“I certainly hope so,” the druid said, casting charm after charm. “Their brain patterns are more than a little disrupted.”
“But they’re separate,” Elaine said. She didn’t want Johan to get the idea that he’d killed them. “Take them to the hospital and keep me apprised on their progress.”
She started to walk towards where the remaining Inquisitors had gathered, beckoning to Johan to follow her. Every footstep felt like she was lifting a leaden weight, forcing her to slow down as she reached Dread. She really was coming to the end of her endurance.
“I’ll get you a carriage back to the library,” Dread said, as soon as he saw her. “And thank you for your help.”
“Keep me updated,” Elaine said. “I need to know what will happen to the attackers.”
“I will,” Dread promised. He looked over at Johan. “And thank you too. Without you, we might never have been able to catch them.”
Elaine smiled, despite the tiredness that seemed to be slowly shutting her down. If the attackers hadn’t been caught in the act, proving their guilt might be impossible. As it was, there would be testimonial from Johan, Elaine and several Inquisitors, all of whom had seen the attack or the stone attackers. There would be far fewer grounds for a lawyer to claim that mundanes were lying ... because, as every magician knew, mundanes always lied.
But the attack still seemed pointless. The first attack had had a point, brutal as it was; the second just seemed like random terrorism. But even terrorists had an end in mind, didn’t they? Or did they just want some fun and games with unwilling victims?
She shook her head. No doubt the answer would reveal itself in time.
Chapter Nineteen
It was extremely difficult to get information out of the Watchtower.
Everyone knew that Inquisitors didn’t talk. Nor could they be bribed. The only person they talked to openly was the Grand Sorceress, who already had everything she could possibly want. But they did have to work with the City Guard and many of the guards were not averse to taking money – or covert political support – from a wealthy aristocrat. It had taken Duncan a day and a large expenditure of gold, but he’d finally managed to get a copy of Jamal’s file.
The report of his crimes had been bad enough – Duncan firmly believed that the mundanes should stay in their place, but torturing them was just bad form – but the real shock had been the report of just who had testified against Jamal in the first place. Johan, his brother, had given the testimony that had allowed the Inquisitors to arrest him. It was a breach of family loyalty ...
“Really, father,” Charity said, when he summoned her and explained what he’d discovered. “What exactly do you expect?”
Duncan eyed his daughter suspiciously. He’d rescinded her grounding after she’d come back from the Great Library, but he knew for a fact that she hadn’t left the house since then. And she had barely even left her suite; the maids had been ordered to bring her lunch and dinner so that she didn’t have to eat with the rest of the family. He’d allowed it to happen ... which, in hindsight, might have been another mistake.
“Explain,” he ordered.
“Jamal has treated him badly ever since it became clear that Johan would never develop powers,” Charity pointed out. “He was awful to all of us, but we could defend ourselves, even fight back. Johan could never do that, could he? And, instead of giving him a chance to prove himself in a different field, we even insisted that he stay inside the house as much as possible.”
“It was for his own protection,” Duncan protested, biting down on his anger. Yelling at Charity – even thrashing her – wouldn’t make the situation any better, even if she was speaking to him as though he were an idiot. “If he’d been captured by one of our enemies ...”
“There were precautions you could have taken,” Charity snapped. “But your real reason for not letting him out the house was because you were ashamed. Ashamed of having a Powerless for a son.”
“His mere existence threatened the family,” Duncan said, weakly. She was right; whatever he’d told himself, he had been ashamed of having a powerless son. He would have been far less concerned if Johan had turned out to prefer boys over girls; the gods knew that there were plenty of ways for him to have children, then live a separate life from his wife. “If they knew that Johan was powerless, they might refuse to let you marry into their families ...”
“And did it occur to you to ask,” Charity said, not altering her tone in the slightest, “if I wanted to marry into those families?”
She met her father’s eyes. “You have shown Johan absolutely no love or acceptance, nor have you given him any reason to consider himself part of the family,” she added, before Duncan could explode at her for being an ungrateful daughter. “Every time he manages to slip out, I wonder why he bothers to come back.”
Duncan knew the answer to that. One of the charms he’d placed on his son, without his knowledge, would eventually tug him back home. It was gentle – a more overt pressure would be noticed, even by a mundane – but impossible to resist in the long run. But now that charm had to be gone too, or Johan would have come home by now. Instead ...
The letter on the desk was surprisingly polite, given what Charity had said. But it was also clear; Johan no longer considered himself part of the family. Instead, he would find his own path. And then he said goodbye.
“But you’ve done the same to all of us,” Charity said, interrupting his thoughts. “You groomed Jamal to take your place, turning him into a spoilt and arrogant brat. You tried to prime me for a good marriage, you told Jay and Jolie what they should be studying when they reach their third year at the Peerless School, just so they could go into careers you would find useful. I imagine that you told my sisters the same, didn’t you? You try to steer our lives ... but you didn’t even do that to Johan. I’m surprised you didn’t kill him if he brought so much shame to the family.”
