“Put up a glamour, then keep it in place,” Sienna ordered. She cast one over her husband as she spoke. “Do not let it slip.”
Emily nodded, casting the spell as they reached the end of the street. The wards remained in place, yet the outer edges were starting to fray. Emily couldn’t tell if the entity had tried to break them or if a more conventional sorcerer had, but either way it was a grim warning that Sorcerers Row couldn’t hold out indefinitely. The sheer difficulty of convincing a dozen sorcerers to work together would make any more active defense impossible.
She took Caleb’s hand, feeling a little odd as she looked up at him. His glamour made him look like a merchant, a man twenty years older than her. She knew it was a glamour, she saw flickers of his real face below the mask, but it still felt as if she were being unfaithful. Perhaps it was just an effect of using a glamour. The spell was more than just an illusion. It convinced anyone looking at it to believe the illusion. Even a person who knew it was a glamour might be fooled…
And it isn’t that different to the spell Justice used, she told herself. It pushes everyone to believe in it.
There was no sign of the City Guard. The streets were patrolled by the Hands of Justice, all wearing red robes and silver runic armor, all carrying swords and whips. She couldn’t help noticing that they also wore the same clenched-fist icon, clearly visible on their shoulders. Their expressions were so identical – so cold and hard – that she wondered if they’d been enchanted…
And yet, they snapped at people, seemingly at random. A young woman was told off for wearing a colorful dress, a young man was reprimanded for showing too much leg…an older woman had her necklace torn away and smashed to the ground, for no reason Emily could see. She braced herself, readying a spell as the fanatics peered at her, but they moved on without comment. Clearly, she was modest enough not to draw their attention.
That young man would have looked modest in King Randor’s Court, she thought. The absurd outfits the king’s young blades wore had always struck her as silly. And what was wrong with the woman’s dress?
She winced as they reached the crossroad at the foot of Temple Row. The entire street was sealed off…a low mummer of…something…ran through the crowd as they saw the piles of scorched rubble where a dozen temples had once stood. Emily felt it too, even though she’d never believed. The temples – and the statues – had been labors of love, pieces of art crafted by those who truly believed. Now, a number of temples were gone, along with all of the statues. She didn’t blame the crowd for being angry…
“We saw them burning,” Caleb whispered. “We just didn’t know what we were seeing.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. The anger grew, murmurs of rage running through the growing crowd, but there was also fear. If Justice was truly real, should he be worshipped exclusively…she shivered at the thought, wondering just how big a shock it would be if they came face to face with a real god. And then she sensed the presence – again – as a middle-aged man floated up into the air. He carried a golden staff in one hand, holding it above his head. The presence grew stronger and stronger until the entire crowd fell silent. Some of them even fell on their knees.
But not many, Emily thought. The ones who were easy to overwhelm have already fallen.
“This is the Time of Judgement,” the man’s said. His voice sounded quiet, but it echoed with overwhelming force. Emily felt the rune on her chest grow warmer, warning her of subtle magic. “This city will become the Throne of Justice Himself! His eyes will see all and judge all!”
There was a long chilling pause. Emily wondered, morbidly, how many people had secrets they would rather stay hidden. A real god, walking the world, would be able to see those secrets easily, wherever they lurked. Everyone had something to feel guilty about, even if it was something as minor as not returning an overdue library book. And even something minor could turn into a far greater sin if the sinner never came to terms with it.
No hiding place down here, she thought.
“This city will be prepared for his assumption,” the speaker continued. “You, his chosen people, will be prepared for his judgement. Us, his brave followers who maintained the spark when all was dark, will serve you as we cleanse you and ready you for your life in a truly just world.”
Emily held Caleb’s hand and listened, wondering when the speaker would get to the point. She’d known quite a few men who’d acted as though they’d fallen in love with their own voices, but the speaker seemed different. He was so consumed with his own certainty that he wanted to share it with everyone. But then, coming face to face with his god must have seemed like proof he’d been right all along. If she’d been a worshipper who’d met her god, she suspected she would have felt vindicated too.
“This city belongs to Justice and Justice alone,” the speaker said. Emily straightened. It felt as though it had taken hours, but they were finally getting to the meat of the matter. “The worship of all other gods is now forbidden--” a rustle ran through the crowd, hastily dimmed by the presence “--and all temples, statues and idols are to be destroyed. Your Household Gods are to be smashed--” another rustle, angrier this time “--and your holy books burnt.”
Bastards, Emily thought. She couldn’t help a hot flicker of anger. Burning books was the closest thing to blasphemy she knew, even though the local religions hadn’t been too keen on the idea of printing presses. And yet, letting everyone read their texts won them more converts.
“Everyone is expected to present themselves for religious instruction at sunrise and sunset,” the speaker continued. “Those who do not receive instruction will be whipped. All shops are to be supervised, with prices fixed to ensure that everyone can afford to eat. Shopkeepers who attempt to evade the rules will be executed. All banks are to be closed, as sources of evil…”
Emily listened in numb horror as the speaker read out a long series of rules. The price-fixing alone would lead to disaster, but it was hardly the worst. Young women were not to be on the streets unaccompanied…and not at all after dark; young men were to present themselves for additional religious instruction before being absorbed into the Fists – not Hands – of Justice. The priests of every other religion were to surrender themselves at once; anyone who’d been part of the government was to report for duty by the end of the day…
And anyone who disobeyed, they were told over and over again, would be whipped – or executed.
