She stood and summoned the horse. The girls drew back as the beast stomped over to them, its beady eyes suggesting it felt terribly put upon. Emily opened one of her saddlebags and removed a couple of nutrient potions, holding them out to the girls. They wouldn’t make up for all the meals they’d missed, over the last couple of days, but they’d help. Casper made a wordless sound, deep in his throat, as she found a slightly stronger potion for their father. She ignored him.
“Good luck,” she said.
Casper could protect them, she thought. If he took up with the older girl ... she damned herself a second later for even thinking it. Sure, General Pollack would protect his son’s woman, but ... she should have free choice. She closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to refocus her mind. There were times when she was reminded, all too clearly, that part of the Nameless World’s culture had seeped into her mind.
The man prostrated himself. His daughters followed suit. Emily sighed and turned aside, noticing Casper’s surprised expression. He was probably used to grown men prostrating themselves in front of him, even though he was a mere apprentice. She heard, rather than saw, the trio rise to their feet. When she turned back to them, they were still afraid to meet her eyes.
She watched them pick up their bags and go. They didn’t have much, she noted. Some clothes, a little food ... she hoped they had the sense to keep that out of sight, no matter what else they did. She’d seen what the soldiers ate. It was easy to imagine a handful of soldiers robbing the peasants, just so they could vary their diet. The slop they were fed by their masters was worse than the free school lunches she’d had back home.
“That was pointless,” Casper said. “They won’t get far.”
Emily looked up at him. “Would you have done nothing?”
Casper shrugged. “Why do anything?”
“Because he was wounded,” Emily said, sharply. “Because he was forced to flee with little more than the clothes on his back. Because his daughters need him to live ... Because ... because it was the right thing to do!”
Casper gave her a contemplative look. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She clambered back onto the horse. “Does it really cost us anything to help them?”
“There are thousands of others who are equally wounded,” Casper pointed out. “Can you help them all?”
“No,” Emily said, after a moment. “But that shouldn’t stop us helping those we can.”
She dug in her spurs, racing ahead to catch up with the column. Her hair spilled out behind her as the horse picked up speed, Casper racing after her. Sergeant Miles and Master Storm could be seen in the distance, casting a series of spells into the air. She couldn’t pick up enough of the magic to tell what they were doing.
Casper caught up with her. “Do you really believe that you have to help?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She missed Caleb suddenly, with an intensity that surprised her. Caleb would have understood. “I do.”
She waited, half-expecting a sarcastic suggestion that she was only dating Caleb out of pity — or, perhaps, something worse. Instead, Casper gave her a contemplative look before fixing his eyes on the horizon and pulling ahead of her. Emily let him go, allowing him to widen the gap between them even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t feel like talking to him any longer.
The army started to look more and more disorganized as the hours went past, the officers galloping ahead and leaving their men to catch up with them. Emily was impressed there was so little grumbling, although she rather suspected the men thought of her as an officer. She was a magician, after all. They’d keep their grumbling to themselves, at least when she was in earshot. The carts plodded after them, their guards looking thoroughly bored. Emily wondered just what they were carrying. Weapons and ammunition? Or gold plate and other valuables?
She was aching all over when Farrakhan came into view, the smell — as always — dominating the landscape for miles around. The stench of too many people in too close proximity hung in the air, a mocking reminder that some of the refugees had fled to the city rather than risk the open road northwards. They’d made a mistake, she thought. If Farrakhan fell, the necromancer would have plenty of people to sacrifice for power and then feed to his army.
And his army hasn’t shown itself, she mused. She was no military expert, but even she knew the necromancer had passed up his chance to win a solid victory. The day was drawing to a close, with the leading elements of the army approaching the city. Unless he plans to attack the stragglers at night.
“Your master is calling you,” Casper said. The army was slowly forming up outside the city, the officers hastily getting their men under control. Emily wondered, rather spitefully, just how many had deserted along the way. “I think he wants you to join him.”
Emily looked. Sergeant Miles was waving to her, his tired face impatient. She threw Casper a sharp glance, then pushed the horse towards the sergeant. He definitely looked tired, she decided. His expression looked drained. But then, he’d been supervising the march while she’d been doing next to nothing, save for riding a horse. Her backside ached, reminding her that she was stiff and sore. She’d kill for a hot bath and a long sleep in a comfortable bed.
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles said. “Stick with me.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said, confused. She could hear a sergeant reading the riot act to his men, his voice booming out in the warm air. “Where are we going?”
“Through the gates,” Sergeant Miles said. He waved a hand at a pair of metal doors, set within the stone walls. “General Pollack may wish to introduce you to the City Fathers.”
Emily groaned. Another excuse for Casper to be mad at her. But there was nothing she could do to get out of it.
“Yes, Master.”
Chapter Sixteen
FARRAKHAN, EMILY DECIDED AS NIGHT FELL over the city, looked like a strange mixture of a medieval town and something out of the Arabian Nights. The walls were heavy stone, woven with spells to provide additional protection and lined with battlements; the buildings were made of sandstone, each one surrounded by wooden hovels and shacks housing the refugees. Surprisingly, the streets were clean, but the pavements were lined with refugees and small children, somehow managing to play merrily despite the war. And the larger set of buildings in the center of the city seemed to combine administrative duties with fortifications. It was actually hard to see where one set of buildings left off and another began.
