But Cass was also a strong magician, Johan thought. How could we have stopped her from going?
“We’ll avenge her,” he said, putting his arm around her. It was never easy to know what to say, but he meant it. “One day, we will kill Deferens and his master.”
“I hope so,” Elaine said. She relaxed into his arm for a long moment, then straightened up. “I have a letter she wanted me to give you, if she ... if she didn’t make it. I don’t know what it actually says.”
Johan blinked. “For me?”
“One of them,” Elaine said. She pulled it out of her pocket, then passed it to him. “It will be charmed so only you can read it. Make sure you don’t let anyone else open the letter, or handle the paper.”
“My father taught me that much,” Johan said. “But why would she write a letter to me?”
Elaine shrugged.
Johan examined the paper closely, then pressed his fingertip against the rune Cass had drawn on the back. Magic sparkled around his finger for a second and the envelope grew warm, then the heat suddenly died. Shaking his head, he opened the envelope and pulled out a scrap of paper, followed by a heart-shaped pendant. He put it down sharply – who knew what spells were attached to it? – and scanned the letter quickly. Cass had clearly been in a hurry when she’d been writing and it showed.
Johan.
If you’re reading this, I am dead. Anything less will not alter the charm I have given your mentor, or the hex I placed on this letter. Should someone – even you – have tried to open it prior to my death, the paper would have been destroyed. Your magic is strange and unpredictable, but even you should be unable to read this letter early.
I have a confession to make. We are related.
I don’t know if you knew, although you certainly did not know my pedigree. Like most of the Great Houses, House Lakeside had a habit of trying to mate its cadet branches with children from lesser bloodlines or new blood magicians. My great-great-grandfather, a third son of the House, was married to a daughter of House Conidian. At the time, your family was considered very lowly indeed; important outside the Golden City, minimally important within the mountains. I do not know if your father knew of the connection – I never had a chance to check the records and see if he’d worked with House Lakeside – but I was certainly not aware of it until after you manifested powers and we looked into your bloodline.
Inquisitors are expected – required – to sunder all ties to their families when they place the ring on their finger for the first time. I do not believe that many of my former comrades knew of my family history, and if they did they would not have considered it important. Daughter of House Lakeside or not, I was no longer in line for either power or inheritance. In the unlikely event of me having children, they too would not be part of the family. We may share a faint biological link, but the family magics long since separated us.
And yet I feel guilty.
I knew nothing about you until the incident outside the Imperial Palace. Your father was quite successful in covering up your existence. I suspect that much of your early development was simply attributed to your brother – helped, of course, by the fact you lived well away from the Golden City. Few people in the Golden City really cared about your family, although – as you know – rumours did get out. I thought nothing of it when your family arrived in the Golden City, although we were trying desperately to clean up the mess after Kane by then.
I could have said something when we were thrust together. Maybe I should have done.
But I saw your treatment of your sisters and thought better of it.
I understand your anger at your family. In many ways, I was equally angry at mine. They did not expect me to be anything more than a decorative piece of window dressing, then an ornament hanging from the arm of some elderly wizard, willing to trade his blood for the family name. But I had power and drive, while you lacked power. I had options that were simply not, at the time, open to you.
But what you have to decide, sooner rather than later, is what you want to do with your newfound power.
Your sisters treated you badly. I don’t blame you for being traumatised – and I don’t blame you for wanting revenge. But they were – are – children. A child lacks the ability to tell right from wrong, to understand when a joke is no longer funny, to see the fine line between pranks and outright bullying. I will concede they were set a bad example by your parents and your older siblings. But tell me – what do you want to become?
You have shattered their lives already, for better or worse. Your parents are gone, your older brother has fled and your sister is Deferens’s slave. I do not care to imagine what will happen to your younger siblings if they too fall into his hands. They may be unhurt, physically, but their minds will be torn asunder. I have met Deferens in my working capacity and I can say, after hours of observation, that he holds women in total contempt. In many ways, he is far worse than your older brother. A rapist – even a serial rapist – would be a far better person to encounter than Vlad Deferens, particularly if he believes he holds the whip hand. Charity’s submission to him will not have impressed him. Indeed, he will only hold her in greater contempt because she gave up her freedom to save her life.
So tell me ... what do you want to become? The bully who terrorises his siblings as they terrorised him, or the child who rises up above his early life to be a truly great man?
I had Dread to tell me when I was being a fool – and he did, believe me. There was never a day when he didn’t find something to criticise, never a day when I didn’t do something wrong in his eyes. I hated him at the time, let me tell you. There were times when I seriously considered throwing a hex at him or simply telling him where to go and leaving for good. But I stuck with it ... and, at the end, I realised what he’d been trying to tell me all along. I made mistakes – everyone made mistakes – but that doesn’t matter so much as how you handle yourself when you make one. Do you realise you made a mistake and do what you can to fix it, or do you try to deny the possibility that you could ever be wrong?
And it gets much harder when you’re dealing with other people’s mistakes.
