“I’m only twenty-three, or thereabouts,” Daria said. “I’m not that old.”
Elaine snorted. It was clear, at least to her, that Daria and Cass liked each other, at least enough to be comfortable bickering like an old married couple. It wasn’t romantic, she suspected, given how many men Daria had chased, but it was a form of true friendship, even companionship. She felt a brief stab of envy that she forced to one side. Daria had always found it easier to make friends than Elaine and had always been a social animal, while Elaine ... had preferred the company of her books to other people. But then, books couldn’t reject her.
She sighed, then turned her attention back to the paper in front of her. There were spells Cass could use, if she was determined to go ahead with the assassination attempt, and she wanted to get them out on paper before it got too late. She barely heard Daria’s announcement that she was going out for some fresh air, or Cass’s reminder to stay in wolf form for the entire walk. All that mattered was writing down the spells.
“I know that one,” Cass said, after pacing up and down the room like a caged animal. “You don’t need to tell me it twice.”
Elaine frowned. “Just how many spells on the forbidden list are taught to Inquisitors?”
“More than you want to know,” Cass said. She paced away from Elaine, and then back again. “How many spells on the forbidden list are crammed into your head?”
“All of them,” Elaine said, flatly. “Unless one or two were deemed too dangerous to write down and died with their creator.”
“We should be so lucky,” Cass said. “Everyone writes down their spells. Tradition.”
“Tradition,” Elaine echoed, with a sigh. “One that we might want to change.”
She paused. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
Cass scowled at her. “What makes you think I want to talk about anything?”
“You’re stamping around the room like a wild bull,” Elaine said. “What’s bothering you?”
“Do you know,” Cass said, “just how many plots there are, each year, against the Watchtower?”
“No,” Elaine said. “But I can’t see there being many.”
Cass gave her a wintery smile. “Try thousands,” she said. “They range from idiot young sorcerers who think they can climb up the mountains, to dark wizards and outright thieves who want to steal something from us. We’ve had family members plotting to liberate their relatives from our cells, junior dark wizards looking for our books and idiots who hate us all looking for a little revenge. And most of those plots don’t get very far before we stop them, if they even get moving in the first place. After a thousand years, you’d think we’d have plugged all the holes in our defences, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Elaine said.
“And now there’s a great gaping hole in the Watchtower’s wards that none of us ever considered,” Cass snapped. “We thought we were safe from lunatics with swords, or spears, or even hurling knives. And now the entire building is about to come crashing down!”
Elaine looked down at the table. “Is that a bad thing?”
Cass whirled around to face her. “Would you say the same if someone destroyed the Great Library?”
Elaine flinched back, then caught herself. “A year ago, I would have been horrified at the thought,” she said. “Now ... now I’m not so sure.”
“How lucky you are to be so certain,” Cass sneered. “A year ago, I was an Inquisitor. Now, I’m conspiring against the rightful ruler of the world and plotting the destruction of my former comrades. And my family. I’m guilty of so many crimes that it would be hard for them to decide which one they’re going to hang me for, if they don’t burn out my brain and put my body in a cheap whorehouse. I don’t think anyone has ever committed so many crimes in so short a space of time.”
“Valiant did,” Elaine said, quietly. Very few people knew the truth behind the great hero of the First Necromantic War. “He became the Witch-King.”
She stared down at her hands, feeling her heartbeat racing inside her chest. “You can’t blame yourself,” she said. “What you’re doing ... is what you need to do.”
Cass glowered at her, then paced over to the bed and sat down on it, hard. “My family wanted me to be like Charity,” she said, angrily. “Gorgeously beautiful, without a single brain cell between my ears. I think they had ideas of marrying me off to the Grand Sorcerer or perhaps the Administrator, both men in their nineties. Or someone wealthy and powerful enough to deserve their daughter. They didn’t even insist on me studying household charms at the Peerless School. I was bored out of my mind when I heard an Inquisitor speak about the job and I knew what I wanted to do.
“My parents were furious when I changed my major, but by then it was too late. I’d studied everything I could and practiced duelling with the older boys until I could fight with and without a wand. The Inquisitors accepted me for training, which was so hard I nearly quit five or six times before I finally passed through all the hoops. And then I spent a year apprenticed to Dread before I earned the ring. Do you know how many people he’s failed since he earned his own ring? Do you know that someone can be denied a chance to retry if a senior fails him? I did not fail! They put me on the streets and I did well.
“And now look what I have to do,” she said. “My mentor will kill me, if he gets a chance, while I will either kill the Emperor or die trying. It won’t look very good. My parents would disown me if I hadn’t already cut all ties to them.”
“As part of the price of being an Inquisitor,” Elaine recalled. “You never had a boyfriend?”
Cass snorted. “You try telling the boys you’re an Inquisitor and see how quickly they jump out of your bed,” she said. “The only people who might really understand the job are your comrades and you’re not actually allowed to sleep with them. And most of my childhood friends abandoned me when they realised that I was actually planning to study.”
