“I don’t think we’re going to be able to get back to the inn,” Dread said, as he pulled Johan further down the maze of alleyways. The noise of an alerted population was growing louder and louder. It wouldn’t be long until they stumbled over the body. “I wonder …”
He looked up at the windows, then nodded to himself and scrambled up the side of the wall like a monkey. Johan had no time to do more than stare as Dread opened the window, slipped inside and vanished. Moments later, he stuck his head back out of the window and dangled a long line of rope down to Johan. Bracing himself, Johan gripped hold and climbed up the wall and through the window. Inside, it was a musty room with a tiny bed. A young man lay there, staring at them in horror. Dread had tied his hands and feet, then shoved a cloth in his mouth.
“We’re not going to harm you,” Dread whispered, “as long as you answer a few questions truthfully. This is a doss-house, right?”
The man nodded, frantically. “Good,” Dread said. He reached into his pouch and produced a pair of gold coins. “You stay quiet and don’t do anything and you can have this when we leave.”
Johan blinked. “I …”
“Tiny room, communal bathroom and little else,” Dread said, curtly. “Just the sort of place for an apprentice craftsman until he graduates. And no one pays any attention to any of them, as long as there isn’t a riot underway.”
“Good,” Johan said. Outside, he could hear running footsteps. “What happens tomorrow?”
“We’ll see,” Dread said.
Johan nodded, then froze as he sensed a sudden flash of alarm from Elaine. Something was wrong. She was in danger!
“What happened?” Dread asked. “Johan?”
“She’s in danger,” Johan said. “I have to go to her.”
“It’s suicide right now,” Dread said, grimly. He looked down at the dirty floor. “They must have started rounding up outsiders, people from outside the city. Shit!”
Johan swallowed. The cover story, already flimsy, wouldn’t last very long when Elaine’s captors realised her two guards were missing. They had to get back to her …
… But with so many people on the streets, it would be impossible.
He closed his eyes, reaching for her presence in his mind. I’m sorry, he sent. But we’ll be there as soon as we can.
Chapter Eight
Elaine started awake when she heard the bells.
For a moment, she thought she was back in the Golden City. The bells had woken her when she’d been an ordinary librarian, with little to look forward to beyond endlessly shelving books. Not that it had been a bad life, she had to admit; boring, perhaps, but it was all she’d ever wanted. And then she recalled just where she was and sat upright, feeling her head spinning in pain. She’d drained herself too far teaching magic to the Levellers.
Daria snapped back into human form and walked over to the window. “There’s a riot outside,” she said, peering through the murky glass. “And flames in the distance.”
Elaine sat upright. Her ears were nowhere near as sharp as Daria’s, but she could hear hundreds of people shouting, barely audible under the deafening sound of the bells. She grabbed for her wand from where it was hidden, under her pillow, yet she barely had the energy to produce a spark of magic. She gritted her teeth, then reached for Johan’s mind through the mental link, but all she sensed was a flurry of odd feelings. Her tiredness had weakened the link.
“Shit,” she muttered. “What are they rioting about?”
“I’m not sure,” Daria said. “But the flames seem to be coming from the bridge.”
Elaine massaged her temples. Dread and Johan had set out to wreck the bridge and, judging by the flames, it looked as if they’d succeeded. And the people below were rioting …? Did they think the enemy was at the gates?
“We might need to get out of here,” Daria said, sharply. The sound of the crowd was turning nasty. “Someone’s shouting about dirty foreigners.”
There was a crashing sound from downstairs. Elaine swung her legs out of bed and stood, despite the tiredness in her muscles. The shouting was growing louder, the sound of the crowd as it surged out of control echoing in her ears. It made no sense – Falcone’s Nest was a trading town; there were hundreds of foreigners within the walls – but it was happening. She remembered the rioting in the Golden City and shuddered, just as the entire building shook violently. Here, there were no Inquisitors to stop the riot.
