The Best Laid Plans (Bookworm III)

Prologue

The Golden City was on edge.

Inquisitor Cass could feel it as she strode through the streets, her long black robes spinning out around her, marking her as an Inquisitor to all who cared to stare.   The handful of people on the streets were careful not to stare, even though she was morbidly certain they would have ogled her if she'd been wearing something - anything - else.  She'd left the Peerless School a full year ahead of her contemporaries and looked ridiculously young for her position.  But then, being underestimated was always an advantage.

She smiled to the guards as she reached the walls surrounding the Golden Palace, then stepped through the wards, feeling the waves of magic protecting the Grand Sorcerer shimmering against her personal protections before they parted, allowing her to enter the complex.  The guards nodded respectfully to her - they had no magic and were really only there for show - and stood back, trusting in the Grand Sorceress's wards to keep out the really dangerous threats.  Cass kept walking forward, allowing the magic surrounding the Golden Palace to guide her steps.  Slowly, inch by inch, it led her through a long corridor and into the antechamber, outside the Throne Room.  There were more guards standing there, watching the long line of petitioners who had somehow managed to slip into the building in hopes of seeking an audience with the Grand Sorceress.  Judging from the looks some of them aimed at Cass when they thought she wasn't looking, it wasn't getting them anywhere.   

The stone door swung open, allowing her into the Throne Room.  As always, the sheer magnificence of the room took her breath away.  The walls were covered in gold, while the floors were solid marble, engraved with golden images of the great heroes of the Necromantic Wars.  In the exact centre of the room, surrounded by silver runes of power, was the Golden Throne itself.  Cass felt the tug of the magic shimmering around the Throne and had to force herself to pull away.  When there had been an Emperor in the Golden City, she was sure, his presence had been enough to dominate the chamber.  Now ...

The Grand Sorceress, Lady Light Spinner, sat at a small table, positioned neatly in the shadow of the Golden Throne.  Her face was hidden behind a veil, as always, but her posture was tense, while her hand signed documents in a swift, almost frantic manner, suggesting she too was on edge.  It was hard to blame her, Cass knew.  During her elevation, a Dark Wizard had done significant damage to the Golden City, while only scant days ago several Great Houses had collapsed into chaos.  The Empire was weaker than it had been for centuries.

“Wait,” Light Spinner ordered.

Cass went down on one knee, then forced herself to remain calm, despite her puzzlement at being summoned so abruptly.  Junior Inquisitors were rarely called before the Grand Sorceress unless they had done something truly spectacular ... or fallen flat on their faces, embarrassing both themselves and their trainers.  But Cass knew that she had done neither, not recently.  She'd done her duty ...

The Grand Sorceress looked up at her, suddenly.  “You may rise,” she said.  “And speak freely.”

“Thank you,” Cass said.  

She wondered, absently, what the Grand Sorceress made of her.  At twenty-five, she was the youngest Inquisitor on active duty - and certainly the prettiest, with long blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face.  The Grand Sorceress wouldn’t have hidden her face, Cass was sure, if there hadn’t been a good reason to hide.  But why?  Even the Inquisition didn't know why the Grand Sorceress chose to wear the veil.

“You swore your oaths to the Grand Sorcerer,” Light Spinner said.  “Did you not?”

“Yes,” Cass said.  “I did.”

She frowned at the question.  Light Spinner, the Grand Sorceress, knew she’d sworn the Inquisitor Oaths.  Cass couldn't have entered the Watchtower without having sworn the oaths and bound herself to their service.  And, as Grand Sorceress, Light Spinner was entitled to her obedience.  Cass could no more have disobeyed a direct order from the Grand Sorceress than she could have chosen to ignore a magic-abusing fool in the streets.

“I have a specific task for you,” the Grand Sorceress said.  “It will require you to be released from your oaths, should you accept.”

Cass blinked, genuinely shocked.  The Inquisitors were all powerful magicians - and very well trained.  Their oaths kept them from being anything more than the Grand Sorcerer’s enforcers, rather than joining other magicians in the endless battle for supremacy.  For the Grand Sorceress to release her from her oaths ... it made no sense.  Cass could have carried out almost any order the Grand Sorceress chose to give without being freed from her sworn words.

“My Lady,” she said, carefully.  “I ...”

The Grand Sorceress held up one gloved hand.  “There are issues you need to understand,” she said.  “Johan Conidian is alive.”

Cass felt an odd flicker of fear.  There were ways to strip a magician of his or her magic, if necessary, but they required careful rituals and complex spellwork.  Johan Conidian, on the other hand, had developed a form of magic that allowed him to take a person’s magic without the rituals, something that had terrified every magician who had heard about it.  They lived in a world where magic was power, she knew.  How could they be faulted for being terrified when they sensed that they could lose their power?  

And that everyone they were mean to would be mean to them, once they were powerless, Cass thought, silently.

“I am sending him and Elaine, the Head Librarian, out of the city,” Light Spinner continued.  “They will not be able to attend the Conference” - she gave an odd little chuckle - “but instead they will be carrying out a mission for me.  You will accompany them and provide what assistance you can.”

“But not as an Inquisitor,” Cass said, slowly.

“No,” Light Spinner agreed.  “You will go as an independent magician.”

Cass considered it, reluctantly.  The Inquisitors were among the most capable magicians in the world - and she’d worked hard to join their ranks.  It had been far from easy, not when the Senior Inquisitors had taken great pride in pushing the younger volunteers to breaking point, hoping to force out anyone who could break before it was too late.  And it was always harder for a woman ... she’d survived, somehow, and gained her robe and staff.  The thought of simply abandoning her achievement was horrific.

But she could see the Grand Sorceress’s point.  The oaths she’d sworn would push her in a certain direction, once she was face-to-face with Johan Conidian.  His magic was new and utterly unprecedented, as far as anyone could tell.  She had a duty to take him to the Watchtower or simply kill him, before he fell into unfriendly hands.  If the last few months had taught her anything, it was that the peace and stability of the last fifty years was proving to be an illusion.

And she knew her duty.

“I will, if you will release me,” she said.  She hesitated, then took the skull ring off her finger and dropped it into her pocket.  “Can I retake the oaths afterwards?”

“If you wish to return to the Inquisitors, you may retake the oaths,” Light Spinner said.

Cass bowed her head, then stepped forward when Light Spinner rose to her feet.  The oaths were suddenly very prominent within her mind, sworn words that were woven into her magic by old rituals.  Obey the Emperor - and the Grand Sorcerer.  It was the only way to ensure stability, she knew, given how many magicians were prepared to fight for power.  The Grand Sorcerer wasn't just the most powerful magician in the world, as far as anyone knew; he or she was supported by a corps of other powerful magicians.  It was hard for anyone to challenge the Inquisitors.

“In the name of the Emperor, wherever he may be, I release you from your oaths,” Light Spinner said.  “I ...”

Cass barely heard her as magic suddenly shimmered around her.  The oaths had been part of her for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to be free of them, to be free of a compulsion she had accepted willingly as part of her job.  Now ... magic danced and twisted, reminding her that she was a powerful magician ... and that she was free.  It would be easy, now, to do whatever she liked, to be the ultimate spoilt brat.  Magic made it so easy ...

She reached into her pocket and took the ring.  It burned against her flesh the moment she touched it, growing hotter and hotter every second.  Only Inquisitors could wear the rings.

“I will take that,” Light Spinner said.  “It will be held in trust for you.  And I suggest you change or glamour your clothes.”

“Thank you,” Cass said, placing the ring on the table.  It felt as if she had given up a piece of herself.  Moments later, her black robes became a simple pair of trousers and a shirt.  She’d worn plain clothes often enough, but this was different.  She might never be an Inquisitor again.  “Please give it to my superiors if I don’t return.”

She took a deep breath, then calmed herself.  The job still needed to be done, even if she was no longer bound by her oaths.

“I thank you,” she said, formally.  She had never heard of an Inquisitor being released from the oaths before, if only because they rarely lived long enough to retire.  Now ... it was growing harder to remember why she had sworn the oaths in the first place.  “And I will carry out your requests.”

“Good,” the Grand Sorceress said.  She motioned for Cass to follow her out of the giant chamber, into a smaller office lined with giant bookshelves.  “This is what I want you to do.”

Chapter One

The chamber under the Great Library was crammed with books.

Elaine let out a sigh as she surveyed the groaning tables, utterly heaving with books, maps and records recovered from a dozen smaller libraries within the city.  Some of them dated back to the Necromantic Wars, when the Witch-King had been first hero, then villain; others were much younger, either copies of copies or outright fakes.  The dusty tomes all looked old - some of them clearly hadn't been touched for years - but a quick inspection was often enough to reveal that they weren't what they seemed.  It was astonishing, really, just how many Great Houses had seen fit to embellish their roles in building the empire over the years.

Or maybe it isn't astonishing at all, Elaine thought, as she ran her fingers through her long brown hair.  Grand Sorcerers come and go, but the Great Houses last forever.

She looked down at one of the tomes and cursed its author under her breath.  The knowledge in her head was enough to tell her that the writer had been making it up as he went along, although anyone could have worked it out for himself if he’d read the book with a critical eye.  There were at least nine outright contradictions within the book, while one whole segment was devoted to discussing a ritual Elaine knew wouldn't actually work, no matter how enthusiastically the participants danced naked under the moonlight.  Apparently, it was an old family ritual, but Elaine had her doubts.  She rather suspected it had been written by a dirty old man.

Walking to the next table, she looked down at the maps they’d recovered from one of the Great Houses.  Some of them showed recognisable continents; others, more detailed, showed the world as it had been before the Necromantic Wars.  Elaine scribbled down notes to herself in her notebook, hoping a quick comparison with a modern map would show her lands familiar to the Witch-King.  If they found a place he considered secure, she was sure, they would find his lich.   And then they could destroy him before it was too late.

She shook her head, then stepped past the table and looked down at a mirror, lying in one of the half-empty boxes.  It sparkled with magic when she tested it, but none of the spells seemed to do more than alter the reflected image.  On impulse, she picked it up and studied her reflection, watching as the mirror showed her how she could improve her looks, if she was prepared to put in the time and effort.  Shaking her head, she put it down on the table again.  The mirror had probably been crafted for some minor daughter, someone who wouldn't be expected to do anything beyond looking pretty and marrying well.  No one else would have the time to primp and preen every day. 

Not when they could use glamours instead, she thought, coldly.  The mirror hadn’t been designed by a skilled magician, she was sure.  It hadn't noticed the glamour covering her eyes, let alone made suggestions for improvement.  But there was no real improvement, she was sure, for eyes that glowed a brilliant red.  All she could do was keep them hidden and pray no one looked past the glamour.  Red eyes were not a good sign.  

The next set of texts were copies of ones in the Great Library.  She made a note of their titles, then marked them down to be returned to their owners.  None of the owners had been pleased to give up their private libraries, after all, but the Grand Sorceress had been insistent.  Elaine hoped - prayed - that none of them realised that she had requested access to their libraries, if only because she didn't need more enemies.  Being a Privy Councillor made her a target for anyone who wanted power, even though Elaine was hardly the Grand Sorceress.  And if they’d known just how much knowledge was locked in her head ...

She sighed, rubbing her forehead.  Some of the knowledge had faded, but everything to do with magic was as sharp and clear as it had been on the day she’d woken up and discovered just what had happened to her.  The Great Library, repository for every last piece of magical knowledge in the Empire, had been copied and dumped into her head, including thousands upon thousands of forbidden spells the Grand Sorcerer had kept under lock and key.  She knew she’d been lucky not to be executed, after the truth of her parentage had come out, but there were days when she wondered if she had really been lucky.  No matter what precautions she took, she knew - all too well - that she was vulnerable to a more powerful magician.  

They don’t know, she told herself.

But she knew one person - entity - who did know.  The Witch-King had spent centuries manipulating events within the Empire, preparing for his rebirth.  They’d been lucky to stave off his first assault on the Golden City and no one had heard anything from him since, but she knew it was just a matter of time.  And yet, the Witch-King was functionally immortal.  He could pull in his horns and wait for another couple of hundred years before he made another play for power, by which time everyone who knew he was still alive would be dead.  How did one fight an entity who thought in decades and spent centuries crafting his plans?

She sighed again, feeling a headache building up under her skin.  The headaches had been growing more frequent as she’d delved into the tomes, looking for something - anything - that would cut the search short, but there was nothing.  She’d even spent hours reviewing history, looking for traces of the Witch-King’s influence, only to discover that it was largely impossible to tell what might have been his work and what was nothing more than a coincidence.  All she’d ended up with, for her trouble, was a series of headaches and a hundred conspiracy theories.  Anything could be the Witch-King, anything at all.  The only thing that kept her from giving up was the certain knowledge that if the Witch-King was as omniscient as he seemed, he would have won by now.

The wards surrounding the Great Library shimmered, once, then sent her an alert.  Johan had left his apartment, right next to hers, and was making his way down towards the underground chamber.  The labyrinth spell prepared itself to grip him, leaving him walking in circles endlessly until Elaine or one of the other librarians could come see who had tried to enter the private sections of the library.  She hastily told the spell to let him through, then reached out with her mind, trying to sense Johan’s presence.  The knowledge in her head told her she should be able to sense his presence anywhere, whenever she wanted to know where he was or what he was doing.  But she barely sensed the merest flicker of his presence until he stepped into the chamber.

Elaine greeted him with a tired smile.  Johan Conidian was tall and handsome - and, until very recently, Powerless.  His family had practically kept him a prisoner until he’d developed magic, a very strange form of magic.  Elaine had studied his power extensively, since the first day he’d used his magic, and yet she had no idea how it worked.  Or, for that matter, why the apprenticeship bond hadn’t formed properly.  They had sworn willingly, after all; he had accepted her as his mistress, even though it was rare for a female to take a male apprentice or vice versa.  But the bond hadn't formed properly.

“Johan,” she said.  “Have you started to pack?”

“Yes, mother,” Johan said.  He stopped, a moment later, his face filling with horror.  “I ...”

Elaine stepped forward and rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to provide what comfort she could.  Johan was emotionally unstable, unsurprisingly; his family had either viewed him as a cripple or a burden ... and always as an embarrassment.  There were times when he was as mature as Elaine herself and times when he acted rather like a five-year-old, his mood swinging rapidly between happiness and tantrums.  Elaine wondered, sometimes, if the reason the apprenticeship bond had refused to form properly had something to do with Johan’s mental state.  It was impossible to take an apprentice who hadn't passed puberty ...

... And while Johan was physically seventeen, his mental age was harder to determine.

It’s not impossible, her thoughts mocked her.  It’s just forbidden.

She gritted her teeth.  More and more, the knowledge in her head was popping up to the forefront of her mind, pulled by the merest thought.  Every time she thought about the limits of magic, something would emerge from the back of her mind, pointing out that the limits weren't what she thought they were.  If there was a power imbalance between an adult master and apprentice, it would be far - far - worse if the apprentice happened to be a child.  And then the master would have to cope with the child passing through puberty ...

“Elaine?”  Johan asked.  “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” Elaine lied.  The knowledge wasn't painful, but the understandings it brought bubbling up into her mind often were.  Her teachers had never taught her just how much had been buried by the Grand Sorcerers over the years, just to prevent it being abused.  And she knew it all.  “And yourself?”

Johan sobered.  His family had been devastated - and, even though they’d been horrible to him, she knew part of him regretted it.  It was quite possible the Conidian Family would never truly recover, not now that so many of its members were Powerless or dead.  The senior surviving member - Charity Conidian - was only eighteen years old.  How could she hold the family together in the wake of such a disaster?

And to think his father wanted Johan to take over as Prime Heir, Elaine thought.  She couldn’t blame the Conidian for wanting someone - anyone - to replace his bullying braggart of an older son.  But Johan had been Powerless ... until he wasn't.   But he couldn't have handled it either.  

She shook her head, dismissing the thought.

“I think we have a rough plan for our travels,” she said.  “The Travellers will take us up to the borderlands, at least, and then we will have to proceed on our own.”

“That’s what I came to tell you,” Johan said.  “Your friend has arrived.”

“Daria?”  Elaine asked.  “She finally made it back?”

“Yep,” Johan said.  “I asked your assistant to let her into your office while I went to fetch you.”

“You could just have sent a note,” Elaine reminded him, dryly.  A normal apprentice would have been able to call his master, just by using the apprenticeship bond.  Johan didn't seem to have that option.  “Or sent one of the staff down here.”

“I just wanted to look around,” Johan admitted.  “This place ... I could have been happy here.”

Elaine felt a sudden bitter stab of sympathy.  Johan was bright, smart enough to rise high in the world, even without magic.  But his family had kept him a virtual prisoner, not daring to let him run free for fear of what their enemies would do to him - and them, through him.  He might have been Powerless, for no reason anyone could determine, but he still had the Conidian bloodline.  A career in the Great Library would have suited both of them, if Johan had had even a spark of magic ...

