"Okay everybody, we go live in three... two... one..."

The massive network of screens lining the wall flickered to life - the largest CCTV surveillance system in the world, seventeen thousand cameras covering almost every public space, street and alley in London. The government had outdone even itself, which was saying something.

The applause quickly dulled into murmurs of conversation and the soft clicking of keyboards, sounds that would now fill this room at all hours. There was no escaping the Eyes Of London.

Unless you were one of my people.

As the operators began their work and interns brought celebratory champagne to the executives watching the launch, I slipped out the rear of the room. Now that the system had gone live, no one would discover my meddling - there was just too much to watch to notice the odd doorway or window that wasn't covered. My handler would be very pleased. Once I explained it to him in terms he could understand.

Warmth radiated through the ring on my hand as I walked quickly through the deserted office, its usual activity entirely confined to the evening's milestone. My handler wanted a report. I knew how this would go; my ring would continue to warm until it burned, forcing me into a meeting lest I wished to have my finger cauterised off. And it would happen soon– he always had to be reminded that it took some people a little bit longer to get to a meeting. The slowly increasing heat only steeled my resolve for my other plan for the evening. I sped my pace to meet one of my nominal coworkers. Of course, I could hardly be said to work here, in much the same way a cuckoo can hardly be said to belong in its nest, but that was the nature of cover stories.

The maintenance man sat alone in his storage cupboard. His dirty coveralls and paunchy belly were in marked contrast to my neat suit and slim frame, though my balding pate would probably have looked more fitting on him than his shaggy hair. He greeted me by my mundane cover name, Allen, and we exchanged our items - an envelope for a bundle of £100 notes, the last of our innumerable trades and deals struck over the past two years. Unlike the many other requests that had facilitated the successful completion of my mission, this was a mere errand, run for exorbitant pay, to help me in other schemes.

I checked the contents of the envelope, smiled, and left one set of the photos within with the man, with a series of precise instructions. As I bid him farewell, I was sure I would make use of him again; he was just one of more than three dozen well-placed contacts and associates I had built up all over mundane London as part of my work.

I was two blocks away before anyone in the Eyes room could have noticed me gone. Of course, one employee going home early didn't compare to the wealth of information they had at their disposal. Still, I gave myself five minutes to watch for any followers once I reached the church. My brethren had never had to manage such a problem, but I hadn't gotten to where I was by not being careful.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I made my way up the rickety scaffolds to the platform in front of the church's spectacular circular stained-glass window. The whole structure swayed ominously as I climbed and, as my stomach lurched, the pang of the power I'd never possessed struck me once again. Despite my best efforts to accept it and move on, a part of me always craved the magic I didn't have. I hated myself for the feeling.

The red and blue hued glass glowed faintly even in the dark of night, lit from without by the lights of London and from within by its own subtle magic. The amulet I wore worked the spell I couldn't, opening the hidden door within the glass. It hung heavy around my neck, a talisman of failure, a cripple's crutch. I stuffed it back into my shirt and out of sight as soon as the panes began to separate.

It was always day in the world beyond the glass, even in the depths of London night, the bright sky's colours warped and changed by their connection to the mundane world. Above me, the sky was jagged edges of crimson and sapphire, mixing into a vibrant vermillion where they touched. Far away, the sky was a dappled pattern the green of fresh grass, or a patchwork of brown stones and red bricks, shifting across each other like drifting clouds.

The city within the walls spread out before me for at least a mile in every direction, but its true size could not be measured as the carpet flies. Down each street, alley and avenue another array of lanes budded off, overlapping and crisscrossing each other, at once the same and separate, held distinct by magic. Without a guidance spell, a poor soul could wander down endless roads and never find their destination, lost forever within the infinite depths of the Fractal City, the heart of Britain's magic. This was at once its majesty and its terror.

All of Britain's Wise Folk could have easily fit into the Fractal City, finding new homes for themselves down its never-ending streets. But many of them chose to live out in secluded enclaves in the world beyond, not content to spend their lives in the spaces between spaces. But one couldn't be magical in Britain without having to visit the city in the cracks, for where else would they buy their wands and carpets? Where would their children go to school?

"They". "Them". "Their". Never "we" or "us" or "our". I'd grown up here, like so many of the children of the magical of London, but I'd never truly fit in.

I strode down the well-trod path to my destination, along the long winding roads of the city within the city, turning down streets that were mere alleys to behold but broad parkways to walk down. Such was the nature of the magic, that even the smallest street never felt out of place, though such spells could do nothing for out-of-place people like me. Buildings lined each street, their windows aglow with soft magic lights that sparkled under the rainbow sky. Vendors sold wares on every corner and a sea of carpets drifted by above, another bustling trade taking place in a swirling market hanging forty feet above the ground.

