Elaine smiled.
It was, she decided afterwards, one of the most interesting experiences of her life. She’d never been nominated to tutor anyone at the Peerless School – she simply didn’t have the power reserves to cow a first-year student, let alone anyone else – and she honestly didn’t like the idea of tutoring anyone. And yet, there was something about watching them cast her spells and make them work that thrilled her. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the glamour in place that hid her eyes from casual inspection. If it wasn’t so tiring, she might even have suggested they stay at work right up until dusk.
“There’s dinner in the upper room,” Sarah said, straightening up. “Make sure you eat as much as you can.”
“Yes, mother,” Brian said.
Sarah jabbed her finger at him; he raised a defence, just in time, as the spell splattered into his protections and flashed out of existence. Elaine sighed, inwardly; she’d wondered if Brian had been the one to teach Sarah, but it was clear she didn’t treat him like a tutor. Brian, at least, had had some formal schooling. The thought made her smile as she followed Sarah up the stairs and into the dining room.
“I meant to ask,” she said. “Do you teach magic here?”
“Not officially,” Sarah said. She gave Elaine a wintery smile. “But we do watch for students with potential and try to steer them towards us. If we’d known about your spells …”
She paused, suddenly. “Do the Inquisitors know about them?”
“I’m not sure,” Elaine said, honestly. Dread knew, of course, but had he discussed the matter with anyone other than Light Spinner? Come to think of it, had Light Spinner talked about it with her advisers? Elaine doubted it – powerful magicians wouldn’t have wanted to consider spells that might make lesser magicians their equals – but it was possible. “I was talking about them with a few people, but I don’t know how many others they might have told.”
“You should have kept them for yourself,” Sarah said, curtly. “Or shared them with us.”
“I didn’t know about you at the time,” Elaine said. She’d only heard vague rumours of the Levellers before Johan had met Hawke … and she’d never taken them seriously. “And we were short of trained magicians. Too many died in the Golden City.”
“Good,” Sarah said. “The Empire is rotten to the core. It needs to die.”
“There will be war,” Elaine said. “Kingdoms will declare independence, then wage war on their neighbours. Dark Wizards will tear through entire countries …”
Sarah smiled as she passed Elaine a plate of food, wrapped in a stasis spell. “Tell me,” she said, sweetly. “What exactly do you have sitting on the Golden Throne?”
“A monster,” Elaine said. She had no doubt of that, not after Deferens had cast a spell on her that would eventually have worn her down, if she hadn’t managed to free herself just in time. And he’d sacrificed children to summon the dragons back into the world. “Deferens is a monster in human form.”
And he has the Witch-King pulling his strings, she added, silently. Everything Deferens has done must benefit him in some way.
“Exactly,” Sarah said. “Or, in other words, a Dark Wizard.”
Elaine sat down and began to eat, barely tasting the food. The Empire had ruled the entire world for over a thousand years. Indeed, most people believed the Empire to have been around for far longer; Elaine suspected that only the Witch-King and she knew better. But now, with a tyrant on the Golden Throne and the Inquisitors at his beck and call … the Empire had become a nightmare. Perhaps it was time for it to go.
But if we can’t hold it together, she thought, remembering when she’d been on the Privy Council, what will take its place?
Chapter Seven
“So that’s how you did it,” Dread said, looking down at the barrel of Firepowder. “And there’s no magic here at all?”
“None,” the chemist confirmed. He hadn’t shared his name; indeed, he’d refused to meet their eyes as he showed them the Firepowder. “And I can’t make any more either.”
Johan cursed under his breath. “There’s three bridges,” he said. “Do we have enough to bring them all down?”
“The first bridge can be burnt,” Bill said. Sarah had introduced him to them, then headed off with Elaine to learn magic. “It’s the other two that are the real problem. I don’t think we have enough Firepowder to wreck them both.”
