Engine of Lies ebook

by Barbara Howe

  Fire bloomed on the dais. Jean, with King Stephen, Queen Marguerite, and Mother Celeste in hand, vanished. Lorraine stood like a pillar of ice at the edge of the dais. René, white-faced and wide awake, grabbed me and we ran for the dais with Sven on our heels.

  Jean reappeared in a blast of flame and grabbed my hand. He lunged for Lorraine; she tried to shake him off, but she was with us when the noise died an instant later. So was the rest of the human chain we had reached for: René and Sven, Maggie, Tom and Matt. Jean let go and disappeared.

  He had left us in the Fortress’s ballroom. A few feet away, the Earth Mother was calming the shaken royal couple. Lorraine glided past them towards the mirrors on the inner wall. I followed.

  She waved at the mirror, and I recoiled as the howling resumed. The mirror showed the royal ballroom from the dais. In dead centre, a duke charging towards the balcony stairs with sword in hand flamed like a human torch. I wheeled, slamming into René and knocking him down. He could pick himself up. I fled.

  The Secret behind the Secret

  By the time I conquered my nausea, the howling had stopped. In the Fortress ballroom, several dozen people Jean had plucked out of harm’s way clustered near the mirrors. Most members of the counter-conspiracy sat on the floor and watched the seething mob with dull eyes. Claire and her earl, hand in hand, were talking to Lorraine.

  Fortress staff carried in food, drink, and chairs. Mrs Cole waved a platter of bread and cheese under my nose and insisted I take some.

  A survey from the windows of the ramparts below confirmed the Fortress was free of the hideous tangle that had dominated my vision and thoughts for more than a month, but it brought little comfort. What sort of grovelling apology was adequate for ruining Maggie Archer’s life?

  The girl huddled in a corner, crying. Hazel knelt beside her, stroking her hair, although she had no healing magic left. Sven brooded over them, absorbed in his own thoughts. René slouched beside him in charged silence, glowering at Lorraine.

  I circled behind the royal family, out of the king’s line of sight, to join Lorraine and Claire. The earl bowed to Lorraine and then me, and walked towards Mother Celeste. Claire spoiled her otherwise calm appearance by tugging and twisting her bracelet.

  The Fire Warlock had regained a precarious control over the riot. In the mirror, sullen commoners streamed from the palace grounds under his baleful eye.

  Lorraine said, “Five nobles and a dozen commoners are dead. Scores more on both sides have burns, some serious.”

  Claire asked, “What will happen now?”

  “I do not know,” Lorraine said. “The mob is dispersing, but it is still enraged, and will reassemble at the slightest provocation. Warlock Quicksilver has removed the targets of their wrath, and the Fire Warlock has beaten them into temporary submission, but the brutality of the Fire Office has inflamed passions, not cooled them.”

  I said, “What does the verdict mean for Maggie?”

  “She must pay Earl Eddensford one hundred franks, and is bound to serve him for the rest of her life. If she leaves his domains without his permission, her feet will freeze to the ground. I have already informed both Miss Archer and the earl of the sentence.”

  Claire’s bracelet winked at me. I said, “I wish someone could convince the king to approve of rebuilding the Water Office.”

  Lorraine said, “That would be a blessing, but I cannot hope for it. The broken Water Office preserves King Stephen’s privileges, and this is all he understands. He does not grasp how much harm it does the noble class as well as the commoners.”

  I nibbled at my bread and cheese without tasting it. After a few minutes, Claire drifted away. My body ached. Time for bed. I turned to go, but Sven was walking towards me.

  “We were wrong, Lucinda, dead wrong. If we can’t fix the Water Office now, we’ve committed suicide.” He stared past me at Lorraine. “The conspiracy was misdirection, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You understand. Lucinda, is there another room with a mirror? I have something to show you, but it is not for everyone’s eyes.”

  “Yes, ma’am, there are dressing rooms at the end of the hall.”

