The next courtyard held a pair of duelling warriors and a small audience. Hind paused to watch as they threw spells at one another, using wands to focus their magic into basic spells. They wouldn’t become Journeymen until they learned how to cast spells without wands – wands, as a general rule, only served as focusing devices, rather than sources of magical power – but for the moment, it would allow them to duel without hindrance. Magical duelling was complex, a mixture of attack and defence, yet both duellists were clumsy. Hind could have beaten them both with one hand tied behind her back.
She shook her head and walked on, stepping into the Academy itself. The building was ancient – no one knew how the ancient magicians had built it – and was surrounded by magic. There were still wards in the air, but these were intended to contain and deflect any magical accidents, rather than prevent intruders from getting into the castle. The Apprentices could barely touch the full limits of their power until they grew into maturity and accidents had been known to happen. Back when she had been an Apprentice, rumour had had it that the wards were also used to allow the Tutors to keep an eye on their charges, but no one knew for sure. It would have made sense, Hind knew; a building full of inexperienced and immature magic-users was asking for trouble and needed to be closely supervised.
The interior of the Academy seemed to rearrange itself at whim. There was no point in drawing up a map when the interior just kept changing, so Hind just kept walking, trusting in the subtle magic that made up the building to take her to where she had to go. It was no surprise to turn down a corridor she’d never seen before and walk right into her old room, the one that had been placed aside for her when she’d become a Master and therefore entitled to a private room. She pushed her hand against the door and opened it, undoing her private ward as she stepped inside. It had been over a year since she had last set foot inside her room, but it was as clean and tidy as ever.
She undressed rapidly, washed herself in the bath and then walked over to the mirror, examining herself critically. Most magicians hated mirrors – they showed the truth, not what illusions and glamour spells showed to the world – but Hind had never fallen for that particular vanity. At twenty-two years of age, she looked good, with long flowing blonde hair falling down her back and muscles rippling along her arms. She dressed herself, pulling on trousers and a shirt before donning the black robe of a Master Magician and pulling the hood over her hair. She had always found the arrangement a little awkward, but it was tradition and therefore not to be argued with. She placed her dirty clothes in a small basket for the maids and then stepped out of her room. The corridor had changed and she found herself just outside the Grandmaster’s office. It didn’t surprise her at all.
The wards surrounding his office were stronger than she remembered, but they let her in without complaint, welcoming her into his visiting room. It was empty, so she paced around the room, examining the nine portraits of the current Heads and the blank spot that had once shown the Head of Necromancy. Necromancy had been banned ever since the Necromantic Wars and the position hadn’t been filled for centuries. Hind knew more about it than most – one of her tasks for the Grandmaster had been to watch out for signs of necromancy – and she fully supported the ban. Necromancy brought vast powers, but the price was eventual madness.
“Mistress Hind,” a voice said, from behind her. “Welcome back to the Academy.”
Hind turned to see the Grandmaster behind her. Grandmaster Rupert, of Family Garach, was in his late forties, but he was clearly in the prime of life, with short dark hair and a muscular figure that wasn't hidden by the multicoloured robes he wore. He seemed to crackle with magic, silently challenging her and anyone else to dispute his right to his position. The Grandmaster was the strongest magician known to exist, yet his position was challenged constantly. If he were to be beaten in a duel, his challenger would become Grandmaster, with all the honours – and responsibilities – of the post.
“Grandmaster,” she said, with a bow. Magicians never bent the knee to anyone under the Emperor himself, even their Grandmaster. “I trust that you are well?”
“Well enough,” the Grandmaster said. “The Trials will be upon us before Midsummer’s Eve and I may face a challenger or two then, but until then I am well.”
Hind nodded absently. The Grandmaster couldn’t accept challenges from just anyone, so anyone who wanted to make a play for the position had to go through the Trials first, establishing themselves as a formidable magician before attempting to take on the Grandmaster. Not everyone who passed through the Trials choose to risk attempting to unseat the Grandmaster, knowing that failure might mean death. Still, every year, there were always at least two challenges. It wasn't a post she had been tempted to try to claim herself.
“Good,” she said. The last time they’d spoken, he’d sent her off on a mission that should have taken at least four years. “May I ask why you summoned me back here?”
“Direct as always,” the Grandmaster said. He sounded almost…nervous, which was odd…and worrying. “I need to discuss an important matter with you, but first…have you noticed anything odd on your travels?”
“Odd,” Hind repeated. “In what sense did you mean odd?”
“Anything,” the Grandmaster said.
Hind spoke briefly, starting with a handful of minor magical incidents and ending with her desperate chase after Emily and her encounter with the beast in the wellspring. The Grandmaster looked disapproving, although he didn’t bother to argue, which was somehow even more worrying. He wouldn’t have hesitated to lecture her on risking her life before.
“There have been odd signs and portents,” the Grandmaster said, vaguely. His eyes sharpened suddenly. “Do you know Master Ciler, or Journeywoman Ashe?”