Johan turned to look at him. He was fat and bald, although there were muscles rippling under his arms that suggested he would be a nasty customer in a fight. Johan suspected, from the way he had looked at Sarah, that he had a crush on her, although there was no way to be sure if it was anything more. They certainly hadn’t acted like lovers, but that might not mean anything.
“Getting onto the bridge will be a problem,” the chemist said, bluntly. “There aren’t any Iron Dragons at night, but the bridges are guarded at both ends.”
Dread leant back, thinking hard. “We couldn’t just blow a hole in the middle,” he said, slowly. “That could be repaired quickly, perhaps even before the enemy arrives. We’d need to wreck the spans.”
“There are other ways to produce fire,” Johan said. His power could produce something, he was sure. “Couldn’t we go out there and see?”
“We might have to,” Dread said. He looked at Bill. “Can you take us near the bridges so we can inspect them?”
“Of course,” Bill said. “What do you want to do with the Firepowder?”
“Leave it here, for the moment,” Dread said. He threw a glance at Daria, still in wolf-form, then nodded. “We’ll come back for it if we see a way to put it to use.”
Johan followed Dread and Bill out of the hidden workplace and down through the streets towards the river. The smell of rotting fish grew stronger; he had to force himself not to gag as they passed a market, the tables strewn with fish, shellfish and even a single giant whale being slowly cut down into its component pieces. Bill explained, as they headed onwards, that Falcone’s Nest sent out a handful of whaling ships, although the whales tended to be very good at fighting back. It wasn’t uncommon for whalers to vanish somewhere in the cold ocean.
He looked down the river towards the sea as it came into view, then tilted his head to look at the bridges. They were spectacular, strange mixtures of wood, stone and iron – the final one quite resistant to magic – that dominated the river. It must have been an immense task to build even one of them, he reasoned; the cost in lives must have been terrifyingly high before the river had finally been tamed. And yet … he peered towards the waters and shuddered as he saw the currents, out in the midst of the river. Sarah was right. The Lug was still a treacherous piece of water.
“Guardhouses at both sides,” Dread said, quietly. “And reinforcements on call, ready to intervene if we did anything. Those structures may even be tougher than the Watchtower.”
“And the blast needs to strike the spans,” Bill added, equally quietly. “Firepowder doesn’t work like blasting hexes, sir. If you put a barrel beside the span the blast will follow the path of least resistance.”
“Then we’d need to get the Firepowder inside,” Dread reasoned. “But how?”
He shook his head. “I need to consider the possibilities,” he added. “Can you give us some time here?”
“Sure,” Bill said. “Just meet up with us at the inn.”
He turned and strode away, whistling cheerfully to himself. Dread sat down on a wooden bench, stroking Daria’s fur absently. Johan had to fight to keep the amusement off his face; Daria was, after all, a werewolf. Surely, someone had noticed by now. It wasn’t as if she was the same size as a regular dog.
But few werewolves would pretend to be normal, he reminded himself. They might refuse to believe that a werewolf could act like a dog.
“I don’t see any way to do it, unless your magic can work,” Dread said, softly. “Do you think you can damage the bridges?”
“I’m not sure,” Johan admitted. On one hand,
his power cut through normal wards and protections as if they weren’t there; on the other, he’d never tried anything so large. A normal magician could summon fire and use it as a weapon, but would it be enough? “Do you think I should try?”
“I think there isn’t any other choice,” Dread said. They’d talked a little about his power in the days since Dread had lost his, although it hadn’t been a pleasant conversation for either of them. “We’ll try at night, unless you want to try now.”
Johan nodded. “We’d have time to warn the others,” he said. “Will they try to close the gates?”
“That’s a problem,” Dread agreed. “But we can probably slip out, if necessary. There’s usually a tunnel or two running under the walls.”
They rose, then returned to the inn. Daria snapped back into human form as soon as they were safely in their room and headed for the bathroom, while Johan lay down on the bed and watched darkness slowly descending over the city. Dread spoke briefly to Sarah – and an exhausted Elaine – and then ordered food for the rest of them. Elaine, it seemed, had already eaten. Johan watched her sleeping for a long moment, then turned his attention to Dread and Sarah.