... And now he had power and far too much unwanted attention.  

They think he’s dead, Elaine reminded herself.  Light Spinner was the only other person who knew Johan was still alive.  Let them think he was a freakish accident ...

She cursed mentally.  Inquisitor Dread had told her that several known Powerless had wound up dead over the last few days, either through being murdered by their families or accidentally killed when the families were trying to trigger their powers.  If, of course, Johan wasn't just a freak accident.  The hell of it was that there was no way any of the murderers could ever be punished.  Their fathers held absolute authority over their children until they came into their magic.  In hindsight, the marvel was that Johan had survived so long.

“I was happy here,” Elaine said.  “And now I will have to leave.”

Books had been her constant companions, first at the orphanage and then at the Peerless School.  Fiction had allowed her to dream of other worlds; facts had allowed her to master magic and pass her tests, even if she lacked the raw power of her classmates.  Daria had often accused her of lacking ambition, but  - in truth - she had never really wanted to do anything other than work with books.  Working at the Great Library had satisfied her, even if she had been a recluse with few friends.

And then she’d become the Bookworm.  And then she’d been rewarded - and punished - by being made Head Librarian.

She wasn't blind to Light Spinner’s political manoeuvrings.  Elaine represented a danger to the Empire, after all; indeed, she was mildly surprised the Grand Sorceress hadn't killed her out of hand.  Placing Elaine in the Great Library, even making her a Privy Councillor, had been a way to make use of her, as well as rewarding her for her efforts.  But it also kept her firmly under control.  The Head Librarian could never leave the city.

But I already have left the city, Elaine thought, ruefully.  And now I may be leaving for good.

She’d never wanted to leave the Golden City.  She wasn't one of the hardy explorers who had mapped the world, or one of the warrior-magicians who had built the Empire, or even one of the farmers who had tamed the land and purged it of magical influences.  Being Head Librarian had been all she’d ever wanted, even if it did mean spending far too long in pointless meetings.  The idea of leaving, of severing the connection between herself and the ancient building, was terrifying.  And yet she had no choice.  No one else could search for the Witch-King.  

It would be easier, she thought, if we knew how he influenced people.

Johan cleared his throat, breaking into her thoughts.  “Are you listening to me?”

Elaine felt her cheeks redden.  “I was distracted,” she said.  “I’m sorry.”

“My father used to do that too,” Johan said, softly.  “He never actually listened to a word I said.”

“I’m sorry,” Elaine repeated, embarrassed.  “What did you say?”

“Just that I think your friend was antsy,” Johan said.  “You really should go see her now.”

“She always is,” Elaine said.  Living with Daria in an apartment had been an education, even if she’d missed a single essential truth about her redheaded friend.  Daria moved like lightning, hopping from one boyfriend to the next, darting around so quickly that Elaine couldn't hope to keep track of her affairs.  “But she’s also a very decent person.”

And a werewolf, she added, in the privacy of her own thoughts.  How in the name of all the gods did I manage to miss that?

She took one last look around the giant chamber, then linked into the wards and issued a series of orders.  The chamber would be locked down until she returned, ensuring that the ancient books and scrolls would remain safe and untouched.  She hid a smirk as she looked at one chest of books, remembering what the owner had told Inquisitor Dread.  Only people who shared his bloodline could read the books, he’d warned; anyone else risked everything from blindness to death.  But it was astonishing just how easily such protective charms could be put aside if one knew how ...

And that is why they would want to kill me, if they knew what I could do, Elaine thought, grimly.  I know far too much about how magic actually works.

Johan followed her out the door and closed it firmly behind him.  Elaine took a moment to check that the wards were firmly in place, then led the way up through the book-lined corridors to the private apartments.  As always, the corridors thronged with students and visiting magicians, including dozens of Court Wizards.  They might have been summoned to attend the Grand Conference of Court Wizards, where they would pay homage to Lady Light Spinner, but they were taking advantage of the visit to catch up on their reading.  Elaine didn't blame them, not really.  If there was one advantage to having to leave the Golden City, it was not having to attend the conference.

She frowned as she heard the sound of two students fighting, followed by shimmering alerts from the wards as they started to hurl hexes at one another.  Two librarians moved in to separate the two before they could do real damage, then drag them both out of the library and dump them out on the streets.  Elaine rolled her eyes in disgust - had she been as desperate to get the books first when she’d been a student? - then reminded herself that exams were coming soon.  The students had to be panicking.

Shouldn't have spent all that time having fun instead of studying, she reprimanded them silently.  Now you have to fight to catch up ...

They passed through another set of wards, then stepped through the door into Elaine’s private office.  Daria was sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, her face twisted into a bored expression.  The bookshelves lining the walls didn’t impress her, Elaine knew, but then they never had.  Daria wouldn't be happy unless she was doing something, anything.  There was nothing in the room for her.

“Elaine,” Daria said, standing in one smooth motion.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” Elaine said, as Daria enfolded her in a hug.  Her friend smelt strongly of perfume, which she used to dampen her scent.  “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” Daria said.  “Elaine, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”  

Chapter Two

Johan had seen many beautiful girls in his time, despite being practically kept prisoner by his family.  His mother and sisters had been beautiful, the girls his father wanted to marry to his brothers had been beautiful ... but there had been something about them that had been fake, unreal.  They’d used glamours, he suspected, to make themselves look attractive, matching their appearance to their target’s tastes.  It had always struck him as a kind of fraud.

But Daria was stunning.  Short-cropped red hair dominated a face with large, dark eyes and pale, blemish-less skin.  She wore a long grey robe that was tight around her chest, then spilled out to hide her legs completely.  He couldn't help staring at her, even though there was something oddly canine about her eyes.  And the way she moved, as she stood and hugged her friend, was smooth and almost inhuman.  

A werewolf, he thought, suddenly.  A new-made werewolf wouldn’t show any traces of the curse on his or her body, but a born werewolf would show hints of her true nature.  He fought down the urge to panic, reminding himself sharply that born werewolves enjoyed much better control over their nature than made werewolves.  Besides, he knew what it was like to be an outcast.  The Gods knew his family had treated him as their secret shame for years.

“And you must be Johan,” Daria said, as she let go of Elaine.  Her voice was sultry, sending shivers down Johan’s spine.  “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“All lies,” Johan managed.  He’d heard enough of the rumours concerning him to know that most of them were complete nonsense.  “I’m just her apprentice.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Daria said, briskly.  She held out a hand, which Johan shook firmly, in the manner he’d been taught.  There were tiny hairs covering the back of her hand, so fine as to be almost invisible.  It was another sign of her true nature.  “Elaine needs a male presence in her life.”

Johan felt his face turn bright red.  He didn't look at Elaine, but he sensed her embarrassment through the bond they shared.  And she would be embarrassed ... he cursed mentally, wondering why that aspect of the link had to be the one that actually worked.  There were some definite advantages to not sharing a full apprenticeship bond - he didn't like the thought of a person being able to control him at will - but he’d always had a stronger sense of her than she’d had of him.  It just didn't make sense.  

Elaine cleared her throat, loudly.  “He’s my apprentice, not my boyfriend,” she said, as Daria let go of Johan’s hand.  The irritation echoing through the link was overpowering embarrassment, barely.  “And you should know better.”

“Of course, Your Nobleness,” Daria said, archly.  “I beg your pardon, Your Nobleness.  I ask for your forgiveness, Your Nobleness ...”

“Oh, shut up,” Elaine said.

Johan concealed his amusement with an effort.  It was hard to see what the two girls actually had in common; Elaine was shy, almost a recluse, while Daria was outgoing and friendly.  And yet, they did seem to have a solid friendship, one that had survived Elaine’s elevation to the Privy Council.  Perhaps they grounded each other, he told himself, or perhaps it was their differences that made the friendship work.  Daria reminded Elaine that there was more to life than books, while Elaine allowed Daria to relax and actually do something serious with her life.  Or maybe he was completely wrong.

Daria clamped her hands over her mouth, then bulged out her cheeks.  Elaine snorted rudely, then motioned for her friend to sit down.  Johan sat on the sofa and tried to keep his eyes off Daria, fearing that the apprenticeship bond would choose that moment to start working properly.  The last thing he wanted was for his mistress to know he was lusting after her best friend.

She must be used to it, his thoughts mocked him.  It was clear, now, why Daria wore her robes.  She could shift into wolf form without them getting in the way and, with a little care, could shift back into a human without running around naked.  Daria is gorgeous.

Oh, shut up, he told himself, angrily.

He looked around the office as Elaine moved a pile of books from one chair and sat down, heavily.  The room was crammed with books, ranging from magical textbooks that had been added to reading lists for next year to various tomes that hopeful authors had sent to the Head Librarian, requesting their inclusion on the library shelves.  Johan had devoured as many of the textbooks as he could, in-between studying with Elaine and trying to determine the exact nature of his powers, but he hadn't found them as helpful as he’d expected.  His magic just didn't seem to behave according to the normal rules.  

But you weren't allowed to read them at home, his thoughts reminded him.  His father had reluctantly enforced the law forbidding non-magicians from touching books of magic, but at least he’d been kind about it.  Jamal had taken great delight in rubbing Johan’s nose in the fact there were books he would never be able to read.  And now you’re making up for lost time.

He scowled as he remembered his elder brother, the now-powerless brother.  The Gods alone knew what had happened to him; Elaine had said, rather dryly, that Jamal had left the city, shortly after the Inquisitors had released him from custody.  Johan honestly wasn't too surprised.  Jamal had been horrible to just about everyone who wasn't a social superior - there hadn’t been many of those - and his victims would want a little revenge.  The thought of Jamal turned into their plaything was darkly amusing.  Jamal had, after all, treated Johan as his plaything.  

“The seers have been having dreams of impending disaster,” Daria said.  There was an edge in her voice that cut through Johan’s thoughts, bringing them back to reality.  “They don’t want to stay in the city any longer than strictly necessary.”

“I’m not sure I blame them,” Elaine said.  “What are they dreaming?”

“Nothing specific,” Daria said.  “But they still want to leave.”

Johan looked at Daria, trying hard to keep his eyes on her face.  “Don’t they see actual events in their dreams?”

“The Sight doesn’t work like that,” Daria said.  There was a hint of annoyance in her tone, although it didn't seem to be directed at Johan.  “They never see specific events, merely hints and insights into the future - and feelings, of course.  In this case, they’ve been telling everyone who will listen to them that they have a sense of impending disaster.”

Johan looked at Elaine.  “Is this reliable?”

Elaine frowned.  “Sometimes,” she said.

She didn't seem inclined to say anything else, but Johan could sense her worry through the bond.  True Seers were rare, very rare.  His father had once told him - more accurately, he’d told Jamal while Johan was in earshot - that a True Seer would be snatched up by the Grand Sorcerer, if his powers were proven to be real.  But most Seers tended to only see hints of the future, little details that could be anything ... and then use hindsight to prove they’d been right all along.  Jamal had sneered at the concept and, for once, Johan had to agree.  A prediction about meeting a tall handsome stranger could be spun in any direction, with a little ingenuity, while the absence of specifics made it impossible to disprove the prediction.

But people still believed their personal futures could be mapped out for them, if they asked the right fortune teller.  Johan’s father had sneered at the concept, pointing out that it rarely worked as advertised - and when it did, the results were sometimes  unpleasant.  Once told, a future would come true, even if it was nightmarish.  Johan didn't pretend to understand how ignorance could be bliss, but he wasn't going to dismiss his father’s warning.  There were some fields of magic that, no matter what anyone said, were poorly understood.

“They were warning the Travellers to abandon Loch Leven,” Daria said.  “They kept having shadowy dreams of impending disaster.  A few weeks later, the city was struck by an earthquake that left most of the buildings in ruins.  None of the City-Fathers listened, of course.”

“Of course,” Elaine agreed.

“Stupid bastards,” Daria said.  “They might not trust us, but they should know we don’t lie.”

She got up and started to pace.  Johan found himself staring again as he realised just how well the robe clung to her body as she moved.  It showed no bare flesh, but it revealed the shape of her limbs and buttocks ... embarrassed, he tore his eyes away and found himself looking at Elaine.  Her face was impassive, but he could sense a flicker of amusement through the bond, mixed with embarrassment.  He looked down at the wooden floor instead, telling himself it was safer.  At least there was nothing on the floor to distract him.

“The gaffer wants to leave the city immediately,” Daria said.  “I managed to convince him to wait a couple of hours, so I could come fetch you.  Do you still want to come with us?”

“... Yes,” Elaine said.  The hesitation that echoed through the bond was surprisingly strong, suggesting she was truly reluctant to leave.  “We just need to finish packing, then I need to hand the wards over to Vane.  She can hold them until the Grand Sorceress selects my successor.”

Johan frowned.  “Why not just give the job to her permanently?”

“She might,” Elaine said.  She shrugged.  “But I don’t get to choose who will succeed me.”

Johan nodded.  If some of Elaine’s tales about her predecessor as Head Librarian were true, not every Head Librarian had taken up the job willingly.  He wouldn't have been happy to remain confined to the city, not after his family had treated him as a prisoner, but Elaine was different.  She was unadventurous and shy, so much so that Vane - her Deputy - handled almost all of her personal contacts.  The library staff sometimes had to wonder if their Head Librarian truly existed.  

Don’t be silly, he told himself.  They know she exists.

Daria cleared her throat.  “They will be leaving in two hours,” she warned.  “Can you be ready by then?”

“I think so,” Elaine said.  “I would prefer not to travel on the Iron Dragons.”

“Then start packing,” Daria said.  “Hurry.”

Elaine reached for a sheet of paper, sketched out a note for Vane, then tapped it with her wand.  Johan watched, feeling a glimmer of awe, as the paper rose into the air and disappeared through an air vent.  Wherever Vane was, the note would find her.  It was less spectacular than other magic he’d seen - his brother had been fond of using him as a target for all kinds of spells - but he had to admire her precise control.  Most magicians were more than a little sloppy when it came to using magic, spending it freely.  But then, Elaine had very little power of her own.  

And a little less would have seen her excluded from the Peerless School, Johan thought.  He understood the frustration Elaine sometimes felt, even though she was the most knowledgeable magician alive.  She had to be focused and utterly precise, while her peers could achieve everything she could and more by waving wands around at random.  And yet, given time to think and plan, she made a formidable opponent.

“Go pack,” Elaine ordered.  “Daria and I will wait for you here.”

Johan nodded, then rose and headed through the door.  Outside, a handful of library assistants were carting boxes of books past him, using spells to manoeuvre the crates through the air.  Johan shivered - that spell had been used to play with him, once upon a time - then allowed them to walk past him before he walked down to his apartment.  The ward Elaine had placed on it, keyed specifically to keep the rest of his family out, glowed as he approached, recognising his presence.  If his father, or Charity, or anyone else who was related to him had tried to enter, the wards would have taken offense.  The results would not have been pleasant.

And serve them right, Johan thought, as he opened the door.  I don’t want anything to do with them.

He pushed the thought aside, then stepped into the room.  It was larger than his bedroom in House Conidian, dominated by a bed large enough for two people.  Elaine had told him that the apartments were normally assigned to visiting scholars, who apparently liked their comforts.  Johan had - barely - managed to avoid asking if those comforts included women from the city.  He knew, thanks to Jamal’s boasting, just how easy it was to find a whore to share one’s bed for the night, even though he’d never done it himself.  

And Daria would look nice on the bed, he told himself, before he angrily thrust the thought away from him.  Daria was older than him by at least four years, assuming she and Elaine were the same age, and a born werewolf.  She would have the enhanced sense of smell common to all werewolves ... he cringed in sudden horror as he realised she would know what he was thinking or feeling.  His scent would change every time he looked at her ...

Shaking his head, he reached for his bag and checked his clothes.  Elaine had told him to bring as little as possible, so he’d packed two sets of clothing, a couple of books and a small bag of money.  Thankfully, his vault in the City Bank hadn't been sealed or handed back to Charity, in her new position as Family Head.  Johan couldn't help wondering if Charity had ever known that their father had attempted to bribe Johan into returning to the family fold ... or if she expected the vault to remain closed until she was ready to demand access.  The bankers wouldn't be in a hurry to tell her it existed, after all.  They gained more from leaving the money in the bank, under their loving care.

And I should write out a will, Johan thought, although he’d been discouraged from doing anything of the sort.  Something that will leave my money to someone - anyone - else.

He sighed as he picked up the bag, then took one last look around the chamber.  It was plain and simple, but it was his, the first place he’d felt truly secure.  Jamal and his other siblings, even Charity, hadn’t hesitated to make his room at home into a nightmare, hiding magical booby traps everywhere.  He still remembered the two days he’d spent as a stone with shuddering horror, even though his father had eventually tracked him down.  And none of the others had ever been punished for their crimes against him ...

