Daria shrugged.
The herald slowly unfolded his scroll, his every action suggesting that he was well aware of his own importance. Johan eyed the man’s uniform – a red, yellow and green creation that looked alarmingly like a trifle – and carefully kept his amusement to himself. Whoever had designed the uniforms had either been a sadist or had wanted to make damn sure that the wearer would be instantly recognised. Johan rather hoped the herald was paid good money for his efforts. Few people would want to wear such a uniform unless they were insulted with a fairly considerable bribe.
“Hear Ye, Hear Ye,” the herald said. His voice was loud enough to carry over the howling from the baby werewolves, probably augmented by some kind of charm. “Hear Ye. By the Grace of the gods – all hail the gods – our Emperor has returned to the city and claimed his Throne. All hail Emperor Vlad of the Golden City!”
Johan gaped at him. An Emperor? The genealogy tables his father had made him memorise, before he’d been confirmed as completely lacking in magic, had said there were no living members of the Imperial Bloodline in existence. And if they had been in existence, they wouldn’t have lived long enough to claim the Golden Throne. The Grand Sorcerers had been in power long enough to take precautions against any upstarts coming forward to take everything they’d built up over the years. Johan had no doubt, given how he’d been treated by his family, that any genuine descendant of the last Emperor would have spent the rest of his days croaking on a lily pad, if he was lucky. Or he might simply have been killed out of hand.
“By order of the Emperor, none may leave the city,” the herald continued. “Remain in your homes” – he cast a disdainful look at the carriages – “until his rule is established, then you may do as you see fit. All hail the Emperor!”
The herald blew his trumpet again, then rolled up the scroll and turned to leave. Johan hesitated, then ran after him. The man turned to face Johan, his face unpleasantly sweaty with fear. Clearly, he’d drawn the short straw when he’d been sent to inform the Travellers – and everyone else in the less pleasant parts of the city. And yet, there had been a time when Johan would have happily traded places with him, even if it had meant facing angry werewolves.
“You said there is an Emperor,” he said. “How?”
The herald eyed him, as Johan’s father had done when he had asked a particularly stupid question. “The Emperor took the Golden Throne,” he said, in tones Johan wouldn’t have used to address his youngest sister. But then, his sister had turned him into a doll more than once and played with him. “He has assumed control of the city.”
Johan swallowed. He didn’t know how anyone could have taken the Throne, but he suspected the worst. Had someone tricked the Golden Throne? Was that even possible? The Golden Throne was ancient, old enough to be impossible to alter without risking one’s complete destruction. Or was there a real Emperor seated on the Throne? What did that mean for the city?
“Thank you,” he said. He took a breath, then asked the next question. “Who is the Emperor? I mean ... who was he before he assumed power?”
The herald cleared his throat meaningfully. Johan scowled in sudden understanding, then produced a gold coin from his pocket and dropped it into the herald’s waiting hand. The man smiled, made the coin vanish in a way that had nothing to do with magic, then leant forward.
“He was Privy Councillor Vlad Deferens,” he said. “And now he is the Emperor.”
He bowed, then turned and strode off, leaving Johan staring after him in shock. Elaine had told him about Vlad Deferens, but nothing she’d said had been very good. The man had been raised in a fashion that made Johan’s father seem nice and normal ... and he’d made one bid for supreme power before, back when the previous Grand Sorcerer had died. And if Elaine was right, his hatred of women was legendary. The gods knew his homeland saw an exodus of female magicians every year. How had he been able to cope knowing that the supreme ruler of the world was female?
He must have killed her, he thought. Or imprisoned her. Somehow.
“Johan?” Daria said. “What did he say?”
“Vlad Deferens is the new Emperor,” Johan said. He was still too stunned to think straight, but certain things were clear. As a Privy Councillor, Deferens might have known Elaine’s true nature. She would be a valuable prize ... as well as a woman in a position of power. The bastard could kill two birds with one spell by taking her prisoner. “And Elaine has to be his prisoner.”
He cleared his throat. “We have to go after her.”
“We can’t stay here,” Daria said, more practically. “But we need a plan before we try to break into the Watchtower.”
She held up a hand. “I’m going to speak with the elders,” she said. “You stay here and think.”
Johan watched her go, admiring the way her robe tightened around her buttocks, then closed his eyes and tried to reach out to Elaine. But he felt nothing, apart from a faint sense of her presence. Had she been drugged? Or had she been turned into something inanimate? Or ... there were too many possibilities, all of them bad. Elaine was tougher than she looked, but she could be broken; anyone could be broken. And once Vlad Deferens got her to talk, he’d know that Johan was still alive.
And he will see me as a threat, Johan thought. He’d never quite come to terms with realising that powerful magicians, the ones who had scorned him as a Powerless, had feared and hated him when they’d discovered he could steal their powers. Vlad Deferens would have Johan killed, once he got his hands on him. I have to remain out of sight.
Daria returned, looking grim. “They want us to leave,” she said. “I think they’re planning to head for the tunnels now, before the city is closed completely.”
“They’ll have closed the tunnels by now,” Johan predicted, grimly. There were only a handful of ways in and out of the Golden City, unless someone wanted to try climbing the mountains. “They’d have done that before they told everyone about the change in power.”
