A man in a fancy uniform blew a whistle; Elaine hurried Johan forward and into one of the coaches, ahead of the guard as he shut the doors one by one. Inside, it was cramped, but surprisingly cosy. Elaine found a pair of window seats, motioned for him to sit down and pulled a book out of her bag. Johan, his gaze riveted to the window, refused a book when she offered it to him. A moment later, the coach lurched and started to move.
Johan had never really realised just how small the Golden City was. Hemmed in as it was by the Four Peaks, there was little room for expansion save upwards. It seemed like moments before the Iron Dragon plunged into a tunnel – the entire coach fell into darkness – and came out the other end in open countryside. The Watchtower could be seen dominating the mountains, but there were few signs of civilisation. There didn’t even seem to be any farms!
“They’re some distance from the city,” Elaine said. “The Emperors didn’t have full control over their Empire, so some of their aristocrats used the poor geography to pressure the Emperor whenever they wanted something. Now, of course, food shipments are reliable and fairly cheap.”
“And people enjoy hunting in the countryside,” Johan said, remembering Jamal’s boasts of happy hunting trips where he’d slaughtered hundreds of helpless animals. “They don’t want it turned into farmland.”
“No,” Elaine agreed. “They don’t.”
She turned her attention back to her book, but Johan stayed at the window, drinking in the sheer immensity of the countryside. He’d never really seen it before, not even when the family had been moving to the Golden City. They’d insisted that he stay inside the carriage, even when they’d been completely alone. Now, he could see the wilderness with his own two eyes ... and felt something calling to him. Why would he stay in the city when he could explore the world?
The wilderness gave way to farmland, but he still stared, watching people working in the fields. A handful of pieces of machinery seemed to be working with them, technology that reminded him of the Iron Dragon. He waved at a pair of farm girls, but they either didn’t see him or simply didn’t bother to wave back. The Iron Dragon passed through a small settlement – it was nothing more than a handful of houses – and then raced back into farmland.
They crossed a bridge that seemed to be made completely of iron, then passed a small building where several different flags were flying outside. It took him a moment to realise that they’d crossed the line between the Golden City’s jurisdiction and another part of the Empire, ruled by a client-king. But no matter how he stared, he couldn’t see any difference in the landscape outside the window. None of the people he saw looked different either.
“The borders are not so precisely delineated,” Elaine said, when he asked. She gave him a thin smile. “Most of the people who live here don’t give two figs for the borderlands, or who is actually in charge. Their families blur across the borderlands; they try damn hard to avoid paying taxes to anyone. Every so often, the authorities try to do something about it.”
Johan scowled. “And what happens?”
“The farmers play dumb,” Elaine admitted. “Most of them are living hand-to-mouth as it is, so they just ... pretend they don’t understand what the taxmen are saying.”
She shrugged. “Besides, this place was part of the Empire for centuries,” she added. “If you want to see somewhere truly different, you have to go much further from the Golden City.”
“I will, one day,” Johan said. “How many places have you seen?”
“Just Ida,” Elaine said. “It was ... different.”
They crossed another bridge, then the landscape changed. This time, the fields seemed to be awash with water, green plants growing up and out of it. Elaine identified it as a paddy field, where rice was grown, pointing out that rice was perhaps the cheapest staple food in the Empire. Those who couldn’t afford bread often ate rice as a substitute. She happily started to explain how the Empire had spread crops and concepts from one part of the world to the others, helping to improve the lives of ordinary people, but Johan could barely follow the explanation. All that mattered was that he was away from the city and away from his family.
He caught sight of a girl picking her way through the paddy field and felt a flicker of envy, even though he knew that she would lead a very hard life. She would never know what it was like to grow up completely powerless in a world where power was all. Instead, her world would be restricted ... unless, of course, she developed magic. There were magicians who watched specifically for new-born magicians and recruited them before their magic – or their families – could kill them. Jamal had sneered at them at the Peerless School, but Johan couldn’t help thinking that they had the best of both worlds. They certainly didn’t have families to please ... or to sneer at them if they weren’t magical enough.
