I could walk away, he told himself. Go back to the library ... Elaine would understand.
But her report of the meeting two days ago had made it clear that powerful factions within the Privy Council wanted him dead. If a Powerless could be turned into a magician, what would happen if someone discovered how to reproduce the technique upon demand? The very essence of the Empire’s society might be upended. Who knew what would happen if the Levellers actually acquired magic powers?
Bracing himself, he walked up to the door and knocked.
It should have opened as I passed through the wards, he thought, resentfully. The door certainly would have opened for Jamal or Charity or any of his other siblings, but not for him. Clearly, the wards hadn’t been altered, no matter what his father said. He couldn’t blame him, not really, but it still rankled. A moment later, May opened the door and bowed low, exposing her impressive cleavage. She’d never done that for him before.
“Your family are waiting in the dining room, Sir Magician,” she said. “If you will come with me ...”
Sir Magician, Johan thought, sourly. It was the standard title for an unattached magician, but not for a child of the household. Was his father making a subtle ploy or was he trying to be flattering? There was no way to tell, short of asking ... and that would have revealed far too much of his inner insecurities. Johan might not have had all the lessons Jamal had been given, but he’d heard enough to know how his father manipulated people, even his friends and allies, just to ensure that the family’s position was rock solid.
The dining room was brightly lit, revealing a single heavy wooden table surrounded by chairs. His father sat at the head of the table, as was his right; his mother sat facing him, her face dull and bored. Whatever interest his mother had once had in her children had faded over the years, unsurprisingly. Johan had heard enough arguments between his parents to understand that his powerlessness had damaged their relationship beyond repair.
Charity, flanked by her sisters, sat on one side of the table. Johan flashed her a genuine smile and was surprised by the oddly timid response. Charity had stood up to Jamal more than once, even though she’d never been his match in spell-casting. Had being transformed by him damaged her in some way? The gods knew that she’d been transfigured before and survived with nary a hint of damage.
Jay and Jolie sat facing Charity, with an empty seat between them. Johan suspected that he was meant to sit there, something that annoyed him; his younger brothers had never been quite as unpleasant as Jamal, but they’d certainly played enough tricks on him to earn his dislike, if not outright hatred. Normally, too, that would have been Jamal’s seat. The symbolism was obvious; the youngest in the family supported the eldest without reservation.
But he had never felt part of the family ...
His father rose to his feet. “Johan,” he said, gravely. “Welcome back.”
Traditionally, Johan knew, he was supposed to kneel to receive his father’s blessing. But he was damned if he was going to surrender that much. If his father wanted his forgiveness, if nothing else, he was going to have to work for it.
“Father,” he said, instead. “Thank you for the invitation.”
His father’s face flickered, just for a second, then returned to its normally expressionless mask. “Please, be seated,” he said. He waved to May to pull out Johan’s seat, as if he couldn’t have done it for himself. “The cooks have produced an excellent meal.”
They had, Johan admitted, as the first dishes were brought into the room and placed on the table. He’d always been fond of goulash, crammed with meat, potatoes and spices, although Jamal had disagreed ... and, as always, what Jamal wanted, Jamal got. Or didn’t get, in this case. Johan had had to beg the cooks for his favourite meals sometimes, or bribe Charity to do it for him. He hadn’t had to beg this time.
He couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable as they ate, despite the superb food. He’d spent most of his life being ignored, but that was better than having everyone staring at him as though he had suddenly become famous. His two brothers were glancing at him when they thought he wasn’t looking, his younger sisters were staring openly. Only Charity was refusing to even look at him, keeping her eyes on her food. It was really an astonishing change in her behaviour, one that worried him more than he wanted to admit. After all, Charity hadn’t been a total bitch to him.
“Tell me,” his father said, as the maids cleared away the dishes, “what you intend to do with your life.”
He was trying to be nice, Johan decided, but too much of his usual tone had slipped into his voice. “I intend to learn how to use my magic, then work as a magician,” he said. He had had other ambitions – he wanted to travel the world – but he didn’t want to mention that to his father. “And I want to prove myself.”
“You could prove yourself with your family’s assistance,” his father said, quietly. “We could offer you a great deal you could never obtain for yourself.”
He folded his hands together, suggesting that he was about to conclude the deal. “We have a marriage arrangement with House Clyburn,” he explained. “You could marry Marina Clyburn.”
Johan couldn’t help a harsh bark of laughter that burst out of his throat. “I thought she was intended to marry Jamal!”
“Jamal ... has disgraced himself,” his father admitted. He sounded as though he would have preferred not to say anything of the sort, but he said it. Johan silently gave him points for honesty. “You would be the next in line, binding our houses together.”
“She’s very pretty,” Charity said, suddenly. “You’ll like her.”
“I saw her portrait,” Johan said. “And she is pretty.”
