Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “And everyone asked me when I was going to get married,” Caleb added. “They all seemed to want to know.”

  “That’s because you are now the Heir,” Sienna said. Emily jumped. Sienna stood in Marian’s doorway, holding a wooden hairbrush in one hand. “I believe I explained that earlier.”

  Caleb took a step backwards. “Why do they care?”

  “Because they have to know what’s going to happen in the next few years.” She cocked her head, thoughtfully. “If there’s a city left, that is.”

  “There will be,” Caleb said.

  “Perhaps,” Sienna agreed. “We shall see.”

  Her voice hardened. “Go to bed,” she ordered. “And make sure you take a sober-up potion before you close your eyes.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Caleb said.

  “And remember what else I told you,” Sienna added. “Not under my roof.”

  Emily flushed. They hadn’t been doing anything, apart from hugging. But she knew Sienna was in a dark mood. The funeral had been ruined. Casper might be laughing, as Caleb had suggested, but his parents had to be furious. They might need to hold the ceremony again.

  “Sleep,” Sienna ordered. “And behave.”

  Emily stepped into her room and closed the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “THAT WAS CARELESS,” FRIEDA SAID, AS Emily shut the door. Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious. “You could have been in real trouble.”

  Emily shrugged, locking the door and pulling off her robe. She’d faced necromancers and a whole host of other monsters. Sienna was intimidating, but not that scary. Her nightgown was where she’d left it; she pulled it over her undershirt, then lay down on the bed. The wards were a reassuring presence at the back of her mind, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. It felt like hours before she fell into darkness…

  “It’s breakfast,” Frieda said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “You’re joking,” Emily said, in shock.

  She glanced at her watch. Frieda wasn’t joking. She’d slept for over ten hours. Odd, when she’d barely drawn on her magic. Maybe she’d accidentally charmed herself to sleep. She hoped not. There were stories about young magicians who’d done just that and wound up trapped in their own minds. None of them ended well. She pulled herself out of bed, splashed some water on her face and pulled on another blue dress. Trousers would be better if she had to run, but she had none. Maybe she could borrow a pair from Karan.

  “I hope you slept,” she said, as they opened the door. “Did you?”

  “For a while,” Frieda said. “And then I studied instead.”

  They walked down the stairs. It was dark outside, the sun barely glimmering below the horizon. There was no sign of Caleb, Croce, or Marian at the breakfast table; General Pollack, Sienna, and Karan sat there, eating lumpy bowls of porridge. It dawned on Emily, as Sienna pointed to a chair, that starvation was a real possibility. If they couldn’t get out of the house…

  “The riots seem to have simmered down,” General Pollack said, by way of greeting. Emily would have been more impressed if he wasn’t still wearing his sword. “There was no trouble up here.”

  “They went looking for easier targets,” Sienna said, as Karan served Emily and Frieda. “I don’t think many rioters would be stupid enough to challenge the wards.”

  Emily hoped Sienna was right, but she doubted it. Rioters weren’t even as clever as the stupidest person in the mob. It was easy to imagine crowds pushing against the wards, forced into contact by their fellows. Pain wouldn’t stop them when the pushers weren’t the ones being hurt. But then, the sorcerers should be able to make their wards strong enough to keep the crowds out without seriously hurting anyone.

  She chewed her porridge carefully. It was strikingly bland, without sugar, milk or anything else that might make it more edible. She told herself, firmly, that she should be glad to have it. There were people on the streets who might be starving by now. God alone knew what had happened outside the wards.

  Karan took the bowl as soon as Emily had finished and carried it back into the kitchen. Emily suspected Karan was looking for something to do, to keep herself occupied.

  Sienna cocked her head. “We’ve got visitors,” she said. “Come into the living room.”

  Emily tensed as she rose. Hostile visitors? But Sienna didn’t look alarmed…

  She watched as Sienna parted the wards and opened the front door. Two men stood there: one wearing a long red robe, the other a blue uniform with a silver star on the collar. A guardsman, she guessed. The robed man looked to have had too much comfortable living – he was strikingly pudgy, with a long white beard that fell to his chest – but his companion reminded her of General Pollack. His scars told her that the guardsman had been through too much to let himself run to fat.