Here and there I saw a familiar sight from my life here, before I'd taken on my new position out in mundane London. The doctor's office where my mother's eyes had filled with tears when they diagnosed my "condition". The step outside the school where younger children had hexed my bag to bite me, knowing I was powerless to stop them. The bookstore where I worked when I was forced to drop out of school, where I ran myself ragged trying to keep up with the other workers who could teleport and levitate books with barely a thought.

But for all the sadness, there were happy memories as well. The cafe where I had met my first girlfriend. The library where I had spent my time pouring over knowledge of the mundane world, enamoured with electronics and computers. The store of the kindly old baker who gave me free cakes. Down each street, the sadness abounded, but the happiness always drowned it out, even if it was a close fight.

The Fractal City, for all its faults, was my home. But even the nicest home occasionally needs improving.

I stopped to hand another copy of the photos to the baker, with the same precise instructions I had given the maintenance man. She took them with a disgusted look, but dutifully put them away under the counter. She offered me a few choice morsels of gossip that I was quick to make note of in case it was ever useful; information was the best currency in my business, especially tonight.

The long walk ended at a palatial mansion. My ring gave a feeble shudder - a guidance spell long devoid of power, placed there to help my service, though I was proud to admit I'd never needed it. It shuddered again as I crossed the threshold, as though just realising where it was. The heat pulsing through the ring - still strong, unlike the guidance spell - faded quickly as I walked into the foyer.

The mansion was, of course, exquisite. It would be an affront to mansions were it not. Thick carpets, rich wood panelling and intricate paintings covered every surface. Every house in the Fractal City was bigger on the inside, but the Mayor's mansion was something else. In my numerous trips here to report on my progress, its size always awed me. Another walk, almost as long as the one to get to the house, brought me to the door to the Mayor's study. My chest twisted with anxiety, but I glanced at the envelope and suppressed a smile as I entered.

The Mayor was almost the opposite of the city he governed. Where the Fractal City fit an impossibly large space into tiny area so well that it vanished, he was apparently attempting to fit an impossibly large frame into a slim body and was failing miserably. Rolls of fat ballooned off him in every direction, straining clothes and furniture alike with their bulk. But levitation was a simple spell for even the simplest child and his girth refused to succumb to gravity, floating beside his body as though suspended in space. He skipped gaily toward me, far too agile for a man-whale of his bloated stature.

"Allen!" he cried, smothering my hand in his pudgy paw.

"Allenarziel," I corrected him, with the full magical name my parents had given me.

"I think 'Allen' suits you better." he chuckled. "I trust everything went to plan?"

He released my hand from its entombment with an audible pop and danced back over to his desk, a good thirty feet across the room. Like himself, the room was trying to fit too much in. It was crammed with enormous piles of books and papers, towers of each impossibly high and precariously slanted, held in place only by magic. I'm sure the whole room would have hummed with arcane energies, could I sense them. Channels had been carved through the chaos by the Mayor's bulk. I joined him at his desk, leaning lightly against a book pillar in place of a chair. The Mayor lit a cigar with a wave of one finger as I spoke.

"Without a hitch, sir. The Londoners won't see our comings and goings as long as we stick to the spots near the gates I marked on your map last week. Teleport there and you'll be hidden in the blind spots in the Eyes Of London."

"Brilliant, Allen, just brilliant! It's more than we could have ever hoped for. Here, celebrate with me." He wiggled his fingers and a cigar leapt from a drawer to hover at his eye level. He waved a hand and the tip glowed a soft red, then drifted through the air toward me.

All of a sudden he stopped with a look of concern upon his face and snatched the cigar from the air. He stubbed it out.

"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot." He was the picture of worry as he leant forward, struggling through his rolls of fat to hand me the cigar non-magically. What did he think I was? Allergic to magic? Anathema to it? I just couldn't use magic, I wasn't some magic-ignited fuse. I kept my face carefully pleasant as I took the cigar from him.

"I think I have one of those 'match' curios around here somewhere. Such interesting alchemy." he said, fumbling through his drawers with his sausage fingers. "I can light it for you."

"Don't worry about it sir, I'll just have it later." I smiled tightly at him and slipped the cigar into a jacket pocket. I wasn't going to smoke it, but the Mayor's fingerprints could come in handy.

"You're sure you can manage on your own?"

"I'll be fine," I said flatly. "Sir."