The memory made him shiver, helplessly.  He hastily put the bag down, then closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental discipline Elaine had taught him.  It seemed to come easier, now that he was her apprentice; perhaps a little of her precision had rubbed off on him.  But he was always aware of her presence at the back of his mind, like being able to sense the sun through clouds and rain.  It was strange to realise that she wasn't aware of him, even though she should have been.  The books he’d read, when he’d been trying to decide if he should become her apprentice, had warned that his mistress would be able to compel him to obey, if necessary.  But the bond he shared with Elaine didn’t seem to be able to do anything of the sort.

He pushed the thought to one side, opened his eyes and picked up the bag again.  Tossing it over his shoulder, he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him with a thud.  He didn't bother to reset the ward.  There was nothing left in the room he cared about, not really.  He’d never had many possessions at home and he’d brought none of them with him when he’d left for good.  His life had never really given him the chance to become attached to anything, certainly nothing material.  He’d never been able to tell when one of his few positions would be booby-trapped and turned into a weapon against him.

He walked back into Elaine’s office and placed the bag on the floor.  “I'm ready,” he said, simply.  “When do we go?”

“Now,” Daria said.  She rose in one smooth motion, then picked up Johan's bag effortlessly and peered at it suspiciously.  “I hope you listened to your mistress about what you could and couldn't bring?”

“I’m not religious,” Johan said.  Elaine had warned him not to bring any religious artefacts with him, pointing out that the Travellers would not approve.  “I don’t have any icons to bring.”

“Good,” Daria said.  “Elaine?”

“I’ll join you in an hour or so,” Elaine said.  “Johan will tell you when I’m on my way.”

“How nice,” Daria said.  She gave Johan a smile that made his heart beat faster.  “You have a young man who can’t get you out of his mind.”

Johan felt a surge of embarrassment from Elaine ... and, when he looked up, he saw that her pale cheeks were bright red.

“Thank you,” Elaine said, tartly.

Daria giggled, then motioned for Johan to follow her out the door, carrying the bag with her in one hand.  Johan hesitated, torn between taking it from her and being reluctant to get any closer while his scent was still detectable.  She would know he was lusting after her ...

“I’ll see you soon,” Elaine promised.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t leave much for him to do,” Daria called back.  “Bye!”

Johan sighed, then allowed her to lead him out of the office and down towards the nearest exit.

Chapter Three

Charity Conidian felt uncomfortably like a fake as the carriage came to a halt outside the gates, allowing her to climb out of the vehicle right in front of the Imperial Palace.  The lines of petitioners, many of whom had been waiting there for hours if not days, turned to stare at her as the gates opened, allowing her to enter the building.  She kept her face as impassive as she could, sensing hundreds of faces glowering at her.  They had been waiting for hours and she was being allowed to enter the moment she arrived?  It was hard for her to blame them for being annoyed.

Your father would merely have sneered at them, her thoughts reminded her.  No one said anything out loud, of course.  Her golden robes marked her as someone of substance.  He wouldn't have doubted his right to move ahead for a second.

She cursed her father mentally as she walked through the gates and up to the massive pair of stone doors.  Magic crackled around her, reminding her - as if she’d needed the reminder - that she was walking into the lair of the Grand Sorceress herself, a woman with the power to do anything she liked to Charity and what remained of her family.  No one would come to their defence, not after the ... incident at Conidian House.  Her father was effectively dead - being powerless was worse than dead - and his network of clients had been shattered, while the sharks were already gathering.  If she couldn't salvage something from the wreckage, the Conidian Family would die.

But she didn't know how!  Jamal - wherever he was now - had been the Prime Heir, while Charity had been primed for an arranged marriage to someone who suited her father’s interests.  It hadn't been something she wanted, but she’d accepted it ever since she’d learned to understand how the world worked.  The family came first, always.  And if it meant she had to share her bed with an elderly warlock who had interests her father wished to share, she had no choice, but to obey.  The only consolation had been the certain knowledge that there would always be a place for her at Conidian House.  But now even that was gone.

She looked up as she heard someone walking towards her with calm, measured footsteps and saw a tall blonde-haired girl, in her early twenties if Charity was any judge.  The girl nodded to her, then walked past.  Charity stopped and turned to stare at her as she left the palace, wondering just who she was.  Her father had made sure she knew all the movers and shakers in the Golden City, as well as their children, and she didn't recognise the blonde.  It was possible she’d been brought up outside the city, yet everyone who wielded political power had to spend some time inside the Golden City.  And she should have known ...

“My Lady,” a voice said.  She turned to see a middle-aged man, wearing a slave collar around his neck.  “You are requested to wait in the antechamber.”

Charity nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  Her father had been a powerful magician, the master of a spider’s web of influence ranging from the Imperial Palace to the Southern Lands and a Privy Councillor.  He could have demanded an immediate interview with the Grand Sorceress and been seen at once; she had to wait, just so she knew her place.  But she was almost grateful for the chance to collect herself, she decided, as she was shown into the antechamber.  The girl looking back at her from the mirror was almost a stranger ...

She rubbed her eyes, bitterly.  Once, looking good as well as strongly magical had seemed a good thing.  She had to attract suitors, after all, suitors who might be prepared to trade power and influence for her hand in marriage.  Now, she looked weak and mournful, her large blue eyes making her look childlike.  There was no point in trying to hide behind a glamour, not now.  She simply didn't feel like putting the effort forward to construct one.  And she couldn’t help wondering, as she sat down and forced herself to calm down, just what the Grand Sorceress wanted.  The chance to cripple one of the Great Houses might well seem ideal, from her point of view.

Not that we’re much of a threat any longer, she thought, bitterly.  Her father and Jamal were powerless and Johan was dead, while her younger siblings were too young to influence events.  If she failed to keep the family together, the gods alone knew what would happen to the children.  Jay wouldn't come of age for another two years and the others were younger still.  We’ll be lucky to keep even a fragment of our power.

She looked down at her hand.  It was shaking.  Johan’s fault, of course, although he hadn't meant to do anything of the sort.  She’d been turned into animals and objects before - Jamal had picked on her too - but Johan’s power had left her deeply shaken.  He might not have known it - she hoped he hadn't known it - yet his power had blanked her out, almost completely.  She hadn't just been forced into the shape of a rat; she’d been a rat.  The experience had almost destroyed her confidence completely.  

The slave cleared his throat.  “Can I get you something to drink, My Lady?”

“No, thank you,” Charity said.  She wanted a glass of brandy desperately, but she needed a clear head when she faced the Grand Sorceress.  “I will be fine.”

She had to wait for nearly half an hour before a different slave appeared and beckoned her forward, leading her into the Throne Room.  Charity hadn't been in the giant chamber since the family had moved to the Golden City, when she’d been presented to the Grand Sorceress, but it hadn't changed.  The Golden Throne was still glowing with magic, linked into the powerful wards surrounding the palace.  Charity couldn't help admiring the sheer level of workmanship that had gone into crafting the Throne.  There was no one alive who could build the like.

Her father had once told her that entire fields of magic had been forbidden, then forgotten, never to be rediscovered.  Charity hadn't really believed him, but now, looking at the Throne, she wondered if he’d been right all along.  The Throne was not only soaked in magic, she saw; it was linked so firmly into the Golden City itself that it would be impossible to remove, or even to reprogram.  No one not a member of the Imperial Family could sit in the Throne and live.

“Charity Conidian,” the Grand Sorceress said, in her raspy voice.  “Come forward, into the light.”

Charity obeyed.  The Grand Sorceress was sitting below the Throne, half-hidden in the waves of magic billowing around it.  As always, her body was hidden and shapeless behind the veil, suggesting that she had something to hide.  If she was truly as staggeringly beautiful as the rumours said, Charity was sure, she would have flaunted it to the entire world.  Instead, she chose to hide.  It suggested there was something about her that would shock everyone, if they learned the truth.  But she kept that thought to herself.  Irritating the Grand Sorceress didn't tend to lead to a long and happy life.

She went down on one knee, then bowed her head.  “I came as you commanded, Your Supremacy,” she said.  There were many ways to address a Grand Sorcerer, but she knew she didn't dare show any form of defiance.  “And I look forward to serving you.”

“I’m sure you do,” the Grand Sorceress rasped.  “How is House Conidian?”

Charity gritted her teeth.  “Weak, but recovering,” she lied.  In reality, she wasn't sure if she could keep the house in the Golden City.  Perhaps it was time to retreat back to the countryside and spend the next few decades rebuilding the family.  “We will survive.”

“I am glad to hear it,” the Grand Sorceress said.  There was a hint of ... something, perhaps amusement, in her tone.  Lady Light Spinner was from a rival Great House, after all.  If the Conidian Family took a fall, her family would be strengthened.  “And your younger children?”

“Well enough,” Charity said.  She’d called the younger siblings back to the house, just to keep them out of the firing line.  “Jay is in his fourth year at the Peerless School, while his younger siblings are enduring their first.”

She shuddered, bitterly.  The full powers of a Family Head had descended on her, no matter how ill-prepared she was for them.  She could command her younger siblings as she saw fit, with no regard for their feelings.  The only blessing was that Jamal was no longer in a position to claim leadership of the family.  He would have had her married off to one of his cronies before she could muster a single word of protest.  And she dreaded to think what he would have done if she had managed to object.  She would have been better off abandoning the family completely.

“How nice,” the Grand Sorceress said.  “I ...

She broke off, then rose to her feet.  “What are you doing here?”

Charity turned her head, then jumped.  Vlad Deferens was standing at the edge of the room, smirking at them.  Charity had never liked him, even when he’d been working with her father; he’d always given her the impression that he was leering at her behind her back.  And when she’d looked up his homeland, she’d understood why.  She’d never understood why her father had seen him as a potential ally, even though he was a Privy Councillor and a powerful magician.  He was just too uncivilised to be trusted.

He was a tall, powerfully-built man, wearing a red tunic and kilt that exposed his bare arms and legs, revealing his muscles to anyone watching.  His dark hair was long and unkempt, his beard just long enough to be difficult to comb.  His eyes, as dark as his hair, sparkled with mischievous light.  She couldn't help the impression, as he looked at her, that he was undressing her with his mind.  No doubt he was one of the magicians who had learned stripping spells and used them in the Peerless School.  The Administrator might hand out harsh punishments for anyone caught in the act, but he’d never been able to stamp out the practice completely.  In the end, all it had done was encourage the girls to learn more protective spells.

“You shouldn't be here,” the Grand Sorceress snapped.  Magic crackled around her, more magic than Charity could summon at a moment’s notice.  “How did you get through my wards?”

“It’s easy to walk though the wards if you happen to be superior,” Deferens said.  He had a rich plumy voice, which couldn't quite disguise the scorn.  “Or if you happen to know one of the great secrets of the universe.”

Charity took a step backwards ... and another, and another, until she was pressed against the far wall.  Magic was boiling around the Grand Sorceress now, barely held in check by her indomitable will.  And to think that her father had thought he could manipulate her ... Charity shivered, fighting down the urge to turn and run for her life.  She’d known the Grand Sorceress was powerful - Lady Light Spinner was the strongest magician known to exist - but she’d never really understood how powerful.  A flick of her wrist could obliterate Charity as easily as she might step on a bug. 

And yet Vlad Deferens had walked through the Grand Sorceress’s wards as if they hadn't even existed.

“There are no secrets that would let you past my wards,” the Grand Sorceress said.  “How did you enter my palace?”

Charity knew she was right.  Warding had been a particular speciality of hers - Jamal had encouraged her to learn how to protect herself and her property as quickly as possible - and even though any ward could be broken with enough magic, it would definitely have sounded the alert before it snapped.  By all the gods, there were plenty of ways to set up wards to monitor the other wards and alert spells to monitor those.  And the Imperial Palace was crawling with wards, some so ancient that they predated the first Grand Sorcerer.  There was no way a team of highly-experienced ward-crackers - or even Inquisitors - could have broken the wards without sounding an alarm.  Light Spinner should have had hours to prepare her counterstroke as the wards were weakened, then finally broken ...

“You wanted to surrender to me,” Deferens said.  He leered at the Grand Sorceress, a filthy expression that made Charity feel unclean - and she wasn't even the target!  “And so your wards let me through.”

Magic billowed around the Grand Sorceress as she took a step forward.  “You will leave this place, now,” she hissed.  “Or fight me in the heart of my power.”

Charity shivered in fear.  Magic will flaring around both of them now, enough magic to do real damage to the Imperial Palace if they started fighting in earnest.  It was hard to tell which of them was the strongest, but it hardly mattered.  She knew there would be little left of the palace if they fought ... and there would be nothing left of her.  Carefully, she looked towards the door ...

... And Deferens looked at her.  And she found her feet frozen to the floor.

“I merely wish to claim my right,” Deferens said, as he turned his gaze back to the Grand Sorceress.  “You cannot deny me that, can you?”

The Grand Sorceress took another step forward.  “What right do you wish to claim?”

Deferens indicated the Golden Throne.  “I wish to take my rightful place.”

Charity stopped casting counter-spells - none of which seemed to do anything more than waste energy - and stared at Deferens in disbelief.  Only a member of the Imperial Bloodline could sit in the Golden Throne and the Imperial Bloodline had been extinct for centuries, as far as anyone knew.  The Privy Council might be obliged, by their oaths, to allow anyone who wanted to sit in the Golden Throne a chance, but there had been few takers.  It wasn’t really surprising.  A fake would die the second he sat on the Throne.

Let him do it, she thought, vindictively.  The Throne will kill him.

But Deferens wasn't stupid, a nagging thought at the back of her mind reminded her.  Surely, he would know the dangers of taking the Throne ...

“If you wish,” the Grand Sorceress said.  Her voice was tight, utterly emotionless, but Charity was sure she was worried.  She had to know the dangers too, but her oaths wouldn't let her stop him.  “Please.  Take a seat, if you dare.”

Deferens smiled a victorious smile, then stepped up onto the podium, turned, and sat down on the Golden Throne.  Magic blazed around it for a long second - Charity thought that he was about to die - and then the entire palace shook, violently.  She screamed in pain as the wards suddenly pressed down on her with terrifying force, then pulled back so quickly that she couldn't help wondering if she’d imagined the whole thing.  And yet, her feet were still stuck to the floor ...

“I claim my right as Emperor,” Deferens said.  He sat on the throne, illuminated by shimmering golden light.  The radiance was magic, Charity realised, because she couldn't take her eyes off him.  And it played with her emotions, causing her to feel respect, awe ... and fear.  “Kneel.”

There was so much power in his words that Charity found herself on her knees before quite realising her body had started to move.  Light Spinner started to kneel, then stopped herself, magic flaring around her.  Deferens snorted rudely, then drew on the wards.  Charity covered her eyes hastily as light flared through the room, the wards pushing down on their former mistress.  There was a scream, then darkness fell like a hammer.  And then a thin chuckle echoed through the room.

“You can open your eyes now,” Deferens said.

Charity obeyed, helplessly.  Deferens was standing in front of Light Spinner, who was still ... too still.  He looked down at the veil for a moment, then pulled it free in one savage gesture, revealing a stony face.  Charity found it hard to grasp what she was seeing.  The Grand Sorceress had been turned to stone!  And her face was warped and twisted ...

“So that was what she was trying to hide,” Deferens said.  He ran his hand over Light Spinner’s chin, smiling unpleasantly.  “She must have been a very bad girl in her youth.”

Charity swallowed as he turned his attention to her.  “And yourself?  Are you such a bad girl?”

“No,” Charity said.

Deferens turned and walked back towards the throne.  It seemed to have changed, somehow, now that a true heir to the bloodline had taken his seat.  Charity tried to move, but her legs refused to obey.  It was hard to tell if he’d trapped her in place or she was simply too scared to move a muscle.  Sheer terror kept her rooted to the spot.

“You have a choice,” Deferens said.  “You can serve me, loyally and faithfully, or you can join her.  Which do you choose?”

Charity thought about it, somehow calming her thoughts.  There was no way she could fight him, not even without the wards backing him up.  Light Spinner hadn't been able to fend off the wards and she had been the most powerful magician in the city.  She glanced at the warped statue and shuddered, helplessly.  That fate - or worse - would be hers if she refused to submit.

But if she did join him, what would he make her do?  The thought was terrifying, her imagination providing all kinds of possibilities.  And yet, she would have a chance to escape, if she waited for the right moment.  And maybe she could steer him in more positive directions.

“I will serve you,” she said, and bowed her head.

Vlad Deferens - Emperor Vlad I - started to laugh.

Chapter Four

Elaine shook her head in embarrassed amusement as Daria and Johan departed, then rose and started to make her way through the Great Library for the last time.  Daria, perhaps because she’d been born and raised among the Travellers, had no sense of the appropriate.  Johan was her apprentice, not her boyfriend, and even if they hadn't shared that bond, he was still four years younger than her.  It would be inappropriate for her to even consider such a liaison.