  “Guildmaster Jalil,” Sienna said. “And Captain Haverford.”

  “It is always a pleasure, Mediator,” Jalil said. His voice was so perfectly aristocratic that he would have fit in at King Randor’s court. “And Lady Emily, I believe. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

  “Guildmaster Jalil is the current Grand Guildmaster,” Sienna said, as she led the two men into the living room. Emily frowned. She was fairly sure that Jalil had been one of the people who’d sent her letters. “Captain Haverford is the current head of the City Guard.”

  “That I am.” Haverford had a curt way of speaking that reminded her of Sergeant Harkin. Emily was fairly sure that Haverford was not a man to play politics. “And time is not on our side.”

  Sienna nodded. “Your bodyguards will get impatient,” she agreed. “You have a small army waiting outside.”

  “The streets are not safe,” Haverford said. “The Guard is overwhelmed.”

  Jalil cleared his throat, looking directly at Sienna. “As the Grand Guildmaster. I am formally requesting your assistance with the investigation.”

  Sienna lifted her eyebrows. “Mine?”

  “Your word is good, Mediator,” Jalil said. “We need to know what happened to Vesperian, now. Did he commit suicide? Did he fall off the building by accident? Or was he pushed?”

  There was something up there, Emily thought. But what?

  “An understandable request,” Sienna said. “I will require the usual compensatory package, as well as a warrant from the Council to question witnesses and go wherever I deem necessary.”

  Jalil reached into his robes and produced a piece of old-style parchment. “I took the liberty of convincing the Council to sign,” he said, holding it out to Sienna. “They are desperate for answers.”

  “Then I will be off presently,” Sienna said. She glanced at Emily. “I will be taking Lady Emily with me, of course.”

  Emily stared at her. “Me?”

  Jalil…showed no visible reaction at all. “If you are willing to assume responsibility for her, then I dare say we can offer no objection. But please be careful.”

  “Of course,” Sienna said.

  “And we would also like the services of your husband,” Haverford added. “The City Guard is being reinforced.”

  “It will be my pleasure to serve,” General Pollack said.

  “Then we will take our leave.” Jalil rose, ponderously, and bowed. “I look forward to your report.”

  Emily stared after them until they’d left the house. “You’re taking me along?”

  “Everyone knows you have an odd sense for magic,” Sienna said. “And besides, I don’t want to leave you and Caleb alone.”

  She ignored Emily’s flush. “Get your cloak. We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”

  Emily swallowed the angry response that came to mind. She wasn’t Sienna’s daughter-in-law, not yet. Sienna couldn’t order her around as if she were a servant. And yet…she was curious. Jalil was right. They did need to know what had happened to Vesperian as soon as possible. She hurried back to the kitchen, told Frieda what had happened, and went to grab her coat. It would be chilly outside.

  T
he streets were surprisingly clear, even after they passed through the wards, but there were signs of damage all around. She saw watching eyes peering from upper windows as they walked down the street, past damaged storefronts and a handful of dead bodies lying in the gutter. Small squads of city guardsmen marched from place to place, carrying their clubs as if they expected an attack at any moment. Perhaps they were right, Emily thought. She was sure one of the bodies had been wearing a guardsman’s uniform.

  Temple Row was a mess, she saw, as they turned the corner. Hundreds of statues had been damaged or destroyed, while several temples had been desecrated. Priests and their devotees tried to clean up the mess, watched by patrolling guardsmen. A small pile of bodies, some hacked to pieces, had been dumped at the edge of the street. She hoped someone removed the bodies before they started to decay. Beneficence had enough problems without a disease outbreak.