Marina was stunning, he had to admit; tall and slim, with brown-black hair and firm breasts ... she was every man’s dream. The question of who would marry her had occupied High Society for years, because she brought far more than just a pretty face to a marriage contract. She brought connections to the aristocracy that stretched all the way back to the foundation of the Empire. But she was three years older than him ...
... And she wouldn’t have even considered him as a potential suitor while he’d been powerless.
He scowled down at the table. “And what does she think about this?”
“She knows that it is her duty to enter into a marriage contract for the good of House Clyburn,” his father said. “She will not object to receiving you instead of Jamal.”
“She might consider you preferable,” Charity said, snidely.
Their father glared at her, then looked at Johan.
Johan thought about it, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. Marriage contracts were rarely about love, particularly not in High Society. If his father and her father agreed, they would be pushed together even if they hated each other. Indeed, as long as they produced at least two children to carry on the family name, they could have as little to do with one another as they liked. There would be nothing stopping them from having lovers, even living apart, as long as they remained married in name.
But it was just another form of treating Johan – and Marina, and even Jamal – as an object, as something that could not think for itself.
It wasn’t something he wanted, not for him. And he wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through the experience of lying with someone just to have children, not if they didn’t love the person. Charity would have to marry too, under the same rules. The thought was sickening.
And yet ... if his father had been willing to offer him such a marriage, what did he want in return?
Johan looked up, meeting his father’s eyes. “And at what price?”
His father didn’t try to deny that he wanted something. “I would like you not to testify against Jamal,” he said, bluntly. “Your word could see him sent to the headsman.”
Jolie gasped. “You testified against your brother? You ...”
He started to move his hand, casting a spell. Johan acted on instinct, freezing him to the spot.
> “I’m not what I used to be,” Johan said, addressing the table as a whole. “Please, remember that.”
He turned away from Jolie, looking back at his father. “Why should I not testify?”
His father looked at him as though he’d never really seen him before. Johan could understand why his father didn’t want him to speak – he was the only magician who could place Jamal at the palace during the riot, thus the only real witness – but it was harder to understand his father’s shock. He’d even written a letter where he’d acknowledged that Johan had little reason to consider himself part of the family!
Or did he really believe that an offer of such a high marriage would change Johan’s mind?
“I know that Jamal has been ... thoroughly unpleasant to you,” his father said, finally. “And I understand that you may not think very highly of the rest of us. But we are still related by blood.”
“In blood alone,” Johan said.
Bitterness and frustration welled up inside him, breaking through his self-control. “You were disappointed in me from the start,” he said. “You never even allowed me to explore what I could do without magic. You allowed Jamal and everyone else to treat me as a target for their spells. You ...”
He forced himself to keep his voice steady. “Where was your consideration when Jamal turned me into a birdbath and stuck me on the roof for hours? Where were you when Charity made me talk in rhyme for two days? What did you do when Chime turned me into a doll and played with me? Or when Jamal turned me into a mirror and snuck me into the maid’s room? And who was it who got blamed for that?”
The memory drove him onwards. “Tell me,” he snapped. “Why should I consider myself part of this family?”
“Because you are,” his father said. His face was flushed, but his voice was under firm control. “I know – we were not the best family for someone like you. What I did ... I felt it had to be done.”
“But you knew that it was pointless,” Johan said. “I read the druid’s file on me. Not a single spark of magic was found, until now. All those torments, all the times I was victimised that you justified by claiming that they might bring out my magic, were completely worthless. I never developed magic!”
“Until now,” his father said. “And Charity and your other siblings did have their magic brought out by such ... torments, as you call them.”
“But they clearly had the potential,” Johan said. “I never did.”
“And yet you finally developed magic,” his father pointed out.
“Too late to have warm feelings towards anyone in this house,” Johan said. “You were disappointed, mother” – he looked at his mother, who still seemed bored – “ignored me, my siblings tormented me ... even the maids were snide, when no one else was around. Why should I have any feelings for you that could even remotely be called warm?”
“I can have those maids sacked,” his father said. “I ...”
“Don’t you understand?” Johan demanded, feeling anger boiling up again. “You set the tone for everyone else. Sack all of the maids, send them begging on the streets or opening their legs for tourists and it won’t even begin to make up for what everyone else did! Do you really believe that they would have been so unpleasant if you hadn’t been effectively telling everyone that it was fine to treat me like that?”
He slapped the table. A crack appeared in it, heading towards Charity. She yelped and jumped backwards, falling over to the floor. A moment later, the cracks spread until the table shattered, dishes and plates falling to the floor. Johan stood up and stepped backwards, watching with sudden bitter amusement the terror on his family’s face. No doubt they’d heard that even Inquisitors had been unable to reverse the spells he’d placed on the terrorists ... right now, they were actually scared of him.
And it felt good.
He waited for the final sounds to die away, then spoke into the appalled silence. “You called me here to make me an offer,” he said. “An offer that would involve me refusing to testify against someone, my brother in blood alone, in exchange for a girl I don’t want and marriage relationships I don’t need. Tell me; why should I not testify against Jamal?