But you have to admit he’s handsome, her thoughts mocked her.  And he wasn't scared by your eyes.

She scowled at the thought, angrily.  She’d never had a boyfriend at the Peerless School - her low magic levels and constant bullying had seen to that - and she’d only ever had one relationship since, which had faltered as soon as her lover had seen her eyes.  Red eyes, glowing red eyes, meant tainted magic; they were rarely a good sign.  Even a mundane like Bee had known to be scared of them ... and she might have understood, if he’d left someone else.  But he’d left her ...

Magic danced around her as she walked through a pair of wards and into the lower chambers, where the magic shimmering through the building was focused.  She closed her eyes as soon as she stepped into the chamber, reaching out to touch the wards and perform one last scan of the building for trouble.  As always, a number of students had rediscovered a dozen ways to try to cheat in their exams, no doubt convinced that no one else had ever discovered how to use magic to cheat.  A handful of others were bending rather than breaking the rules outright; she silently applauded them for exploiting the loopholes, then prayed they wouldn't bend the rules any further.  Cheating wasn't just forbidden at the Peerless School; it was pointless.  No amount of cheating could help a cheater prosper when he or she had to actually use what they’d learned in the real world.

Idiots, she thought.  Mastering the theoretical parts of magic had never been difficult for her, she remembered; it was the practical exams that had almost killed her.  They can't hope to fool the anti-cheating wards on the testing chambers.

She frowned as the wards reported a handful of dark - or at least grey - artefacts, then sent orders for her staff to investigate.  The wards had been tightened up considerably since she’d become Head Librarian, but most wizards tended to consider such wards a challenge to break rather than a warning sign.  It wasn’t as if she could bar people from the library for anything short of serious misconduct, she reminded herself, even though there were quite a few students who should probably be denied access to the library.  Their conduct outside the school had been appalling.  

But it won’t be my problem for much longer, she told herself.  And someone else will have to worry about it.

She opened her eyes, then walked into the next chamber.  It was piled high with books, mostly older textbooks that had been donated by former students to the librarians.  Most of them were out of date, Elaine knew, and therefore largely useless to the current generation of students.  She had a feeling that most of them would be shipped to the smaller magical training establishments, if they weren't sold to private tutors.  By then, the next set of donated books would probably have arrived.  There was no shortage of books in the lower levels that hadn't been inspected, let alone tagged or marked for disposal.  

Beyond the old textbooks, there was a collection of romance novels someone had sent in, probably as a joke.  Elaine sighed - the Great Library stored magical books, not all books - and then picked up the first one and glanced at it.  The lurid cover made no bones about the content; it showed a smiling woman, naked from the waist up, standing on the beach, while a nude man approached her.  Elaine had read a couple of similar books when she'd been very - very - bored at the Peerless School, where the female students had passed them around as if they were forbidden fruit.  And yet, they tended to follow the same basic formula.  A tiny amount of setting, a pair of characters ... and then chapter after chapter of steamy sex, followed by misunderstandings and fights, and then more sex.  She snorted, then put the book back down on the table.  The set would probably end up being passed to a cheap bookshop for disposal.  

She walked through the next door and stepped into the warding chamber itself.  Magic crackled around her, then fell back once it had verified her identity.  No one, apart from the Head Librarian and the Grand Sorcerer could enter the chamber without permission, at the risk of their lives.  The wards that protected the Great Library were ancient, dating from the days before the First Necromantic War.  And that had been thousands of years ago.

“I won’t be here again,” Elaine said, out loud.  She hadn't been the Head Librarian for long, yet it was hard to remember a time when she hadn't carried the library’s wards in her mind, when she had only been a mere worker in the building.  “If I return, I will be ... what?”

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  The post of Head Librarian had been ideal, as far as she’d been concerned; she would have happily given up her seat on the Privy Council, if it had meant she could spend more time in the library.  Vane could handle the face-to-face issues, Elaine knew, while she could hide in the stacks or inspect new material brought into the library.  It wasn't as if she had to show herself ... she could happily have lost herself in the labyrinth under the public floors, using the magic to sustain herself.  No one would ever have to see her again.

Daria would have dragged you out, eventually, her thoughts mocked her.  And you already have too many problems facing people.

“I know,” she said, answering herself.  “But I would have been happy.”

She pushed the thought aside, then walked up to the crystal orb resting in the exact centre of the chamber.  The designers had known how to build wards in ways their successors had forgotten, ensuring that nothing short of a truly staggering level of force could destroy the Great Library.  There were so many protections worked into the defences that even Elaine had trouble seeing how they all interacted, from the ones that shielded the books from harm to the ones that prevented decay.  No matter how dusty a tome was when it entered the library, it was unable to decay further until the librarians had inspected the damage and decided how best to handle it.

Bracing herself, she stepped up to the orb and touched it lightly.  Instantly, the magic solidified around her and peered into her mind, leaving her feeling naked as it inspected her on a very intimate level.  Long seconds passed before the feeling retreated, allowing her to inspect the innermost workings of the Great Library’s wards.  From here, she could make all the changes she wanted and none, but the Grand Sorceress could gainsay her.  And, with her knowledge of how the wards actually worked, she might well be able to seal the building off from everyone.  But it would leave her trapped inside ...

She pushed the temptation aside and started to work.  Vane was already added to the wards, of course, as her deputy.  All she really had to do was prime the system, then add Vane once she arrived in the chamber.  And then Vane could carry the wards until the Grand Sorceress appointed Elaine’s successor.  Vane had thought that Elaine would be back, sooner or later, but Elaine had told her otherwise.  Even if they succeeded in finding the Witch-King and destroying him for good, they would still have to worry about Johan’s true nature being revealed.  It would be better if they found a place to stay out of the way and hid there, indefinitely.

And, her thoughts mocked her, would Johan want to stay with you for the rest of his life?

The wards shimmered, suddenly, as a message was sent through them to her.  “My Lady,” the desk attendant said, “there are two Inquisitors here to see you.”

Elaine sucked in her breath, then glanced at her watch.  The Travellers were punctual to the extreme; if they said they would leave in two hours, they meant it.  They weren't parked very far from the Great Library - the Golden City was tiny, hemmed in by the mountains - but the task of handing the wards to Vane would take nearly an hour.  She would have to help Vane through the early stages of the transition, after all ...

... But she couldn't refuse to see the Inquisitors.

“I’m on my way,” she said.  “Show them to my office” - she paused, trying to think if she’d left anything incriminating in plain view - “and offer them drinks, if they want it.”

“Yes, My Lady,” the desk attendant said.

Elaine sighed, then pulled back from the orb.  As always, there was a sense of disorientation whenever she let go of the supervisory wards, as if she’d been staring into a bright light that had suddenly blinked out of existence.  There were stories of people who built themselves elaborate wards and had then been unable to disengage their minds, as if the wards were so much a part of them that they just couldn't let go.  The Great Library wasn't that personal - the building was over a thousand years old, far older than Elaine herself - but if it had been, Elaine suspected she would have found it impossible to go.  Even now, the thought of permanently separating herself from the library was horrific.  

Muttering curses under her breath, she turned and walked out of the chamber, stepping through the labyrinth as though it wasn't there.  Vane was waiting outside, her pretty face torn between anticipation and fear.  If she served well enough as Head Librarian, she might inherit the job permanently, but it would destroy any hopes she had of a career outside the Great Library.  But then, as a younger daughter of a lesser house, she couldn’t reasonably expect anything greater.

And I became Head Librarian, Elaine thought.  There was no requirement for aristocratic birth to serve in the Great Library.  Compared to Elaine, or her predecessor, Vane looked ideal for the job.  I was a no-kin orphan and Miss Prim was a thief.

“My Lady,” Vane said.  “What do you think they want?”

“The Inquisitors?”  Elaine asked.  “I have no idea.”

She shrugged, expressively.  Inquisitors were hardly uncommon visitors to the Great Library, either investigating reports of magic being misused or researching precedents for court cases in the Watchtower.  And Inquisitor Dread, at least, was a friend, insofar as Inquisitors could have friends.  She’d come to rely on him more than she cared to admit.

“I’ll speak to them, then meet you back here,” she said.  Hopefully, she could dismiss the Inquisitors quickly.  Otherwise, she would have to send a message asking Johan to come back to the library, leaving them to find some other way to leave the city.  “Just wait for me here.”

“Of course, My Lady,” Vane said.

Elaine sighed inwardly - Vane was the kind of girl she’d always envied and hated at the Peerless School, even if she was a decent person - and then turned and walked up the corridor back towards her office.  The passageways were empty now, not entirely to her surprise; no one, not even an innocent student, wanted to be anywhere near an Inquisitor.  Their black robes brought back memories of crimes long forgotten, crimes that were objectively minor, but subjectively terrible. And if an Inquisitor felt like interrogating someone, he could ...

... And only the Grand Sorceress, his ultimate superior, could say no.

She sighed, again.  Memories that weren’t hers - memories that were really composites from a thousand books - rose up within her mind, mocking her.  There were good reasons for the Inquisitors to exist, she knew, reasons that could not be taken lightly.  And yet she’d resented her first meeting with Dread, knowing that he could have made it a great deal worse.  In truth, she’d managed to escape very lightly.

And you practically lied to him, her thoughts reminded her.  He could have arrested or killed you for that, couldn’t he?

Someone had stuck a ward on her office door, warning all and sundry to keep out unless they had permission to enter.  Elaine braced herself, then pushed against the ward.  Unsurprisingly, it yielded at once.  Someone had keyed it specifically to allow her to enter the room, without resistance.  A quick check revealed that the ward was also keyed to prevent her from leaving the room, at least without an Inquisitor.  She was growing to be an expert at dismantling wards, but it would take her several minutes and her wand to remove the ward to the point she could make her escape.   By then, the Inquisitors would catch her.

Bracing herself, feeling a cold trickle of uncertainty prickling down the back of her spine, Elaine walked forward, into her office.

“Gentlemen,” she said.

She’d hoped to see Dread or one of the other Inquisitors she knew personally.  Instead, both of them were unfamiliar, their faces half-hidden behind glamours.  She would have known who they were, if she’d known them personally; instead, their faces were blurred slightly, just enough to make identification impossible.  They were both strongly muscular men, wearing black hooded robes and carrying staffs; one of them was standing in front of her desk, while the other was standing against the far wall.  It looked faintly absurd to her, but she kept that thought off her face with an effort.  This was clearly more serious than she had realised.

The Grand Sorceress must have sent them, Elaine thought.  It was the only explanation that made sense.  But why?

“Gentlemen,” she said.  “I’m afraid this will have to be a short conversation.”

“It will,” one of the Inquisitors said.  “Lady Elaine No-Kin?”

Elaine nodded, although she was only a Lady by courtesy.  And, while she knew who her father was now, it wasn't something she wanted to acknowledge.  Technically, there should have been a reference to Johan in her name too, but she hadn't added it officially.  Too many people would have wondered why she bothered when Johan was supposed to be dead.

“Yes,” she said, clearly.  “Might I ask ...”

The Inquisitor took a step forward, tapping his staff against the floor.  “By direct order of His Majesty the Emperor,” he said, “you are under arrest.”

Elaine stared at him, dimly aware that the other Inquisitor was moving up and around behind her.  The Emperor?  There was no Emperor - and there hadn’t been an Emperor for over a thousand years.  But the Inquisitors seemed perfectly serious - she glanced at their hands, just to check they were wearing the skull-rings of real Inquisitors - and then back up at the leader’s face.  There was no hint of humour or amusement in his cold stare.  He genuinely believed what he was saying.

She finally managed to speak.  “There is no Emperor.”

“The Emperor has returned and assumed his Throne,” the second Inquisitor said.  His voice was completely flat, revealing nothing of his thoughts or feelings.  But if he was telling the truth, Elaine knew, what he felt was immaterial.  Inquisitors were sworn to obey the Emperor before all else, even the Grand Sorceress.  “And he has ordered your arrest.”

The Witch-King, Elaine thought, mutely.  Rumour had given the last Emperor thousands upon thousands of royal bastards, although - as that had been over a thousand years ago - the tales had probably grown in the telling.  Anyone who actually shared the Imperial Bloodline probably wouldn't know it, unless they sat in the Golden Throne ... and, as the Throne killed anyone who didn’t share the bloodline, there were few people willing to risk their lives on the slight chance of becoming supreme ruler of the world.  But the Witch-King, with his genius for plans that stretched over millennia, could have preserved some of the bloodline in a remote part of the world ...

... And then brought a distant descendent forward to claim his birthright.

“I see,” she said, hopelessly stunned.  She tried desperately to play for time, utterly unsure of what to do.  What had happened to Light Spinner?  Surely she would not tamely surrender power to a faux Emperor.  “And the Grand Sorceress?”

“The Grand Sorceress has been removed from power,” the Inquisitor said, firmly.  “She is no longer any of your concern.”

He made a simple gesture with his hand.  Elaine’s wand leapt from her belt and into his hand; he glanced down at it for a long moment, then dropped it into a pocket on his robes.  She took a step backwards, only to walk right into the Inquisitor behind her.  He caught her arms and tugged them behind her back, holding her firmly in place.  His protections shimmered against her magic, making it impossible for her to cast any spells.  She wanted to struggle, but he was holding her too tightly to escape.

The first Inquisitor removed a wand from his belt and pointed it at Elaine’s face.  It glinted silver, which set off alarm bells in Elaine’s head.  There were spells - nasty spells - that could only be cast with a silver wand.  Panic shot through her mind as she realised what he intended to do, but she was held too tightly to allow her to break free.  There was a sudden flare of magic ...

... And a spell crashed right into her mind.

Chapter Five

Elaine almost lost the fight within the first five seconds.

The spell would have beaten her if she’d been a normal magician, the reflective part of her mind noted, even as she fought desperately to ward it away from her soul.  Any normal magician, faced with a compulsion and obedience spell, would attempt to push it back, focusing their mind on the intruder until it was forced out of their thoughts.  But this spell, known only to Inquisitors - and Elaine - actually took advantage of standard countermeasures.  Concentrating on the spell would only make it more powerful and dangerous.

She staggered as the spell infested her mind, burning through her protections with a chilling casual ease.  The spell, only written down in the Black Vault, was powerful, too powerful.  It didn't just burn through her thoughts, it sought to twist them permanently.  And it had been forbidden, then largely forgotten, because its effects were far too close to permanent.  Even if she managed to thrust it out of her mind, it would leave its calling card on her thoughts.

“She’s resisting,” she heard one of the Inquisitors said, in tones of awe.  “I thought that was impossible.”

“You were told to take her seriously,” the other Inquisitor said.  His grip on her wrists hadn't slacked, even for a second.  “She was a Privy Councillor.  The Grand Sorceress wouldn't have appointed her to the council if she hadn't been quite remarkable.”

Elaine barely heard them over the roaring in her mind.  The spell was howling though her thoughts, forcing her to acknowledge its presence - and every time she admitted to herself it was there, it weakened her defences.  No wonder it was so hard to remove, she noted; it didn't just take over her body and soul, it left them permanently warped, if the spell wasn't removed in time.  Even the Inquisitors only used it as a last-ditch method for compelling obedience, not least because there were hundreds of other spells that didn’t have such ghastly side-effects.  But the Emperor - whoever he was - had to be taking her seriously.

It was hard, so hard, to protect the innermost recesses of her mind without looking at the threat, but she had no choice.  The tidal waves washing against her defences only had power if she thought about them, yet it was almost impossible to build her barricades without knowing what she was facing.  It was like picking her way through a room with her eyes pressed firmly shut, knowing that opening them meant death.  If she hadn't spent months building up new and interesting ways to make the magic she had go further, it would have beaten her.

It’s a draw, she told herself, as she opened her eyes.  The spell is held at bay, but I can’t force it out of my mind.

“The spell holds her,” the first Inquisitor said.  He waved his wand at Elaine’s head, scanning the magic running through her body.  “Barely.”

“But enough,” the second Inquisitor said.  He let go of Elaine’s wrists, allowing her to stand limp.  “Search the room for anything interesting.”

Elaine barely felt anything as her captor checked her pockets, removing the pair of notebooks and pens she kept with her at all times, then ran his hands over her body calmly and professionally.  It felt almost as if she was watching it happen to someone else, as if she were detached from her own body, as if it was almost a dream.  The Inquisitor removed the ankle chain she wore, then placed it and the notebooks in his robes.  Once, she would have been outraged at losing her chain.  Now, it was hard to feel anything.

The spell is working its way into my thoughts, she realised.  Stalemated in its first attempt to overwhelm her, the spell was oozing its way around her defences, hunting for weaknesses and gaps it could exploit.  She dreaded to think what would happen when the time came to fall asleep.  Her defences wouldn't hold under ceaseless pressure and when she woke up, she would be a slave.  Unless they removed the spell first ...

