Daria clamped her hands over her mouth, then bulged out her cheeks. Elaine snorted rudely, then motioned for her friend to sit down. Johan sat on the sofa and tried to keep his eyes off Daria, fearing that the apprenticeship bond would choose that moment to start working properly. The last thing he wanted was for his mistress to know he was lusting after her best friend.
She must be used to it, his thoughts mocked him. It was clear, now, why Daria wore her robes. She could shift into wolf form without them getting in the way and, with a little care, could shift back into a human without running around naked. Daria is gorgeous.
Oh, shut up, he told himself, angrily.
He looked around the office as Elaine moved a pile of books from one chair and sat down, heavily. The room was crammed with books, ranging from magical textbooks that had been added to reading lists for next year, to various tomes that hopeful authors had sent to the Head Librarian, requesting their inclusion on the library shelves. Johan had devoured as many of the textbooks as he could, in-between studying with Elaine and trying to determine the exact nature of his powers, but he hadn’t found them as helpful as he’d expected. His magic just didn’t seem to behave according to the normal rules.
But you weren’t allowed to read them at home, his thoughts reminded him. His father had reluctantly enforced the law forbidding non-magicians from touching books of magic, but at least he’d been kind about it. Jamal had taken great delight in rubbing Johan’s nose in the fact there were books he would never be able to read. And now you’re making up for lost time.
He scowled as he remembered his elder brother, the now-powerless brother. The gods alone knew what had happened to him; Elaine had said, rather dryly, that Jamal had left the city, shortly after the Inquisitors had released him from custody. Johan honestly wasn’t too surprised. Jamal had been horrible to just about everyone who wasn’t a social superior – there hadn’t been many of those – and his victims would want a little revenge. The thought of Jamal turned into their plaything was darkly amusing. Jamal had, after all, treated Johan as his plaything.
“The seers have been having dreams of impending disaster,” Daria said. There was an edge in her voice that cut through Johan’s thoughts, bringing them back to reality. “They don’t want to stay in the city any longer than strictly necessary.”
“I’m not sure I blame them,” Elaine said. “What are they dreaming?”
“Nothing specific,” Daria said. “But they still want to leave.”
Johan looked at Daria, trying hard to keep his eyes on her face. “Don’t they see actual events in their dreams?”
“The Sight doesn’t work like that,” Daria said. There was a hint of annoyance in her tone, although it didn’t seem to be directed at Johan. “They never see specific events, merely hints and insights into the future – and feelings, of course. In this case, they’ve been telling everyone who will listen to them that they have a sense of impending disaster.”
Johan looked at Elaine. “Is this reliable?”
Elaine frowned. “Sometimes,” she said.
She didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, but Johan could sense her worry through the bond. True Seers were rare, very rare. His father had once told him – more accurately, he’d told Jamal while Johan was in earshot – that a True Seer would be snatched up by the Grand Sorcerer, if his powers were proven to be real. But most Seers tended to only see hints of the future, little details that could be anything ... and then use hindsight to prove they’d been right all along. Jamal had sneered at the concept and, for once, Johan had to agree. A prediction about meeting a tall handsome stranger could be spun in any direction, with a little ingenuity, while the absence of specifics made it impossible to disprove the prediction.
But people still believed their personal futures could be mapped out for them, if they asked the right fortune teller. Johan’s father had sneered at the concept, pointing out that it rarely worked as advertised – and when it did, the results were sometimes unpleasant. Once told, a future would come true, even if it was nightmarish. Johan didn’t pretend to understand how ignorance could be bliss, but he wasn’t going to dismiss his father’s warning. There were some fields of magic that, no matter what anyone said, were poorly understood.
“They were warning the Travellers to abandon Loch Leven,” Daria said. “They kept having shadowy dreams of impending disaster. A few weeks later, the city was struck by an earthquake that left most of the buildings in ruins. None of the City-Fathers had listened, of course.”
“Of course,” Elaine agreed.
“Stupid bastards,” Daria said. “They might not trust us, but they should know we don’t lie.”
She got up and started to pace. Johan found himself staring again as he realised just how well the robe clung to her body as she moved. It showed no bare flesh, but it revealed the shape of her limbs and buttocks ... embarrassed, he tore his eyes away and found himself looking at Elaine. Her face was impassive, but he could sense a flicker of amusement through the bond, mixed with embarrassment. He looked down at the wooden floor instead, telling himself it was safer. At least there was nothing on the floor to distract him.
“The gaffer wants to leave the city immediately,” Daria said. “I managed to convince him to wait a couple of hours, so I could come fetch you. Do you still want to come with us?”
“... Yes,” Elaine said. The hesitation that echoed through the bond was surprisingly strong, suggesting she was truly reluctant to leave. “We just need to finish packing, then I need to hand the wards over to Vane. She can hold them until the Grand Sorceress selects my successor.”
Johan frowned. “Why not just give the job to her permanently?”
“She might,” Elaine said. She shrugged. “But I don’t get to choose who will succeed me.”
