Confidence in her own abilities - rather than the thick padding on the floor
below - kept her steady as she waved a sketchy greeting to her
mentor.
Mark himself was used to his protégé’s mannerisms and didn't comment on
her choice of resting place, but rather got straight to the point. "So, where
were you?"
"Working" Mercy replied, as if this was the most natural thing in the
world - which it wasn't, not for a mage of the Euthanatos
tradition.
"Go on." Mark repressed a sigh. If
I had known what I was letting myself in for fifteen years ago, Mark thought
of his promise made to Mercy's mother, I
still would have agreed to raise her, but I would have stocked up on aspirin.
It wasn't that Mercy was being difficult as she entered the full throes
of adolescence, not in the traditional sense of teenaged difficulties, but it
was obvious to Mark that a young girl raised by a half-dozen Euthanatos was
going to be rather different from her peers - significantly different, in fact.
Mercy had Awakened to her potential early in life - which was attributed to her
magic-rich environment - and since those turbulent early months, she seemed
determined to leave all childish manners and mannerisms behind
her.
“I got a job,” Mercy added simply.
“You don’t need a job.” Mark replied immediately.
“I do if I want to keep an eye on Roger Strickson,” she
shrugged.
Mark blinked in surprise. Strickson was the head of a medium-sized law
firm, which had started accepting some rather unusual clients shortly after he
had taken over, ten months ago. The chantry had decided that he needed closer
watching, but a plan of action hadn’t been decided.
Mercy, growing bored of her perch, jumped down and made her way to a
nearby exercise mat to stretch. Embarking on her preferred routine of yoga, she
finally gave Mark a full explanation as she stretched like a
cat.
“You think Strickson is representing scum for the Technocracy, but we
have to get inside his business to learn more,” she stated. “Two weeks ago,
Strickson’s assistant announced she was taking her vacation this month. Two days
later, Access Staffing happened to call me, needing a competent young thing to
take her place. Good thing I had just signed up with them.” She
smiled.
Mark had to interrupt, “Mercy, you’re sixteen years old. How did you
convince a temp agency that you’re of legal age?”
“Fifteen, actually.” Mercy corrected mildly. “As for my apparent age…”
Mercy slowly righted herself from a handstand she had kept for the past minute
and faced him, arms akimbo, her expression blunt. “People aren’t willing to
believe I’m underage, so they don’t ask.”
Mark stifled a wince at that. It was true that Mercy appeared and acted far older than her years but despite that, she was still only fifteen, and Mark was worried about her trying to blend in with the workforce. Don’t undermine her, he reminded himself. Hear her out.
Not getting a reply from her
mentor, Mercy continued, “Today, I started working in his office. Tomorrow, I’ll
be getting a key to the building and good long look at his schedule – and I’ll
be able to keep looking for the next three weeks. That’ll be useful, don’t you
think?”
“That’s true.” Mark
conceded. “But you should have told me that you were doing this.” He
chided.
Mercy nodded, somewhat
awkwardly as her body was curved into an arch. “I was going to,
tonight.”
“I would have preferred
advance warning.” Mark snapped, temper rising at Mercy’s attitude. Independence
was a mark of their Tradition, but Mark believed that Mercy was taking it too
far in this case.
She didn’t bother replying,
as she moved from one complex position to another, the mere sight of which made
Mark ache. “So, what are you going to do now?” he
demanded.
“Memorize every scrap of
information I see. Get the office key duplicated. Eavesdrop.” Mercy stated
easily. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll improvise.”
That alarmed him. Mercy’s last
bout of improvisation caused significant property damage in the city’s club
district and required some very fast footwork on the part of the Virtual Adepts
to prevent a connection being made between a Saturday night riot and Mercy’s
activities. To compound the situation, Mark knew some things about Strickson
that Mercy might not.
“Well, I really think you
should have told us of this plan of yours,” Mark sighed. “There are some things
you should know about Strickson before you go any
further.”
“You mean his tendency to
sleep with every female he can lay hands on?” Mercy
commented.
Mark was determined not to
be surprised by Mercy’s knowledge. “Yes,” he confirmed.
“I did read the files.” Mercy replied
sharply, uncurling from her yoga and finally sitting normally on the floor. “Why
do you think I made sure I’d get hired for the job? If three weeks doesn’t get
what we need, I can get close to him another way.”
Mark’s resolve finally
broke. “Mercy!” Like many times before, it was one part exclamation, one part
exhortation. “You can’t be serious! You’re only fifteen…” he protested, knowing
what a thin argument that was.
Mercy raised an eyebrow and
half-smiled at Mark’s discomfiture. “High time I took care of it then.” She said
simply, knowing it would irritate Mark further.
“For god’s sake.” Mark
snapped. “I would much rather your first sexual experience wasn’t with a
probable enemy of the chantry, and for such…” he struggled for a word. “Mundane
reasons.” He finished.
“First?” Mercy was grinning
mischievously, the child making a rare appearance from behind her adult mask.
“What makes you think that?”
Mark stared at her. “You’re
joking. Tell me you’re joking.” He entreated.
Mercy realized she was about
to cross the line from teasing to cruel and gave Mark a break. “Yes, I’m
joking.” Her smile faded, “but I will
keep an eye on Strickson, whatever it takes,” she added in a harder
tone.
Mark was defeated, and he
knew it. He had learned long ago that Mercy had a stubborn streak that was
rarely worth fighting. “Well, I just hope ‘it’ won’t be that,” he
muttered.
“What did you hope for,
Mark?” Mercy asked curiously. “You ground all the romance out of me years ago,”
she remarked flippantly, not quite able to hide a slightly bitter
note.
“It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, not wanting to discuss this any further.
“Blame it on my old fashioned principles.” He smiled wryly, while resolving to
ask Anna – who was much closer to Mercy in age and attitude – to pursue the
subject with her later.
“Alright.” Mercy shrugged, putting it out of her mind. “I noticed you
wincing when I was in the Wheel a minute ago. Don’t tell me you haven’t been
exercising….”