Or I find a way to do it, she thought.  But it was so hard to concentrate without weakening her defences.  She cursed the spell’s inventor in her thoughts - she couldn't imagine what sort of monster would devise and use such a spell - then started to probe though her stockpiles of knowledge.  There’s no other way to escape.

She tried to reach out, to touch the library’s wards.  But the link refused to form.

“You will come with us,” the first Inquisitor said.  “You will walk normally, but you will speak to no one as we leave the library and travel to the palace.”

Elaine felt her body twitch, then start to obey.  The haze infesting her thoughts made it impossible to resist, even if she had been able to consider it.  If she’d put up any sort of fight, she knew all too well, they would have hammered her into the ground and then dragged her to the palace.  Besides, the spell was in control of her body, at least to some degree.  She was obeying their commands, after all.  It was a horrific sensation, all the worse for knowing that the spell was doing permanent damage.  She might never truly recover.  

She forced herself to concentrate on building additional defences as her body walked through the door and out into the corridor.  The Inquisitors followed her, walking as if they were merely accompanying her on her travels, rather than escorting a prisoner.  Part of her mind found that absurdly hopeful - she would have been too embarrassed to show her face if she’d been marched through the streets in handcuffs - but the rest of her knew better.  It wasn't as if anyone would come to her rescue, even if they had known something was wrong.  The Inquisitors weren’t just capable magicians, they were powerful.  It was what allowed them to uphold the system that underpinned the Empire.

A handful of students gaped at the Inquisitors as they walked through the lobby, then hastily scattered.  They probably had guilty consciences, Elaine thought sourly; couldn't they tell that something was very wrong?  But the spell controlling her limbs made it impossible for anyone to tell that she wasn't moving under her own power ... she cursed herself again for recognising the spell’s existence.  Every time she noted it was there, it gained an advantage in the struggle to take over her soul.  

Cold air slapped her face as they walked outside, reminding her that the spells that kept the Golden City temperate all year had failed.  Light Spinner had been working to fix them, she recalled as she shivered helplessly, but the spells were so old and ingrained into the city that even a team of dedicated workers couldn’t fix them.  Fashions had changed, Elaine noted, seeing just how many people were wrapped up warm on the streets.  Once, students of both sexes had worn revealing clothes, showing off their bodies.  Now, almost everyone was wearing heavy woollen jumpers, charmed to keep the cold away.  She had a feeling that there were plenty of students who mourned the change in the weather.

One of the Inquisitors cast a warming spell as the wind started to blow against her face, pushing back her hair.  Elaine was almost grateful, even though she knew it was just a courtesy rather than a gesture of apology for arresting her.  She gritted her teeth as the spell made her walk onwards, wondering absently why so few people were paying attention to her and her unwanted companions.  But then, anyone who paid attention to Inquisitors risked attracting their attention in return.

Everyone is guilty of something, Dread had once said, cynically.  And so they hide from us whenever they can.

She wondered, suddenly, what had happened to Dread, before reminding herself she should be grateful for his absence.  Dread had sworn the same oaths as her companions, oaths that would bind him to obey the Emperor ... whoever he was.  If he’d been with them, he would have had to cast the spell ... she would have seen it as a betrayal, even though he would have had no choice.  Inquisitors were rarely released from their oaths - it had only happened a handful of times in their thousand-year history - and they were never disobedient.  The oaths wouldn't let them disobey.

It’s worse than that, she reminded herself.  The oaths become part of them to the point they can no longer comprehend why they want to disobey.  Or why they should disobey.

She gritted her teeth as she felt the spell surging against her protections.  There were horror stories - and true stories that were worse - about what happened when someone was careless in swearing oaths.  It was easy, chillingly so, to swear to do something lethal ... or to obey without question, no matter what one was told to do.  Or to allow an oath to warp one’s mind beyond repair.  One of the stories that had never made it out of the Black Vault had talked about a man who had sworn to marry a particular woman - and when he’d found her again, he’d practically kidnapped and raped her.  It hadn't had a happy ending.  

Snow started to drift down from the heavens as they turned the corner and started to walk towards the Imperial Palace.  Elaine sucked in her breath, despite the chill, as she felt the magic radiating around the building, even at this distance.  The wards had once been solid but largely impersonal, even when the Grand Sorceress had been in residence.  Now, they were bound to a single will.  Elaine had known there was an Emperor from the moment the Inquisitors had mentioned it, but she hadn’t really believed them.  But now there was no escaping the truth.

The line of petitioners desperate to see the Grand Sorceress was gone, she noted, and there was blood on the ground.  It didn’t take a deductive genius to realise that they’d been chased away, probably by the Inquisitors.  She wanted to believe that no one had been really hurt, but the blood suggested otherwise.  If Light Spinner had been growing more and more impatient with the petitioners, what would her successor make of them?

It was hard to speak.  Her mouth didn't seem to want to work properly.  But she needed to know.

“The people who were here,” she said.  “What happened to them?”

“You will be silent,” the first Inquisitor ordered.  “Shut your mouth.”

Elaine’s mouth shut with a snap as the spell did its work.  She wanted to glare at the Inquisitor, but it wouldn't allow her even that piece of freedom.  Instead, all she could do was follow them through the gates - the wards washing over them as they entered - and walk up to the doors.  Inside, the walls were lined with soldiers, wearing dark-grey tunics she didn't recognise.  They looked tough, incredibly disciplined.  And they were clearly prepared for trouble, as they were carrying swords, clubs and shields in their hands.  Not enough to stand against magic, she knew, but enough to keep the mundane population in check.  

But who were they?  And where had they come from?

The thought nagged at her mind as she was escorted down a long flight of stairs.  The Grand Sorcerers had never built up large armies, nor had they permitted any of their subject rulers to muster more troops than strictly necessary.  They’d never needed armies, after all, not since the Necromantic Wars.  And military power in the hands of subject rulers could cause trouble, even lead some of them to consider revolt.  But whoever had become Emperor had clearly prepared for trouble.  He’d brought a small army with him when he’d conquered the city.

She tried to recall what little she’d been taught about the Imperial Family, before it had been declared extinct, but there was nothing useful, apart from a list of names.  So far back, it was hard to separate truth from legends - or disinformation, spread by later enemies.  The Emperor was supposed to have thousands of bastard children, but none of them had come forward to claim the Throne.  Now, it was quite possible that none of his descendents - assuming they knew what they were - could claim the Throne.  How close did someone have to be to the Imperial Bloodline for the Throne to accept them?  The spells on the Throne might not accept someone who was a tenth-generation descendent of one of the Emperors.  

That would be a recipe for Civil War, she thought, recalling one of the disputes between kingdoms the Privy Council had had to settle.  There had been two heirs, each from cadet branches of the royal family, each with a decent claim to power.  In the end, they’d effectively picked one at random.  If just anyone could claim the Throne, provided they had a trace of the bloodline, there would be no way to separate out who had the best claim.

A door opened, drawing her thoughts back to reality.

“You will wait in this room,” the first Inquisitor ordered.  “You will not attempt to leave until we come back for you.”

He pushed Elaine inside, gently.  It was a luxurious chamber, but she wasn't fooled; it was, to all intents and purposes, a holding cell.  The Grand Sorcerers - and Emperors, she assumed - had used them to house prisoners with enough status to merit careful treatment, even if they were guilty as sin.  She stepped inside, her body obedient to their commands, and looked around, admiring just how carefully the room had been crafted for its purpose.  There were comfortable seats, a drinks cabinet,  a small set of books and two doors, which she assumed led to the bathroom and the bedroom.  But there was nothing she could use to break out of the chamber, even if she had had full control of her body.  The door was firmly closed and guarded by a powerful set of wards.

She managed to walk over to the sofa and sit down, her entire body trembling as though it were drunk - or drugged.  The spell seemed to have receded into the back of her mind, but it was still there, still trying to infest her thoughts.  Cursing it under her breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her defences.  She had expected the spell to have made some headway, but she was shocked when she realised just how many of her defences it had broken down.  Hastily, she started to repair the wards as best as she could, while solidifying the protections around her mind.  

Good thing I don’t have a proper link to Johan, she thought, bitterly.  The spell would probably have infested him too ...

The thought was horrific.  Johan had almost no mental defences, compared to her.  She didn't want to think about what would happen if someone cast the same spell on him, unless his odd magic somehow repelled it.  But where was he?  Daria had taken him to the camp and then ... she cursed under her breath.  What would happen when Elaine failed to show up as planned?  Would they take Johan and leave, or abandon him in the Golden City?  And what would Daria do?  She could ask at the Great Library ... and then ... what would she be told?  It wasn't as if anyone knew Elaine was under arrest.

They saw me leave with two Inquisitors, she reminded herself.  And I must have looked awful.

She pushed the thought away.  It would be better, much better, if Johan and Daria stayed well away from the Imperial Palace.  Everyone thought Johan was dead, after all; the Emperor would be less than pleased to discover he was still alive.  Or did he already know?  He had command of the palace’s wards, after all, and they would have recorded everything that took place within the building.  Had he thought to review everything Light Spinner had done during her time in office?  Could he review everything or ... or would the wards force him to scan everything in real time?  If the latter, reviewing everything would be an impossible task ...

And who in the name of all the gods was he?

The Witch-King had to be involved, Elaine was sure.  No one else could hide a branch of the Imperial Bloodline from view for generations, perhaps supervising their breeding without letting them know just who and what they were.  She tried to calculate the odds in favour of it being a coincidence and gave up after ten minutes of pointless contemplation.  No, the Witch-King had to be involved, which meant that the entire Golden City - and the Inquisitors - were effectively in the hands of the enemy.  And they’d never seen it coming.

We knew the bastard could make plans over generations, Elaine told herself.  He was alive, a living breathing human, when the last Emperor sat on the Throne.  Why didn't we consider the possibility of him preserving and protecting a surviving member of the Imperial Bloodline?

Because it was unthinkable, her own thoughts answered her.  We were all taught that the Imperial Bloodline was dead and gone.  It never occurred to us to think otherwise.

Bitterly, she sat back and concentrated on erecting more defences.  Despair would simply help the spell force its way into her mind, she knew, and when her defences fell she would be lost forever.  She had to hold on and pray, somehow, that she could find a way to escape before it was too late.  But with her magic tied up in fending off the spell, she knew it would be difficult ...

And if she fell asleep, it would be the end.

Chapter Six

“This is really something,” Johan said.

Daria turned to look at him.  “It is?”

“Yes,” Johan said, as he looked at the carriages.  “It is.”

Johan had grown up in a family where duty was everything, where his older brother was expected to carry on the family name and his younger siblings were expected to marry people who could bring new assets to the family.  Their father had trained them to do their part for the family - apart from Johan, who had been considered the family embarrassment at best and a potential disaster at worst.  There had been little true love in the family, he knew; truly loving parents would not have allowed them to grow into warped little humans.  They had cared more for the family name than for the children who would bear it.

But the Travellers were a loving family.  The kids ran around happily, while the older children and adults actually worked together.  It was almost as if there were dozens of parents for each child, as if whoever had actually birthed the child didn't matter.  He saw a child fall and scrape his knee, then get comforted by the nearest pair of adults ... and then go right back to having fun.  It was something he had never known in his former home.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Daria said, after a moment.  “You and Elaine will be sharing a carriage, I’m afraid, so please check it out” - she jabbed a finger at one of the carriages - “and let me know if it’s suitable.”

Johan nodded, then walked over to the carriage.  A handful of boys and girls, all roughly his age, were sitting in front of it, chatting as they read sheets of paper.  He couldn't help thinking that the girls were prettier than his sisters, even though they weren't using glamours to hide any tiny imperfections on their faces.  But they were also definitely werewolves ... indeed, almost all of the Travellers were werewolves.  He wasn't just looking at a family, he told himself; he was looking at a pack.  There was no such thing as a lone wolf.

He forced himself to look away from the girls as they started to giggle - like Daria, they could smell the change in his scent - and climbed up into the carriage.  On the outside, it was surprisingly small; inside, it was remarkably roomy.  Someone had clearly been using magic to enhance the space inside, he realised; it wasn't as impressive as parts of the Great Library, but it was easily large enough for two people.  The small collection of pots and pans hanging from the ceiling caught his eye and he looked up at them, then smiled.  Hopefully, neither Elaine nor himself would be expected to cook.  Their adventures in the mountains had convinced him that he would never make a good chef.  

We’re going to be undressing together, he thought, and flushed.  Maybe Daria had a point, putting them together, but it was going to be embarrassing as hell.  I’ll leave her alone to change, then change myself, if we do.

He sat down on the bed, then closed his eyes and tried to feel for Elaine’s presence.  It was the furthest they’d been apart since forming the apprenticeship bond, but he could still feel her in the back of his mind.  He smiled to himself, feeling an odd sense of reassurance just from knowing the bond was there.  Elaine could no more abandon him than she could cut off one of her own hands.  The bond, for all that it was weighted in favour of the master - or mistress, in this case - carried obligations of its own.

“Assuming they apply to us too,” he muttered to himself.  “The rules seem to be different for me.”

He sighed.  There were times when he wished his magic was normal, just like his brothers and sisters.  The bond not forming properly didn't strike him as a good sign.  He’d spoken to a couple of apprentices who had visited the library and both of them had shared a much more intimate link with their masters than he enjoyed with Elaine.  But it was better - by far - than being Powerless.  His family would have kept him prisoner indefinitely, he suspected, or they would have killed him eventually.  There had been quite a few children listed in the books who had vanished from the records, somewhere around the time they would have attended the Peerless School.  Had they been sent for private tutoring ... or had they been killed for being Powerless?  There was no way to know.

And then he felt a sudden shockwave of alarm from Elaine.

He jumped to his feet ... and banged his skull against the low ceiling.  Cursing, he rubbed his head with one hand as he tried to reach out to Elaine.  But there was nothing, beyond a sense that something was very, very wrong.  Elaine’s presence was always light and ghostly in his mind, as if she was nothing more than a dream or a figment of his imagination, but now it had faded almost to nothingness.  He was aware of her when she slept, he knew; he’d never sensed any change in the bond.  But now ... was she dead?

There was a tap on the door.  “Are you alright?”

Johan gritted his teeth against the pain, then opened the door.  A young girl, barely older than himself, was standing outside, her white hair spilling down over her chest.  She’d been one of the children outside, he recalled, probably one of the ones who had giggled at him.  But right now it hardly mattered.

“I don’t think so,” he said.  “Can you fetch Daria?  Now.”

He jumped out of the carriage as the girl sped away, feeling his head spinning in pain.  It was difficult to separate his own thoughts and feelings from Elaine’s, despite the simple fact that they were two different people.  Some of the weirder cautionary tales about apprenticeship bonds had warned that two people could blur together, if they didn't keep a barrier between themselves at all times.  It hadn’t seemed possible, to Johan, when Elaine was very definitely a woman, but now he had his doubts.  He sat down on the ground and forced himself to focus his mind.  The pain didn't make it easy.

“Johan,” Daria said.  He looked up to see her standing, looming over him.  “What happened?”

“Something’s wrong with Elaine,” Johan said.  The pain was fading now, but the sense of her presence was also faint.  He had no idea what could produce such an effect.  According to the books, apprenticeship bonds could not be accidentally broken, short of one partner dying while the other survived.  And it was next to impossible to sever a bond before time even if both parties consented.  “She’s in trouble.”

Daria’s eyes narrowed.  “And you know that how?”

“We have a bond,” Johan reminded her.  “And now she’s very faint in my mind.”

“The Mothers and Fathers want to leave,” Daria muttered.  She held out a hand to Johan.  “I think we may have to go with them or let them go without us.”

Johan took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet.  She was strong, stronger than he’d realised.  He'd known that werewolves had enhanced senses of smell, even in human form, but he hadn't known they were physically strong too.   Up close, her scent was almost overpowering, a wild scent that played hell with his mind.  Part of him wanted to stay close to her; the remainder wanted to run, to leave her far behind.  It was easy to remember, now, that werewolves were predators.  And to understand why they were feared.

“We can't leave Elaine here,” he said, trying to sound firm.  A lifetime in his family’s house had taught him never to try to assert himself.  Even the spellbound maids had enjoyed more magic than himself.  “I won’t leave her here.”

“Nor will I,” Daria assured him.  She let go of his hand, then turned and started to stride towards the largest carriage.  “Come with me.”

Johan followed her as she walked up to the carriage and then around it, to where a group of men and women were chatting.  It was an odd sight; there were times when the group seemed to defer to one or two members and times when they just argued and argued, as if there was no one really in charge.  Johan recalled, from what little he’d read, that werewolf packs tended to have an alpha male and an alpha female, but - being partly human - there was a great deal of competition for the post.  He couldn't help wondering how they settled arguments amongst themselves without one of the combatants dying.  Maybe they fought to first blood instead.