  “Warlock Snorri, Master Sven, come with us. I owe you three an explanation.”

  Mystified, I led the way. As soon as the dressing room door closed, René erupted. “What the hell went wrong? We thought getting rid of that conspiracy would make things better.”

  Without taking his eyes off Lorraine, Sven said, “The conspiracy wasn’t about rape at all. It hid a defect in the Water Office making defamation cases about appearances, not truth. If a commoner accuses a nobleman of a crime, the nobleman can turn around and charge the commoner with defamation. The commoner can’t win.”

  “Exactly,” Lorraine said. “Neither can a lower-ranking noble. The ranking noble insists on the defamation trial being held first, he wins, and the evidence is ruled inadmissible in other trials. With no evidence, the other case is thrown out of court.”

  I said, “No wonder the Officeholders didn’t want that to spread.”

  “Not even the others fully understood. I trust you searched diligently, but you could not have seen what I am about to show you. Events in the Earth Mother’s amber chamber cannot be seen outside without a participant’s express permission, and neither of us has ever given that before.”

  She gestured towards the mirror. “Watch.”

  An Earth Mother and an Air Enchanter I did not recognise watched an argument between Fire Warlock and Frost Maiden. Jean looked no different, only a subtle awkwardness bore witness to his youth. Lorraine, too, was younger, and angry. Fire witch angry. Frothing at the mouth angry.

  “What have you done?” she shrieked at the Fire Warlock. “Who have you told?”

  Jean’s eyes glittered, but his voice was cool compared to hers. “I let several scholars and a few wizards in on the secret. I intend to abolish this abomination of a conspiracy, but I have had no success in finding the original spell. I have asked for help. Why should you object?”

  “Why? Because it is not your conspiracy, fool. The king and the Frost Maiden started it. Keep your hands off!”

  Jean stiffened. “But Old Brimstone—”

  “Old Brimstone found a loophole and exploited it. That monster did not care if anyone else knew. I care. If Frankland knew, the country would break down in open class warfare and anarchy.”

  Jean breathed, “But then… Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes, you dolt, you cretin.” Lorraine was crying tears of rage. “You have let more people in on the secret. Do you believe they will keep it to themselves?”

  She stabbed a finger at him, and he backed away from her, stumbling against a chair. “The great Fire Warlock, protector of women and children. What a lie,” she spat. “When more lives are ruined, their blood be on your hands, not mine.”

  René’s outrage echoed off the walls. “If it was your conspiracy, why did we have to go to all this trouble, and cause a riot that killed people, to get rid of it?”

  “Because its time is over,” Lorraine said. “If it continued after we rebuild the Water Office we would have accomplished nothing. I could not dissolve the conspiracy, even with the Fire Warlock’s help. The king had to agree, and this king would not.”

  “Lucinda.” Sven had to clear his throat twice. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded, without meeting his eyes. I leaned against the wall, not bothering to wipe away the tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Lorraine laid a cool hand on my arm. “Jean was young, and passionate. An older, more jaded warlock would have let well enough alone.”

  “He loved you,” I said. “He thought destroying the conspiracy would please you.”

  “Perhaps he still did then, but that was long ago, and I was content to let the Fire Warlock take the blame. I am grateful neither of you bear grudges
.”

  I raised my head and looked at René. You, too, little brother. Don’t hold a grudge. She did the best she could.

  He gave me a sullen stare. I’ll think about it.

  She had done the best she could. I wasn’t even angry with her for using Maggie. I admired her sangfroid in seizing the opportunity when it presented itself.

  Sven said, “But now the secret’s been exposed, and the whole country will know about Maggie’s trial. Given time, others will guess. We’ve pushed Frankland into the bubbling caldera.”

  I said, “You mean we don’t have any choice any longer. We have to rebuild the Water Office.” The words, “or die trying,” stuck in my throat.