The people on the streets reminded her of Beneficence or Dragon’s Den, rather than Cockatrice or Alexis. Most of the men wore loose-fitting clothes and carried swords, hanging openly from their belts. The older women wore long dark dresses, but the younger ones wore trousers. Their shirts covered everything below the neckline, yet some of them were carefully tailored to reveal the shape of their breasts. It was a fashion statement, Emily guessed. Their elders probably found it outrageous.
She braced herself as the crowds turned to stare, their faces torn between relief and fear as they saw the army. Emily understood. Farrakhan couldn’t hope to hold out for long, if the necromancer attacked the city, but the army would eat up their food as well as menace some of its civilians. She saw mothers ordering their daughters to get off the streets, clearly fearing that they would be molested by the soldiers. Emily couldn’t blame them. Armies on the Nameless World didn’t have a good reputation for taking care of civilians.
“They’ve been putting a lot of work into defense,” Sergeant Miles commented. “But they are limited in what they can do.”
Emily nodded, silently. Farrakhan was surrounded by walls — double walls — but they hadn’t had time to expand their defenses. They’d planned to stand off the king, not a powerful necromancer. The walls wouldn’t stand up for long if the necromancer himself showed up to knock them down. And even if they did, the necromancer could just surround the city and wait for the defenders to starve.
Except he can’t pin his troops dow
n for so long, she thought. They’d starve too.
She leaned forward as the guide led them up to a large temple-like building that wouldn’t have been out of place in Rome or Athens. A large statue of a swordsman dominated the opening, his stone eyes peering out over the city. Emily could sense magic crackling around the statue, suggesting it was part of a defense system. There were complex wards around the building too, ranging from anti-spying spells to defensive magics designed to keep out unwanted guests and supernatural vermin. She probed gently, wondering if there was a nexus point under the city. But it didn’t seem likely.
“Get off the horse,” Sergeant Miles ordered. A line of people — men and women — were coming out of the building, the leader wearing a gold toga. “And remember to be polite.”
Emily forced herself to stay upright, somehow, as the city fathers greeted General Pollack and his officers. The welcoming speeches were long and boring, suggesting that the city fathers — and mothers — were alarmingly fond of their own voices. Emily wished, as the speeches grew longer and longer, that they’d just shut up. Her body was aching so badly that it was all she could do not to tremble.
“This is Lady Emily, Necromancer’s Bane,” General Pollack said. Emily jumped. Had she actually fallen asleep on her feet? Or had her mind just drifted away for a while? “And soon to be my daughter-in-law.”
Emily did her best, somehow, to shake hands with each of the city fathers, trying hard to remember their names and faces. They looked a competent bunch, although she had no idea how they’d reached high office. From what little she recalled, everyone who owned property in Farrakhan — male or female — had a vote and could stand for office, but it was a little more complex than that. She made a mental note not to underestimate the women. It was rare for women, even in city-states, to fight their way into high office. The ones who made it were often more cunning — and ruthless — than their male counterparts.
“They’ve prepared a dinner for us,” Sergeant Miles said, as the ceremony finally came to an end. “It would be impolite to decline their invitation.”
“I know,” Emily said, crossly. General Pollack might not be a nobleman — although a Knight of the Allied Lands was normally considered borderline nobility — but most of his officers definitely were. Inviting them to a welcoming dinner was simple etiquette. “Do we have a chance to change first?”
“The guide is taking us to our barracks,” Sergeant Miles told her. “You’ll have a chance to change there.”
Emily nodded as they started to walk through a series of twisted streets. At ground-level, Farrakhan looked a mess. The civilians seemed to have built their homes, then built more homes on top of the first ... she was honestly surprised that the towering blocks hadn’t come crashing down long ago. But then, if they were careful, they might just manage to keep things stable. The air still smelled bad, but she knew she’d get used to it. She took a deep breath and tried not to gag.
The barracks turned out to be a cross between Mountaintop’s dorms and a surprisingly welcoming inn. Emily let out a sigh of delight as she saw the bathtub, even though she knew servants would have to bring water up from the kitchens to fill the tub. She hesitated, the desire for a warm bath battling her reluctance to force them to do so much work, then told herself she could pay in gold. Lady Barb had taught her to tip servants, after all. It would be more money than most of them saw in a year.
“The beds will have to be removed,” Sergeant Miles grunted. “They’re too soft.”
Emily bit down on the argument that came to mind. They were perfect. But she knew he wouldn’t listen to her. Instead, she turned back to the bathtub. A trio of servants were already standing there, waiting for orders.
“Wear a clean uniform,” Sergeant Miles ordered. “Do not wear a dress.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said. He knew she didn’t have any dresses. Did he expect her to find one in the city? She pushed the thought aside and leaned forward. “Are the other apprentices invited?”