They’re building a theocracy, she thought. This is not going to end well.
“No one is to leave the city,” the speaker finished. Emily’s heart sank. The presence was strong enough to make teleporting dangerous. It reminded her of the haze she’d sensed at Farrakhan. “All will serve Justice.”
The Fists of Justice stamped their feet, brandishing their swords. “Justice, Justice!”
The crowd muttered angrily. Emily glanced at Caleb, then at Sienna. If the crowd rioted, with so many armed men watching them, there would be a bloodbath. She didn’t know what to do, if all hell broke loose. Fight to help the crowd or run, knowing the riot would quickly turn into a slaughter ?
She sensed the presence grow stronger and looked back at the speaker. The tip of his staff glowed with an eerie white light, a flare that was – somehow – wrong. She couldn’t look directly at it, even as he cast a spell. A portly man was yanked into the air and suspended upside down, hanging over the crowd. The speaker’s face tightened with disdain as the man screamed and begged for help, denying everything. And yet, it sounded as though he didn’t know why he’d been targeted.
“This is a banker,” the speaker said. He couldn’t have put more disdain into his voice if he tried. “He invited credulous fools to put money in his bank, then used their gold to purchase more and more imaginary loans. He forgot the simplest principle of all – you can’t spend more than you earn. And then his loans caught up with him and his bank evaporated.
“We promise you justice.” There was nothing less than absolute conviction in his
voice. “And we swear to you that you will have justice.”
He waved his staff. Emily sensed a sudden flow of magic, guided by something that felt oddly familiar, an instant before the banker’s body glowed with blinding light. She looked away, instinctively, as the banker screamed in pain. There was nothing she could do. When she looked back, the body was nothing more than stone. She didn’t have to look at his face to know he’d died in screaming agony.
And he might not even have been a real banker, her thoughts reminded her. The only banker she actually knew was Markus. Was he in danger? The Bank of Silence was heavily warded, but it was also an obvious target. They might just have scooped someone off the street to serve as an example.
She forced herself to think as the crowd recoiled, panic starting to spread. The magic felt familiar, yet…she couldn’t quite place it. A spell she hadn’t used, but one she’d seen…seen where? The memory seemed lost within the shadows of her mind. What was it?
The speaker made a gesture. The petrified man dropped from the air…
…And shattered into a thousand pieces when he hit the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Six
FOR A LONG MOMENT, THERE WAS absolute silence.
“Go home,” the speaker said. “And spread the word of Justice!”
Emily glanced sharply at Sienna, who nodded. The Fists of Justice were already advancing, waving their swords and cracking their whips at anyone who didn’t look as though they were moving fast enough to suit them. She took one last look at the speaker, who was lowering himself back to the ground, then hurried after Sienna as the Fists moved closer. The crowd seemed too stunned to fight.
They just saw someone killed in front of them, Emily thought. Her own thoughts seemed to have trouble catching up with what had happened. And they thought they sensed a real god.
She glanced at the ruined temples as they walked past Temple Row. The Fists of Justice were everywhere, sifting through the rubble and ruthlessly extracting anything of religious value. Others were readying the next set of temples for destruction, carting out books and parchments and piling them up in the center of the street, ready for burning. She felt shock and dismay run through the crowd as the pile of irreplaceable parchments caught fire.
A priest in a red robe stood at the corner of the street, handing out pamphlets to everyone as they passed. His gaze flickered over Emily, then landed on Caleb; Emily tensed, expecting trouble, but he merely passed Caleb two copies of the pamphlets instead. Emily was torn between relief and annoyance at being so casually dismissed, simply for being female. The priests didn’t seem to be handing anything to women, even women who were clearly alone. She knew she should be relieved – she didn’t want to attract attention until she figured out how to beat the entity – but it was still annoying. It was the first step in dehumanizing women. She couldn’t help noticing that all the priests were male.
The streets seemed colder, somehow. She kept hold of Caleb’s hand, glancing from side to side as they hurried home. The shops were closed, streets were barricaded; Emily wondered, grimly, how long it would be until the Fists of Justice knocked their way through the makeshift barriers and started to patrol the streets. They wouldn’t want to allow anyone to defy their rule, not in the early days. A hint of weakness might prove disastrous. She suspected it wouldn’t be long before the Fists came for Sorcerers Row, even though most sane city councils ignored magic-users as much as possible. The street might prove a haven for the disbelievers and discontented.
And they have…something…on their side, Emily thought. If Justice drew energy from the spells hurled at him, the wards protecting the street will be an all-you-can-eat buffet. The sorcerers won’t stand a chance.
