Free Nemesis by Emma L. Adams

human was on more or less equal standing as far as magic went didn’t seem possible in my own experience, which I knew was limited. I shouldn’t even have magic, after all.
    “You’ve talked to the mages before?” I asked Raj.
    “Not in person,” said Raj. “Just in cross-world meetings. They aren’t deep enough in the Alliance to stir up offworld trouble, but this is exactly the kind of situation we want to avoid. Now the Alliance is involved in their business, like it or not.”
    “Par for the course,” I said. The Alliance’s policies stopped anyone directly intervening in offworld affairs without prior permission, a necessity after so many worlds had suffered permanent damage as a result of exploitation of their resources. Like Valeria. For all the sophisticated technologies they had, half their main continent was a wasteland. Aglaia had only two doorways, so opportunities for interaction with other worlds had been limited, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people in the Alliance with a vested interest in their territories.
    “At least they’re one degree friendlier than the centaurs,” I added.
    “True,” said Raj. “I think they just enjoy disagreeing with every comment made by a human. I’m sure most of them don’t actually want a war. If all five million centaurs hated the Alliance, there’d never have been a majority vote to join.”
    “Yeah, I thought about bringing that up at the meeting, but I didn’t like to use the word ‘naysayers’.”
    Raj laughed, then abruptly scanned the trees either side of the path like he expected a horse-man to appear and throw a spear at us. I’d already checked we were too far away to be overheard, of course.
    “Save it till we’re back at Central,” he said, crouching to pick up a loose stone. “This isn’t a world we can trust. Certainly not as far as magic goes. Sure, they aren’t overtly hostile with it, but if it gives an advantage…”
    “Same can be said of most worlds,” I said. “Humans, even. Hell, all species to some extent. It’s that or die out. Survival.”
    “Hmm.” He gave me a sideways look, tossing the stone into the air and catching it in one hand. “I have an inkling you have more than a theoretical interest in Aglaian magic, Kay. Doesn’t have anything to do with the reason you’re being so uptight about what really happened in the attack on Central, does it?”
    Great. I’d thought I’d got away with being vague. Raj wasn’t one for probing questions, because it was a common agreement that the best way to survive as an Ambassador was not to ask unnecessary questions.
    “Maybe I just want to be prepared in case it happens again,” I said. “It’s pretty clear Earth’s under-prepared as far as magical assaults go. And what are you doing with that?” I indicated the stone, following the motion as he caught it again.
    He shrugged. “I collect tokens from other worlds. Might as well get something out of the experience apart from a national record at solitaire.” He tossed the stone into the air once more. It looked no different from an Earth one, but I didn’t question it.
    “Where’d you learn Aglaian, anyway?” he asked.
    I should have seen that one coming, too.
    “Tutoring.” Of the offworld languages I spoke, it was probably the most obscure, but in hindsight, I’d figured out that most of the tutors I’d had over the first sixteen years of my life had concentrated on new Alliance worlds, or soon to be members. “You don’t speak it?”
    “Nah. I speak six others, but I never figured I’d be watching centaurs argue. Most of my other missions have been a little closer to home.” He pocketed the stone. “Earth doesn’t normally have so many representatives involved in these kinds of missions. It’s a sign, I think. Offworlders across the Multiverse have their eyes on us now, and it’s not a good thing.”
    “Never is, in my experience,” I said. “So they’re watching in case Earth screws