  “Yes,” Lorraine said. “You, Lucinda, and I, and Jean are bound together. We three have set this in motion, and we three will see it through.”

  A Loving Couple

  We returned to the ballroom, and came to a stop behind the royal couple. An angel knelt before the king. Late afternoon sunlight streaming through open windows made a halo of Claire’s hair, and struck fire from her bracelet.

  “…and so, Your Majesty,” she said, “Richard couldn’t stand to have anyone else suffer from Edmund’s devilry. That’s why he stood up for Miss Archer. Please don’t be angry with him for doing what he knew was right.”

  The earl looked delighted, but stunned. The king mumbled about the earl betraying his class.

  Claire raised limpid eyes. “But, sire, don’t you see? Richard didn’t betray the nobles. Edmund did.”

  “She’s right, dear,” Queen Marguerite said. “We expect better behaviour from our kinsmen than that. If a man behaves like a common lecher, he should be treated like one.”

  “It’s not only that, Your Majesty,” Claire said. “Even a nobleman has to take orders from the people who outrank him. But Edmund disobeyed his father, and he was nothing but trouble for Richard. If he were still alive, he’d keep on causing trouble. Richard would have to keep guards around me, day and night, to protect me from his own brother. An earl shouldn’t have to do that, should he?”

  The king said, “No, that’s not right.”

  “And what about Lady Susan? She has a mean tongue, but that doesn’t excuse what he would have done to her.”

  The queen said, “She’s a duke’s daughter. Remember, dear? What he said was outrageous.”

  “That’s true,” the king said.

  “So, there you have it, sire,” Claire said. “If the Water Office can’t deal with men like him, it hurts the nobles too. That’s why I’m begging you, Your Majesty, to let them fix the Water Office. For Richard’s sake. For the sake of all the other decent noblemen who don’t want their wives or sisters or daughters at the mercy of men like Edmund.”

  I held my breath. Lorraine, one hand over her mouth, clutched my arm, hard enough to bruise.

  The king threw up his hands. “Very well. Fix the damned thing.”

  Orders came from the Fire Warlock to house our honoured, noble guests in the Fortress’s state apartments until the Water Office was rebuilt. The witches and wizards involved in the counter-conspiracy were invited to stay for their safety, but could go home if they wished. Except for me. I was not to set foot outside the Fortress until time to go to the Crystal Palace on September first.

  I grumbled under my breath, and left Jean explaining to the irate king that if the royal family stayed in the Fortress, the Fire Warlock could pay more attention to protecting the other nobles. I staggered to my old bedroom and fell onto the bed. I dozed, fully clothed, waiting for Jean.

  Moonrise flooded the room with light, and Jean had still not come.

  The Fortress was quiet, the dark ballroom long since emptied. Lamps in the state apartments indicated sleep eluded our royal guests. Jean was stargazing on the terrace outside the conservatory. He did not turn when I stepped off the stairs.

  “Could you not sleep?” he said. “You have worked wonders today.” He waved a hand; a small table holding a bottle and a goblet appeared. “Would you join me in a celebratory glass? I have pulled a vintage you might enjoy from the cellars.”

  “A celebration, is it? Why didn’t you come to my room with the bottle and two glasses rather than leaning on the balustrade with an empty whiskey glass?”

  He raised the glass to eye level, considered it a moment, and set it down. “I have been reliving today’s events, raging at my helplessness when the conspiracy threatened to engulf you.”

  “If you had tried to help, it would have made it worse. It would have fed on your power and used it against me. Isn’t that how conspiracy magic works?”

  “It is. Perhaps I am irrational, but I cannot forgive myself for failing you when you needed me. I did not approach you because I believed you would not welcome the hero you have discovered has feet of clay.”

  I crossed the terrace to stand behind him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I thought for a while, but I was wrong. His feet are the same fine materials as the rest of him.”

  He gave me a quizzical look over his shoulder. I slid my arms around him. “Lorraine showed us you tried to expose the conspiracy, and what happened.”