  The Temple of War was a shadow of its former self. The stone walls still stood, but the interior had been thoroughly devastated. Sienna let out a grunt of pain as they approached the coffin, then a sigh of relief as she checked the wards. The coffin remained intact, thankfully. Emily wanted to say something – anything – as Sienna paused, but nothing came to mind. Eventually, Caleb’s mother led her out into the back garden. Vesperian’s body still lay on the ground.

  “It’s definitely him.” Sienna paced around the body, muttering to herself. “His fall must have been slowed, a little. The face is remarkably intact for someone who fell ten stories and landed hard.”

  Emily glanced at Sienna with respect. She hadn’t thought of that.

  Sienna looked up. “He fell from the Temple of Stone,” she added, thoughtfully. “How did he even get to the roof?”

  The temple was deserted, they discovered. Sienna pulled a wand from her belt and waved it around, then stepped back in puzzlement. The wards that should have been in place, keeping out supernatural vermin and unbelievers, were gone. Instead, there was a faint sense of…absence that chilled Emily to the bone.

  She looked at Sienna. “Was Vesperian a…I mean…did he go to this temple?”

  “If he had any religious beliefs, I don’t know about them.” Sienna sounded as though she was worried by some other thought. “There should be someone here at all times, Emily. I don’t like the look of this.”

  Emily frowned. “They could be hiding at home?”

  “A priest would normally be here, whatever happened,” Sienna said. “And there are no wards to bar our way.”

  She led the way further into the temple. Emily glanced around, taking in the rough stone statues and the layers of rock embedded within the walls. She knew nothing about the temple’s precepts, but she had to admit its priests had crafted a remarkable building. Water flowed down the side of the stairs as they walked up, pooling in a silver pond at the exact center of the temple. Sienna didn’t seem to find it out of the ordinary. Emily decided it must be part of the design.

  A cold breeze blew across the roof when they reached the top and stepped into the open air. Emily shivered, looking north. A dozen ships were making their way through the Gap and heading out onto the open sea, so desperate to leave that their skippers ran the risk of a collision. She had no idea what would happen if two sailing boats collided, given the currents flowing around the jagged rocks, but she doubted it would be pleasant. And yet, staying in the city might not be pleasant either…

  Sienna held up a hand to keep Emily from walking further onto the roof. “No footprints. That dust has been here for years.”

  Emily wasn’t so sure. The breeze wasn’t that strong, but it should have kept a layer of dust from forming. And the rain would have washed the dust away…a thought struck her and she looked around, already knowing what she would find. A handful of runes had been carved into the stone, directing the wind and rain away from the temple. The breeze…

  “There shouldn’t be a breeze,” she said. “But there is…”

  Sienna followed her gaze. “Well spotted,” she said. She shot Emily a brilliant smile. “The magic has failed.”

  She knelt beside the nearest rune. “It’s dead,” she said, running her fingers over the carving. “Not weakened…it’s dead. No charge of magic at all.”

  Emily shook her head in disbelief. Subtle magic runes drew mana from the environment, slowly building up their power. It was what made them so dangerous. The magic was so hard to detect – it might as well be part of the background noise – that the effects were rarely questioned until it was far too late. And yet, Sienna was right. The runes had no magic charge at all.

  “They’re intact,” she said. “Right?”

  “Right,” Sienna agreed, grimly. “What does that mean?”

  Someone hit the reset button, Emily thought. Could a magician have drained the charge…?

  She reached out with her senses, carefully. She’d always been more sensitive to background magic than many of her friends, if only because it wasn’t as natural as breathing to her. If there was any magic on Earth, it was well hidden. She’d certainly never believed magic existed until she’d first set foot on the Nameless World. And yet…

  “I can’t feel magic,” she said. “It wasn’t just the runes. The entire area has been drained.”