“I’ve known him since I was born,” he added, daring his father to interrupt. “He has always picked on those weaker than him. His siblings ... even the ones with magic, but others. He picked on the maids, he picked on the cooks, he certainly picked on mundanes outside the house, even before he attacked the Levellers. Jamal has no political platform, no cause; he’s just an unpleasant spoilt brat who has finally stepped well over the line. Nineteen people are dead because of him.”
“Nineteen mundanes,” his father said.
“I was mundane until then,” Johan said. They stared at each other across a gulf of incomprehension. “And Jamal is what you made him.”
But would Johan have been any different, he asked himself, if he had been born with magic?
It was a terrifying thought. He’d been powerless ... and it was that experience that made him empathise with the Levellers. The gods knew that he’d been humiliated just as badly as the mundanes who had been caught up in the riot, over and over again. But his father, who had been born with magic sparks dancing around his body, would never understand what it was like to be powerless. Magic was part of his father’s life. He could never separate himself from it.
“There are decent magicians out there,” he added, remembering Elaine. And Jayne. “They don’t have to be assholes” – his father’s face twitched at the word – “even when they’re in charge. But Jamal is an asshole. You failed him as he grew up and its now too late to save him from the consequences of his actions. So why are you even bothering?”
His father hesitated. “You are aware, of course, that the family needs an heir,” he said, finally. “I could not name you my heir, not until now. Jamal was indispensable until Jolie reached his maturity.”
Johan sneered. “Are you sure Jamal ever did?”
“Your grandfather is dead,” his father said, ignoring his sally. “If something were to happen to me, the family’s patronage network would fragment without an heir, someone to take over and lead the family in my absence. Jamal was trained for that role from birth and I admit ... that might not have been good for him. But now ... I still need him.”
“You can appoint Charity as your Prime Heir,” Johan pointed out. “She is mature and responsible, which is more than you can say for Jamal.”
“But that would also cripple her chances of making a good match,” his father objected. He didn’t even look at Charity. “No husband from one of the Great Houses is going to want to marry her when it means taking on a subordinate position ...”
“It’s a fine time to start caring what someone thinks,” Johan snapped, feeling his temper rising again. “You treated us all, even Jamal, as objects, people to be shaped into whatever pattern you felt appropriate. And when you thought I was useless, you just kept me a prisoner. But we twisted in your grasp. Jamal is a bully, I have no interest in returning to the family ...”
“I can appoint you my Prime Heir,” his father said. “No one can deny that you have magic.”
“Don’t you see?” Johan shouted. “I’m useful now and you’re trying to use me!”
He brought his anger under control, savagely. The table was one thing, but if he lost control again someone could get seriously hurt. He waved a hand at Jolie, releasing him from the enchantment, then turned to stare at his father.
“I’ve made up my mind,” he snapped. “I will not be returning to the family, even as Prime Heir. You can bribe and bully and make deals and Jamal will no doubt survive his latest burst of stupidity. But you can do it without me. I will testify.”
His father opened his mouth, but Johan spoke over him. “Don’t even think of trying to pressure me,” he warned. “You will regret it.”
He turned and strode out of the room. The door refused to open; he concentrated and it collapsed into a pile of sawdust. He marched ou
t to the carriage, refusing to look back, and climbed inside. The driver cracked the whip, taking the carriage back towards the Great Library.
It wasn’t until he was safely away that Johan let himself cry.
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was one entrance – officially – to the Great Library, but if you happened to control the wards there were three more, all carefully warded to keep them from sight. Elaine had given specific instructions to the driver to bring Johan back to one of them, knowing that he probably wouldn’t want to be seen by anyone else as he came back to his rooms. But when he did return, he looked as if he had been crying. Feeling an odd flush of maternal instinct, she directed the library to show him into her room and ordered hot chocolate for both of them. She wasn’t too surprised when he collapsed as soon as the door closed behind him.
“He wanted me not to testify,” Johan said, as Elaine wrapped her arms around him. “And he even offered to make me Prime Heir.”
He must be desperate, Elaine thought. Johan’s testimony would be decisive ... at least if Jamal faced a free and independent jury. As it was, Johan’s father would be trying his hardest to swing the Privy Council to his side. But getting his son to change his mind about testifying would be a shortcut to getting his eldest son out of jail.
She listened as Johan explained just what had happened at the dinner party. It didn’t sound good; he’d lost control of his magic at least once, although no one had been seriously hurt when the table collapsed. But then, using magic in someone’s house without permission was regarded as a breach of etiquette ... Elaine shook her head at the thought. The Conidian had probably been delighted when his son had used magic.
“I told him that I wasn’t going to go back,” Johan finished. “And that I was going to testify.”
He paused. “He even offered to find me a bride.”
“I think that won’t be a problem,” Elaine said dryly, although she could understand his concern about finding someone. “When the Great Houses realise just how powerful you are, you’ll be beating offers of marriage away with a stick.”
Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling Page 20