Elaine looked pained for a long chilling moment. “The link with the library is fading,” she said. “It isn’t meant to be maintained at this distance.”
Johan eyed her, nervously. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes,” Elaine said, a little harshly. She rubbed the side of her head, then scowled. “It isn’t as if I can do anything outside the library anyway.”
Johan was unconvinced – she looked to be in pain – but held his peace.
“You might want to catch some sleep,” Elaine said, as they entered another tunnel. She cast a series of protective wards around them. “It will be seven hours before we reach our destination. I’ll key the wards to wake us then.”
Johan shook his head, too engrossed with staring out of the window. Elaine leant back in her chair and fell asleep, her brown hair coming loose and falling down around her face. She was definitely more relaxed when she was sleeping, Johan decided, glancing at her for a long moment. It made her look years younger.
The Iron Dragon started to slow down as it approached a large city. Johan stared, drinking in the sight; it was very different from the Golden City. The city seemed to sprawl out for miles, but it was oddly uniform, with none of the variety of buildings in the Golden City. If there was a style, he decided, it was strictly functional. The only decoration he saw was a large statue of a man on a horse, carrying a sword which he held up in the air. It seemed strange to him; a single magician, even an untrained one, could kill the horseman long before he became a danger.
He watched as the vehicle came to a halt in the station. Unlike the Golden City, everyone he saw wore the same kind of clothing; the women wore long dresses, while the men wore trousers and veils that covered their faces. Johan stared, not even sure if they were men; his father had always said that someone who covered their face had something to hide. But there were no sign of any curves that might indicate breasts ... they had to be men. Why were they hiding themselves?
Elaine was still sleeping, so he left her alone as the Iron Dragon started to move again. Outside the station, he saw a temple dedicated to a god – he didn’t recognise the writing – and then a series of smaller buildings that seemed like apartment blocks. But he couldn’t tell what they actually were ... shaking his head, he watched as the Iron Dragon picked up speed, racing out of the city and back into the countryside ...
He must have dozed off, for the next thing he knew was Elaine shaking his shoulder and the Iron Dragon coming slowly to a stop. It still seemed like broad daylight – it struck him, suddenly, that they had been racing against the sun – but he felt tired. Picking himself to his feet, he took his bag and stumbled out of the carriage and into Falconine City. It smelt funny, he realised, and there were green-covered mountains in the distance, yet otherwise it wasn’t that different from the Golden City. And the people thronging through the station looked much more diverse.
“This is the capital,” Elaine said, when he asked. “The outer cities are always more uniform.”
Johan blinked away sleep as they headed towards a grim-faced man in a carriage. Johan would have pegged him as an Inquisitor, he was sure, even without Elaine’s introduction; his e
xpression suggested, very strongly, that they should both be in handcuffs before they were helped into the carriage. He didn’t say much to Elaine – he didn’t say a word to Johan – merely cracked his whip and the horses stumbled into life. The city melted away behind them as they drove up towards the mountains.
“The cabin has been prepared for you,” the inquisitor grunted. “You should be fine there for a few weeks, unless we need to use it urgently.”
“Thank you,” Elaine said, ignoring his tone. “What about food supplies?”
“There’s enough, particularly if you hunt or fish too,” the Inquisitor said. “Can you do either?”
Johan looked up, interested. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of hunting for fun, but hunting for food was a very different story. But he didn’t know the first thing about hunting. Jamal had made it sound easy, yet Johan would have bet good money that he’d cheated. Magic often made it impossible for the animals to get away.
“No,” Elaine said, tartly. Living in the Golden City her entire life wouldn’t have trained her in how to fend for herself. “But we can come down here to buy food, if necessary.”