Duncan started to his feet, his hands gripping the desk tightly.
“Go ahead,” Charity said, her voice wavering. Her fingers dug into the hem of her dress, as if she were about to raise it to expose her rear. “Beat me. Thrash me. Turn me into something for a week or even a month. Marry me off to an ugly old warlock with smelly breath. It won’t make any difference to the truth!”
Duncan stared at her. She was right.
“Out,” he growled.
Charity fled, the door banging closed behind her.
Sighing, feeling his rage abate, Duncan settled back into his chair. Charity had been right; he had spoilt his children, in the truest possible sense of the word. But what could he do about it? No wonder Johan didn’t consider himself part of the family ...
... And no wonder that he had testified against his brother.
But everything he’d done had seemed so logical, at the time.
He picked up a sheet of notepaper and started to compose a letter to Johan. And another to Jamal, telling him that he was immensely disappointed in his eldest son. Maybe it was too late to turn Jamal into an upright human being, but he owed it to his family to try.
And he knew what Johan wanted, he told himself. Perhaps they could make an agreement.
***
Johan eyed Elaine nervously as the carriage rattled its way towards the Great Library. She was half-lying against him, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Every few minutes, she would jerk awake and look around, then collapse back against him. He was too worried even to enjoy the sensation of having a girl lying against him ... by the time the carriage reached the library, he was genuinely convinced that she was dying.
The Inquisitor driving the carriage jumped out and opened the door, then levitated Elaine out into the street. Johan found himself envying the man’s easy precision as he steered the weightless Elaine into the Great Library and down into the private section, where their quarters were situated. The Inquisitor seemed to have been there before, Johan decided, or maybe he was taking advice and directions from the ward
s. Once they reached Elaine’s rooms, he opened the door and gently lowered her onto the bed.
“Just leave her to sleep it off,” he ordered, marching out of the room and waiting impatiently for Johan to follow him. “And stop looking at all the books.”
Johan flushed – he’d been more interested in what Elaine’s room said about her character – but followed the Inquisitor outside. There, he watched as the man cast a locking charm on her door, then headed back out of the library. Johan watched him go, then headed towards his quarters. It was a surprise to see Jayne standing outside, waiting for him. But it wasn’t a bad surprise ...
“Hi,” he said, and hoped his voice didn’t shake too much. “How are you?”
“What happened?” Jayne asked, urgently. “There are all sorts of rumours flying around ...”
Johan opened his door and led the way inside, wondering if she would follow. He found himself caught between joy and terror as she did; what did one say to a girl, particularly a magician, if one wanted to court her? Jamal had probably offered the maids money – or simply threatened them – but the wand at Jayne’s belt suggested that would be a dangerous tactic to try. Maybe one should just try to be friendly and build up a rapport. Or ...
“There was another attack,” he said, wondering just how much he should say. He wanted to show off in front of her, but at the same time he was aware that it would draw too much attention. “Elaine ... ah, the Head Librarian ... tried to stop them. They hurt her and so I stopped them.”
Jayne looked doubtful. It dawned on Johan that she didn’t have any good reason to believe that he was a magician. He had no wand, nor was he even wearing robes! Somehow, he doubted that Elaine had told her staff everything. In fact, for all he knew, she’d told them that he was a visiting relative. Technically, that would be an abuse of her position, but everyone knew that everyone did it.
“I did,” he insisted. “And then we worked to help the wounded.”
He shuddered as he remembered the conjoined children. He’d willed them to separate into two people, but he honestly didn’t know how well it had worked. If only his magic was more reliable, or at least understood. But it wasn’t ...
“Well done,” Jayne said. Her face suddenly seemed to light up like the sun as she smiled. “And thank you for saving our boss.”
Johan smiled. “It was my pleasure,” he assured her, as he sat down. “Wouldn’t you like to have a seat?”
Jayne gave him an oddly regretful look. “I’m supposed to be on duty,” she admitted, reluctantly. “Madame Vane would be mad if I didn’t complete my shift.”
“Wait,” Johan said, as she started to walk towards the door. “What ... what are you doing this evening?”
“I get off-shift in a couple of hours,” Jayne said. “I was planning to eat in the canteen, then go back to my apartment to study.”
Johan swallowed, nervously. “Do you want to eat here?”
Jayne lifted her eyebrows. “In the library?”
“There’s food sent to this room,” Johan said, although he understood her surprise. But he didn’t have the money to go elsewhere. Somehow he doubted he could afford a fancy meal with the remainder of what Charity had given him. And Elaine was asleep. Waking her just to ask for money probably wouldn’t get him anything other than a forced transformation into a toad. “I can order for you too.”
“Maybe later,” Jayne said. “If Madame Vane caught me eating in the library, even here, I’d be kicked out onto the streets at once.”
She smiled, brightly. “But I can eat outside with you, if you’d like ...”
Johan hesitated. He would like ... but how could he eat with her when he had no money?