  He turned to stare back into the darkness. “Then you know I have innocent blood on my hands.”

  “I knew that when I married you. How could there not be blood on the Fire Warlock’s hands?”

  “Fighting a defensive war against invading armies is justifiable. Spreading a secret that harms the very people I am pledged to protect is not. I was arrogant, and others have paid for my sins with ruined lives. Those women haunt me.”

  “But how could I respect you if you had known about it and didn’t do anything? I hated that idea more. At least you tried. And you’ve been trying to make up for it, haven’t you? Two years ago you figured out I could expose it, and pushed me in that direction ever since.”

  “It was a long shot, my dear, and I had serious doubts even your righteous outrage would be enough. This summer has been hard on both of us. I had not understood how lonely a married man could be in his own home. Many, many times I withdrew from your company, because if I had stayed I would have demanded you talk to me. I despise the secrets we have kept from each other.”

  A warm glow spread from the pit of my stomach, and I hadn’t even sipped the wine. “With this over, we don’t need to keep any more secrets, do we?”

  “I cannot guarantee there will never be secrets we must keep from each other.”

  “But right now?”

  “With this over, I know of no secrets I must hide from you. There are other conspiracies in Frankland you, as the Fire Warlock’s apprentice, should know of, but both Beorn and I are free to tell you. No other is of the same magnitude as the one you destroyed.”

  “Thank God for that.” I nuzzled his neck, and he smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t insist on going up on Storm King tonight. I couldn’t summon up enough power to walk through the fire.”

  “I am not surprised. We are done with our exercises. Between now and the first of September, you should use little magic, and rebuild your reserves. You must be well rested.”

  “Good, a break from all this frantic activity would be nice. Oh, wait, no. What will I do for the next three days to keep my mind off burning to death?”

  “There is a way to free you from worries for a few days. I would not normally suggest it, knowing you detest the loss of control in being ordered to sleep. But it might be what you need now.”

  “What is it?”

  “Earth magic. A healer can divorce your body from your mind in such a way that your body does not respond to what your mind recognises as threats. With no bodily responses, your mind passes over those threats, and focuses on pleasurable activities.”

  I nibbled at his earlobe while I considered this. “What’s the drawback?”

  “You may be a danger
to yourself while under this spell. I, or one of the Fire Eaters when I am not available, would have to guard you at all times, even within the Fortress.”

  “Beorn would let you stay here to keep an eye on me?”

  “Yes. He ordered me to be well-rested, also.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  For three nights we made love like newlyweds, and danced by moonlight on a Fortress balcony, to the music of an unseen orchestra. When not eating, sleeping, or making love I read poetry, played peek-a-boo with Edward, and watched the pageant of the last hundred years’ history in the fire, nestled against Jean’s shoulder. Worries—about Maggie Archer, the Locksmith’s warning, Frankland’s future—flitted through my mind, and disappeared. The deep sadness that seemed to underlie all Jean’s actions bothered me not at all.

  September first dawned hot, humid, and still. My nightgown stuck to me, and sweat trickled down my back. The air felt heavy, full of the tension that comes before a thunderstorm. How appropriate for the day in which I would wield the lightning, and let loose a storm whose intensity we could only guess at.

  Jean had already dressed and gone. For the first time in three days, I was alone. In a corner, something moved. I shot to my feet, fully awake. An orange streak dived under the bed. I leaned against the bedpost, my heart hammering. I had nearly torched the startled cat.

  The spell had worn off. Of course it had. I had to be alert to unlock the Water Office.

  Drown that fool witch and her hidden terror. I preferred the lightning bolt’s explicit threats, as frightening as it was. Between the two dangers, how many people might die before this morning was over?

  Snatches of heated conversation floated through my mind—an ongoing argument between Beorn and Mother Celeste always choked off when I approached. Imagine, me, a fire witch, not demanding to know what the argument was about. Obviously magic had been at work.