And that isn’t going to happen, she thought. He doesn’t have a backbone, let alone the support of the staff.
The Emperor muttered another set of words in an unknown language, then smiled. “You may remove the collar.”
Charity groaned inwardly, then reached for the collar and pulled it off effortlessly. She was its mistress after all. Jamal didn’t move, of course; the Emperor’s spell was still holding him in place. And then the spell broke and he lunged at her, only to be thrown back by her protective wards. His body hit the side of the tent and fell to the ground.
“I hope you will be more careful when attacking your brother,” the Emperor observed, as Jamal slowly picked himself up from the ground. “Trying to attack your sister when she has her magic … my, what an idiot you are.”
He looked at Charity. “Hurt him.”
Charity lifted her wand and cast a simple spell. Their mother had taught her the spell when she’d started her menses, telling her that it was an effective deterrent to any man who thought he could force himself on her. Jamal’s eyes widened, then he grabbed for his crotch, screaming in pain. Charity pushed more power into the spell as he hit the ground again, curling up into a ball. It didn’t matter what he did, she knew. He had no magic to counter the spell.
“Enough,” the Emperor said, quietly. He smiled at her, showing impeccable teeth, as Jamal slowly pulled himself back to his feet. “Did you enjoy that?”
Charity didn’t want to answer, but she had no choice. “Yes.”
“Good,” the Emperor said. He clapped his hands together, once. “Moeder!”
The rear flap opened, revealing the older woman. Charity stepped aside as she nodded to the Emperor, wondering – again – at the odd sense she knew the woman from somewhere. The woman ignored her completely, her dark eyes travelling over Jamal and clearly dismissing him. Jamal looked back at her, then glanced at Charity. His eyes were wide with fear.
It hurts, Charity thought, vindictively. Doesn’t it? To be helpless as someone hurts you because they can.
“Jamal has a blood link to Johan,” the Emperor said, curtly. “You will take a dragon and move ahead of us, towards Ida. Once you have a clear line to Johan, you will close in on him and kill him, then capture the Head Librarian. You know what to do then.”
“Yes,” Moeder said.
She didn’t offer any honorific, Charity thought, shocked. Who is this woman?
“We won’t fail you,” Jamal stammered. “I won’t let you down.”
“See that you don’t,” the Emperor said. “The consequences will be very unpleasant if you do.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment, summoning a dragon, then led the way through the flap and out into the field. A large dragon settled to the ground moments later, beady eyes inspecting the passengers as though they were nothing more than a snack. Charity had to smile at Jamal’s reaction – he wouldn’t have seen the dragons as they tore through the city’s defences – and then stepped backwards as the dragon looked at her. Like the one that had carried her earlier, it didn’t seem to like her.
“You should be able to get there before daybreak,” the Emperor said, as the guards mounted the dragon. “I don’t want the dragon seen, if possible.”
“We will do our best,” Moeder said. “But by now rumours will be spreading everywhere.”
“Of course they will,” the Emperor said. “Will they be believed?”
Probably not, Charity thought. The last dragons, as far as anyone knew, had died out hundreds of years ago. Dragonhide cloaks, capable of repelling almost any curse, were worth literally millions of gold coins … if, of course, one could find a seller. No one will believe there are more dragons now, not when they don’t know where they come from …
The Emperor turned to her. “Do you want to say anything to your brother?”
Rot in hell, Charity thought.
She cleared her throat. “I hope I never see you again,” she said. “And you are no longer part of House Conidian.”
Jamal opened his mouth to say something cutting, but Moeder pushed him onto the dragon and then scrambled up after him. The dragon flapped its wings, then leapt into the air, leaving nothing but warm air behind. Moments later, it had vanished completely in the darkness.
No one will see it, Charity thought. She wondered, briefly, what Johan was doing, then shook her head. No one will see the dragon until it’s far too late.
Chapter Six
“Welcome to one of our lairs,” Sarah said, as Elaine followed her through the door. “I trust I can rely on you to keep your mouth shut?”
Elaine nodded, looking around with interest. The Leveller base was really nothing more than a private school, one of the places where middle-class children received an education that might – might – allow them to aspire to rise in the world. A handful of orphans had won scholarships to similar schools in the Golden City, she recalled; she’d hoped to win one herself before she’d discovered she already had a place at the Peerless School. And if she’d been a little different, she might have ended up like Sarah.
The schoolhouse had four classrooms, she discovered as they walked through them, and a single large hall for games. She puzzled over it for a moment – there was plenty of space outside for the children to burn off energy – and then realised it provided an excuse to have a large space that could double up as a training room. A handful of wards brushed against her awareness as she passed through the door, spying seven other magicians sitting on the floor waiting for her. Five of them had their faces hidden behind glamours; the other two, both young women, were staring at her defiantly. She wondered if she would recognise them, but when she took a closer look neither of the women were familiar.
“This is Elaine,” Sarah said. “I believe she has something to teach us.”
“I do,” Elaine said.