“Soon,” he promised, wondering if he could keep that promise. “I have to stay close to her tonight.”
Jayne nodded in understanding. “See you,” she said. “Bye.”
She winked at him, then left the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. Johan sighed as soon as the door was shut, wondering just how he was meant to get the money to take her out. Jamal wouldn’t have had a problem, he thought, resentfully; even if his father had refused to give him the cash, shopkeepers would be willing to extend credit based on his status as Prime Heir. But Johan ... hardly anyone knew that he existed. They wouldn’t believe that he was related to his father ...
He was still thinking about it when a letter drifted into the room and dropped down into his lap. The envelope was made of the finest paper, which was enough to tell him that it was from his father. He briefly considered incinerating it like the last one, this time without looking at it, but morbid curiosity led him to open it and pull out the paper. It was written in his father’s neat precise hand. No secretary for this letter.
Son
I have been informed by your sister that you have good reason to be angry at me and, by extension, the rest of the family. The fault is mine and I do not attempt to deny it. However, we cannot escape the fact that we are related in blood. We share more than just a name, but a bloodline that carries weaknesses as well as strengths.
Johan gritted his teeth as he read the last line. Weaknesses as well as strengths? Did he mean Johan’s apparent powerlessness or something altogether different? Jamal’s sense of entitlement, that the world owed him everything and that he could get away with anything, no matter how vile? Or was he referring to something that had never been shared with the poor little Powerless?
I do not deny, also, that the news of your magic is a great relief to me, as indeed it must be to yourself. Please do not hold the actions I was compelled to take to keep you safe against me; I feared for your safety as well as that of our family, no matter how harsh and unfair I must have seemed at the time. Now, we can rebuild our relationship and add your magic to the family.
Johan growled incoherently. How was it, he asked himself, that his father, even when trying to apologise, sounded like an arrogant asshole? And he was still trying to get Johan to return home. Hadn’t he read the letter Johan had sent? He should have sent the first one, despite Elaine’s veto. It would have made his feelings quite clear.
Towards this end, I wish to invite you to dine with us in two days. Your elder brother will not, I am afraid, be able to attend, but the remainder of the family should be present. I offer the word of Lord Duncan Conidian, Patriarch of House Conidian, that you will be free to return to the Great Library after the dinner, should you wish it. And I also pledge before the gods that our efforts to change your mind will be purely verbal, with not a hint of any form of coercion.
Johan had to smile. Did his father think that he didn’t know Jamal was in prison? Or was he trying to hide it from everyone else? But the only other person who might see the letter was Elaine and she already knew the truth.
And he’d offered his word that Johan would be free to go. That was interesting. It suggested that he was serious. And the pledge to avoid coercion ... any attempt to invoke family rights would break that pledge outright, with disastrous consequences. Out of habit, he checked his father’s signature. It was genuine.
As a gesture of good faith, I have instructed the bank to provide you with a trust vault comparable to the vaults I opened for Jamal and Charity. The key should be provided to you, along with a draft book, within the next day or two. Whatever decision you make, that money will be yours permanently. You may wish to speak with the bankers to consider investment opportunities.
I await your reply, as does the rest of the family. Whatever you may think of us, I know that Charity, at least, misses you – and was prepared to put herself on the line to explain to me just how badly I have acted.
Yours
Lord Duncan Conidian, Patriarch of House Conidian.
Johan stared down at the letter with mixed feelings. He knew just how much money Jamal had been given, enough to ensure that he wouldn’t have to work for the rest of his life, if he was careful. Charity would also have had the same amount, although some of it would have been part of her dowry.
But he had never been given a vault. How could he even have accessed it without another magician?
The money would be useful, he knew. He could take Jayne out, shower her with presents, treat her like a queen ... or pay Elaine for his apprenticeship. But he didn’t want to take anything from his father, not now. No matter what his father said, the money came with strings attached. His gratitude would lead him to pay attention to his father’s attitudes in future, if not honour his requests. And there would be requests. Even when his father was trying to be nice, there was manipulation involved.
And he had already asked for something in return.
Johan hated dinner parties, the few he’d been allowed to attend. Mostly, he’d been told to stay in his suite and the door had been charmed to prevent him from leaving. It wouldn’t do to let the guests see that House Conidian had produced a Powerless. He’d told himself that he preferred being alone to watching everyone fawn over Jamal, but the truth was that he’d resented his exclusion bitterly.
He could attend one now ...
Everyone would fawn on him, he knew. There were two days in children’s lives that were celebrated: their birthdays and their sparks, when they came into their magic. But he had never had a spark, not until now. There would be the best food and drink, expensive presents, perhaps even entertainment and ... the thought made him sick. If they hadn’t considered him worthy until now, why should he consider them worthy of him?
Shaking his head, he folded the letter and put it in his pocket. Elaine would have to see it; she could tell him if he should go, or if he should refuse the invitation – and the money. But what would he do for money if his father took it back, no matter what he’d said?
Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling Page 18