Johan nodded. If some of Elaine’s tales about her predecessor as Head Librarian were true, not every Head Librarian had taken up the job willingly. He wouldn’t have been happy to remain confined to the city, not after his family had treated him as a prisoner, but Elaine was different. She was unadventurous and shy, so much so that Vane – her Deputy – handled almost all of her personal contacts. The library staff sometimes had to wonder if their Head Librarian truly existed.
Don’t be silly, he told himself. They know she exists.
Daria cleared her throat. “They will be leaving in two hours,” she warned. “Can you be ready by then?”
“I think so,” Elaine said. “I would prefer not to travel on the Iron Dragons.”
“Then start packing,” Daria said. “Hurry.”
Elaine reached for a sheet of paper, sketched out a note for Vane, then tapped it with her wand. Johan watched, feeling a glimmer of awe, as the paper rose into the air and disappeared through an air vent. Wherever Vane was, the note would find her. It was less spectacular than other magic he’d seen – his brother had been fond of using him as a target for all kinds of spells – but he had to admire her precise control. Most magicians were more than a little sloppy when it came to using magic, spending it freely. But then, Elaine had very little power of her own.
And a little less would have seen her excluded from the Peerless School, Johan thought. He understood the frustration Elaine sometimes felt, even though she was the most knowledgeable magician alive. She had to be focused and utterly precise, while her peers could achieve everything she could and more by waving wands around at random. And yet, given time to think and plan, she made a formidable opponent.
“Go pack,” Elaine ordered. “Daria and I will wait for you here.”
Johan nodded, then rose and headed through the door. Outside, a handful of library assistants were carting boxes of books past him, using spells to manoeuvre the crates through the air. Johan shivered – that spell had been used to play with him, once upon a time – then allowed them to pass him before he walked down to his apartment. The ward Elaine had placed on it, keyed specifically to keep the rest of his family out, glowed as he app
roached, recognising his presence. If his father, or Charity, or anyone else who was related to him had tried to enter, the wards would have taken offence. The results would not have been pleasant.
And serve them right, Johan thought, as he opened the door. I don’t want anything to do with them.
He pushed the thought aside, then stepped into the room. It was larger than his bedroom in House Conidian, dominated by a bed large enough for two people. Elaine had told him that the apartments were normally assigned to visiting scholars, who apparently liked their comforts. Johan had – barely – managed to avoid asking if those comforts included women from the city. He knew, thanks to Jamal’s boasting, just how easy it was to find a whore to share one’s bed for the night, even though he’d never done it himself.
And Daria would look nice on the bed, he told himself, before he angrily thrust the thought away from him. Daria was older than him by at least four years, assuming she and Elaine were the same age, and a born werewolf. She would have the enhanced sense of smell common to all werewolves ... he cringed in sudden horror as he realised she would know what he was thinking or feeling. His scent would change every time he looked at her ...
Shaking his head, he reached for his bag and checked his clothes. Elaine had told him to bring as little as possible, so he’d packed two sets of clothing, a couple of books and a small bag of money. Thankfully, his vault in the City Bank hadn’t been sealed or handed back to Charity, in her new position as Family Head. Johan couldn’t help wondering if Charity had ever known that their father had attempted to bribe Johan into returning to the family fold ... or if she expected the vault to remain closed until she was ready to demand access. The bankers wouldn’t be in a hurry to tell her it existed, after all. They gained more from leaving the money in the bank, under their loving care.
And I should write out a will, Johan thought, although he’d been discouraged from doing anything of the sort. Something that will leave my money to someone – anyone – else.
He sighed as he picked up the bag, then took one last look around the chamber. It was plain and simple, but it was his, the first place he’d felt truly secure. Jamal and his other siblings, even Charity, hadn’t hesitated to make his room at home into a nightmare, hiding magical booby traps everywhere. He still remembered the two days he’d spent as a stone with shuddering horror, even though his father had eventually tracked him down. And none of the others had ever been punished for their crimes against him ...
The memory made him shiver, helplessly. He hastily put the bag down, then closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental discipline Elaine had taught him. It seemed to come easier, now that he was her apprentice; perhaps a little of her precision had rubbed off on him. But he was always aware of her presence at the back of his mind, like being able to sense the sun through clouds and rain. It was strange to realise that she wasn’t aware of him, even though she should have been. The books he’d read, when he’d been trying to decide if he should become her apprentice, had warned that his mistress would be able to compel him to obey, if necessary. But the bond he shared with Elaine didn’t seem to be able to do anything of the sort.
He pushed the thought to one side, opened his eyes and picked up the bag again. Tossing it over his shoulder, he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him with a thud. He didn’t bother to reset the ward. There was nothing left in the room he cared about, not really. He’d never had many possessions at home and he’d brought none of them with him when he’d left for good. His life had never really given him the chance to become attached to anything, certainly nothing material. He’d never been able to tell when one of his few possessions would be booby-trapped and turned into a weapon against him.
He walked back into Elaine’s office and placed the bag on the floor. “I’m ready,” he said, simply. “When do we go?”