Hind shook her head. “I sent them on a mission into Azimuth,” the Grandmaster explained. “Master Ciler was one of the strongest talents at my disposal and Journeywoman Ashe showed rare promise, if she could learn to tap into inner reserves she didn’t know she had. Both of them have vanished.”
“Vanished?”
“I haven’t heard from either of them for several months,” the Grandmaster explained. “They’re not the only ones who have disappeared, merely the…most prominent. I’ve had a cluster of reports from Yolanda about entire villages just...disappearing. Several lesser Lords have dropped out of sight. It’s odd.”
Hind leaned forward. “And you want me to go after them?”
The Grandmaster laughed. “No,” he said, as if she’d accidentally said something very stupid. “Do you remember Prince Eric?”
“Of course,” Hind said, in surprise. The Grandmaster had known that she had known him. He’d probably overseen their partnership. “Why…?”
“He is twenty-two years of age,” the Grandmaster said, portentously. “This year, he is to be acclaimed Crown Prince and presented to the Golden Throne. Over the next decade, his father will divest himself of his powers and present them to his son. Prince Eric will become the new Emperor of Touched.”
Hind nodded, impatiently. The Emperor of Touched was first among equals, if that, presiding over a world divided into kingdoms, territories and wastelands…and that didn’t include the territories owned and controlled by non-humans. The Emperor had strictly limited powers outside his own personal territories and any attempt to expand them would trigger off a war as the other nobles struggled to put him down.
“This ceremony will take place on Midsummer’s Eve,” the Grandmaster continued. He looked up at Hind, his eyes silently warning her that he was coming to the point. “When he becomes Crown Prince, he must take a wife. I believe that he intends to ask you to marry him.”
Hind gaped at him. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. “Me?”
“You meet the requirements for a Royal Consort,” the Grandmaster pointed out. “You’re a powerful magician. You’re of age to bear children. And you’re of new blood. Prince Eric has relatively few choices and I suspect that you wou
ld be top of the list.”
He smiled. “And at least you know him,” he added. “Not every candidate would be able to say the same.”
Hind flushed, unable to control her thoughts. The Emperor had to marry someone of common-born blood, someone who could bring new talent into the Royal Family, which already had talent to spare. She had never dreamed that it would be offered to her, though; her parents, who had never been more than farmers, would become grandparents to the new Emperor of Touched. And yet…she didn’t want to become a Royal Consort, or even Empress. And yet…
There had never been a man in her life, not really. Eric had never tried to get her into bed, or even given her a sign to suggest that he was interested. The nobles who had tried to lure her into their beds had thought of her as nothing more than a slut who would spread her legs for a title and perhaps a purse of gold. A commoner man would be too intimidated by her and it was rare to find any love between Master Magicians. It was a tempting offer. She liked Eric.
No matter what the Grandmaster said, it had to be real. Sir Pellaeon would not have been diverted from the Golden City without permission from the Prince – or his father. The Grandmaster might have been asked to prepare her for Eric, without promising her that she would be asked to marry him. It was…it was wonderful and terrifying and…she stared at him, wondering if he understood. Life as a Royal Consort would mean giving up her independence as a freelance mage.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally. How could she make an instant decision? How could anyone expect her to make an instant decision? “I…”
“The Prince would like to see you in two days,” the Grandmaster said, gently. “Perhaps, by then, you will have an answer for him.”
Chapter Three
“Your Highness,” Martha said, “Sir Pellaeon and Mistress Hind are approaching.”
“Thank you, Martha,” Prince Eric said, trying to keep his voice calm and level. It wasn't working. “Please inform me when she reaches the outer chambers.”
Martha bowed, revealing an alarming amount of cleavage, and retreated, leaving Eric alone with his thoughts. He had noticed the glances Martha threw him from time to time, the suggestion written in her eyes that he could have more...intimate services from her, in exchange for favours or perhaps nothing more than money. It would have been worth the deal, Eric knew, but sleeping around had its own dangers, particularly when one was a member of the Royal Family. Martha’s dark skin and tantalising brown eyes might have called to him, yet he had chosen to resist. His father had drummed one lesson into him time and time again. A royal bastard could break up the lines of succession that held Touched together and the only way to avoid a bastard was to remain chaste and pure. As the years had worn on, it had become harder and harder to keep that vow.
Eric took a deep breath as he sat down in one of the chairs, but somehow he couldn't remain still and stood up to pace the library. He’d chosen the library for a meeting place as he knew that Hind loved books, both the ancient hand-crafted manuscripts and the newer volumes produced by the new printing presses. The Golden Palace had the largest library in the world, outside the Academy, on as wide a range of subjects as anyone could imagine. Eric had spent many happy hours in the stacks as a child, learning about the different kingdoms and nations that made up Touched, the different kingdoms and nations that he would rule, one day. His father had urged him to study, reminding him that a tiny piece of knowledge could make the difference between life and death, or between keeping a throne to pass on to his son or losing it. He gazed at one of the volumes, part of a seven-volume history of magic, and remembered puzzling his way through it as a child. It was magic that kept his father on his throne and even though Eric had never been allowed to seek Mastership for himself, he had learned to control and respect it.