He hung back as Daria spoke to the group, her face somehow seeming more canine than ever.  It was spooky, almost; werewolves were bound by their curse, if he recalled correctly.  They had free will and human-level intelligence, yet they also had wolfish patterns in their behaviour that were very hard to break.  Judging from the way the pack elders shifted in their circle, it was quite likely that some of them thought - or felt - that Daria shouldn't have interrupted.

Daria looked back at him.  “They want to go now.”

“Then they can go,” Johan said.  Elaine was more important than leaving the city with the Travellers.  They could make their way to another city and then make contact with the Travellers there, or even hire horses from the closest Iron Dragon station to the badlands.  “I need to go after Elaine ...”

A loud trumpet blew, silencing debate.  Some of the wolves covered their ears - to them, the trumpet had been intolerably loud - while others howled in shock.  The children, running between carriages in a wild game of catch, snapped into wolf forms and howled too, sending up a terrifying racket.  Johan almost panicked - he’d read too many stories of howling wolves - as the werewolves bunched together, then relaxed as the parents urged them back into human forms.  Daria caught his arm and tugged him away from them, towards a tall man carrying a trumpet in one hand and a scroll in the other.  

“A herald?”  Johan asked.  He hadn't seen one since the day they’d arrived in the city, where one of them had announced the arrival of the Conidian Family to anyone who cared to listen.  “What’s he doing here?”

Daria shrugged.

The herald slowly unfolded his scroll, his every action suggesting that he was well aware of his own importance.  Johan eyed the man’s uniform - a red, yellow and green creation that looked alarmingly like a trifle - and carefully kept his amusement to himself.  Whoever had designed the uniforms had either been a sadist or had wanted to make damn sure that whoever wore them would be instantly recognised.  Johan rather hoped the herald was paid good money for his efforts.  Few people would want to wear such a uniform unless they were insulted with a fairly considerable bribe.

“Hear Ye, Hear Ye,” the herald said.  His voice was loud enough to carry over the howling from the baby werewolves, probably augmented by some kind of charm.  “Hear Ye.  By the Grace of the Gods - all hail the gods - our Emperor has returned to the city and claimed his throne.  All hail Emperor Vlad of the Golden City!”

Johan gaped at him.  An Emperor?  The genealogy tables his father had made him memorise, before he’d been confirmed as completely lacking in magic, had said there were no living members of the Imperial Bloodline in existence.  And if they had been in existence, they wouldn't have lived long enough to claim the Golden Throne.  The Grand Sorcerers had been in power long enough to take precautions against any upstarts coming forward to take everything they’d built over the years.  Johan had no doubt, given how he’d been treated by his family, that any genuine descendent of the last Emperor would have spent the rest of his days croaking on a lily pad, if he was lucky.  Or he might simply be killed out of hand.

“By order of the Emperor, none may leave the city,” the herald continued.  “Remain in your homes” - he cast a disdainful look at the carriages - “until his rule is established, then you may do as you see fit.  All hall the Emperor!”

The herald blew his trumpet again, then rolled up the scroll and turned to leave.  Johan hesitated, then ran after him.  The man turned to face Johan, his face unpleasantly sweaty with fear.  Clearly, he’d drawn the short straw when he'd been sent to inform the Travellers - and everyone else in the less pleasant parts of the city.  And yet, there had been a time when Johan would have happily have traded places with him, even if it had meant facing angry werewolves.

“You said there is an Emperor,” he said.  “How?”

The herald eyed him, as his father had done when Johan had asked a particularly stupid question.  “The Emperor took the Golden Throne,” he said, in tones Johan wouldn’t have used to address his youngest sister.  But then, his sister had turned him into a doll more than once and played with him.  “He has assumed control of the city.”

Johan swallowed.  He didn't know how or why, but he doubted it was anything good.  Had someone tricked the Golden Throne?  Was that even possible?  The Golden Throne was ancient, old enough to be impossible to alter without risking one’s complete destruction.  Or was there a real Emperor seated on the Throne?  What did that mean for the city?

“Thank you,” he said.  He took a breath, then asked the next question.  “Who is the Emperor?  I mean ... who was he before he assumed power?”

The herald cleared his throat meaningfully.  Johan scowled in sudden understanding, then produced a gold coin from his pocket and dropped it into the herald’s waiting hand.  The man smiled, made the coin vanish in a way that had nothing to do with magic, then leaned forward.

“He was Privy Councillor Vlad Deferens,” he said.  “And now he is the Emperor.”

He bowed, then turned and strode off, leaving Johan staring after him in shock.  Elaine had told him about Vlad Deferens, but nothing she’d said had been very good.  The man had been raised in a fashion that made Johan’s father seem nice and normal ... and he’d made one bid for supreme power before, back when the previous Grand Sorcerer had died.  And if Elaine was right, his hatred of women was legendary.  God knew his homeland saw an exodus of female magicians every year.  How had he been able to cope knowing that the supreme ruler of the world was female?

He must have killed her, he thought.  Or imprisoned her.  Somehow.

“Johan?”  Daria said.  “What did he say?”

“Vlad Deferens is the new Emperor,” Johan said.  He was still too stunned to think straight, but certain things were clear.  As a Privy Councillor, Deferens might have known Elaine’s true nature.  She would be a valuable prize ... as well as a woman in a position of power.  The bastard could kill two birds with one spell by taking her prisoner.  “And Elaine has to be his prisoner.”

He cleared his throat.  “We have to go after her.”

“We can't stay here,” Daria said, more practically.  “But we need a plan before we try to break into the Watchtower.”

She held up a hand.  “I’m going to speak with the elders,” she said.  “You stay here and think.”

Johan watched her go, admiring the way her robe tightened around her buttocks, then closed his eyes and tried to reach out to Elaine.  But he felt nothing, apart from a faint sense of her presence.  Had she been drugged?  Or had she been turned into something inanimate?  Or ... there were too many possibilities, none of them good.  Elaine was tougher than she looked, but she could be broken; anyone could be broken.  And once Vlad Deferens got her to talk, he’d know Johan was still alive.

And he will see me as a threat, Johan thought.  He’d never quite come to terms with realising that powerful magicians, the ones who had scorned him as a Powerless, had feared and hated him when they’d discovered he could steal their powers.  Vlad Deferens would have Johan killed, once he got his hands on him.  I have to remain out of sight.

Daria returned, looking grim.  “They want us to leave,” she said.  “I think they’re planning to head for the tunnels now, before the city is closed completely.”

“They’ll have closed the tunnels by now,” Johan predicted, grimly.  There were only a handful of ways in and out of the Golden City, unless someone wanted to try climbing the mountains.  “They’d have done that before they told everyone about the change in power.”

“And everyone will want to leave,” Daria agreed.  She sighed, then shook her head.  “I think we’d better find somewhere safe to hide, then think about our next step.”

Johan scowled at her.  He wanted to find Elaine, now.  But he knew she was right.  Elaine had to be well-guarded, wherever she was, and they would need a plan - and allies - to get her before Vlad Deferens could turn her into a slave.  Or simply kill her out of hand.  As Emperor, he would have access to the Black Vault, after all.  He might decide he didn't need the knowledge crammed in her head.

“Very well,” he said, with ill grace.  “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere few dare go, even now,” Daria said.  She turned and started to walk away from the carriages.  “Coming?”

After a moment, Johan followed her.

Chapter Seven

It felt like an eternity before the Inquisitors returned to the holding chamber, long enough for Elaine to erect a whole new series of mental defences.  They wouldn't hold forever, she knew all too well, but at least they would preserve her mental integrity long enough to allow her to think and plan without opening herself to the spell.  The spell itself seemed content to keep control of her body, while biding its time.  She was chillingly aware that it was just waiting for her to run out of magic and collapse before it took her over completely.

“On your feet,” the Inquisitor ordered.  “Are you presentable?”

Elaine glowered at him as her body obeyed orders and rose.  She had never been particularly vain, not like Daria or Millicent, but she was sure she wasn't at her best.  Her face was probably showing signs of her inner struggle, her robes were torn and dirtied and her hair was completely out of line.  The idea of being presentable was absurd, given the circumstances.

“Probably not,” she snarled, feeling the compulsion to answer the question welling up within her.  The spell’s inventor had a lot to answer for.  “But unless you’re willing to give me a proper bathroom and a pair of stylists, this is the best I can do.”

The thought made her temper worsen.  Elaine had never really believed in the gods, but there was a certain amount of satisfaction to be had in listing the hundreds of different hells and imagining which one might be playing host to the demented spell-inventor and everyone who had ever listened to him.  The Inquisitor didn't seem concerned by her comment - he’d probably heard worse every day of his career - and merely took her by the arm, then frog-marched her out of the holding chamber.  Elaine wondered why he didn't just issue orders and let the spell do its dirty work, then pushed the thought aside as she was half-pulled up the stairs and down towards the Throne Room.  The vast army of soldiers she’d seen when she’d entered was gone.

She looked up at the Inquisitor and dared a question.  “Where have the soldiers gone?”

“Out on the streets,” the Inquisitor answered.  “The population must be kept under control.”

Elaine blinked in surprise.  She’d expected nothing more than a command to shut up - again - or a slap across the face.  Instead, she’d received an answer.  She puzzled over it as the Inquisitor led her through a pair of doors, wondering if the Inquisitor was resisting his oaths on some level.  No matter the oaths he’d sworn, he couldn't be entirely happy about finding himself the servant of a new Emperor.  At least the Grand Sorceress had been powerful as well as intelligent and capable.  

They entered the antechamber and waited, patiently.  It didn't seem to have changed much from when Elaine had last visited, apart from a handful of portraits that had been placed on the walls.  They were showing legendary emperors, characters who were as much myth as reality, people who were the very distant ancestors of the man sitting on the Golden Throne, waiting for her.  The newcomer had to have put them up, Elaine decided, as she studied the nearest portrait.  Light Spinner wouldn't have wanted to remind anyone that there had been a time before the Grand Sorcerers.  

Not that anyone would have doubted it, Elaine thought, coldly.  There is always a beginning and an end.

She pushed the thought aside as the doorway leading to the Throne Room swung open, seemingly of its own accord.  Magic washed out at her, scanning her down to her component atoms, then pulled back, allowing her to enter the chamber.  The Inquisitor gave her a push, then marched beside her as she stepped through the door.  This time, the Golden Throne was glowing, emitting a radiance that was only visible to someone with magic ... and a man was seated on the throne, lounging there as if he had every right to belong.  And his face ...

Elaine stopped, dead.  Vlad Deferens.

“Ah, Elaine,” Deferens said, with faux courtesy.  “Come in, come in.”

 Elaine cursed under her breath as her legs did as they were commanded.  She walked forward until she was standing right in front of the throne, staring at it - and the occupant - as if they were the only people in the room.  There was something about the magic that caught her attention and pulled her to it, almost effortlessly.  Everyone had known the Grand Sorceress and her predecessors were powerful magicians, and knew not to push them too far, but the Emperors inherited their positions through birth.  The Throne helped keep their followers humble.

“It must be a surprise to see me here,” Deferens said.  “Or did you expect me all along?”

“No,” Elaine said, truthfully.  “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“You never took me seriously,” Deferens commented.  His voice hardened.  “Did you?”

Elaine winced.  She’d disliked Deferens from the moment she’d first heard of him, when she’d learned about his views on women.  If given unlimited power, Deferens would reduce women to servitude, if they were lucky.  She didn't understand how anyone could harbour such misogynist thoughts, but he came from an entire country of misogynists.  Humiliating him in public, when she'd thought she would die as soon as the whole affair was over and there was a new Grand Sorcerer, had seemed a good idea at the time.

“I always took you seriously,” she said.  “I just never liked you.”

“And now I am the Emperor,” Deferens said.  

Elaine half-closed her eyes in the hopes it would make it easier to see, but it didn't work.  The radiance from the Throne was magical, after all.  It wasn't something she could just block out, as long as magic ran in her blood.  The Golden Throne was far more than just a seat, she knew; it was something more, something protective.  And it couldn't be fooled.  If Deferens had been accepted by the Throne, he was the rightful heir.

“Tell me something,” she said.  “When did you know you were the heir?”

Deferens frowned.  “I have always known,” he said.  “My family have cherished the bloodline for a thousand years.”

“But when did you know?”  Elaine repeated.  “How did you learn?”

And who, she asked herself, am I talking to right now?

She leaned forwards, studying Deferens closely.  He had always been unkempt, prancing around in skimpy clothes so he could show off his muscled arms and legs, but now there was something a little different about him.  Deferens had an ... edge to him that hadn't been there before, she was sure.  And that edge meant that he might have been touched by the Witch-King.

Or touched by the Golden Throne, she thought.  Who knows what the Throne does to successful candidates.

“I just knew,” Deferens said.

Elaine shook her head, slowly.  She would bet her small fortune that Deferens hadn't known, until he’d been nudged into taking the Golden Throne.  His family would be protected by their ignorance - and their distance from the Golden City.  And their warped social structure might have been designed to allow the Witch-King to breed them, as a dog-breeder might breed his dogs.  By controlling the women so precisely, the Witch-King might have been able to ensure that Deferens had precisely the right link to the Imperial Bloodline he needed to take the Throne.

And we told ourselves that we were so clever when we blocked his first attempt to grab the Throne, she thought, bitterly.  How did one beat an opponent who had literally centuries to lay his plans?  Did Kane lay waste to part of the city just to cover the Witch-King’s plans?

She yelped as a sharp smack exploded against her bottom.  “As I was saying,” Deferens said, as the Inquisitor stepped backwards, “I now rule the world.”

“So it would seem,” Elaine said, resisting the urge to rub her behind.  “You don’t rule everyone, not yet.”

Deferens smirked.  “It’s only a matter of time,” he said.  His expression became ugly.  “And now it is time for you to pledge your loyalty.”

“Go to one of the hells and stay there,” Elaine snapped.

He surprised her by laughing.  “The spell my puppets used on you will wear you down, eventually,” he said.  “You will be worse than an oath-sworn servant then, my dear Elaine; you will be a slave, a helpless slave, unable to resist even the slightest order.  You, of all the people in this city, know it.  Swear to me and you will maintain at least some freedom.”

Elaine bit her lip.  He was right, she knew.  Sooner or later, she would have to sleep - and when she opened her eyes, she would be as obedient and helpless as Deferens could possibly want.  But she would still have a chance to beat the spell, if she could sit down and focus for a few hours, before it was too late.  Swearing an oath of loyalty to him would destroy any chance of resistance for good.

“Never,” she said.

“In a day or two, perhaps less,” Deferens said.  “Perhaps much less.”

He rose to his feet and leered down at her.  The radiance faded slightly, allowing Elaine to tear her attention away from him and look around.  A young girl - Charity Conidian, she thought - was kneeling in the shadow of the Golden Throne, her eyes wide with fear.  Despite her own condition, Elaine felt a stab of sympathy.  Charity had probably been bullied into offering Deferens her oath, even though she was technically a Family Head.  She would now be nothing more than his slave, as long as her magic held out.

“You should look over there,” Deferens said.  He pointed one long finger into a dark corner, where something lurked in the shadows.  “What do you make of it?”

Elaine frowned, puzzled by the abrupt change in subject.  The object looked humanoid, but too still to be a living human.  An animate statue?  There were legends about statues that only moved when one wasn't looking, legends that various sorcerers had tried to make real after realising what wonderful guards they would make.  But only the very greatest of them could animate a single statue, let alone protect it from counterspells cast by roving thieves.

“Let me show you,” Deferens said.  He cast a spell, crafting a beam of light which he shone into the corner.  “Now what do you see?”

Elaine stared in horror as she realised it was no statue.  She was, as far as she knew, the only living person who knew what Light Spinner looked like, under her veil.  The Grand Sorceress had experimented with wild magic, in her younger days, and she’d been lucky.  She’d only escaped with heavy scarring, scarring that - like Elaine’s eyes - no amount of magic could hope to fix.  And she’d hidden her face for fear of what would happen if people knew she’d been scarred so badly.  It was hard, Elaine knew, to blame her.  People who were touched by wild magic tended to go insane very quickly.

And the statue wasn't of Light Spinner, it was Light Spinner.

She stepped forward, drawn by a compulsion she didn't recognise, until she was touching the stone.  Normally, there would have been a shimmer of magic around any transfigured object, human or animal.  But the statue had only the faintest glimmerings of magic, suggesting that the spell hadn't just petrified Light Spinner, it had locked her so firmly in place that even her thoughts had shut down completely.  Perhaps it was a mercy, Elaine knew.  Being an object, even for a few brief moments, could be terrifying.

Deferens caught her shoulder, his touch making her want to cringe away.  “Impressed?”

Elaine pulled herself free of him.  “What have you done to her?”

“Merely taken what was mine,” Deferens said.  “And now ... will you swear to me?”

“No,” Elaine said.

“I could order you to swear to me,” Deferens leered.