“There are a handful of hermits who will probably appreciate the money,” the Inquisitor said, brusquely. “They would hunt for you, if you asked.”
Johan tuned him out, looking at the trees as they closed in on the muddy road. It was strange to realise that this was untamed beauty, a far cry from the gardens in the Golden City ... and yet, somehow, he felt free out here. The lingering sense of his father’s constant oversight was gone completely. He could be happy ...
The vehicle turned a corner and he saw the valley laid out in front of him. There was a shimmering blue lake, surrounded by trees and bushes, hidden amongst the hills. He hoped that there would be time to go climbing, even if the sky was starting to look overcast. There was a peal of thunder in the distance and he smiled. He’d always liked rain.
“We have to walk from here,” the Inquisitor said, pulling the carriage to a halt. “Get your bags while I talk to the horses.”
The air smelled fresh and clean, Johan decided, as the Inquisitor led them up a pathway that seemed almost invisible. He wouldn’t have seen it at all if it hadn’t been pointed out to him, suggesting that there were hidden charms that kept it concealed from prying eyes. There was another rumble of thunder, closer this time, as they advanced up the path, then over a bog that threatened to suck them in if they stood still for too long. It looked as though someone had tried to build a makeshift bridge out of planks and then given up halfway through, he thought, as he saw the planks. By now, they were sodden and completely useless.
He smiled as the cabin came into view. It was small, made out of wood rather than stone ... but wood would be cheap here. Elaine didn’t seem too impressed; Johan was delighted. It was a long way from his father, his brother and the rest of his family.
And, really, what else did he want?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elaine had thought that she was used to roughing it – she’d lived in a roach-infested apartment before her promotion – but the Inquisition’s cabin gave a whole new meaning to the word. It was larger than her former apartment, yet it was primitive; food was cooked over a fire, there was no such thing as hot running water and the toilet was unspeakable. If it wasn’t for magic, she knew, she would have headed back to the city as quickly as possible, regardless of the risk. Even with it ...
Johan seemed delighted, she saw; it might not have been luxurious, but it was somewhere away from the city. The Inquisitor showed them the bedding – and the stockpile of food, held in stasis by a spell – and then headed back to the city, leaving them alone. Judging by the rapidly darkening sky, it was about to start raining at any moment. Elaine knew little about living in the countryside, but she was surprised that he hadn’t wanted to stay the night. Driving back in the darkness would be terrifying ...
But he would have to put the horses somewhere, she thought, as she turned to look out of the window. The view was impressive, she had to admit; towering mountains, endless trees and – in the distance – the faint blue shimmer of another lake. But it wasn’t the Golden City ... it seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see.
“This place is wonderful,” Johan said, coming back into the main room. “Which bedroom do you want?”
Elaine smiled. There were two bedrooms, one with a pair of bunk beds, the other with two separate beds. The Inquisitors wouldn’t care if four of them were stuffed into the same room; Elaine would have found it unbearable. She’d had enough problems sharing an apartment with Daria, even though they’d had separate bedrooms. But it honestly didn’t bother her which room she took for herself.
“Either one,” she said, softly. She had to fight down a yawn. “Which one do you want?”
“The bunk beds, I think,” Johan said. “You can have the other one.”
Elaine nodded and went into her room to make the bed. She had to show Johan how to do it, something that reminded her of Millicent and the other high-born girls at the Peerless School; they hadn’t known how to take care of themselves either. The orphanage had been far less kind to its inhabitants, teaching them everything from sewing to cooking. And girls who forgot to make their beds in the morning wound up with the worst chores.
“You’ll have to change the sheets in a few days,” she said, once she’d set up basic insect-repelling spells and a handful of other protections. “But until then, just make sure that you make the bed every morning.”
“Yes, mother,” Johan said. “I won’t forget.”
His tone was light, but Elaine could hear bitterness underneath it. Johan’s mother had only taken a vague interest in her children at the best of times, particularly after discovering that Johan was powerless. Elaine had seen enough society dames to know that it was far from uncommon, but it still tore at her. She would have given her eye teeth for a mother.
