She puzzled over it as she followed the Inquisitor around a corner ... and stopped dead. The walls were blackened and burnt, although the Imperial Palace would hardly be without the standard fire-prevention charms. A handful of charred bodies lay on the ground ... she took a breath in shock, then gagged at the stench. Burning humans smelt like pork ... Heaving, she turned to one side and retched, silently grateful that she hadn’t eaten anything before she went to bed. It would have come out of her ...
The Inquisitor waited for her to finish retching, then picked his way through the scene and down towards a hole in the stone wall. Charity followed, breathing through her mouth, and saw the Emperor standing there, beside a pair of Inquisitors and a red-robed man. The Emperor looked furious, yet calculating. Her father had often shown the same expression, when he’d been preparing for a counterstroke against his enemies. The results had not been pleasant for his victims.
A man popped out of the hatch and prostrated himself in front of the Emperor. “Your Majesty,” he said, as he rubbed his head against the ground, “the building is sealed. We cannot break into the Great Library.”
“I see,” the Emperor said. His voice was very cold. “Summon all the wardcrafters you can find in the city and assemble them in the Peerless School. They will have the task of breaking down the wards from the outside.”
The man looked surprised at not having been ordered to attend his own execution. “Your Majesty,” he said, “those wards are some of the strongest in the Empire.”
“I imagine they are,” the Emperor said. “But any ward can be broken.”
He turned to look at Charity, then the grey-haired Inquisitor. “Follow me.”
Charity hastened to obey, trailing behind the two men as they walked back up the corridor and into one of the conference rooms. Light Spinner might have ruled the Empire, her father had remarked more than once, but it was the bureaucracy that made it work, the hordes of men and women who did the actual paperwork. He’d noted that it was surprisingly easy to subvert the clerks, even if they had sworn oaths of loyalty. With the proper incentive, a bureaucrat would sell his mother for a handful of bronze coins.
“The wards should not have been broken,” the Emperor hissed. “No normal magician could have broken them. Nor could one have killed a dozen soldiers on the streets.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Inquisitor said.
“But there was one magician who could,” the Emperor added, turning to face Charity. “Is your brother alive?”
“I was told he was dead,” Charity said, truthfully. After the ... incident at House Conidian, Johan had been declared dead. It was why the headship had fallen to Charity. “Lady Light Spinner herself told me he was dead.”
The Emperor glared at her. “And you believe everything you are told?”
He turned back to the Inquisitor before Charity could muster a response. “Dread, do you know if Johan Conidian is alive or dead?”
“I was informed he was dead,” the Inquisitor said, stiffly.
Charity studied him for a long moment. Her father had been good at hiding his feelings, but Dread was in a class of his own. His face was stony, betraying no hint of any feelings at all, while his body was perfectly relaxed. In a way, she decided, he was attractive, even though he would never be considered handsome.
“But someone broke through the wards in a very strange manner,” the Emperor said. “Do you think he may still be alive?”
“I have no proof of his continued survival,” the Inquisitor said. “I was informed that he was dead.”
But the Head Librarian could have lied, Charity thought. And Dread could only tell what he believes to be the truth.
She looked at the Emperor. “Why not ask the Head Librarian?”
“The bitch has made her escape,” the Emperor hissed, angrily. “She has fled the room, after leaving one of my servants tainted with her curse.”
Charity blinked. “Tainted with her curse?”
“She passed the compulsion spell to him,” the Emperor said. “I would not have believed it possible.”
He swung back to face Dread. “Did you know it was possible?”
“No one has been able to hold out for more than an hour before,” Dread said. His voice was still stiff, but Charity thought she detected a hint of amusement in his tone. “The long-term effects of fighting such a spell for so long have never been studied.”
“Then it will be studied,” the Emperor snarled. “Round up a few test subjects from the Watchtower and cast the spell on them.”
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Dread said.
He turned and marched out of the room, leaving Charity alone with the Emperor. She found herself watching the retreating back wistfully, even though she knew Dread couldn’t have protected her if the Emperor had decided to take his anger out on her. Her father never had, but then her father hadn’t been spited so badly until Johan had developed his powers. And there had just been too many other problems for him to focus on his oldest daughter.
And if he had paid more attention to me, Charity thought, Jamal’s problems would only have got worse.
“The Head Librarian has fled back to her library,” the Emperor observed. Surprisingly, he seemed calmer now that Dread had left the room. “And she has barricaded herself behind the wards. But she is also caught like a rat in a trap.”
Charity shuddered. The Great Library had powerful wards, but the Emperor’s forces could surround the building and wait for the fugitives to starve to death. She had no idea how much food and drink was stored within the building, yet she doubted they could hold out for more than a few days. The librarians had always reacted badly to anyone who brought food into the building. They wouldn’t store more than the bare necessities themselves ...
But they were preparing for the Conference, she thought, glumly. They might have stockpiled enough for a hundred guests.