“I don’t think it would work,” Elaine said.  Oaths didn't take unless they were sworn willingly, although there were plenty of ways the line between willing and unwilling could be fudged by an unscrupulous sorcerer.  “And besides, as you say, your spell would leave me helpless anyway.”

Deferens gave her a puzzled look.  For the first time, she thought she saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes.  

“And you would sooner be broken completely then swear to me?”  He asked.  “You have very strange priorities.”

“Go to the hells,” Elaine said.

She braced herself, expecting torture or drugs, anything that could break her will and allow the spell to do its work.  Instead, Deferens merely laughed.

“I could kill you,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Elaine said.  Taunting him might get her killed, but that wouldn't be such a bad thing, not really.  She knew she couldn’t hold out for long if they brought out the thumbscrews.  “You wouldn't get the knowledge in my mind if you blew me into little pieces, would you?  You need to keep me alive.”

“And I can promise you humiliation after humiliation when the spell completes its work,” Deferens hissed, angrily.  “Can you imagine how you could be used when I wasn’t tapping your brains?”

Elaine wondered how hard he’d had to bite back a killing spell.  If half the rumours Daria had dug up, while she was laying bets on the outcome of the competition to choose the next Grand Sorcerer, were true, Deferens had never taken any cheek from anyone ... unless, of course, he'd needed them.  He had a certain charm, Light Spinner had once admitted, that was surprisingly disarming.  But not when he held all the cards.

“Better make sure you didn't accidentally kill me,” Elaine taunted.  “Where would you be then?”

Deferens glowered down at her, then pointed a finger at the wall.  “Stand there ... no, kneel there,” he ordered.  “And watch as I consolidate my power.”

Elaine obeyed, helplessly.  He was trying to rub in just how helpless she was and, she had to admit, it was working.  Her body did as it was told, while her mind was under siege.  The longer she stayed awake, the weaker she'd be and, eventually, she would fall.  She was mildly surprised he hadn't knocked her out, but he probably had no idea what would happen if she was forced to sleep.  Very little was actually known about the long-term effects of the spell because it normally worked at lightning speed.

She turned as she reached the wall and knelt, then watched grimly as Charity rose to her feet and headed towards the door.  Deferens himself sat on the Throne, drawing strength from the power shimmering through the palace’s wards, and waited.  Moments later, the first of the city councillors stepped through the door and stared at Deferens.  His comrades followed him into the Throne Room, their faces slack with shock.

They never expected to deal with a real Emperor, Elaine thought.  None of us saw this coming.

She gritted her teeth as the councillors chattered amongst themselves, then walked slowly towards the Throne and prostrated themselves before it, following protocol that had gone out of fashion when the last Emperor had died.  They’d - or rather their predecessors - had made a deal with the Grand Sorcerers; they would continue to run the city, while respecting the Grand Sorcerer’s authority.  As the Grand Sorcerers hadn't wanted the hassle of running the Golden City, they’d agreed to the deal.  But now ... who knew what an Emperor would want to do?  And one so magically powerful?

“You may rise,” Deferens said.  “Do you respect my right as Emperor?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Council Leader said, quickly.  It would have been suicide to say anything else.  “You have taken for yourself the Golden Throne.  As such, we are honour-bound to recognise your lineage.”

“Then I thank you,” Deferens said.  There was no hint of irony in his tone.  “Your positions are confirmed, my councillors, and will remain in your families, as long as you obey.  Should you not obey, your families will be banished from the Golden City and exiled to far-flung islands.”

A fate worse than death, Elaine thought, sardonically.

She sighed, inwardly.  It was, for them.  The Golden City was their home - and the centre of power for the entire Empire.  To leave the cramped city, confined by the mountains, would mean abandoning the power their families had built up over the generations.  Even if they proved to be big fish outside the city, almost anywhere else within the Empire, they would still be small fry compared to the ones who remained in the Golden City.  No wonder Johan’s father had spent so much money on moving into the city, after Kane had killed so many of the city’s previous residents.  It was his one shot at propelling his family right into the very highest levels of power.

And it would have succeeded too, Elaine thought, if he’d treated Johan a little better.

Her knees were aching by the time the last of the supplicants had entered the Throne Room, pledged his loyalty - there didn't seem to be any women among them - and retreated back into the antechamber.  She distracted herself by setting up new defences, even though she knew it was just a matter of time before she lost control - and herself.

“You can take her back to her quarters,” Deferens ordered Charity, gesturing with one hand towards Elaine.  “And make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, like trying to kill herself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said.

Elaine swore, mentally, as Charity beckoned her forward.  Suicide was wrong, but the thought had crossed her mind as a last resort.  How far had she fallen, she wondered, if she was praying for someone not to order her to preserve her own life?

“Come with me,” Charity said.

Helplessly, Elaine obeyed.

Chapter Eight

Charity had met the Head Librarian twice; once, when she’d asked her father to give her a little help with her studies and once, again, when Johan’s strange powers had emerged from wherever they’d been hiding.  She had never really understood why the Grand Sorceress had given Elaine No-Kin the job, although she supposed as a Privy Councillor there must be more to her than there seemed.  But the position would have ideally suited someone from one of the Great Houses ...

Now, the Head Librarian was following her like a dog following her master, shaking with the force of the internal struggle in her mind.  Charity shuddered in sympathy; the oaths she’d sworn to the Emperor nagged at her mind, but at least they weren’t infesting her thoughts and warping them into helpless servitude.  She still had freedom of thought, even a considerable amount of true freedom, as long as she didn't disobey or defy the Emperor.  The Head Librarian would be nothing more than a puppet in a few scant hours.  

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “but resistance was futile.”

“He’s mad - worse than mad,” the Head Librarian said.  Her voice sounded harsh, broken.  “What were you thinking when you pledged yourself to him?”

“I was thinking that I wanted to survive,” Charity snapped back at her.  Intentionally or not, Johan had robbed her of her confidence.  “He would have killed me as easily as he killed the Grand Sorceress.”

“It might have been better if you had been killed,” the Head Librarian said.  “He’s a monster.”

Charity nodded in bitter agreement.  She’d watched Emperor Vlad - her thoughts wouldn't allow her to call him anything else - ever since she’d sworn her oaths and she’d seen hints of the monster he was, lurking below the surface.  He’d brought soldiers to the Golden City, given orders for them to clear the streets using whatever methods were necessary ... and humiliated a pair of female Inquisitors.  It was madness, but he’d done it anyway.  She’d been left with the uneasy thought that she’d sworn endless loyalty and obedience to a madman.

“I had no choice,” she said.

“There’s always a choice,” the Head Librarian said.

“Shut up,” Charity hissed.  The Head Librarian’s mouth closed with an audible snap.  “I don’t have to listen to your ... to your condescension!”

She cursed her father and both of her oldest brothers under her breath.  Why couldn't her father have given her proper training?  By all the gods, why hadn't he disowned Jamal after the third or fourth complaint about his behaviour and declared her the Prime Heir instead?  She could have had months, perhaps years, to learn how to handle the family magic and the skills of being a Family Head, rather than having to improvise when the world blew up in her face.  Now ... now, to all intents and purposes, House Conidian no longer existed as anything other than an adjunct to the Emperor.  Her younger siblings would have no choice, but to follow her lead.

It was better than having her mind slowly worn down, she told herself.  But only by degree.  

They reached the holding chamber and opened the door, revealing a surprisingly luxurious room.  Charity sighed, recalling how some of the bad boys of High Society were placed under house arrest rather than being held in the Watchtower, then motioned for the Head Librarian to walk into the chamber.  She obeyed, her muscles moving oddly as the spell gripped her mind tighter and tighter.  Charity watched as she reached the centre of the room and stopped, dead.  The spell would hold her there until it had completed its task ...

“You may move freely, as long as you do not leave this apartment,” Charity said, feeling another flicker of sympathy.  Who would have thought that such a mousy little girl could hold out against such a spell?  Or show the nerve to defy the Emperor on his throne?  “What does the Emperor want with you?”

“He wants power,” the Head Librarian said.  “And I can give him power.”

“But you can't resist forever,” Charity said.  The Emperor had gloated that the spell his Inquisitors had orders to use would eventually burn through the strongest mental defences, no matter how much magic the victim had to burn.  “The spell will leave you a vegetable. Why not give him what he wants?”

“That's your oaths talking,” the Head Librarian pointed out, snidely.  “It isn't enough for him to claim your obedience, Charity.  He wants you to be his mindless supporter too.”

Charity felt a hot flush of anger.  What did the Head Librarian, a girl of no family, know about the obligations that bound her to the Emperor?  Or what she’d had to do to hold the family together, now her father and oldest brother were effectively dead?  The vultures had been gathering, pecking at the corpse, when she'd gone to the Imperial Palace.  There had been no choice, but to ally herself with the Emperor.  The family needed a powerful protector.

“Shut up,” she snapped, again.  

Charity fought hard to keep a grip on her anger.  She could issue any orders she liked, she knew, and the Head Librarian would obey.  The spell would see to her obedience.  But she knew, too, that Johan had turned so violently against his family because they’d mistreated him, when they thought they could.  There was no point in humiliating the girl facing her, not now.  She would belong to the Emperor soon enough.

“Stay here,” she said.  “Do not leave this room.”

She turned and marched out of the door, then banged it closed behind her.  There were a handful of bolts on the door - the only thing that marked it as a prison - and she slammed them shut with every sense of satisfaction.  The Head Librarian would remain bound until her defences were completely gone, whereupon she would be helpless.  She would never have the ability to think for herself again.

Good, she thought, vindictively.  

A pair of guards appeared at the end of the corridor and she waved them forward.  “Guard this door,” she ordered, when they eyed her suspiciously.  They weren't guardsmen from the Golden City, but part of the force the Emperor had brought with him from his homeland.  “No one is to enter or leave without the Emperor’s permission.”

They looked surprised that she was issuing orders - in their homeland, women were never permitted to issue orders to men - but did as they were told.  Charity nodded to herself, then hurried back down the corridor, heading towards the Throne Room.  A small army of enslaved workmen were already at work, taking down the portraits of various sorcerers of renown and replacing them with ancient paintings of past Emperors, all over a thousand years old and worth more than a house in the Golden City.  She paused as she caught sight of one of them and smiled as she realised just how closely Emperor Vlad resembled his long-gone ancestor.  Perhaps, if the paintings had been placed in a gallery and made open to the public, someone would have remarked on it a long time ago.

She hurried past the workmen and into the Throne Room, where a small line of suppliants were bowing before the Emperor.  Most of them were tradesmen, responsible for binding the Empire together into a coherent entity; the remainder were magicians who ran their own businesses, rather than working directly for the Grand Sorceress or one of the Great Houses.  Jamal had always sneered at them, but their father had pointed out that the businessmen often had specialities and freedoms the Great Houses couldn't afford to overlook.  Her brother had not been impressed.

“Lady Charity,” the Emperor said.  He looked down at the suppliants.  “You may all wait in the antechamber.”

None of the suppliants looked very happy, but they knew better than to argue.  Anyone who wanted to disagree with the Emperor only had to look at the statue of Light Spinner to change their mind, or have it changed for them by one of their companions.  The Emperor was likely to be even less patient with dissent than the Grand Sorcerers, who had often considered it a wasted week if they couldn't kill or humiliate one person personally.  Even Light Spinner had had to make a few examples of idiots willing to question her in the early days of her reign.

Charity went down on both knees and lowered her gaze as the Emperor looked back at her. It was strange, part of her mind noted, how it was becoming increasingly hard to remember that there had been a time before the Emperor.  Had it really been less than a day since he’d taken the Golden Throne?  Everything before the moment he’d sat down seemed almost like a dream, even though she knew it was all too real.  The oaths might be twisting her mind ...

... And the truly frightening thing about the whole concept was that she wasn’t scared of the thought.  

“Your Majesty,” she murmured.

“I have sent messengers to the remaining Great Houses,” the Emperor said.  His voice was rich with amusement, amusement he didn't bother to try to hide.  Powerful he might have been, but he lacked the bloodline of any of the Great Houses.  They’d always looked down on true outsiders.  Now, they had to do homage to the man they’d scorned.  “They will assemble in the Blue Tower, where you will speak my words to them.”

Charity blinked in surprise.  “You won’t speak to them yourself?”

“Let them get used to the idea of bowing before me,” the Emperor said, firmly.  “You will carry my words to them.”

Her father would probably have understood instantly, Charity reflected.  It took her several minutes to work her way through the multitude of possible meanings.  The Emperor might be sending her as his messenger to underline her new status as his ... assistant, or he might be showing his contempt by sending her, rather than going himself.  Perhaps he wanted to do both, she told herself.  Or maybe he just didn't want to be bothered with the Great Houses any more than strictly necessary.  He had to know they would resent his rise to power.

They’re not going to like it at all, Charity thought.  At least they knew where they stood with the Grand Sorcerers.

The Emperor smirked at her, then started to outline what he wanted her to say.  None of his words were very compromising, although he did manage to hint that he would recognise the Great Houses as being part of his court if they behaved themselves.  Charity shuddered to think of what her father would have said, if faced with such demands, but there was no way she could refuse her orders.  Instead, she bowed her head, then rose to her feet and backed out of the Throne Room.  Turning her back on the Emperor would have been an unforgivable insult.  

She turned the moment she entered the antechamber, then walked through the maze of corridors towards the giant doors that opened into the gardens.  Even the Emperor had only a tiny garden - it wasn't worthy of the name, compared to the lands her family had owned before they’d moved to the Golden City - but it was larger than any other private garden within the city.  The Golden City was just too cramped to allow even the aristocracy to clear large spaces of land for themselves.

Snow was drifting from high overhead as she stepped through the doors and out into the open air.  She cast a warming charm around herself, then hurried towards the Blue Tower, safe and secluded at the other end of the gardens.  The sight took her breath away as she stumbled through the snow; the tower was made of stone, but sheathed in blue marble.  Rumour had it, if she recalled correctly, that one of the previous Grand Sorcerers had used it for secret liaisons with his conquests, which had included every aristocratic or magical woman in the Golden City.  Charity rather doubted it; Jamal might have been a terrible prat when it came to women - and their parents had often required a great deal of very expensive soothing - but the Grand Sorcerer wouldn't have time to chase every woman he saw.  He wouldn't have any time for ruling!

Inside, it was warm and surprisingly - or perhaps not surprisingly - comfortable.  Charity shrugged off the snow that had settled on her robes, then looked around at the handful of powerful magicians facing her.  Most of them came from families that were old when the Empire itself was young, tracing their ancestry back over thousands of years.  A couple were dirt poor, but still strong in magic and land.  And bloodlines ... she knew her father, with his eye for a good deal, might well have tried to marry her to one of their sons.  Or even to the Family Head himself.  

“I thank you for coming,” she said.  “The Emperor is most pleased.”

She kept her face expressionless with an effort.  She’d never faced powerful aristocrats like these before, not on her own.  All she’d been expected to do, when her father had hosted guests in their house, was look pretty, do as she was told and try to catch their eyes without being too forward about it.  And she hadn't been particularly good at it.

“The Emperor,” Lord Falcate said.  She vaguely remembered him being a Privy Councillor under Light Spinner, which had made him one of the most powerful men in the Empire.  “Do we really have an Emperor?”

“The Golden Throne has accepted him,” Charity said, bluntly.  “None, but the Imperial Bloodline may sit there and live.”

“Yes, we know,” Lord Falcate said.  It was one of the first things children were taught, even the magic-less kids who barely had a year or two of schooling before they went to work.  “I do not believe it, though.”

“I swear that it is true,” Charity said.

“We all felt the shift in the magic,” Lord Ahlstrom said, tartly.  “We must concede that an Emperor has finally resurfaced.”

Charity took a breath.  “I have already pledged myself to his service,” she said.  “As such, I bring a message from him to you.”

She frowned at their expressions.  No doubt they’d hoped to loot House Conidian before she managed to secure all of the family’s property, which would have included the children.  Her younger siblings were too young to marry, but not too young to enter into marriage contracts that would have given their prospective parents-in-law too much influence and power over their lives.  And over what they could claim as their share of their family’s former assets ...

... But if she was working for the Emperor, they would be safer leaving what remained of her family alone.

“The Emperor is grateful for your service in keeping the magic-users of the city under control,” she said.  A pleasant statement and a threat, rolled into one.  No one could hope to forget that it was the Inquisitors who kept magic-users under control.  “As such, he is prepared to renew your charters of power, which were drawn from the early days of the first Grand Sorcerer.  However, he requests proof of your goodwill and loyalty.”

“I hope he is not expecting us to swear any unlimited oaths,” Lord Ahlstrom snapped.

“No, My Lord,” Charity said.  “He is requesting that you - that each of the magical families - hand over a child, someone who can be trained to serve the Emperor.”

And serve as a hostage, she thought.  