“Now,” Daria said. She rose in one smooth motion, then picked up Johan’s bag effortlessly and peered at it suspiciously. “I hope you listened to your mistress about what you could and couldn’t bring?”
“I’m not religious,” Johan said. Elaine had warned him not to bring any religious artefacts with him, pointing out that the Travellers would not approve. “I don’t have any icons to bring.”
“Good,” Daria said. “Elaine?”
“I’ll join you in an hour or so,” Elaine said. “Johan will tell you when I’m on my way.”
“How nice,” Daria said. She gave Johan a smile that made his heart beat faster. “You have a young man who can’t get you out of his mind.”
Johan felt a surge of embarrassment from Elaine ... and, when he looked up, he saw that her pale cheeks were bright red.
“Thank you,” Elaine said, tartly.
Daria giggled, then motioned for Johan to follow her out of the door, carrying the bag in one hand. Johan hesitated, torn between taking it from her and being reluctant to get any closer while his scent was still detectable. She would know he was lusting after her ...
“I’ll see you soon,” Elaine promised. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That doesn’t leave much for him to do,” Daria called back. “Bye!”
Johan sighed, then allowed her to lead him out of the office and down towards the nearest exit.
Chapter Three
Charity Conidian felt uncomfortably like a fake as the carriage came to a halt outside the gates, allowing her to climb out of the vehicle right in front of the Imperial Palace. The lines of petitioners, many of whom had been waiting there for hours if not days, turned to stare at her as the gates opened, allowing her to enter the building. She kept her face as impassive as she could, sensing hundreds of faces glowering at her. They had been waiting for hours and she was being allowed to enter the moment she arrived? It was hard for her to blame them for being annoyed.
Your father would merely have sneered at them, her thoughts reminded her. No one said anything out loud, of course. Her golden robes marked her as someone of substance. He wouldn’t have doubted his right to move ahead for a second.
She cursed her father mentally as she walked through the gates and up to the massive pair of stone doors. Magic crackled around her, reminding her – as if she’d needed the reminder – that she was walking into the lair of the Grand Sorceress herself, a woman with the power to do anything she liked to Charity and what remained of her family. No one would come to their defence, not after the ... incident at House Conidian. Her father was effectively dead – being Powerless was worse than dead – and his network of clients had been shattered, while the sharks were already gathering. If she couldn’t salvage something from the wreckage, the Conidian Family would die.
But she didn’t know how! Jamal – wherever he was now – had been the Prime Heir, while Charity had been primed for an arranged marriage to someone who suited her father’s interests. It hadn’t been something she wanted, but she’d accepted it ever since she’d learnt to understand how the world worked. The family came first, always. And if it meant she had to share her bed with an elderly warlock who had interests her father wished to share, she had no choice, but to obey. The only consolation had been the certain knowledge that there would always be a place for her at House Conidian. But now even that was gone.
She looked up as she heard someone walking towards her with calm, measured footsteps and saw a tall blonde-haired girl, in her early twenties if Charity was any judge. The girl nodded to her, then walked past. Charity stopped and turned to stare at her as she left the palace, wondering just who she was. Her father had made sure she knew all the movers and shakers in the Golden City, as well as their children, and she didn’t recognise the blonde. It was possible she’d been brought up outside the city, yet everyone who wielded political power had to spend some time inside the Golden City. And she should have known ...
“My Lady,” a voice said. She turned to see a middle-aged man, wearing a slave collar around his neck. “You are requested to wait in the antechamber.”
Charity nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her father had been a powerful magician, the master of a spider’s web of influence ranging from the Imperial Palace to the Southern Lands, and a Privy Councillor. He could have demanded an immediate interview with the Grand Sorceress and been seen at once; she had to wait, just so she knew her place. But she was almost grateful for the chance to collect herself, she decided, as she was shown into the antechamber. The girl looking back at her from the mirror was almost a stranger ...
She rubbed her eyes, bitterly. Once, looking good as well as strongly magical had seemed a good thing. She had to attract suitors, after all, suitors who might be prepared to trade power and influence for her hand in marriage. Now, she looked weak and mournful, her large blue eyes making her look childlike. There was no point in trying to hide behind a glamour, not now. She simply didn’t feel like putting the effort forward to construct one. And she couldn’t help wondering, as she sat and forced herself to calm down, just what the Grand Sorceress wanted. The chance to cripple one of the Great Houses might well seem ideal, from her point of view.
Not that we’re much of a threat any longer, she thought, bitterly. Her father and Jamal were Powerless and Johan was dead, while her younger siblings were too young to influence events. If she failed to keep the family together, the gods alone knew what would happen to the children. Jay wouldn’t come of age for another two years and the others were younger still. We’ll be lucky to keep even a fragment of our power.
She looked down at her hand. It was shaking. Johan’s fault, of course, although he hadn’t meant to do anything of the sort. She’d been turned into animals and objects before – Jamal had picked on her too – but Johan’s power had left her deeply shaken. He might not have known it – she hoped he hadn’t known it – yet his power had blanked her out, almost completely. She hadn’t just been forced into the shape of a rat; she’d been a rat. The experience had almost destroyed her confidence completely.
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