“So,” he said. “What brings you to my abode at this early hour?”
Deferens smirked. “You haven’t heard,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Why not?”
Duncan felt a trickle of alarm running down the back of his neck. “Heard what?”
“About your son,” Deferens said. There was an odd note of near-hysteria in his voice. “About what he did.”
“Jamal?” Duncan asked, puzzled. Jamal had stayed inside since his release from the Watchtower; the changes Duncan had made to the wards had ensured it. “What did he do this time?”
“Johan,” Deferens corrected. “Did you hear about what he did near the Western Hills?”
Duncan frowned, then shook his head. He hated not to hear anything at once, but if it were only rumour so far it might not have reached one of his clients yet. And Deferens clearly had very good sources, wherever they were. He’d certainly been able to help Duncan visit Jamal in his cell and then have him released, even conditionally.
“The Dark Wizard Hawthorne attacked Falconine City,” Deferens said. “Your son was amongst those who rallied to stop him. He went after the Dark Wizard alone.”
Duncan felt his heart sink. A Dark Wizard didn’t earn his title by being rude to people or writing nasty letters to the broadsheets; he earned it through using dark magic to damage his mind, destroying whatever scruples he’d had left. Most of them self-destructed before too long, if the Inquisitors didn’t get them, but before they died they often killed hundreds of people. Hawthorne had shown an unusual longevity, even before he’d been captured the first time around. It had only made him more dangerous.
And Johan ... if Johan had faced a Dark Wizard, Johan was almost certainly dead.
“Johan won,” Deferens said.
Duncan stared at him in disbelief. A Dark Wizard was a formidable foe. Even Inquisitors hesitated to go after one alone. Normal procedure, as far as he knew, was to dispatch at least three Inquisitors in pursuit. Even a rumoured Dark Wizard received the full treatment. For Johan, a magician who had only had his powers for two weeks, to fight one and win ...
“Strength is not everything,” one of his tutors had said, years ago. “A magician with vast amounts of raw power can still be tied in knots by a magician with less power, but knows what the hell he’s doing. So be careful! And learn!”
“He won,” Duncan said, stunned. “How?”
“That is indeed the question,” Deferens said. “The piece of information that is not yet widely known is this. Your son took his magic.”
Duncan frowned. “Hawthorne’s magic?”
“Yes,” Deferens said, bluntly. “The Dark Wizard, according to my source, is no longer a magician at all. He’s powerless, so powerless they haven’t even bothered to chain him up.”
“Impossible,” Duncan said. He refused to believe it. “You can dampen a person’s magic, you can force them not to use it, but you can’t just take it! Even a necromantic rite wouldn’t let you take a person’s magic.”
“And yet it happened,” Deferens said. His voice was suddenly very serious. “I have verified the information as best I can. It is accurate. “
Duncan felt his mind reel, unable to process the implications. Magic separated the powerful from the powerless ... but what if the powerful could be stripped of their power? He couldn’t imagine being without his magic; even as a child, he had played with his own magic and learned how to wield it. And without magic ...
He would no longer be the Patriarch of House Conidian.
Cold fear trickled down his spine. Just what had he and his wife brought into the world, then allowed Jamal to midwife?
“Tell me,” Deferens said, breaking into his thoughts. “Could you live without magic?”
Duncan blanched. His entire life revolved around magic. Without it, he would no longer be a Privy Councillor, no longer Head of a Great House ... he wouldn’t even be able to live in his own house. The building was saturated in magic, all keyed to the Head of the Household; without his magic, his power would be gone. He wouldn’t even be able to open a door without Jamal’s permission ... assuming, of course, that the house recognised Jamal as his heir. And it would be far worse for the families who had lived in their houses for generations. If they lost their magic, the houses would assume that they were intruders and evict them.
“So far,” Deferens said, “only a few people know the truth.”
Duncan scowled at him, his eyes narrowing. “You seem to be remarkably well informed,” he said, darkly. “Just who is your source within the Inquisition?”
“Let’s just say that their decision to bring in outsiders to make up the numbers was somewhat ill-judged,” Deferens said. He made a show of stroking his beard, contemplatively. “Not all of them were as loyal as they could have been.”
He winked at Duncan, then sobered. “But it won’t be long before the news gets out,” he added. “And there will be panic among the magical community.”
Duncan could imagine it. If magic was all that separated them from the mundanes, what would happen to them if their magic was suddenly gone? They’d want to kill Johan before he could take magic from someone else ... and yet they’d also be terrified, if they believed that Johan was too powerful to challenge. Duncan could easily imagine them turning on his family, just because he’d birthed the monster. It wasn’t rational, but panicking people were never rational.
“You need to decide what you intend to do about it,” Deferens said, standing up. “Because this situation might just shatter the balance of power.”
“I know,” Duncan said.
The possibilities seemed endless – and terrifying. If Johan could take someone’s magic at will, he might become Light Spinner’s most feared enforcer. The fragile balance of power between the Grand Sorceress and the Great Houses would be shattered beyond repair. Or Johan might even take the seat of Grand Sorcerer for himself – or, perhaps, for the Head Librarian. It was becoming alarmingly clear, Duncan realised, that he had underestimated Elaine No-Kin. What if she intend to take advantage of her charge?