“I’m sorry,” Elaine said, tiredly. “And I wish I could do something to help.”
“I know you can’t,” Cass said. “And I don’t blame you for it.”
“Thanks,” Elaine said, dryly. She paused, then leant forward. “Are you actually related to Johan?”
“Fifth or sixth cousins, I think,” Cass said. She smirked. “I was playing an older woman, so I lied about the precise relationship.”
She sighed. “Not that it really matters. I broke my family ties a long time before I knew he existed.”
“My ties are worse,” Elaine said.
“I know,” Cass said. “I read your modified file. And that got me thinking. What happened to your mother?”
Elaine frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “All I know from the orphanage was that I was left on the step one morning, in a cheap basket. The Orphan Mother never told me anything else, even when I was an adult. I used to wonder ... well, I had all sorts of fantasies about who my parents might have been. But when I found out, I wished I’d just been the daughter of a maid or someone who absolutely could not tell her parents she was pregnant.”
“It happens,” Cass said. She rolled her eyes. “And to think any alchemist shop would stock a potion to prevent any little mishaps.”
“The parents probably don’t help,” Elaine said. The Orphan Mother’s only pieces of advice on growing up and having sex had been rather less than informative. It hadn’t been until she’d gone to the Peerless School that she’d understood why she bled each month. “If they don’t tell their little darlings the facts of life, they get surprised when their little darlings run into trouble.”
“True,” Cass agreed. “Would you like to know how many times I’ve dragged a bratty teenage child home, only to have the parents insist that it was someone else’s fault?”
She sighed. “But really, what happened to your mother?”
“I don’t know,” Elaine repeated. “Did the Inquisition turn up anything?”
“Nothing,” Cass said. “But all we could reall
y do was compare you to the register. If your mother was ever a magician, she never studied at the Peerless School.”
“I don’t think I want to know who she was,” Elaine said. “After my father ... no, I don’t think I want to know.”
“You might want to worry,” Cass said. “What happened when your father got his hands on you?”
Elaine shivered. Her father had used their relationship to copy the knowledge from her head into his own, then use it to nearly claim the post of Grand Sorcerer. It wasn’t something she cared to think about, not really. Discovering that her father had been a real prince – or at least a king’s son – had come with a nasty sting in the tail. But Cass was right. There was a very real chance her mother was still alive.
“We know the Witch-King goes in for long plots,” Cass said. “You might have a sister or two out there as well. Or a brother. You may have been the only one who threaded the needle and went to the Peerless School.”
“I will see what happens when it happens,” Elaine said, tiredly. “But ... but I don’t want to think about it now.”
“I don’t blame you,” Cass said. She walked over to the bed, then started to undress. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow either.”
She paused. “When’s Johan due back?”
“He’s got the next room,” Elaine said. “Hawke was going to show him a few things, then bring him back here. I could call him now, if you like.”
“Don’t bother,” Cass said, as she finished undressing. “Just remember to make sure you and he both get plenty of sleep before tomorrow comes.”
Elaine nodded. “I will.”
***
“Mildred is far better now,” Hawke said, as they sat together in a secluded booth. “I thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Johan said. It was odd, but he felt more comfortable with Hawke than with any of the magicians. “Did you get her out of the city?”
“She and her mother are currently staying somewhere safe, yes,” Hawke said. “I understand your brother fled the city.”
“He did,” Johan confirmed. “Are you planning to go hunting for him?”
“I could,” Hawke said. “Should I?”
“No,” Johan said. “Having to live without power is punishment enough.”
Hawke lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure of that?”
Johan smiled. “Jamal could wave his hand and everyone would jump to make sure he got whatever he wanted,” he said. “Now, no one is going to give a shit about him. If he wants food, he will have to work for it; if he wants a bed, he is going to have to earn enough money to rent it. All his life, he’s been using magic to manipulate the world around him. Now, he no longer has any power. I think he will have a whole series of unpleasant surprises until one of them finally breaks and kills him.”
“I’ve heard too much about his antics,” Hawke agreed. “You want to place a bet on how he dies?”
“Too many possibilities,” Johan said. “All I want is never to see him again.”
“Amen,” Hawke said. He lifted his glass of beer and took a long swig. “You like this place?”
“The pub?” Johan asked. “It’s ... different.”
“Where many different worlds meet,” Hawke agreed. He nodded towards a cluster of men sitting in the far corner. “Court Wizards, from a handful of kingdoms. They’re not sure what’s happening here, but they’re not planning to leave until they find a way to take advantage of it for themselves. Behind them, the girl sitting there and looking vapid is a sneak for one of the major broadsheets. There will be some interesting headlines in the papers tomorrow.”
Johan smirked. “Why don’t they just use privacy spells?”
“I think they don’t really realise that mundane people have ears,” Hawke commented. “The idiots don’t take anyone without power seriously.”
He nodded towards another table. “They’re local merchants,” he added. “They want to keep moving goods out of the city, and bring in raw materials, but the blockade is making it harder for them to earn money. Chances are, the banks will foreclose on their loans soon enough and ... well, they won’t be able to put food on the table any longer.”