One of the glamoured magicians snorted. “What can a librarian teach us?”
“You would have been taught spells designed for magicians with far more power,” Elaine said, bluntly. There was no time to be polite. “Like me, you will have had real problems making them work because you don’t have the magic to smooth over the cracks. This put you all at a major disadvantage when facing more powerful magicians.”
She took a breath. She disliked talking to strangers, let alone trying to teach them something important. Vane had handled all such matters in the Great Library. But Vane was dead or enslaved, Daria didn’t know the material and Dread couldn’t teach magic any longer. Hell, he couldn’t have mastered her spells even if he’d still had his powers. She was the only hope they had.
“I’ve spent the last six months devising spells that use less power, but have the same effects,” she continued, carefully. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to use those spells too.”
The first magician snorted, again. “I was told that was impossible.”
Elaine raised her wand and cast the first spell, generating a ball of light hanging in the air. If she’d used the standard spell, it would have begun to flicker very quickly as it took a toll on her magic; now, it just glowed permanently. The speaker made a spluttering sound, then drew his own wand and cast a diagnostic charm. There was hardly any link between her and the ball of light, now it was drifting away from her.
“That’s impossible,” he said.
“No, it isn’t,” Elaine said. She hesitated, then took the plunge. “Your tutors didn’t really comprehend how their magic worked. They never really realised that there were ways to cut down the power requirements.”
Sarah stared at the light, her face transfixed. “But how?”
Elaine took a moment to think of an example. “Pretend you want to build a bridge over a river,” she said. “You can cut down a tree and use it as a bridge – one solid piece of wood – or you can build the bridge up from many smaller components. My spells” – she nodded to the glowing ball – “are composed of a number of small spells, working together to produce a perfect
result. The overall power requirements are much weaker than casting the whole spell in a single effort.”
“You’d need a great deal of concentration,” the first speaker said.
“She has it,” Sarah said. “And so do you, Brian.”
“No names,” Brian hissed.
“We all pledged ourselves to secrecy,” Sarah reminded him. “And if we get caught, we’re doomed anyway.”
Elaine nodded. The Empire hadn’t cared much about the Levellers – although it was growing increasingly clear that that had been a mistake – but the Grand Sorcerers would be horrified at the thought of magicians turning against the Empire. Sarah and her allies might be weak magicians, yet they were still magicians. They couldn’t expect anything other than an unpleasant death from the Grand Sorcerers, let alone the Emperor. But then, with the Empire falling apart and the Witch-King preparing to return to the world, it was quite possible that no one would be around to care.
“I have a number of other adapted spells,” Elaine said. She’d planned to teach them at the Peerless School, before Johan had come into her life. Light Spinner had seen the value, even if many other traditional magicians had not. “I can teach them, if you are willing to learn, but there’s something we need in exchange.”
Sarah gave her a sharp look. “And that would be …?”
“We need you to come with us,” Elaine said. “Some of the spells I devised will be too revealing if used before we’re ready.”
“That would mean abandoning my wife and family,” Brian said, coldly. “Or do you expect them to come with us?”
“If they will,” Elaine said. Given Brian’s level of power, it was unlikely he’d married into a magical family. His wife was probably a mundane and his children … either weak magicians or mundanes themselves. Would they count as Powerless? Probably. “I have spells that should take down a dragon, but if they’re used too early the Emperor will be able to take countermeasures.”
“Dragons,” Brian sneered.
“They’re real,” Elaine said, quietly. She’d had nightmares about the creatures wheeling over the Golden City. Inquisitor Cass and Lady Light Spinner had been killed by the dragons, according to Dread, and they’d both been powerful magicians. “The Emperor intends to use them to crush all resistance.”
“He’s likely to succeed,” one of the girls said. “What do we have here that can stop a dragon?”
There was a long pause. Elaine worked her way through the knowledge in her head, but the only solution the ancients had found involved either sacrificial magic or dragons of their own. A dozen magicians working together might just kill a dragon, if they managed to hold together long enough, yet while they were killing one dragon the others might tear them apart. And dragons were tough. Swords, spears and arrows just glanced off their armoured hides. A lone man on a horseback had about as much chance of surviving as would a mundane at the Peerless School.
“We could always try to drown them,” Sarah offered, after a moment. “A simple spell would make them much heavier, plunging them downwards. If we cast the spells at the right time, they’d go straight into the Lug.”
“And then the spell would be countered by the Emperor and his servants,” Brian pointed out, rudely. “We could use water bubbles.”
“They’d breath fire and the water would turn to steam,” the girl snapped. “Unless it was a lot of water.”
“Flame-repelling charms might work,” Sarah said.
“They breathe magical fire,” Elaine said. Part of her was enjoying the session – it was the kind of brainstorming she’d never really had at the Peerless School – but there just wasn’t time. “They’d go through charms and burn their way through wards.”
“We could ward parts of the city,” Sarah said.