“The families are already out of the city,” Sarah said, shortly. “Those of us who are magicians are going to be coming with you, as you wanted. The others … are going to be making themselves useful when the Emperor arrives.”
“You can’t stop him,” Dread said.
“We can at least try to make his life miserable,” Sarah said. “The City Fathers will bend the knee to him at once, should they live so long. We, on the other hand …”
“Very good,” Dread said. He leant forward. “We’ll slip out of the inn once it gets completely dark.”
“Just make sure you stick to the shadows,” Sarah advised. “Can either of you cast a glamour?”
“ … No,” Dread said.
“Then make sure you take some coins to bribe the Watch, should they catch sight of you,” Sarah said. “You don’t want to spend the rest of the night in the pokey.”
“Of course not,” Dread agreed. “Can you get me some equipment? I need a rope and a set of janitor’s tools.”
Sarah smiled. “Planning a spot of burglary? They hang thieves here, you know.”
Johan shuddered. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
They set out again an hour later, picking their way through the darkened streets. Johan couldn’t help feeling that the streets were darker than before, as if the city was slowly becoming aware of the danger confronting it. There were only a handful of lanterns, while many of the citizens seemed to be heading indoors as fast as they could. The marketplace, so full of life when he’d seen it earlier, was now deserted; he slipped on a piece of fish and swore quietly as he almost landed on his rear.
“Careful,” Dread hissed. “You don’t know if there’s anyone on guard.”
Johan nodded as they slipped down to the river and peered into the darkness. It was eerie; he could see a handful of lights, where a number of boats floated in midstream drifting up and down with the tide. The bridges themselves were illuminated by lanterns hanging down from the railings, indicating their positions to anyone foolish enough to try to sail up or downriver in the pitch darkness. And, on the other side of the water, he saw nothing. There wasn’t even a single light shining out in the shadows.
“There could be anything out there,” he breathed.
“You’re getting the idea,” Dread said. There was a grim note to his voice. “The Emperor could have moved advance scouts to the Lug under cover of darkness.”
Johan looked up. The stars were twinkling overhead. Were there dragons up there too, unseen and unheard, just waiting for the command to attack the city? It would be hard to hide something so big from detection, but if the magicians weren’t looking for dragons who knew if they’d sense anything? Did dragons have a magical signature? There was no way to know until one of them crossed a ward intended to sense magic-users …
Dread touched Johan’s shoulder. He jumped.
“There isn’t much time,” Dread warned. “Try to take out the bridges now.”
Johan nodded, taking a deep breath. No matter what Elaine said, his power just didn’t work normally. Using it was difficult, nothing like Elaine’s careful building up of spells for maximum effect. Indeed, it only worked well when he really – really – wanted something, be it freedom from Jamal or revenge on his cursed family. And he didn’t really want to destroy the bridges. They were brilliant.
He clenched his fists, summoning hatred. They were dangerous. The Emperor could use them to ship troops across the Lug and take Falcone’s Nest, then advance onwards to Ida. It could not be allowed. He forced himself to think of the innocent civilians who were in deadly danger, concentrating his anger on the bridges. Again, there was a strange shimmer of power …
… And he hated. He hated the bridges.
The first bridge went up like a fireball, the heat so intense that steam boiled up from the water as the bridge melted like a snowflake caught in bright sunlight. Johan heard someone screaming as night turned to day, but he had no time to care as he switched his hatred to the second bridge. It was easier, now, to generate the rage that boiled through him, tearing through the bridge and sending great gouts of flame spewing in all directions. The third and final bridge seemed made of stronger stuff, for a long second, and then it too melted as the flames grew hotter and hotter. The heat slapped his face, setting a dozen wooden ships on fire, their sleeping crews trapped beneath the decks as flames roared through their boats …
… And he was killing them.