Your father made a thousand mistakes when dealing with you and your siblings. He spoilt Jamal, because Jamal was the first-born and always special in his eyes. He treated you like dirt, because you seemed to have no power and were thus useless to his dreams of dynasty. He treated Charity like I was treated, to some extent; she was prepared for marriage to a suitable partner, not to be Prime Heir. And I suspect the same happened to your younger siblings. Their role was to carry out your father’s plans, not to be young men and women in their own right.
I’ve seen the results of far too many mistakes in the years I spent on duty, Johan. It isn’t pleasant.
You have to deal with your father’s mistakes – but you have to do it without making mistakes of your own.
If you will accept advice from your great-great-cousin (or whatever the precise term for our relationship actually is) either mend fences with your siblings or leave them behind for good. Right now, you’re as much of a bogeyman – perhaps more – to them as Jamal ever was. Worse? You took magic from both their father and their older brother. A terror to any magician – and maybe that was why I didn’t speak to you when I was alive – but far, far worse to them. They knew you, after all.
You think they deserve it. Maybe you’re right. But does that mean that you should be a bastard to them – or worse? All I can tell you is that the choice is yours.
I like to think I would have done something to help you, if I’d known. I could not have claimed Right of Blood, as I severed myself from the family magics, but there were other options. There were ways to separate you too from the family, so your existence posed no threat. But I didn’t know. How many people have I heard say the same thing? It feels no better to say it myself, than to hear it from someone who should have known and didn’t.
The pendant I’ve included in this letter is the sole heir
loom I kept from my mother, when I left House Lakeside. The magic was removed when I took the skull-ring and, right now, it isn’t really worth more than twenty pieces of silver. However, I would like you to have it and gift it to your future wife, when – if – you marry.
There’s nothing else to write, save this. If I died – and I must have done, if you’re reading this letter – I hope I died well.
Yours
Cassandra Lakeside, Inquisitor 1st Class
Johan looked down at the letter. “She was related to me,” he said. “Was that true?”
“She said so,” Elaine said. “What did she tell you?”
“That ... I don’t know what to make of it,” Johan said. “Can you read the letter?”
Elaine shook her head. “You can read it to me later, if you like,” she said. “But she charmed it against prying eyes.”
The door opened, revealing Daria, carrying a small tray of food. Johan suddenly felt ravenous; he folded the letter, placed it in his pocket and then reached for the closest sandwich. Ham and cheese wasn’t his favourite, but it tasted wonderful after walking so far. But he couldn’t help feeling melancholy. He hadn’t known he’d had a decent relative. No one had known.
“We should honour her,” he said, finally. “Can we say something?”
Elaine reached out and rested her hand on his for a long moment. “We can and we will,” she said. “Once we’re out of the city, we’ll stop long enough to bury the charm.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Elaine couldn’t help keeping a wary eye on Johan as they finished their meal, then waited for the innkeeper to escort them around the back of the inn, where the horses were kept ready for clients. On the surface, Johan looked normal, but she could tell he was lost in his own thoughts. Apart from the request to hold a proper ceremony – or as close as they could – for Cass, he hadn’t said anything.
“I’m no good at horses,” she said, in the hope it would cheer him up. “I used to keep falling off.”
“She’s a well-trained beast,” the innkeeper assured her. “Just trade her in at the next inn, or keep her for yourself, if you wish.”
“I can handle her, if necessary,” Johan said. He sounded tired and worn. “Just climb onto the back, then hold the reins.”
Elaine did as she was told, although she was nervous. She might have learnt how to ride at the Peerless School, but she wasn’t used to riding; indeed, she hadn’t ridden a horse since she’d left the school, years ago. The horse gave her a look that promised mischief, then settled down when Johan scrambled onto the other horse. Perhaps, Elaine decided, the horse could sense someone who knew what he was doing.
Or perhaps she is just biding her time, she thought, sourly.
“Thank you,” she said, to the innkeeper. “You might want to go elsewhere for a while.”
“I have work here,” the innkeeper said. “But good luck.”
Daria scrambled up behind Elaine, then hung on for dear life as Johan led the way out onto the streets. Elaine gritted her teeth, then held the reins as tightly as she could; Johan didn’t seem to have any problem steering through the streets, then out into the countryside. The population shot them dark looks as they passed, but did nothing. Elaine was almost pitifully relieved.
“Here will do,” Daria said, once the city was out of sight and the fields were closing in around them. “Don’t worry about the horse. I’ll catch her if she runs away.”
Elaine snorted as Daria dropped to the ground, then pulled off her dress and passed it back to Elaine. The horse neighed uncomfortably as Daria snapped into wolf form, then started to slowly canter after Johan, Daria loping along behind it with casual ease. Elaine suspected the horse wasn’t even remotely comfortable with a werewolf following in her footsteps, but there was nothing to be done about it. Besides, Daria was right. If the horse did decide to run, a werewolf could catch her before she managed to throw Elaine off.