  “Impossible.” Sienna held out a hand, palm upwards. A spark of light danced over her fingertips, then faded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Emily frowned, taking a step forward. It felt as if something was subtly wrong, as if…she tried to put it into words, but failed. It wasn’t the presence of something…more like a shift in the world itself. And yet…

  The forest near Whitehall – past Whitehall – had been glowing with magic. It had affected her, she recalled, the surges of raw magic toying with her emotions. She couldn’t help a pang of guilt as she remembered kissing Robin…she ruthlessly pushed the thought out of her mind. She hadn’t been in her right mind. Present Whitehall’s forest wasn’t anything like as infused with magic. Tapping the nexus point had clearly allowed the background mana to fall to a more normal level.

  But here…here, something had drained the magic completely.

  She looked up at Sienna. “Can someone drain a rune of power?”

  “I don’t think so,” Sienna said. “They certainly wouldn’t get very much power.”

  Emily nodded. It wasn’t power that made undiscovered runes dangerous. She had no idea how long the runes had protected the temple, but they couldn’t have gathered enough mana to make absorbing the energy worth someone’s while…

  “No footprints,” Sienna said. “Vesperian could have levitated himself to the edge and fallen…”

  “Maybe whatever kept our spells from saving him also drained his magic,” Emily said. “If he had magic.”

  “He didn’t,” Sienna said. “But he could have easily afforded something that would have let him fly.”

  “Unless it failed,” Emily said. “There was something up here, wasn’t there?”

  She scowled. She’d been disappointed, at first, when she’d discovered that witches and wizards didn’t fly on broomsticks. It wasn’t as if making flying brooms was difficult. And then she’d found out how easy it would be to knock someone off a broomstick. Even basic levitation could be dangerous if someone wanted the flyer dead.

  “I sensed something,” Sienna agreed. “But it was probably someone concealing their presence.”

  Emily shrugged. “Was Marian the only person who thought she saw Justice?”

  Sienna rounded on her. “Gods do not walk the streets, Emily. And people who say otherwise are lying.”

  She jabbed a finger towards a building at the bottom of Temple Row. “That temple was founded by a fisherman who claimed to have seen a god at the bottom of the ocean. Right now, countless fishermen go there to pray and leave tributes every day before setting sail. And you know what? Some of those fishermen have never come home!”

  Emily held herself steady. “You think it’s a con?”

&nb
sp; “I don’t know what he saw,” Sienna said. “Or even if he saw anything. But you’d think that a god of the oceans could protect his worshippers, wouldn’t you?”

  She sighed as she headed for the steps. “I’ve handled cases where rogue sorcerers have summoned creatures out of the Darkness. Maybe those creatures could be mistaken for gods, if they weren’t so malevolent! Those cultists who worship them rarely live to regret it. And the higher gods, the greater gods…

  “People are wasting their lives worshipping creatures who can’t or won’t intervene in human affairs,” she added. “The time spent praying could be better used elsewhere. The food donated to the temple could be given directly to the poor. If the gods were good, they’d help anyway; if not, they wouldn’t. And all the stories make the gods out to be spoilt brats in need of a good thrashing. They may be more powerful than us, but that doesn’t make them good.”

  Emily said nothing. She’d read enough about the Greek and Roman gods to know that Sienna had a point. The gods had been assholes, demanding worship on one hand and cursing random people on the other. And yet, if religion caused no harm, why bother to worry about it?

  Her thoughts answered her. Because no religion is as good as its god. It is only as good as its followers. And some of those followers are worse than their gods.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Something clearly happened up there,” Sienna said, “but what?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. A Manavore might be able to drain the local magic field, but she hadn’t seen one of them in the present day, not even in the history books. They’d been forgotten hundreds of years ago. “What do we tell the guildmaster?”

  “Nothing, yet,” Sienna said. “I think we’d better go visit an old friend of mine – and her daughter. She might be able to tell us what she saw, the night her boyfriend died.”

  Emily nodded. “And then what?”

  Sienna looked, just for a second, much older. “I wish I knew,” she said. “Right now, we can’t even swear to it being murder…or suicide.”

  “And if he committed suicide,” Emily finished. It didn’t seem likely – there had been something on top of the temple – but it was possible. “Everyone is going to want to know why he committed suicide.”