He watched the younger magician leave the room, then wrote a quick note to Jayne and her father. If Jayne was the only tool they had to influence Johan, they would have to use her ... because he doubted that there was anything else. He’d offered Johan everything from Marina – a bride who would allow him to enter High Society at the very highest levels – to becoming Prime Heir, but Johan had refused them all. All he’d wanted was to walk away from the family ...
I could disown him, Duncan thought, or find him an apprenticeship ... but I’d still be blamed for his mere existence ...
Cursing under his breath, he summoned Sergeant Brandish to his study. The Sergeant had been a City Guardsman before retirement and, as the elder brother of sisters who did private tuition, had plenty of experience keeping unruly young men in line. Jamal already hated him, Duncan had been amused to discover, but the Sergeant would continue to supervise him until he was ready to return to polite society. If, of course, that would ever happen. Duncan, looking at the sheer scale of the disaster Jamal had helped to create, had his doubts.
“Sir,” the Sergeant said. He was short, but tough; the unmarked uniform he wore was tight enough to show off his muscles when he flexed. “Your son is currently working on his studies.”
Duncan nodded, impatiently. He’d been reluctant to allow Jamal anywhere near the family books, but it was good training for the Prime Heir ... if, of course, he remained the Prime Heir. Charity had also been studying the same books, under a rather less gimlet eye. Her progress was slower than Jamal, but she had much less experience. And, of course, she was also still studying. Duncan had seriously considered pulling her out of the Peerless School early so she could concentrate on preparing to become the Prime Heir, but he knew that she would never forgive him for it. One child hating him was too much.
“Good,” he said. “And his conduct?”
“Improved after a dose of the stick,” the
Sergeant informed him, bluntly. “But he is still sullen and impolite whenever he thinks he can get away with it.”
Duncan sighed. There were spells that could change a person’s personality permanently, but using them on his own family would have been a breach of the family oaths he’d sworn when he’d taken over from his father. Besides, such spells often had unanticipated side effects that would make Jamal ineligible to take over when Duncan died. Not for the first time, Duncan cursed the poor timing. If Charity had been a few years older, he could have simply moved her into Jamal’s place and disowned Jamal completely.
And if she hadn’t been born a girl, he thought, sourly. If she were Prime Heir, I would have to be far more careful about choosing her husband. He would have to understand that she would keep all the power.
“I may wish to offer him the carrot in a few days,” the Sergeant added. “There have been some traces of improvement.”
“But how many of them,” Duncan asked, “stem from something more fundamental than fear of punishment?”
He scowled. His own father had believed in using hexes and curses on his children, rather than his belt or a cane. Apparently, the old man had thought it was more humane to use magic; besides, it provided an incentive to learn how to block the spells. But Duncan had been taught, patiently, the importance of being firm, but fair; it had been a necessary lesson for when he’d taken over the helm of the family. Jamal, on the other hand ... would his behaviour remain changed when the fear of punishment was removed?
“It requires careful work over a year to ensure that his behaviour remains improved,” the Sergeant admitted. “Indeed, he must come to understand why his prior conduct was so appalling and, sir, you gave him some awfully mixed messages. You never taught him the difference between right and wrong.”
“I know,” Duncan said, bitterly. “By all the gods, I know.”
There was a tap on the door. May entered at his command.
“Sir, Lord Rendang and his daughter are here to see you,” she said, holding out a card. “I believe that they are invited?”
“Show them into the sitting room,” Duncan said, rising to his feet. The papers he needed were in one of his locked cabinets. “Sergeant, you may hand out rewards as you feel necessary, but there is to be no opportunity for backsliding.”
“Yes, sir,” the Sergeant said.
Duncan walked through the door, locking and warding his study once it was empty, then walked into the sitting room. It was intended to receive guests who came as equals – or members of the family. Meeting Lord Rendang there was a powerful message; Duncan already considered him part of the family.
Jayne didn’t look that pretty to him, although it was clear that she would be a beauty as she grew older. Long dark hair framed a face that was angular, shaped by cheekbones that seemed too narrow to be classically beautiful. But her face was marred by a sulky expression that did nothing for her. Clearly, the news of her betrothal hadn’t come as a welcome surprise; instead, she seemed furious. Duncan’s own sister had looked the same way when their father had betrothed her, although she’d come to terms with it. And the marriage had been surprisingly happy.
“Lord Conidian,” the Rendang said. “May I present my daughter Jayne?”
“Charmed,” Duncan said. He bowed to the girl, who merely glared at him. “I believe that my son and yourself are already acquainted. That will make it easier.”
“I do not wish to marry,” Jayne said, in a low voice. “I have a career ahead of me.”
“We have already discussed this,” the Rendang said, sharply. “The choice isn’t yours.”
Duncan smiled. The Rendang thought he was getting the better part of the bargain – and he might well have been, although Johan was still a wild card. Jayne wasn’t the Prime Heir, or even the eldest daughter; her marriage couldn’t be expected to bring the family much in the way of wealth or influence. Having a match with Duncan’s family would bring them all of that and more. And they got to keep their eldest children for other matches. Everyone won ... even Jayne. If she wanted to have a career, it was unlikely that Johan would stand in her way.