“And everyone will want to leave,” Daria agreed. She sighed, then shook her head. “I think we’d better find somewhere safe to hide, then think about our next step.”
Johan scowled at her. He wanted to find Elaine, now. But he knew she was right. Elaine had to be well-guarded, wherever she was, and they would need a plan – and allies – to get her before Vlad Deferens could turn her into a slave. Or simply kill her out of hand. As Emperor, he would have access to the Black Vault, after all. He might decide he didn’t need the knowledge crammed in her head.
“Very well,” he said, with ill grace. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere few dare go, even now,” Daria said. She turned and started to walk away from the carriages. “Coming?”
After a moment, Johan followed her.
Chapter Seven
It felt like an eternity before the Inquisitors returned to the holding chamber, long enough for Elaine to erect a whole new series of mental defences. They wouldn’t hold forever, she knew all too well, but at least they would preserve her mental integrity long enough to allow her to think and plan without opening herself to the spell. The spell itself seemed content to keep control of her body, while biding its time. She was chillingly aware that it was just waiting for her to run out of magic and collapse before it took her over completely.
“On your feet,” the Inquisitor ordered. “Are you presentable?”
Elaine glowered at him as her body obeyed orders and rose. She had never been particularly vain, not like Daria or Millicent, but she was sure she wasn’t at her best. Her face was probably showing signs of her inner struggle, her robes were torn and dirtied and her hair was completely out of line. The idea of being presentable was absurd, given the circumstances.
“Probably not,” she snarled, feeling the compulsion to answer the question welling up within her. The spell’s inventor had a lot to answer for. “But unless you’re willing to give me a proper bathroom and a pair of stylists, this is the best I can do.”
The thoug
ht made her temper worsen. Elaine had never really believed in the gods, but there was a certain amount of satisfaction to be had in listing the hundreds of different hells and imagining which one might be playing host to the demented spell-inventor and everyone who had ever listened to him. The Inquisitor didn’t seem concerned by her comment – he’d probably heard worse every day of his career – and merely took her by the arm, then frog-marched her out of the holding chamber. Elaine wondered why he didn’t just issue orders and let the spell do its dirty work, then pushed the thought aside as she was half-pulled up the stairs and down towards the Throne Room. The vast army of soldiers she’d seen when she’d entered was gone.
She looked up at the Inquisitor and dared a question. “Where have the soldiers gone?”
“Out on the streets,” the Inquisitor answered. “The population must be kept under control.”
Elaine blinked in surprise. She’d expected nothing more than a command to shut up – again – or a slap across the face. Instead, she’d received an answer. She puzzled over it as the Inquisitor led her through a pair of doors, wondering if the Inquisitor was resisting his oaths on some level. No matter the oaths he’d sworn, he couldn’t be entirely happy about finding himself the servant of a new Emperor. At least the Grand Sorceress had been intelligent as well as powerful and capable.
They entered the antechamber and waited, patiently. It didn’t seem to have changed much from when Elaine had last visited, apart from a handful of portraits that had been placed on the walls. They were showing legendary emperors, characters who were as much myth as reality, people who were the very distant ancestors of the man sitting on the Golden Throne, waiting for her. The newcomer had to have put them up, Elaine decided, as she studied the nearest portrait. Light Spinner wouldn’t have wanted to remind anyone that there had been a time before the Grand Sorcerers.
Not that anyone would have doubted it, Elaine thought, coldly. There is always a beginning and an end.
She pushed the thought aside as the doorway leading to the Throne Room swung open, seemingly of its own accord. Magic washed out at her, scanning her down to her component atoms, then pulled back, allowing her to enter the chamber. The Inquisitor gave her a push, then marched beside her as she stepped through the door. This time, the Golden Throne was glowing, emitting a radiance that was only visible to someone with magic ... and a man was seated on the Throne, lounging there as if he had every right to belong. And his face ...
Elaine stopped, dead. Vlad Deferens.
“Ah, Elaine,” Deferens said, with faux courtesy. “Come in, come in.”
Elaine cursed under her breath as her legs did as they were commanded. She walked forward until she was standing right in front of the Throne, staring at it – and its occupant – as if they were the only people in the room. There was something about the magic that caught her attention and pulled her to it, almost effortlessly. Everyone had known the Grand Sorceress and her predecessors were powerful magicians, and knew not to push them too far, but the Emperors inherited their positions through birth. The Throne helped keep their followers humble.
“It must be a surprise to see me here,” Deferens said. “Or did you expect me all along?”
“No,” Elaine said, truthfully. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“You never took me seriously,” Deferens commented. His voice hardened. “Did you?”
Elaine winced. She’d disliked Deferens from the moment she’d first heard of him, when she’d learnt about his views on women. If given unlimited power, Deferens would reduce women to servitude, if they were lucky. She didn’t understand how anyone could harbour such misogynist thoughts, but he came from an entire country of misogynists. Humiliating him in public, when she’d thought she would die as soon as the whole affair was over and there was a new Grand Sorcerer, had seemed a good idea at the time.