There was a tap on the door. A tall man, wearing yet another red uniform – this one covered in gold braid and a handful of medals – bowed to her, then prostrated himself in front of the Emperor. Charity stepped backwards, wondering just why the Emperor encouraged such submission. Even the Grand Sorceress had never demanded that people prostrate themselves in front of her, unless they were slaves. But slaves prostrated themselves in front of everyone.
“Your Majesty,” the man said. He sat upright, but remained on his knees. “I have surrounded the Great Library with troops and combat sorcerers. They will be unable to make a move without being caught.”
Unless there’s another secret passageway, Charity thought. She kept that insight to herself. There might be another way out.
“Just like a woman,” the Emperor sneered. He aimed his words at Charity. “She has run to a place she considers safe, without any idea of how to escape afterwards.”
“She has managed to save herself, for the moment,” Charity pointed out, stung. “And it will take weeks to bring down the wards.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the Emperor said. “She cannot escape, so all we have to do is wait for her to die, or the wards to fall, whichever comes first.”
Charity said nothing. She had the horrible feeling that he was right.
But the Great Library is full of knowledge, she thought, slowly. There might be a spell in there the Head Librarian can use to escape.
The Emperor kept speaking, addressing his subordinate. “You will take command of the troops personally, General Vetch,” he said. “I will not tolerate failure.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” General Vetch said. He prostrated himself once again, then rose to his feet and backed out of the room. “I will not fail you.”
Charity frowned after him, then looked at the Emperor. “Why do they all prostrate themselves in front of you?”
The Emperor smirked. “It is good that you’re asking such questions,” he said. “It shows you are learning your place in the new order.”
And that I want you bragging instead of thinking, Charity th
ought.
“Our society is based on the strong ruling over the weak,” the Emperor said. “It is a strong man who can protect his women and his servants, while a weak man will lose his wives and daughters to the strong. A strong man thus demands respect from the weaker men surrounding him, or they will start to think of themselves as his equals and consider how best to overthrow him. Prostrating themselves in front of me helps to keep them humble.”
He leered at her. “Not that I need that with you, my pretty.”
Charity flushed, darkly. The Emperor hadn’t hurt her, or forced himself on her, but he seemed to take an unholy delight in constantly reminding her that she had submitted herself to him. Perhaps it was that which had saved her from warming his bed, she considered, although she knew she didn’t dare ask out loud. Her submission marked her as weak and, as such, useless to bear the strong children he wanted.
But if they’re breeding their women into helpless docility, she asked herself, what is that doing to the male children?
Magicians could determine the sex of their children, but – apart from the firstborn child – rarely bothered to make sure they had a male or female child. Mundanes preferred male children, yet could rarely afford the potions to ensure they birthed a boy. There was no real difference between male and female when it came to magic and a daughter could be just as useful as a son. And yet ... she had the feeling that the Emperor’s homeland had been specifically selecting male children, at least among magicians.
“A true man is constantly rebellious, constantly looking for a way to turn the tables on anyone who holds him down,” the Emperor added, breaking into her thoughts. “I have to watch my subordinates carefully, knowing that one of them will eventually try to put a knife in my back.”
“You don’t seem too worried about the possibility,” Charity observed.
“If I am overthrown and killed,” the Emperor said, “I will be replaced by someone stronger, because he was able to kill me. The prize, as always, goes to the strong.”
Charity shuddered. “Your son might kill you,” she said. “Or even a random slave.”
“I killed my father,” the Emperor said, almost casually. “Did your brother never consider killing your father?”
“I do not know,” Charity said. “I hope not.”
She scowled at the thought. Jamal ... Jamal might well have considered killing his father, but the Inquisitors would definitely have investigated. If caught and convicted, Jamal would have been executed, rather than been allowed to assume the headship. And Johan ... Johan had rendered both his father and Jamal powerless. Had he wanted to subject his tormentors to a fate worse than death?
But father could cow Jamal, Charity reminded herself. He only did it once or twice, but he could.
The Emperor smirked. “Do you think your brother is still alive?”
“I do not think Johan would stay in the Golden City,” Charity said. “All he wanted to do was leave.”
“I see,” the Emperor said. “But he was apprenticed to the Head Librarian, right? He would have had to stay with her?”
Charity pursed her lips. It was ... improper for a young man to be apprenticed to a woman, even if there were only four years between them. No, that made it worse, because it was certain that their hormones would push them into bed together. As far as she knew, Johan was still a virgin ... he wouldn’t be able to understand or resist the impulses coming down the link. If he had had to bond with a woman, it should have been with one at least old enough to be his mother ...
“I suppose,” she said, finally. “But he did not seek my approval for the bond.”
The Emperor scowled. “A male submitting to a woman,” he said. “It is never a good sign.”
“The Empire itself submitted to a woman,” Charity pointed out, before she could stop herself. “Light Spinner was very definitely a lady – a Lady.”
“And her power fell when I challenged her,” the Emperor said. “And so will the rest of the Empire.”