"Oh, that's so good to hear," said the Mayor jovially. "I'm so impressed with the work you've been doing, Allen. A magical spy in the mundane world! It's been of incredible aid to the Wise Folk, and it's so much more astounding that you've managed it all despite your condition!"

His words banished the last flutters of worry in my stomach. I kept my face neutral as I responded. "It's really nothing, sir. With my head all uncluttered of spells and potions, I've got plenty of space to learn about cameras and circuitry."

"Cameras, eh? Yes, you told me about those things. Sort of like scrying mirrors, right?"

"In a sense, sir. In fact, they're related to another matter I'd like to bring to your attention while I'm here."

"Oh?"

I took another deep breath and steadied myself. I was almost bouncing off the walls with anticipation. But this had to be a professional exchange. It wouldn't do to be smiling like a idiot as I threatened him.

"Cameras, you see sir, come in many different sizes. There's larger ones used in the Eyes of London, and then they get smaller and smaller. They get so tiny that you can hide them almost anywhere. Even a tiny crack in a wall. Like the ones between the wood panels in your mansion."

"Where are you going with this, Allen?"

I handed him the envelope. "They're not affected by protection spells or privacy enchantments. And they can do more than just show things. They can also record them, save them for posterity, to be looked upon by people separated by much distance and time from when the things happened."

He opened up the envelope and glanced at the pictures inside. It took a few seconds for him to figure out exactly what he was seeing, then his face drained of colour.

"For example, the distance between your bedroom and this study, and the time between when you hired that elven prostitute and right now."

He looked up from the frankly disgusting photos and glared. Behind me, a stack of papers fluttered to the ground as the magic holding it up was drawn away. I continued, unwavering.

"I'm no expert on elf biology. They don't cover that in the mundane catch-up schools. But I'd guess she'd be what, two, maybe three hundred years old? Still a teenager, by elven standards. Maybe not even an adult yet."

More books and papers crashed to the ground behind me as the Mayor rose to his feet, anger seething on his face. The table between us rattled as the Mayor drew in his latent energy.

"You sick bastard, Allen. I don't know what game you're playing, but I want you and your 'cameras' out of my house this instant."

"You call me sick," I snorted. "But I haven't gotten to the best part yet - the conditions for me not releasing those photos to the public."

The rest of the stacks collapsed as one with a shuddering crash. Arcane energy - visible even to me - roiled around the Mayor. A bolt of purple lightning lanced out and obliterated table and photos, leaving bright silver scorch marks in a ring of ashes.

"I could kill you where you stand, you powerless freak!" A spike of fear shot through me; it was true, he could destroy me in an instant. But I needed to see this through.

"Yes," I replied, keeping my voice calm. "But then, when I don't contact my associates both here and out in London, they will release the copies I gave them."

"This is treason!"

"No, this is blackmail. Come now, Mr. Mayor, I'm not trying to ruin you. My demands are simple. Acquiesce, and you can stay in the life to which you are accustomed."

The Mayor glared at me for a moment more, then flopped back into his seat, letting his power ebb back out until he looked deflated; physically, emotionally, and magically.

"What do you want? Spells, amulets, charms? I don't know what we can make work for you. But I can get the best artificers I have on it."

I considered the option for a moment, musing over the kinds of magics I could have at my disposal, but I dismissed the notion. Even if he could make such powers work for me, with my condition, that's not what I came here for. My desires were far more straightforward, and infinitely more useful than a simple spell.

"All I want are three things. One, a pay raise. I do good work and I expect to be compensated appropriately. Two, a nicer apartment, close to the eastern church gate. I spend so much time in London that I need a shorter commute. And three, a favour. That's it."

"A favour? What is it?"

I finally let a smile creep onto my face. "To be decided, sir, to be decided. I have found that in my line of work, and with my unique situation, it pays to have powerful people in your pocket. I will call upon you when I need you." I brushed one foot through the ashes. "And you will answer."

The Mayor sighed and looked down at the softly smoking debris for a minute.

"I suppose there's nothing I can do, is there?" he said.

I nodded once and picked my way through the debris to the door.

"Allen!" the Mayor called as I turned the knob. "Why would you betray our city?"

I paused at the door, with my back to him. "I haven't betrayed anything. I love the Fractal City. This is my home, and the home of my people. I would and will give my life to defend it. I am a loyal footsoldier of the Wise Folk, to the end, and I will continue my great work."

"Then why do this to me?"

"Because I need things. Because sometimes I need help, whether or not it's freely given. And because sometimes, for all your knowledge, you Wise Folk need to be reminded of one thing."

"And what's that?"

I took a step forward and let the door close between us as I answered.

"That there are more types of power than just magic."