“I always took you seriously,” she said. “I just never liked you.”
“And now I am the Emperor,” Deferens said.
Elaine half-closed her eyes in the hopes it would make it easier to see, but it didn’t work. The radiance from the Throne was magical, after all. It wasn’t something she could just block out, as long as magic ran in her blood. The Golden Throne was far more than just a seat, she knew; it was something more, something protective. And it couldn’t be fooled. If Deferens had been accepted by the Throne, he was the rightful heir.
“Tell me something,” she said. “When did you know you were the heir?”
Deferens frowned. “I have always known,” he said. “My family have cherished the bloodline for a thousand years.”
“But when did you know?” Elaine repeated. “How did you learn?”
And who, she asked herself, am I talking to right now?
She leant forward, studying Deferens closely. He had always been unkempt, prancing around in skimpy clothes so he could show off his muscled arms and legs, but now there was something a little different about him. Deferens had an ... edge to him that hadn’t been there before, she was sure. And that edge meant that he might have been touched by the Witch-King.
Or touched by the Golden Throne, she thought. Who knows what the Throne does to successful candidates.
“I just knew,” Deferens said.
Elaine shook her head, slowly. She would bet her small fortune that Deferens hadn’t known, until he’d been nudged into taking the Golden Throne. His family would be protected by their ignorance – and their distance from the Golden City. And their warped social structure might have been designed to allow the Witch-King to breed them, as a dog-breeder might breed his dogs. By controlling the women so precisely, the Witch-King might have been able to ensure that Deferens had precisely the right link to the Imperial Bloodline that he needed to take the Throne.
And we told ourselves that we were so clever when we blocked his first attempt to grab the Throne, she thought, bitterly. How did one beat an opponent who had literally centuries to lay his plans? Did Kane lay waste to part of the city just to cover the Witch-King’s plans?
She yelped as a sharp smack exploded against her bottom. “As I was saying,” Deferens said, as the Inquisitor stepped backwards, “I now rule the world.”
“So it would seem,” Elaine said, resisting the urge to rub her behind. “You don’t rule everyone, not yet.”
Deferens smirked. “It’s only a matter of time,” he said. His expression became ugly. “And now it is time for you to pledge your loyalty.”
“Go to one of the hells and stay there,” Elaine snapped.
He surprised her by laughing. “The spell my puppets used on you will wear you down, eventually,” he said. “You will be worse than an oath-sworn servant then, my dear Elaine; you will be a slave, a helpless slave, unable to resist even the slightest order. You, of all the people in this city, know it. Swear to me and you will maintain at least some freedom.”
Elaine bit her lip. He was right, she knew. Sooner or later, she would have to sleep – and when she opened her eyes, she would be as obedient and helpless as Deferens could possibly want. But she would still have a chance to beat the spell, if she could sit down and focus for a few hours, before it was too late. Swearing an oath of loyalty to him would destroy any chance of resistance for good.
“Never,” she said.
“In a day or two, perhaps less,” Deferens said. “Perhaps much less.”
He rose to his feet and leered down at her. The radiance faded slightly, allowing Elaine to tear her attention away from him and look around. A young girl – Charity Conidian, she thought – was kneeling in the shadow of the Golden Throne, her eyes wide with fear. Despite her own condition, Elaine felt a stab of sympathy. Charity had probably been bullied into offering Deferens her oath, even though she was technically a Family Head. She would now be nothing more than his slave, as long as her magic held out.
“You should look over there,” Deferens said. He pointed one long finger into a dark corner, where something lurked in the shadows. �
�What do you make of it?”
Elaine frowned, puzzled by the abrupt change in subject. The object looked humanoid, but too still to be a living human. An animate statue? There were legends about statues that only moved when one wasn’t looking, legends that various sorcerers had tried to make real after realising what wonderful guards they would make. But only the very greatest of them could animate a single statue, let alone protect it from counterspells cast by roving thieves.
“Let me show you,” Deferens said. He cast a spell, crafting a beam of light which he shone into the corner. “Now what do you see?”
Elaine stared in horror as she realised that it was no statue. She was, as far as she knew, the only living person who knew what Light Spinner looked like, under her veil. The Grand Sorceress had experimented with wild magic, in her younger days, and she’d been lucky. She’d only escaped with heavy scarring, scarring that – like Elaine’s eyes – no amount of magic could hope to fix. And she’d hidden her face for fear of what would happen if people knew she’d been scarred so badly. It was hard, Elaine knew, to blame her. People who were touched by wild magic tended to go insane very quickly.
And the statue wasn’t of Light Spinner, it was Light Spinner.
She stepped forward, drawn by a compulsion she didn’t recognise, until she was touching the stone. Normally, there would have been a shimmer of magic around any transfigured object, human or animal. But the statue had only the faintest glimmerings of magic, suggesting that the spell hadn’t just petrified Light Spinner, it had locked her so firmly in place that even her thoughts had shut down completely. Perhaps it was a mercy, Elaine knew. Being an object, even for a few brief moments, could be terrifying.
Deferens caught her shoulder, his touch making her want to cringe away. “Impressed?”
Elaine pulled herself free of him. “What have you done to her?”
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