He turned his head, wondering how Hind had changed over the years. It had been too long since he’d seen her in the flesh, back when she’d graduated and had been awarded Master’s rank. She’d been a good friend, yet what would she say when she heard his proposal? Eric had always known that he would face an arranged marriage – to a commoner, no less – but she’d never had to face that possibility, ever since her powers had blossomed into life. Would she accept, or would she laugh in his face?
Eric’s father, the Emperor Haled, had been polite, but firm. He’d given Eric a list of eligible commoners and informed his son that he would be making his choice from only a handful of names. Eric had known only three of them...and one of them had been the most stuck-up girl he'd ever known, something that had always struck him as odd. Before she’d come into her magic, she’d been nothing more than a pig-girl, helping her father to tend to his pigs. The other had been a bookish sort with little else to recommend her. But Hind...
Hind had been something special, even when they’d been partnered up by the tutors. She’d been smart, and pretty, and funny, and fun to be with. He would have been attracted to her – no, he had been attracted to her – but all of his father’s warnings had kept him from making a pass at her...and perhaps a fool of himself at the same time. They’d been friends; they’d shared good times together, yet was it enough to make a life together? He’d heard that she’d spent the last two years working as a Freelance Mage. Would she be willing to give it up to be his bride and the Royal Consort?
The thought kept echoing in his head. There was nothing like being the Heir to the Empire to make one irresistible to the girls. If he’d wanted to, he could have had his pick from the noble girls of the Court, let alone the servants and maids. He’d even had to deal with a pair of older women who had tried to lure him into their bed, treating the whole thing as a crazy game. Only his innocence had saved him the first time, while the second time had been embarrassing. He’d confessed everything to his father and the old man had laughed his head off, before explaining some of the facts of life to his young and confused son. Years later, the thought still made Eric’s face burn. It would have shocked and amused the male members of the Court to know that, at twenty-three years old, Prince Eric was still a virgin. The thought of meeting someone he wanted to marry terrified him. He hadn’t been so scared since he’d stepped between two warring parties in the Mountains of Light and convinced them to put down their weapons and allow him to mediate their dispute.
You’re a Prince of the Blood, he reminded himself. The thought was unconvincing, somehow. Part of his mind kept insisting that any woman would have to be a fool to refuse; the other part kept reminding him that Hind had worked hard to reach her present rank and wouldn't throw it away, even for him. He’d tapped a few of his married friends for advice, but they had all given him different advice...and some of it sounded crazy, even to him. They’d suggested that he should be firm, that he should tell her that it was a done deal and that she was marrying him, even if she didn't want to marry him. Others had told him to take it calmly and talk her into it, rather than just demanding that she accept the honour of being the Royal Consort. His head kept spinning with nervous terror. Who, he asked himself, would want to be a Prince of the Blood if they knew how they would have to get married.
“I have only one piece of advice for you,” his father had said, when Eric had nerved himself up to ask the older man. “Be yourself; be truthful and honest with her. She’s going to be as nervous as you are, perhaps more so. Don’t force her into anything and you won’t regret it.”
Eric shook his head sadly, catching sight of the portrait of his mother on one wall. The Empress Elaine had died fourteen years ago, giving birth to his sister, but he’d never had any reason to think that his parents had ever argued or fought. His father had never taken another woman to wife, even though he’d faced almost as much pressure as Eric had faced from the Ladies of the Court. If his mother had been alive, she could have advised Eric...but then, she’d been born a commoner herself. Eric had never even met a commoner until he’d gone to the Academy. His mother would have understood exactly what Hind would go through in the coming months...if
she accepted his proposal, of course.
He looked away from his mother’s portrait towards one of the most famous paintings in the world. The Birth of Magic had been painted by an Alchemist thousands of years ago – it predated the Empire and the Necromantic Wars – and showed the Great God Solaris, Lord of Heaven and God of the Sun, shining his golden light over the land. The legends claimed that Solaris and the lesser gods had given humans magical powers by mating with human women and producing children who had a direct link to godhood. Eric didn't know if it was true – there was no way to know – but he did know that the magical bloodlines dominated Touched. Magic kept the nobles on their thrones and allowed commoners to rise to the very highest levels. Those who had no magic were lucky if they became traders, or independent farmers. He studied the god’s face, hidden within the golden glow, for a long moment. The painting was magic itself, allowing the watcher to see strange signs within the glow, if he stared long enough. As a child, Eric had been fascinated by the painting and had spent hours just staring at it, even though his father had thrashed him for it several times.
The Black Knife Page 3