“They’re crashing upstairs,” Daria said. “We need to get out of here.”
She snapped back into wolf form and sniffed the air, growling faintly. The sound sent shivers down Elaine’s spine. She’d never really been scared of Daria, not after learning her long-time friend was a born werewolf, but now she understood why so many people were terrified of werewolves. She gritted her teeth, then raised her wand as the sound of running footsteps grew closer. There didn’t seem to be any easy escape.
The door burst open, revealing four wild-eyed men. They looked at Elaine and stared, their mouths dropping open in horror. It took Elaine a moment to realise that she’d forgotten to renew the glamour on her eyes and it had faded when she’d fallen asleep. To them, she had to look like a monster – or worse. Daria growled and lunged forward, teeth and claws ready to fight; one of the men raised a wand and slammed a spell into her, tossing her right across the room. She landed on her feet and came back, teeth bared, but the second spell threw her right through the window. Elaine desperately reached for a spell, even a tiny one, yet her magic was too drained to respond. She scrambled backwards in terror and fell, tripping over her own feet. There was a dull thud as her head hit the wooden floor and everything blurred out for a long moment …
“Kill the bitch,” someone growled.
“No,” another voice said. “You heard the boss. Take the foreigners to the pit.”
“She’s a monster,” a third voice said. “Red eyes are never good.”
Elaine fought to reorder her thoughts. Her head was spinning madly, a dull ache reminding her that she’d banged her skull against the ground. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders, leaving her wondering if her entire head was dead or numb. It took her several minutes, in her confused state, to reason out that she would be dead, if her neck had been snapped. No magic could keep someone alive like that for longer than a few minutes …
And they’d seen her eyes. It was too late to try to hide them, even if she could. The third voice had been right; red eyes were never good. They almost always marked a brush with wild magic. And … did Deferens know she had red eyes? Dread knew, but had he told Deferens during his unwilling servitude? Or had Light Spinner told him when he’d asked – as Elaine knew he had – why Elaine was serving on the Privy Council? Did he know he was looking for a woman with red eyes?
Her hands weren’t working; her eyes were puffy. Slowly, despite the pain, she forced her eyelids open, fighting down the urge to squeeze them shut. She was kneeling on the floor, a wooden block resting on her shoulders; it took her a moment, through the haze, to realise that her hands were trapped in the block, holding them firmly in place. The runes carved on the wood, combined with keeping her hands largely immobile, would make it very difficult to use magic … if, of course, she’d had a spark left. It would be hours, at best, before she regained the ability to cast even the simplest spell.
She felt sick and had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up. Healing wasn’t one of her skills, but she was fairly sure she had a concussion. She swallowed again, then looked around as best she could. Five others, three men and two women, were kneeling against the wall, their hands blocked up too. A pair of children, a boy and a girl, sat next to them, their eyes wide with fright. Judging by their clothes, they too were outsiders.
Johan, she thought, trying to speak through the bond. I …
A wave of nausea overcame her, forcing her to stop trying to reopen the bond. She wasn’t sure if it was the blow to the head, or the charms on the block, that were keeping her
from touching Johan’s mind, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was a prisoner … she looked past the other prisoners, trying to see their captors. A handful of grim-faced young men were leaning against the wall, one of them holding Elaine’s wand in his hand as he looked around. The magician? She had no way to sense his presence without magic of her own.
“Get them on their feet,” the magician snapped. “Hurry!”
One of the male prisoners sneered at him. “Do you think there’s going to be a trade deal after this?”
“Dirty foreigner,” the magician said. He nodded to one of his men, who punched the prisoner in the stomach, then dragged him to his feet and shoved him against the wall. “We don’t need your trade!”
The statement was so absurd that Elaine stared at him in disbelief. Falcone’s Nest depended on trade. Ships would dock, bringing trade goods from all around the world, and depart carrying trade goods from the Golden City or any of the inland states. There was no way Falcone’s Nest could survive for long without trade. Attacking foreign traders – and long-term residents – was nothing more than a fancy way of committing suicide. What were they thinking?