“It wouldn’t last very long, even if every magician got involved,” Brian said. “We just don’t have the power to seal off the entire city.”
He cleared his throat. “I will send my family out on a boat,” he said. “We have relatives on Casaubon. My wife and children can stay there, for the moment, while I leave the city with you.”
Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “You’ve changed your mind.”
“Shut your mouth, wench,” Brian said, without heat. “If we can’t stop the dragons, we need to get out of here before it’s too late. My wife will be safe enough without me, for the moment, as long as she’s well away from here.”
Sarah looked from face to face. “I can send a messenger to our families,” she said. “Is there anyone here who doesn’t want to accompany our friends to their final destination?”
“I can’t leave the city,” one of the other glamoured magicians said. He – no, Elaine realised, she – rose to her feet. “I’ll take the messages, if you wish.”
Elaine sat back, silently gathering her thoughts, as the magicians hastily wrote out messages for their families. She hoped the families readied themselves to leave at once – surely, the Levellers would have plans to escape the city the moment word got out – and left by the end of the day. There was no way to know what the Emperor was doing, but it wouldn’t take long for a handful of dragons to fly to Falcone’s Nest and attack. Dread wanted to leave tomorrow, whatever happened, and he’d made it clear that he thought they were cutting it fine.
“Very well,” she said, once the six remaining magicians had settled down in front of her, ready to learn. “This is the first defensive spell …”
It took nearly an hour for them to master the first spell, not entirely to her surprise. They’d been taught to put too much power into their spells, which was inconvenient when they simply didn’t have the power to make it work. She had to go through the spell, component by component, demonstrating how it went together to form a seamless whole before pushing them into trying to cast it for themselves. It was a well-chosen spell, she thought. Anyone trying to cheat would find themselves rapidly running out of magic.
“It’s a weird effect,” Brian said. He’d been the first to master it. “Like a thousand little spells rather than one.”
“That’s the point,” Elaine said. “Think of it as sharing the weight amongst those spells …”
“Like having three other people help to pick up a box, rather than carrying it yourself,” Sarah said. She sounded frustrated. Her spell wasn’t working out so well. “You might have to coordinate properly, but at least you won’t be doing all the work yourself.”
“You’re still trying to force your way through,” Elaine said, gently. “Don’t push so much power into the spells.”
Sarah gave her a nasty look. Elaine understood; Sarah had been told, years ago, that she had to force the spells to work, even though she didn’t have the reserves to make them stick. It was a lesson that had plagued Elaine too, right up until she’d learnt how to rewrite the spells herself. But then, if she’d been as determined to prove herself as Sarah, she might have pushed herself to breaking point trying to coax more magic out of her body.
“You’re either overbalancing or destroying the spells,” she added. “Let the magic flow naturally, once the spells are ready.”
“There,” Sarah said. “It works.”
“And you’re not even being drained,” Elaine pointed out. “Just think about using these spells in combat.”
Sarah frowned. “What’s to stop them doing the same? The Emperor’s forces, I mean. These spells aren’t that difficult.”
Elaine bit down on the temptation to point out that Sarah had been the last magician to master the spell. She doubted Sarah would thank her for pointing it out. Instead, she tapped the scorch marks on the floor where Sarah’s spells had disintegrated into light and heat.
“They had the same training as you,” she said, “but they weren’t so frustrated. Right now, making magic work through force of will is second nature to them. They wouldn’t see any downsides because they have power to spare.”
She had to fight down a stab of envy. Dread had had power to spare; Light Spinner and
the Privy Council had been among the most powerful magicians in the world. Millicent – her oldest enemy – had been powerful enough to get courted by dozens of magicians, including a number who were considerably older than her. But Elaine had never had those power reserves and, no matter what she did, there was no way to gain them without courting madness. The powerful magicians would always have an unfair advantage.
Bitterly, she forced the feeling aside. “They won’t be able to alter the way they cast their spells easily,” she added, as reassuringly as she could. Sarah and she had far too much in common. “Even if they start learning my rewritten spells, casting them would force them to unlearn everything they’d mastered at the Peerless School.”
“They could do it,” Sarah said.
“Not easily,” Elaine repeated. She took a breath. “They’d really have to go all the way down to bedrock, while they’d see their greater power reserves as a way to jump forward. It would take them years to master my spells to the point where they can use them to save energy while casting the more powerful spells.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sarah muttered.
Elaine smiled. “Do you remember how the more powerful students always used to have trouble with their potions?”
“I didn’t go to the Peerless School,” Sarah snapped. “And I never had any talent for potions.”
“They had real problems mastering the art of using their magic to blend the ingredients together,” Elaine said. She’d known, intellectually, that Sarah wasn’t formally trained, but she hadn’t really believed it. But then, she hadn’t grown up outside the Golden City, where magical students were identified before their magic came to life. “It was the middle-ranked students who tended to be best at brewing potions.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Sarah said. She cast the spell again, shaking her head in disbelief as a glowing orb of light appeared in front of her. “What else can you teach us?”
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