It was nearly an hour of hard riding before the fields were replaced by forest, flickers of wild magic sparkling through the trees. The wind blew colder, threatening them with gusts of snow or sleet, although it still seemed warmer than the Golden City. Elaine shivered, cast warming charms around herself, then allowed the horse to keep following Johan. Her apprentice was brooding, she sensed, but she didn’t know what to say. What had Cass said to him, in her letter? Elaine’s imagination provided too many answers.
“This would be a good place to stop,” Johan called back, as they reached a small clearing. There was a large pond in the centre of the clearing, slowly icing over as the weather cooled. “I think she’d like it.”
Elaine wanted to ask what made him say that, but instead she just pulled the horse to a halt and slid down to the ground. Her legs felt weak, after riding for so long, yet it was a relief to stand on solid ground again. Johan gave her a concerned look as she started to rub aches and pains out of her body, then turned to look towards the pond. There were animal tracks all around it, suggesting that nothing dangerous lurked within the murky water. Or so she thought. It had been years since she’d taken any classes on surviving outside human settlements.
“There’s a nice patch of ground over there,” Daria said, pointing to a gap in the trees. “That would be suitable, I think.”
Johan nodded, tied the horses to the trees, then walked over to the grass. There was something about it, Elaine decided as she followed him, that was definitely charming, a sense of agelessness in a world undergoing rapid change. She lifted her wand and performed a simple charm, looking for hints of wild magic that might interfere with the rites, but found nothing. Once she was sure the place was clean, she reached into her pocket and produced the life-charm. Cass’s once-golden hair was now rapidly decaying into dust.
“Deferens will not have kept her body,” she said, as Johan turned to face her. “I think he would have simply ordered it cremated.”
“No doubt,” Johan agreed. He knelt down, then dug a small hole in the ground with his fingers. “Do you know what to say?”
“Only in general terms,” Elaine said. “I have no idea what gods she worshipped – if she worshipped any.”
“She was from House Lakeside,” Johan said. “Wouldn’t they have household gods?”
“I wouldn’t know their names,” Elaine said. The Great Houses rarely shared such details with outsiders, even outsiders who had married into their families. “Besides, Lady Lakeside isn’t here to bury her.”
“Call on them, if you can,” Johan urged. “I don’t know if my family’s gods would accept her.”
Elaine swallowed, then knelt down beside the tiny grave. “Gods of Lakeside, we speak to you, even though we are not of your family,” she said. There was no way to address the prayer more precisely, not without knowing specific names. “We ask you to take unto yourselves the soul of Cassandra Lakeside, who was born into your family and died upholding your family’s finest values. We bear witness, before you and our own gods, that she is worthy of the name she bore. We could not honour her more had she lived and died as one of us.”
She took a breath, feeling tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. “Cassandra saved my life,” she said, simply. “She sacrificed much to save me from a fate worse than death. For that and so much more, I do her honour.”
Johan cleared his throat. “Cassandra saved my soul,” he said. His voice was even, but Elaine could sense the bitter guilt that flowed through his mind. “For that, and so much more, I do her honour.”
“Cassandra accepted me for what I was,” Daria said, after a long moment. “For that, and so much more, I do her honour.”
Elaine held the life-charm over the tiny grave, then dropped it into the earth. There was a flare of light as it touched the soil, which faded rapidly into nothingness. Elaine wiped the tears from her eyes, then carefully picked up a piece of soil and dropped it into the grave, covering the life-charm. Johan and Daria did the same, burying the life-charm until there was no sign that anything had
been buried there at all. Elaine lifted her wand, sketched a hex sign in the earth covering the grave, then rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “You deserved so much better.”
She had gone to five funerals in her life; three of them for children who had died at the orphanage, one for a co-worker who had been killed by a book sent to the Great Library and one for the Inquisitors who had been killed during Kane’s attack on the Golden City. She had felt guilty as a child – they had all felt guilty – at being torn between grief for their lost friends and relief that they were gone, that they would no longer be consuming food that was sparse enough as it was. The other funerals had been better, but still poignant And they had all been attended by more than three mourners.
“She would have understood,” Daria said, quietly. “She knew she could die in the line of duty.”
Elaine shook her head. Cass had had no obligation to risk her life, not after the Grand Sorceress had released her from her oaths. She could have escaped the city in the chaos caused by the Watchtower’s destruction, escorting them all the way to the border if necessary. Instead, she had stayed, fought and died. Deferens had had to summon a dragon – two dragons – to deal with her. There were times when Elaine wished she had had that sort of courage, when she’d been in school. But maybe it came with the power. No one could ever have accused Cass of lacking in magic.
“Maybe she would have understood,” she said, as she looked towards the grave. “But it still feels sad.”
She looked over at Johan, then walked towards where he was sitting, staring down at the freezing pond. He smiled weakly at her as she approached, then rose. Elaine hesitated, then gave him a tight hug. He started in surprise, then returned it.
“I was never good with emotions,” Elaine admitted, “but do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?”
Bookworm III Page 36