He sagged to his knees, anger gone. How many people had he just killed? The Levellers had been sure there were no people on the bridges at night – apparently, it was a guaranteed whipping to be caught trying to sneak across under cover of darkness – but they hadn’t bargained on him incinerating the boats. Guilt stabbed him, a bitter guilt that tore through his rationalisations. The bridges had had to die – of that he was sure – but did the innocent civilians deserve to die too?
“Impressive.” Dread said, neutrally.
Johan looked up. The first bridge was gone; little remained, save for a handful of foundations poking out of the water. Flames crackled along the water’s edge, incinerating the remains of the guardhouse. Beyond it, the second bridge was a twisted ruin – the iron, it seemed, had survived the fires – while the third bridge was still burning brightly. Somehow, Johan doubted that anything could cross now. All the City Fathers would have to do to keep themselves safe – or safer – was round up the boats and move them to their side of the Lug.
He saw a burning boat and shuddered. How many had he killed?
“We can’t stay here,” Dread said. Someone had started to ring the bells – and, in the dark hours before dawn, it could only be to warn of danger. The fires were dying down, throwing the riverside back into darkness, but it wouldn’t be long before guardsmen were scouring the shoreline for signs of who – or what – had destroyed the bridges. “They’ll catch us.”
Johan barely heard him. He reached out for Elaine’s presence in his mind, but she was sleeping. There would be no comfort from her … if, of course, there was anything she could say to make him feel better. He’d just killed at least a hundred innocent people to save thousands more. He didn’t deserve comfort, he deserved punishment. How was he any different from Jamal?
“Come on,” Dread snapped. “They’re coming!”
He pulled Johan to his feet, then up towards the darkened streets as the sound of running footsteps echoed through the air. They were just in time; a long line of armed men ran past, heading down to the shore. The bells were growing louder as more and more temples added their bells to the chimes, alerting the population to … what? Johan wondered, as Dread pulled him further into the darkness, if the City Fathers would finally believe in the dragons. A dragon could easily rip a bridge to shreds if it wanted.
Or if the Emperor ordered them to cut
the links between Falcone’s Nest and the other riverside, he thought. Maybe he’d want to keep rumours from spreading further.
“Keep quiet,” Dread ordered. “And stay in the shadows. We don’t want to be caught anywhere near the riverbank.”
Johan nodded and followed Dread as they returned to the market place. A handful of men carrying improvised weapons stood in the centre, looking for potential threats. They didn’t look very professional, but he knew that didn’t stop them from being dangerous. Gritting his teeth, he stayed low and followed Dread as he crawled under the tables and into the alleyway at the far side of the marketplace. The smell of fish faded, to be replaced by the smell of humans trying to find a place to stay for the night. A handful of men were huddling together against the wall, wrapped in blankets. He felt a stab of pity as they crawled past them and onwards, back towards the inn.
“Hey,” a voice bellowed. Johan jumped. “Stop!”
Dread muttered a curse as Johan turned to see a City Guardsman running towards them, club in hand. There was a nasty expression on his face as he approached, a strange combination of glee and fear. Johan puzzled over it for a moment, then realised the guardsman must be torn between the rewards and dangers of catching the people responsible for destroying the bridges. But would they have the slightest idea what had happened?
“Show me your papers, now,” the guardsman demanded. “Why are you out this late?”
“It’s like this, officer,” Dread said. “I …”
He slammed a fist into the guardsman’s throat, crushing it instantly. The guardsman, already dead, fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Dread checked the unfortunate man’s pouch, removed a handful of coins and a small wallet of papers, then dragged the body into the shadows and dumped it there.
“The body will be stripped by the homeless when they find it,” he said, when he noticed Johan staring at him. “They’ll mess up any signatures a magician can use to track us, if they even try. Guardsmen die all the time.”
Johan shuddered, fighting hard not to lose his dinner. Dread had killed the man so … so casually. Johan had killed far too many people when he’d taken down the bridges, but that had been different. Dread had done it with his bare hands. It …
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