“I know,” Johan said. “It isn’t easy out here, is it?”
“Your words betray your birth,” Hawke said. “It was never easy out here.”
Johan took a long breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I ... I used to want to be out here, riding the Iron Dragons. They were magic enough for me.”
“You may get your chance,” Hawke said. “The future is never written down.”
He sighed, then looked up at Johan. “Have you ever slept with a girl?”
“... No,” Johan said, shocked. “Never.”
Hawke met his eyes. “Do you want to?”
Johan started to sputter. “You ... you can’t just ask like that!”
“Why not?” Hawke asked. “You think you’re the only student who comes here hoping to pick up a girl? There are girls there” – he nodded towards a handful standing at the end of the bar – “who would be happy to tend to your needs. There would be no obligation, no long-term consequences ...”
“No babies?” Johan asked. “Or would they consider it a honour to bear a magical child?”
“They would use protection,” Hawke said. “Or I could find you a boy, if you were interested ...”
“I like girls,” Johan said, quickly. “But ...”
He swallowed, staring at the girls. They looked attractive although, given how few girls he’d seen before he’d left his family, he knew that was meaningless. None of them looked more than a year or two older than him ... he wanted them, he knew he wanted them. And yet, he knew that Elaine would know what he’d done. Would she say anything to him about it? The thought made his face heat in embarrassment. What if she scolded him for enjoying himself when he should be sleeping? Or what if ... she was jealous?
No, he told himself firmly. That’s absurd.
But was it? They shared an intimate bond. Logically, there would be some resentment if one or both of them found intimacy elsewhere ... but magic so rarely responded to logic. If he slept with one of the girls, or if she slept with a boy ... what would it do to them?
“They’re safe,” Hawke said, quietly. “And I owe you more than just a night of pleasure.”
“I think it would be better if I didn’t”, Johan said, softly. Clearly, the risk of ending up in bed together wasn’t the only danger posed by the bond. She would experience his strong emotions and vice versa. “But I thank you for the offer.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Hawke said. He reached into his pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper, which he passed to Johan. “There’s an address on the front which belongs to one of my business partners, in Knawel Haldane. Take it to him after you leave the city and he will help you on the way. Wherever you’re going, I wish you good luck.”
“Thank you,” Johan said, automatically. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“I trust you more than any born magician,” Hawke said. “And one of you has to know where to go.”
“Elaine is a good person,” Johan said. “I like her ...”
Hawke sighed. “But what has she done, in six months on the council, to keep rogue magicians under control? People like her think of us mundanes as pets. They don’t consider us real people. Maybe she isn’t as powerful as the former Inquisitor up there, but she still has magic and that sets her apart from the common herd. And besides ... your friends were horrified when they saw the Firepowder. You were the only one who saw the possibilities.”
“Of using it to level the balance of power,” Johan said. Something clicked at the back of his mind. “You had a workshop in the Western Hills, didn’t you?”
“It was attacked by a Dark Wizard,” Hawke confirmed, “along with most of the city. We didn’t know if it was coincidence or something worse.”
Johan thought about Jamal and his future – or lack of a future – and no
dded. The prospect of Firepowder – and whatever else came out of the fertile minds of researchers – reshaping the balance of power was attractive to him, but he could see why Cass and Elaine would be horrified. Their magic might not give them any advantages in a world where anyone could make stuff blow up.
But it will be a long time before they manage to duplicate everything we do with magic, he thought. A very long time indeed.
He drained the last of his beer, then rose. “I’ll go to bed now, if you don’t mind,” he said, quietly. “Alone.”
“I understand,” Hawke said. He rose, taking one last look at the girls as he moved. “And good luck. I doubt we will see each other again past tomorrow.”
Johan stuck out a hand. “Good luck to you too,” he said. “And good night.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Charity entered the Emperor’s dressing room and stopped, dead. The Emperor stood in the centre of the room, stark naked, while a set of naked serving girls washed his body with warm, sweet-smelling water. She hastily looked away, blushing bright red, and then prostrated herself in front of him. The Emperor laughed, then ordered her to rise to her knees, forcing her to watch. Charity wanted to look somewhere – anywhere – else, but the orders were specific.
“I trust that all the preparations have been made,” the Emperor said, as the girls washed a very intimate spot. “And everything is in place?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. “Lady Aisling sent a note in which she confirms that the Arena is ready for your speech.”
“How good to know that someone can actually do their job,” the Emperor mused. “It’s such a pleasant change.”
Charity kept her face impassive with an effort, but suspected it was a waste of time. Lady Aisling and her family had been charged with operating the Arena since time out of mind, as they were politically neutral, while also not being powerful enough a bloodline to produce a Grand Sorcerer of their own. They knew how to handle everything from the acclamation of the next Grand Sorcerer, to the gladiator or beast fights that kept the plebs amused. It might have been short notice, but they’d definitely been able to prepare the Arena for the Emperor.
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