She scowled inwardly as she was helped to her feet. The plank made it damn near impossible to do anything more complex than standing straight; if she fell, she’d be unable to break her fall. Her captors sneered at her as she was pushed against the wall, then searched her quickly and efficiently. The magician poked at her pouch carefully before pocketing it. Elaine knew there was no point in trying to protest, even though there were a dozen gold coins concealed within the pouch. There was no hope of escape until her magic recovered and she could make contact – again – with Johan.
I should be used to this by now, she thought, feeling an odd flicker of amusement. At least they haven’t hit me with any spells.
The thought jarred a memory loose from her mind. Daria had been blown out of a window … and then, what? A werewolf could survive anything short of powerful magic or a silver blade – her brain offered a dozen ways to use magic to overwhelm a werewolf – but it had been a long fall, right into the midst of an angry crowd. Was she all right? Had she had the sense to run and hide? She could find Johan and Dread and lead them to Elaine with her nose … or was she sneaking around somewhere, waiting for an opportunity? There was no way to know.
She pushed the thought out of her mind as her captors started hustling the prisoners forward, through the door and out into the bar. The innkeeper – Sarah’s father – met her eyes for a brief moment, but said nothing as she walked past him. His clients weren’t so restrained; they hooted and jeered, while one of them threw a mug of beer at one of the captive woman. She lowered her head as much as possible as the beer soaked into her thin nightdress, leaving it clinging to her skin. Elaine silently promised herself the chance to hex the man, when her magic returned, then braced herself as the doorway was pushed open. Outside, the sun was just starting to rise.
I must have been out for hours, she thought, numbly. It had felt like seconds, but she had a feeling her judgement was unreliable. It was dark when the riot started, wasn’t it?
The streets were jammed with people, staring at the foreigners as they were marched out of the inn and into the middle of the road. Elaine cringed inwardly as more insults – along with a handful of rotten vegetables – were thrown at her and the other captives. She gritted her teeth as she saw an egg strike one of the children, the thrower snickering loudly, as if he’d done something worthy of applause. The crowd laughed as the little boy started to cry …
This isn’t normal, Elaine thought, numbly. Something’s forcing them to act this way.
But was that true? She’d seen hangings – and other public punishments – and the crowds watching hadn’t behaved any differently. They’d jeered at men walking towards the gallows, they’d laughed at women placed in the stocks for the night; they’d even hurled stones at criminals who were particularly unpopular. Maybe it was human nature always to mock the weak, just as she’d been mocked in the Peerless School. Or maybe the Witch-King was behind it, urging the crowd on. He had to know where they were going, after all, and a purge of foreigners might well catch one or more of them.
It did catch one of us, Elaine thought, as they were herded into a public park. It caught me.
“Stand still,” the magician growled. He held her wand in front of her, then snapped it effortlessly. “Would you like these pieces inserted where the sun doesn’t shine?”
Elaine did her best to ignore him, pretending to be in shock. They didn’t know she could do wandless magic; hell, if they had bothered to calculate her potential, they’d be damn sure she couldn’t do wandless magic. It wasn’t easy to cast a spell without using a focus – a wand was really nothing more than a stick – but she could do it. If, of course, she managed to get her hands out of the block.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, steadying herself, then looked at the wood. The runes were designed to direct magic away from the wood, breaking the spell down into nothingness. It wasn’t a bad piece of work, she had to admit, but it was outdated. The Inquisitors had devised far more capable handcuffs for magical prisoners. Given time, she was sure she could overpower the runes and escape …
If they give me the time, she thought, glancing around. The park was slowly filling with prisoners, all clearly foreigners. Men, women and children, many looking terrified as the crowd stared at them, anger and hatred written over their faces. Were they going to be publicly lynched? Sold into slavery? Or merely left here to rot as the crowd jeered and threw things? What are they doing?