He smiled at her, coldly. “Go organise the wardcrafters,” he said. “I want to be in the Great Library as soon as possible.”
Charity paled. “And what about the hostages? Or my other tasks?”
“Forget them,” the Emperor ordered. There was no give in his voice at all. “Just break into the Great Library as quickly as possible. I will not be denied my prize.”
“I will have to organise someone else to look after the children,” Charity said. The thought of young children starving in their rooms, or running around the palace looking for food, drink and fun, was horrific. “I ...”
“Go,” the Emperor thundered. “The children can wait!”
Charity bowed her head, then obeyed.
Chapter Seventeen
“Is she going to be all right?”
“I think so, Johan,” Cass said. “But these spells are always chancy.”
Johan scowled as he looked down at Elaine’s sleeping form. She looked smaller, somehow, when she was asleep, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in and out. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness that stunned him, then silently promised himself he would do whatever it took to protect her from the world. And yet, she was the one protecting him ...
“The wards,” he said, as he straightened up. “How long will they last?”
“Long enough,” Cass said. “Do you know where we can find showers?”
Johan gaped at her. “You’re in the middle of a library and you want a shower?”
“You need to wash the blood off too,” Daria said. She was still naked, looking down at the bruises covering her body. “There’s stuff in my bloodstream you really don’t want in yours.”
Johan flushed, then forced himself to look away. “There are sleeping quarters on the upper levels,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “You should be able to wash there. I don’t know if there will be any spare clothes, though.”
“I can clean them,” Cass assured him, dryly. “What about yourself?”
“I should stay with her,” Johan said. He looked down at his stained tunic and sighed. “But I’ll go for a shower once you’re back.”
He watched the two women leave the room, then turned his attention back to Elaine. Her presence in his mind was clearer now, as if Cass boosting the link had strengthened it permanently. Johan settled down next to her and tried to clear his mind, calling on exercises Elaine had taught him when he had started to use his magic for the first time. But nothing seemed to work for more than a few seconds. His thoughts kept twitching all over the place.
“We have guests,” Cass said, as she strode back into the room. “There’s a small army outside our walls.”
“Crap,” Johan said. He wished he was surprised. “Can they break in?”
“Not for a while, I think,” Cass said. She leant against the bookshelves, clearly thinking hard. “They would need to break through the wards, young man, and the wards protecting this building are some of the strongest in the world. I don’t think they’ll be breaking through the protections in a hurry.”
She paused, as if waiting for him to comment. Johan hesitated, then took the plunge.
“We have no way out,” he said. “Do we?”
“Not unless there’s another secret tunnel,” Cass said. “They’d see us coming out and snatch us before we could make our escape.”
Johan stood up and started to pace. “So we’re trapped here?”
“For the moment,” Cass said. She didn’t seem that worried about it. “There are worse places to be, I assure you.”
“I believe you,” Johan said. He looked back down at Elaine. “Might she know a way out?”
“Let us hope so,” Cass said. “And then, of course, where do we go from there?”
Johan considered it. “They’ll have blocked the tunnels under the mountains,” he said. “What about climbing the mountains and escaping that way?”
“Only if we want to commit suicide the hard way,” Cass said. “There’s enoug
h wild magic flaring around the peaks to make trying to climb over them suicidal. Whoever designed the weather manipulation spells surrounding the city never expected them to be so badly disrupted, I imagine. We can’t drain the reserves until they dampen down of their own accord.”
She shrugged. “There are easier ways to commit suicide,” she added, darkly. “You don’t want to try climbing the mountains these days.”
Johan gave her a sharp look. “The Watchtower is up there,” he pointed out. “And it’s safe.”
“The Watchtower is heavily warded,” Cass reminded him. She sighed. “And we have seriously considered evacuating it for a few years, until the magic calms down. If it ever does. The spells manipulating the weather are so old that disrupting them had a whole series of unexpected side effects.”
“Snow, for one,” Johan said. He’d seen snow, outside the Golden City, but the residents weren’t used to anything more than a temperate summer day. Legend had it that it was permanently sunny in the Golden City, reflecting off the gilded buildings that made up the heart of the Empire. It was how the city had got its name. “And colder weather.”
“Yeah,” Cass said. “I don’t know how many people are going to survive the coming winter.”
“I don’t understand,” Johan said. “Why ...”
“Because hardly anyone would have anything suitable for winter wear,” Cass pointed out, sharply. “Why would they stockpile clothes for colder weather when few people even bother to leave the city for a holiday? But, right now, it’s getting colder and colder and it’s only going to get worse.”
Johan swallowed. “They could ward the buildings,” he said, slowly. “Or import clothes.”
“I doubt the Emperor will give a shit,” Cass said. “And warding every building in the city would be an impossible task. The poor will freeze to death if the weather gets much colder.”
She shrugged. “But I doubt you understand that, really. You were born to a Great House.”
Bookworm III Page 16