Hundreds of wards drifted through the air as they turned into Sorcerers Row. Emily sensed a dozen sorcerers looking at her – looking at everyone – through the wards; she shivered, helplessly, as the wards drifted over her skin. They felt formidable, but they might prove worse than useless against Justice. She hoped the wardcrafters had enough sense not to hook themselves directly to the wards. The feedback from one or more of them breaking would be enough to kill their creators.
Sienna stopped to speak to one of the sorcerers on the barricade. Emily glanced at Caleb, then took one of the pamphlets and tested it for hidden surprises. The rune on her chest warmed as soon as she opened it, warning her of subtle magic. She tested the paper carefully, trying to find the rune. Someone had drawn the pattern out so carefully that it only formed when the pamphlet was opened. It was a very low-power rune, so subtle that it might pass unnoticed, but given time it would have an effect on anyone close by.
“Clever,” she muttered.
“Whoever designed this was disgustingly inventive,” Caleb agreed. “That’s nasty.”
Emily nodded. On one hand, it was reassuring. The Hands of Justice – the Fists, now – seemed to think they needed to force people to convert to their faith. They weren’t confident enough to believe otherwise. But on the other hand…most of the city’s population, even the strong-willed, wouldn’t realize the rune existed, let alone what it did. They might not convert immediately, but their resistance would slowly wear down to a nub. Just leaving the pamphlet open in the wrong place might prove disastrous.
“We can destroy the rune,” she said. She silently cursed the unknown designer under her breath. She’d seen her fair share of charmed or cursed books, including one that was supposed to drive its readers insane, but this was obnoxious. Even an experienced sorcerer might miss the rune unless he had special protections. “And we can warn others to destroy it too.”
“Unless it’s charmed to react badly when the rune is broken,” Caleb said. He cast a series of spells over the pamphlet. “It doesn’t look to be charmed, but there could be something else hidden between the pages.”
“Keep an eye on me,” Emily ordered. She peered down at the pamphlet, carefully. “And don’t let me do anything stupid.”
“That’s a full-time job,” Caleb teased.
Emily ignored him as she read the pamphlet. The writer had used the New Learning – a combination of English letters and phonic spelling – to make a simple case for justice. And Justice. An indictment of the guildmasters and their rule, a condemnation of the other religions and their gods, a simple statement that Justice was the sole god of Beneficence…and a set of rules and regulations intended to keep the population in line. If anything, it was worse than she’d feared. The entire population would be re-educated until resistance was not only futile, but inconceivable.
“Crap,” she muttered.
Frieda hurried over to join them. “What now?”
“Good question,” Emily said. The Fists of Justice had to be stopped. Once they had the city in an iron grip, they’d start advancing into Zangaria. She had no doubt that advance parties of priests were already preparing the true believers for the next step. King Randor would not react calmly when he heard the news. “I don’t know.”
She contemplated possibilities as Sienna led them back to the house. Attacking Justice directly would be futile, at least until they devised a way to defeat the entity. It would just get them killed. Starving the entity of magic might work – she’d defeated the Manavores using something similar – but Justice might be able to break free of any traps before he ran out of power. The Mimic had lasted for quite some time between feeding sessions…
“This cannot go on,” General Pollack said, once they were inside. His glamour had been removed. “I’ll have to find out just how many councillors are actually left.”
“The guildmasters were killed,” Caleb said.
“There will be others who survived,” General Pollack told him. “Even if the standing guildmasters are dead, they will have successors.”
“Who will think that there is a real live god walking the streets,” Sienna said. “We might be alone.”
“We need help,” General Pollack said. “If no one tries to resist, they’ll have all the time in th
e world to tighten their grip on the city.”
Emily nodded. She’d been in Alexis when King Randor had nearly been overthrown by a coup. The plotters would have won if they’d had a chance to take control of the rest of the city, crushing resistance before it could take shape. But they hadn’t…
Her lips twitched. They would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for us meddlesome kids.
“The moment you step outside the street, you’ll be challenged,” Sienna pointed out. “They already have men watching Sorcerers Row.”
“I’ll sneak through the gap.” General Pollack sounded enthused by the chance for real action, despite the risks. He hadn’t led from the front during the last war against the necromancers. “I have plenty of experience in sneaking around.”
He looked at Caleb. “I’ll take Caleb with me. His magic can help us avoid detection.”
“Be careful.” Sienna shared a long look with her husband. “And make sure you trust the people you find.”
Emily winced. The sheer power of the entity was terrifying. Someone who might be trustworthy at one point might be converted into an implacable enemy, just by constant exposure to the presence. She looked at the pamphlet in her hand and cursed the unknown writer under her breath. There was so much subtle magic involved that it would be very difficult to muster resistance.
And they have had plenty of time to plant spies everywhere, she thought, grimly. The general might walk into a trap.
“Be very careful,” she said to Caleb. She held up the pamphlet. “And make sure you warn them to burn these.”
Sienna glowered down at hers. “Nasty. Very nasty.”
Emily dropped hers in the fire and watched it burn. “Here’s a different question,” she said, slowly. “How much food do we have?”
Karan muttered a word, just loudly enough to be heard. “Not much. We have preservation spells on the cooler, but…we’ll be running out of food within the week, assuming we go on short rations.”
Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12) Page 25