“You promised me that I could find a tutor,” Jayne insisted, bitterly. Her voice was rising, becoming anger. “You promised ...”
“Times change,” her father said. He’d had no reason to expect Jayne to become important, so making such promises had been easy. Now ... Jayne was suddenly wanted. What was the value of such promises when the family’s fortunes could be saved by her sacrifice? “The family gave you everything. You will repay it.”
Duncan sighed, inwardly. If Charity had made such a public scene, she would have had trouble sitting down for a week. Everyone born to the aristocracy knew that their marriages would be arranged by their families; it was just the way things were, the way things had been since the formation of the Empire. The marriages blended together magic, wealth and influence ... and if the couple didn’t get along, all they really had to do was produce a handful of children and then their duty would be done. They could have as many outside relationships as they liked and, as long as they were careful, no one would care. It was just the way things were.
“I won’t give up my future,” Jayne insisted. There was a grim desperation in her tone that would have been shocking, if Duncan had been in the mood to care. “I won’t.”
“You will,” her father said, with quiet menace. “Or I will disown you.”
Jayne stared at her father, then glared at Duncan, magic crackling over her fingertips. The house wards shifted, ready to contain any magic she threw at him, but somehow she held herself back from casting a spell. Instead, she slumped, tears flowing down her cheeks. She knew, as well as everyone else, that she couldn’t survive without her family’s backing. What choice did she have, but to submit?
Duncan was largely unmoved. He’d been shocked when his father told him who he was going to marry, as had his siblings ... why should Jayne be spared from her duty merely because it upset her? She liked Johan, she knew him ... it was a far better basis for a relationship than the one Duncan had shared with his wife. Now ... he had his lovers and his wife had hers. It was the way things should be.
“Sign here,” he said, holding out the papers. “Please.”
The Rendang signed his name, then passed them to Jayne. She glared down at them, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to crumple them up in her hand, but didn’t quite dare. Instead, she reluctantly took the pen and wrote her own name. Duncan signed below hers, asserting his authority as Johan’s father. The papers glowed with a brief golden line as the magic inside them came to life. Johan was now formally engaged to Jayne.
“Thank you,” he said, to Jayne. He tried to gentle his voice, although it was apparent that it didn’t have any real effect on her. Her sobbing only grew louder, her father awkwardly patting her back as if he thought it would make her feel better. “I look forward to welcoming you into the house.”
And hope that you can help control Johan, he added silently. If it fails, they’re going to want to kill him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Breathe in,” Elaine instructed. “And then breathe out.”
Johan, his eyes closed, did his best to obey. It was hard to quiet his mind, even just before sleep, but he had to try. After what had happened to Hawthorne, Elaine had suggested that he might be able to get in touch with his magic after all ...but, so far, all that had happened in three days of attempted meditation had been him falling asleep twice. Elaine had laughed and admitted that had happened to her too more than once.
“I can hear my heartbeat,” he announced, after a moment. It was true; his heartbeat suddenly seemed to be pounding away. “But I can’t feel anything else.”
He opened his eyes. Elaine was facing him, sitting cross-legged with her own eyes closed. She looked oddly sweet and yet vulnerable in that pose, even though he knew that she had insisted they walk extensively until she was used to walking again on her rebuilt leg. And, for that
matter, that she’d been casting spells with her new wand until she knew precisely how best to use it. She might have told him that wands were largely unnecessary, but she clearly hadn’t been happy to lose the wand Hawthorne had snapped.
“No worries,” Elaine said, opening her eyes. She hadn’t bothered with the glamour; the red light that seemed to be burning inside her skull was as disconcerting as ever. Johan had wondered if he could get rid of it, but Elaine had flatly refused when he’d offered. Spells intended to repair eyesight might go spectacularly wrong when used by an untrained magician. “We can try again tomorrow.”
Johan felt his eyes narrow as she stood up, smoothing down her shirt. “How long did it take you to master it?”
“Months,” Elaine said. “But then, I was never a very powerful magician ...”
She broke off, glancing around as if she’d heard something. “Someone is coming,” she said, reaching for her wand. “A ward was just triggered, right by the bog.”
Johan rose to his feet as she walked over to the window, wand in hand. They’d talked about what to do if the cabin was attacked, but in truth he knew that escape would be difficult, no matter how quickly they ran. If they stayed on the paths, they were likely to be tracked down with ease; if they went off the paths, they were quite likely to get lost. And if the enemy had werewolves or tracking spells, it would be very hard to break free.
“It’s Dread,” Elaine said, relaxing slightly. “And he’s carrying a large bag.”
Johan smiled as the Inquisitor stamped up to the cabin and stepped inside, after taking off his shoes. Dread still bothered him – he was an Inquisitor, after all – but he was clearly Elaine’s friend, perhaps more than a friend. Elaine didn’t seem to have a social life; Dread was the only person, apart from Light Spinner, she met on a regular basis. But he was still an Inquisitor.
Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling Page 33