“They’ve got work to do,” Sergeant Miles said. He gave her a mischievous look. “Don’t worry. You’ll be working tomorrow too.”
Emily sighed as he turned and marched away. There wasn’t time for a proper soak, so she asked the servants to bring a couple of buckets of water and her saddlebags, then stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, using a couple of charms to make sure no one could enter without her permission. The water was cold, but she used magic to warm it before undressing and splashing water all over herself. It definitely wasn’t a proper soak — she couldn’t help wondering if she’d be able to get away with staying in the tub for an hour — but at least she felt clean, afterwards. Her body had been so dirty that the bathtub was practically caked in mud, despite her cleaning spells. She cleaned up as much as she could, then dressed quickly and hurried into the dorms.
They’ve dumped their bags on the floor, she thought, as she took the bed nearest the door and carefully warded her bag. But where are they?
She shook her head in annoyance as she headed for the stairs. General Pollack should never have invited her to the dinner, even though she was famous. It would definitely drive a wedge between her and the other apprentices. She didn’t know what she would be eating, but she’d attended enough dinners to know it would probably be good. The others would be lucky if they had cold meat and bread. And Casper would be furious. She couldn’t really blame him, either.
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles said. He’d changed too, into a uniform that clearly marked him as a combat sorcerer. “Come with me.”
Emily nodded, following him through the darkened streets. Darkness was slowly falling over the city, plunging entire sections into the shadows. There were no streetlights, not even lanterns hanging from doorways and walls. Emily quietly cast a night-vision spell, one hand touching the dagger in her sleeve as she prepared other defensive spells. There were plenty of guards on the streets, but they couldn’t be everywhere. She couldn’t escape the sense they were being watched, either, as they walked up the steps and into the palace. Loud music was echoing through the air, coming from a large ballroom.
“Be polite,” Sergeant Miles ordered.
Emily shook her head in disbelief as they entered the ballroom. She’d seen gluttony, but this ... this was absurd. Dozens of tables, groaning under the weight of food and drink; hundreds of guests, lying on couches or standing in small groups ... she stared, unable to believe her eyes. Farrakhan was on the front lines, the most likely target of an alarmingly cunning necromancer ...
... And its governors were eating themselves senseless while the population starved.
She looked at Sergeant Miles. His face was expressionless, but she knew him well enough to know he didn’t approve. He was common-born. There was no way he would have been allowed to enter without magic and he knew it. His brothers outside, the infantrymen, were condemned to eat slop, while their officers stuffed themselves. Emily glanced into the room and caught sight of Lord Alcott, steadily filling his plate with food. Didn’t he give a damn about his men?
“They’re going to be in trouble when they run out of food,” she muttered, as Sergeant Miles led her over to the tables. For once, there was no herald to announce her name as she stepped into the hall. “What will happen then?”
“Good question,” Sergeant Miles muttered back. “But I think the General will see to it that this is the last banquet.”
Emily hoped he was right. Lord Fulbright’s table had been impressive, but this was far grander. Traditional dishes — meat and vegetables — mingled with rice and something that resembled pasta. There were stuffed mice, fish — she hated to think how much it must have cost to have the fish shipped to Farrakhan — and oysters, strange dishes she didn’t recognize ... she almost giggled, despite her tiredness, when she saw the pizza. Clearly, that was a strange foreign delicacy.
Sergeant Miles stayed by her side as she filled her plate and ate slowly, introducing her to a number of officers she hadn’t met
. Some of the officers were already drunk, quaffing the wine as though it were water; others seemed more inclined to flirt than talk about the war or how they planned to defend the city. A couple were laughing so loudly that everyone else was giving them plenty of room. Emily couldn’t help wondering if someone had hexed them into laughing helplessly. But it seemed they were merely very drunk.
“This does serve a purpose,” Sergeant Miles said, after they’d exchanged words with a red-faced City Guardsman. “It helps them to get to know one another and network in a friendly environment.”
Emily rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her water. Her stepfather had used to complain, loudly, about never being invited to parties at work, but she hadn’t paid much attention. She understood perfectly why no one had wanted to invite him. Besides, he’d probably been coming up with excuses for his own failures ... she shook her head, dismissing the thought as pointless. He was on the other side of a dimensional divide and she’d never see him again.
She followed the sergeant around the room, heading slowly towards General Pollack and a white-haired man she vaguely recognized. A middle-aged man was bragging loudly about his two mistresses, sharing drinks with an officer who was babbling about his newest horse and how he’d captured the beast from its previous owner. Behind them, two city mothers were flirting outrageously with a pair of young officers who had to be at least ten to fifteen years younger than them. Emily couldn’t help wondering if they were seriously planning to seduce the officers tonight. It certainly sounded that way.
“Lady Emily,” General Pollack said. He waved a hand at his dinner partner. “I’m sure you remember the Patrician?”
Emily’s mind went blank. She’d been introduced to him, back when they’d entered the city, but she’d forgotten his name. She prodded her memory hastily, hoping it would surface if she thought hard enough. There was no time to cast a memory charm to retrieve anything she’d forgotten ...
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 16