Elaine nodded, blinking away tears, and walked back into the kitchen. The Inquisitor had explained that the cabin drew water from a mountain stream, then warned them to make sure that they always boiled the water before drinking it. Elaine filled a small kettle with water, then cast a spell to make the water boil before picking up two mugs, pouring powdered chocolate into them and adding the water. It wouldn’t taste quite right, she knew, but it would suffice.
“Johan,” she called, as she stirred the chocolate, “are you hungry?”
“Always,” Johan said. “Is that normal for magicians?”
“It’s also normal for teenagers,” Elaine said, dryly. “I’m too tired to cook anything right now, so we’ll have to make do with Inquisitor rations.”
Thunder crashed, high overhead. Elaine glanced towards the windows, just in time to see the first raindrops falling from high overhead. They fell so rapidly that they seemed to fall in sheets, as though an angry god was tipping water over the mountains. Johan took his mug and walked over to the window, staring out at the rain. He would never have seen anything like it in the Golden City.
He might in the future, Elaine thought, as she created light balls to illuminate the room. The weather-control spells were badly damaged by Kane ...
She produced a ration bar and eyed it suspiciously, then broke it in half and passed one part to Johan. Her own half tasted of vegetable mush, a meal she was far too familiar with from the orphanage. Johan made a face as he chewed his bar, but he didn’t ask what went into the recipe. Elaine knew that it included various potions designed to give energy to struggling Inquisitors. Few others ate potions in solid form.
“I’ll cook something proper tomorrow,” she promised, as she examined the stove. It seemed relatively simple, she decided, although she would have to gather firewood in the morning. “For now ...”
Johan yawned. A moment later, Elaine yawned too.
“Bed, I think,” she said. She cancelled half of the light globes, realising that darkness had fallen completely outside the little hut. “Do you want a light in you
r room?”
“I could make one,” Johan said. “If I didn’t use the spell ...”
Elaine shook her head. “This building is made of wood,” she reminded him. “And if you set fire to it, the Inquisitors will make you pay to rebuild it.”
She hesitated, then dug a candle and matches out of one of the cupboards. “Use this if you need to go to the toilet in the middle of the night,” she ordered. “Or knock on my door and I’ll make you a light globe. Do not experiment on your own.”
Johan looked rebellious, but nodded.
Elaine checked his room – noting with some pleasure that he’d already started to unpack and place everything neatly on the shelves – and then waved him goodnight, before walking into her own room. It felt oddly cramped, even though it was larger than the apartment she had shared with Daria. Ruefully reflecting that she had grown too used to luxury, Elaine stripped down to her undergarments and climbed into bed. It was uncomfortable, even compared to the orphanage, but she was too tired to care. A moment later, she was asleep.
She was woken by the sound of a chiming bell. Elaine sat upright in bed, reaching desperately for her wand ... someone or something was outside. She pulled herself out of bed, clutching her wand, and slipped over to the window, drawing back the curtain to peer outside. A dozen sheep were milling around outside the hut, escorted by a large dog with disturbingly human eyes. Or was it a werewolf? Werewolves might have been rare in the Golden City – Daria had been an exception – but they were quite common in rural areas.
Feeling unaccountably grimy, Elaine pulled on her dressing gown and headed out into the main room. It was cold, cold enough to make her shiver; carefully, she cast a handful of heating charms and then started to look for the bath. As the Inquisitor had said, it was really a large metal tub and nothing else, barely large enough for her to kneel down in the water. Elaine filled it with water, then had to use magic to drag it back into her room, where she started to heat it. She had the feeling that the Inquisitors simply stripped off and washed in the main room, heedless of who might see. But Elaine had never been able to undress in front of Daria, let alone anyone else. She’d done quite enough of that in the orphanage.
Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling Page 24