“Kneel,” the magician ordered. “Get down on your knees.”
Elaine scowled, but resistance was clearly futile. The grass was muddy and stained her trousers, leaving her feeling cold and powerless. She was trapped … which, she knew, was how they wanted her to feel. Gritting her teeth again, she kept studying the runes. Breaking free would be simple enough, if she could muster the power …
She frowned as she saw a man, wearing dark blue robes, levitating himself into the air and clearing his throat. He must have used an amplification spell; she had no difficulty in hearing his words, even over the roar of the crowd. And he must have been important, because as he started to speak the crowd quietened down. Even the hail of rotten vegetables and pieces of mouldy fish came to a halt.
“For too long, we have been dependent upon foreigners,” he said. His voice was so compelling that Elaine knew he had to be using magic. It was almost hypnotic; anyone who thought, even slightly, that he might be right wouldn’t be able to avoid falling under his spell. “They have taken our wealth and what have they given us in return? Nothing!”
“NOTHING,” the crowd echoed.
“They have even destroyed our bridges, our pride and joy, our triumph over the Lug,” the speaker continued. “The entire world hated and feared the power we showed when we tamed the river and opened the far side of the continent to trade. Now, they have ruined our bridges and ruined our lives.
“I, Alfred of House Godwin, say NO MORE!”
“NO MORE,” the crowd echoed.
“Today, we purge the dirty foreigners from our city,” Alfred screamed. His dark moustache wobbled as he spoke. “Today, we obliterate all foreign interference and return to the days of our forefathers! Today, we show them the power that tamed the Lug!”
Elaine stared at the crowd, feeling sick. They couldn’t believe it, could they? But they wanted to believe it. Falcone’s Nest really wasn’t that important, save as a trading post; they had to resent their position even as they valued the money it brought. As far as she knew, the city didn’t really produce anything, apart from dried fish. But the crowd wanted to believe him and, as long as they wanted it, they were easy prey for his spell.
They don’t have a hope, she thought, bitterly. Even if Deferens wasn’t a few days away, they’d never be able to survive. There are five other states dependent on trade links through Falcone’s Nest.
It wouldn’t be long before an invasion force brought the trading post to heel.
She cursed, inwardly, as she saw the plan. Falcone’s Nest would have a civil war, sooner rather than later, making it easier for Deferens to enter the city. Yes, the bridges were gone – at least, she hoped they were gone – but he’d still be able to fly troops over the river and land outside Falcone’s Nest. The city wouldn’t have a hope of mounting a defence.
The Witch-King is clearing the way for his tool, she thought, as she peered at Alfred. Even from a distance, it was clear the sorcerer wasn’t entirely in his right mind. Like Hawthorne, he’d been touched by the Witch-King; like Deferens, he was sacrificing his own advantage for the Witch-King, probably without having the slightest idea that he was being manipulated. This city would be a great place to slow him down, if the City Fathers could be convinced to mount a defence.
She wondered, again, just how the trick was done. Most compulsion spells tended to be blindingly obvious, at least to an outsider, but the Witch-King’s spells were undetectable. Or so she assumed. Any reasonably capable Great House would regularly check its own people for traces of outside influence – and, she assumed, Deferens’ family would have done the same for him. And yet they’d found nothing. She wondered, briefly, if she’d have the chance to examine Alfred, then dismissed it as unlikely. There was no way he’d sit down and let her poke and prod at his mind for a few hours.
“The dirty foreigners will be paraded around the city, then butchered in the pit,” Alfred said, loudly. “They will see – the entire world will see – just how we defend our rights!”
Elaine shuddered as the crowd roared its approval. It was madness, absolute madness. Once word got out – and it would – there wouldn’t be a single ship docking at Falcone’s Nest. And the friends and relatives of the dead would be furious. Alfred was likely to wake up in a few days and see an army approaching his city …
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