She shivered.  It wasn’t an uncommon practice for hostages to be exchanged, particularly when two rival families tried to come to terms despite years of mistrust and outright hatred on both sides.  Charity had half-expected to spend a year or two in the house of a rival family herself, when her father had been negotiating a complex long-term agreement with them.  But, in the end, the talks had broken down.  She’d been relieved, if she recalled correctly.  A later breakdown of the agreement would have meant her certain death.

“The Emperor wants one of our children?”  Lord Ahlstrom demanded.  He sounded shocked at the mere thought.  None of the Grand Sorcerers had insisted on taking hostages.  “Is he mad?”

“The Emperor wishes to have nothing, but good relations with you,” Charity said.  As far as she knew, that was actually true.  “However, you will have to accept the supremacy of the Imperial Bloodline.”

She paused.  “Those who go to work in the Imperial Palace will also have access to the Emperor,” she added.  “They will have the chance to seek positions of power.”

They looked doubtful, but accepting.  It was unusual to hand over a hostage without receiving another in return, yet the Emperor was on a fundamentally different level from any of the Great Houses.  And besides, law and custom allowed the hostages plenty of leeway to write to their families.  There would be a chance for them to try to manipulate the Emperor, as the years wore on.  It wasn't a bad bargain ... as long as one was prepared to toe the line.  If they weren't, the hostages would be the first to die.

“I will present my young daughter,” Lord Ahlstrom said, finally.  “She will take up a place in the Imperial Palace.”

Because she’s your fifth child, Charity thought cynically, as the others made similar promises.  None of them offered a senior family member.  The firstborn children, the Prime Heirs, would never be used as hostages, even if there were no other candidates, but even second or third children had their uses.  You might mourn her death, but it wouldn't damage your family.

“Thank you,” she said, out loud.  “The Emperor will be pleased.”

Chapter Nine

Johan hadn't spent anything like enough time on the streets, not when his father had rarely allowed him to leave the house, but even he could tell that an air of fear and uncertainty was settling over the Golden City.  The streets were normally crammed with people, even when the snow was falling from high overhead; now, they were almost deserted, with only a handful of men and women walking to and from their homes.  They looked around almost furtively as they moved, as if they expected to be attacked at any moment.  Johan had a feeling they might have had a point.

“Over here,” Daria hissed.  Her nose winkled as she sniffed, loudly.  “Someone is coming.”

Johan frowned - the blizzard was growing stronger - but he trusted her nose.  She pulled him into a darkened alleyway and tapped her lips, warning him to keep quiet.  Moments later, a line of soldiers marched out of the snowstorm, heading down towards the mountains that marked the edge of the city.  They wore fighting armour, rather than the ceremonial gear he’d seen on the City Guard, and carried swords and shields.  It looked, very much, as if they were going to war.

He felt his frown deepen as he caught sight of the emblem on their shields.  It wasn't the standard wand and staff that represented the Empire, but a sun shining brightly in the sky, representing ... what?  He had the oddest feeling that he’d seen something like it before, perhaps in one of the books he’d devoured when he’d still held out hopes of being able to make his own way in the world.  But the memory refused to surface as the soldiers marched onwards and vanished into the snow.

“No one should be able to bring an army here,” Daria muttered.  “But someone did.”

Johan turned to look at her.  She seemed unbothered by the cold - a werewolf wouldn't be bothered by changes in temperature - but deeply worried.

“They weren't the City Guard,” he said.  “They were real soldiers.”

“Yeah,” Daria said.  “So where did they come from?”

She slipped onwards, leading the way up the street and through one of the markets.  Johan had always enjoyed markets as a young man, but this one was eerie.  The stalls were empty, their owners either hiding for the night in their homes or huddled in the pub, discussing the situation with their mates.  A handful of vagrants were trying to sleep under the stalls, relying on the wood for shelter; Johan had the uneasy feeling that many of them would freeze to death in the coming days, if the snowstorms grew worse.  Daria ignored the sight and kept walking, heading onwards into the poorer parts of the city.  Every so often, she pulled Johan aside as soldiers walked past, clearly on patrol.  Sometimes, they had prisoners with them as they walked.

“They’re keeping the streets clear,” Daria muttered.  “They must be desperate to keep the citizens from talking to one another.”

Johan nodded.  He’d thrilled to tales of war from the days before the Empire, although his father had often pointed out that most of the stories were glorified.  The good guys never lost a man, while the bad guys died in their thousands ... and it was remarkably sterile.  Johan had seen more blood when he’d cut his finger than any of the characters in the stories had ever seen.  And yet, he could have made it as a soldier.  Or a guardsman.  Or even an accountant working for the bureaucrats.  If only he’d been allowed a chance ...

“Hey,” a voice snapped.  “Stop right there.”

“Shit,” Daria muttered, yanking Johan down yet another alleyway.  The sound of pounding footsteps told them that they hadn't managed to hide in time.  “Keep moving ...”

They ran out of the alleyway and straight into another group of soldiers.  Johan cursed under his breath as the men turned to face them, their grim expressions becoming tighter when they laid eyes on Daria, then reached for his magic.  The soldiers froze solid, literally.  Daria gaped at him, then tugged him forward, leaving the soldiers behind.  Johan honestly wasn't sure if they would be fine, or if whatever he had done to them was permanent.  No one, not even Elaine, had managed to get a handle on how his powers really worked.

“They would have carried protective charms,” Daria said, as they ran through the slippery streets.  “And you managed to overpower them.”

“I think so,” Johan said, doubtfully.  Normal protections didn't seem to stop his magic.  “But the next person we run into might be an Inquisitor.”

“Probably, knowing my luck,” Daria said.  She paused.  “Can you make us invisible?”

“I don’t know,” Johan said.  There were hundreds of invisibility spells, but his magic didn't follow the usual rules.  “I can try.”

Daria shook her head.  “Just keep walking,” she said.  “And hope we get there before those soldiers get better, or their friends find them there.”

Johan shuddered as they walked.  Being transfigured had always been terrifying, even though the spells Jamal and his other siblings used wore off, eventually.  His powers, on the other hand ... nothing about them quite made sense.  Even Elaine hadn't been able to undo some of his work, despite her vast knowledge of the way magic worked.  It was quite possible that he’d frozen the soldiers for good.

And there was another mystery.  Elaine - and Jamal, and Charity, and every other regular magician - tired themselves out when they cast spells.  Jamal, whatever else could be said about him, had been a powerful magician ... and even he had tired himself, when he cast complex spells.  But as far as Johan could tell, his powers didn't seem to cost him anything, not even a bout of exhaustion.  The power just seemed to come from nowhere.

“It makes no sense,” Elaine had said, weeks ago.  “You should be getting the power from somewhere, but where?”

Daria glanced back at him.  “Do you know where we are?”

“No,” Johan said, shortly.  The Golden City might be small - it took barely half an hour to walk from one side to the other - but he’d never had the opportunity to memorise a map, let alone explore as extensively as he would have preferred.  “Where are we?”

He looked around, doubtfully.  The Golden City was so cramped that even a small house was staggeringly expensive.  His father had moaned about the cost often enough, looking for ways to avoid paying a small fortune each year just to maintain the house.  But here ... the houses looked weird, as if they’d been submerged in water and then left to dry in the open air.  There was a scent of decay in the air, and ... and strange sensations that left a chill running down his spine.  He couldn't help noticing that the snow was refusing to lie on certain houses.

“This used to be called the Blight,” Daria explained.  “Some idiot was casting forbidden spells and he managed to unleash a tidal wave of wild magic, which rendered the entire area uninhabitable.  Only a desperate person would risk hiding in the houses here, because he might go to sleep and wake up in a completely different form.  Elaine did something here and cleansed it of most of the wild magic.”

“I ... see,” Johan said.  His father had said something about it once, he recalled, but he hadn't been paying attention.  And Elaine was hardly the sort to blow her own trumpet and brag about her achievements.  “If it’s safe, why aren’t people moving in?”

“Some bits are still unsafe,” Daria said.  “But the areas that are safe, Johan, belong to the Grand Sorceress.  She was allowing the richest families in the Empire to bid on completely new lots, within the Golden City.  The bids were still going up, the last I heard.”

She stopped in front of a house and pulled a small wooden wand from her pocket, then waved it twice in the air.  “This should be safe enough,” she said.  “And very few people will come here, fortunately.”

The door opened with a creek, revealing a very strange room.  Johan blinked in shock as he realised that nothing quite made sense, as if he’d stepped into a room decorated with funhouse mirrors.  The walls looked oddly out of place, while the furniture seemed warped and twisted.  And yet it still seemed remarkably intact.

“They’ll want to knock the whole building down and start again,” Daria said, as she closed the door behind them.  “No one would want to live here permanently.”

She paused, then glanced into the fireplace.  “Do you know how to build a fire?”

“Barely,” Johan said.  He’d built fires with Elaine when they’d been living away from the city, but Elaine had told him not to try to light one using his magic.  “Can you light it?”

“Probably,” Daria said.  She picked up a warped chair, two of its legs clearly longer than the other two, and started to break it into pieces of wood.  “Put these in the fireplace, along with anything else that might burn, then give me a shout.”

Johan obeyed, glancing around for something lighter than pieces of wood.  A pile of broadsheets lay in one corner; the paper looked alright, he discovered when he picked it up, but the writing was in a language that was completely unfamiliar.  He frowned at the sight - the Empire had used the same written language for so long that there were few native speakers or writers of anything else - and then started to tear the paper up for the fire.  The next set of pages showed images of strange creatures with giant eyes, long tentacles and nasty expressions.  None of them seemed to resemble anything he knew to exist.  Shaking his head, he carried the paper over to the fire, dropped it into the fireplace and built up a small pile of paper and wood.

“Add this to the top,” Daria said, as she came back into the room.  She was carrying a small grey object in one hand, cradling it gently.  “It should have been burned years ago.”

Johan took the object and looked down.  It was so badly warped that it took him several seconds to realise it was a doll, one hand-carved by someone who had loved the doll’s owner.  He felt a sudden pang of grief for the missing child, wondering if she had escaped the wave of wild magic or if she had died beside the doll.  She’d been a lucky girl, he decided, as he placed the doll on top of the fire.  Even Jamal hadn't had anything made with his father’s hands.

“We burn our dolls when we reach adulthood,” Daria said, as she pointed the wand at the fire and cast a spell.  There was a flicker of fire, then the paper caught, sending flames crackling through the grate.  “It’s supposed to mark the day we cast off our inner child and embrace the adult world.”

Johan held his hands in front of the flames, enjoying the heat.  “Is that a Traveller ritual?”

“Yeah,” Daria said.  “I was very surprised when Elaine showed me the doll she had kept from the orphanage.”

“I can't imagine my sisters burning their dolls,” Johan said, with a shiver.  He’d been their doll often enough.  “They were really expensive.”

He shrugged.  “Do men have dolls too?”

Daria gave him a sharp look.  “Boys tend to have stuffed animals,” she said, tightly.  “They bury them when they are ready to become men.”

“I don't know much about the Travellers,” Johan admitted.  “What happens when you want to get married?”

“There’s normally a big gathering every year or so,” Daria explained.  She rubbed her hands together, then reached for her bag.  “You will generally be introduced to prospective husbands there - or brides, if you’re a man.  Everyone looks for the one who smells right to them - if they find that person, they take them off somewhere under the moonlight and wait to see if romance takes hold.”

Johan considered it.  “What happens if you don’t smell right to the person who smells right to you?”

“It rarely happens,” Daria said.

She shrugged.  “If the romance lasts, the woman generally joins the man’s pack, although not always,” she added.  “There’s always jostling between the newcomer and the established pack leaders until the new order is established.  Or sometimes the happy couple sets off on their own and forms an entirely new pack.  It does happen.”

Johan smiled.  “And what happens if the romance doesn't last?”

“They peacefully separate,” Daria said.  “What sort of idiot would stay with a man who doesn't love her?”

“Too many in High Society,” Johan said.  His mother had always had a cold relationship with his father, even though they had managed to produce seven children.  “They prefer the status of being married to the right person rather than picking someone they actually love.”

“Idiots,” Daria said.

She opened her bag, then produced a large piece of bread and a pair of slices of cheese.  “I couldn’t grab much before we left,” she said, by way of apology.  “You should really eat.”

“I can't eat alone,” Johan said.  “I ...”

“There’s no shortage of rats around,” Daria said.  “You eat the bread and cheese.  I’m going hunting.”

She stood, walked to the centre of the room and shrank, rapidly.  Johan stared as her robe fell down over her body, concealing the final stages of the transformation into a small wolf.  She emerged moments later from beneath the folds and winked at him, then headed towards the door.  If he hadn't known she was a werewolf, he would have mistaken her for a large and very well trained dog.  Despite not having any hands, she managed to open the door ... and stop, dead.

“I come in peace,” a female voice said.  “Really.”

Daria growled, a sound that sent shivers down Johan’s spine.  She was a werewolf, with all the strength of the breed, and he was staring at her as if she were a normal girl?  All of a sudden, he understood why werewolves were shunned, when they weren’t feared or hated, by the general population.  They might have looked human, when the full moon wasn't dominating the sky, but they were very different.

The newcomer stepped into the house and smiled at Johan.  She was tall, with long blonde hair, wearing a dark cloak that concealed her body.  A simple wooden wand hung from her cloak, beside a potions gourd and a device Johan didn't recognise.  He’d never been able to sense magic, not the way his family could, but he had no difficulty in recognising her as a powerful magician.  She had the same air of supreme self-confidence that he’d seen in too many graduates of the Peerless School.  Elaine was the only one he knew who didn't show that attitude.

“I ... I am Cass,” she said, simply.  Her voice was tightly controlled; friendly, without being too friendly.  Oddly, Johan was reminded of a distant relative who had been forced to host a funeral for her husband, even though she’d genuinely loved him.  “I’ve been sent to help you.”

Daria snapped back into human form and crossed her arms under her bare breasts, seemingly unbothered by her nudity.  Johan looked away, hastily.  Naked, Daria was very different to any of the pictures he’d seen in the books he’d stolen from Jamal.  Jamal had liked thin girls, but Daria was strongly muscled, with very little fat on her body.

“I remember you,” Daria said.  “You’re an Inquisitor.”

“I was,” Cass said.  She held up her hands for inspection.  There was no skull-ring present.  “I was released from my oaths.”

Daria barked a harsh laugh.  “What did you do?  Get caught in bed with the Grand Sorceress’s son?”

“The Grand Sorceress felt that the Head Librarian would need some assistance,” Cass said, tartly.  “And she saw fit to release me from my oaths.”

She stepped forward and closed the door behind her.  “This wasn't a bad place to hide,” she said, “but we can't stay here indefinitely.”

“And what,” Daria growled, “makes you think you are staying with us?”

Cass shrugged, then looked at Johan.  “Can you make contact with your mistress?”

“The bond doesn't work very well,” Johan confessed.  It wasn't something Elaine had been keen to advertise.  The gods alone knew what Charity would make of it, if she ever found out that Johan was still alive.  “I can sense her; she’s still alive, but not much else.”

“I can probably help you link to her properly,” Cass said.  She opened her cloak, revealing a dark shirt, long trousers and a pouch.  “And I brought food.”

Daria glared at her, then stamped back to where her robe had fallen and pulled it over her head.  Johan couldn't help feeling relieved.  It was hard not to stare at her, but he knew she would be aware of his interest and ... and he probably didn't smell right to her.

She turned to stare at Cass as soon as she was decently covered.  “How did you find us?”

“I was watching you when you were with your family,” Cass said, flatly.    She pulled the pouch off her belt, then started to reach into it.  The pouch was clearly far bigger on the inside than the outside, as it rapidly proved to contain several large pieces of meat and bread, as well as bottles of water.  “I was planning to meet you once the Head Librarian arrived and introduce myself, but once you went running off on your own I had to follow you.”

“I never sensed you,” Daria growled.

“I’m very good at what I do,” Cass said.  She gave Daria a smile, then turned her attention to Johan.  “Eat as much as you can, young man.  We have some meditation to try.” 

Chapter Ten

Elaine wasn't fooled by the spell’s seeming dormancy.  It was waiting for her to fall asleep, or to lower her defences, or something else that would give it the opportunity to claim her mind and soul.  Worse, it still held her body in an iron grip; she had freedom of movement within the holding chamber, she’d discovered, but any attempt to leave via the door simply led to her body locking up and refusing to move.  Charity Conidian’s orders had been too specific to allow Elaine any leeway at all.

She probably has plenty of experience ordering slaves around, Elaine thought, darkly.  How many slaves did her family have under their roof?

Scowling, she inspected the drinks cabinet in the hope of finding water or juice.  The only thing she found that was remotely drinkable was a very light wine, but she knew better than to drink anything that might lower her ability to resist.  There were no shortage of spells for removing alcohol from liquid, yet even trying to cast a basic spell would drain her magic to dangerous levels.  She didn't dare take the risk.  Instead, she found a pair of oranges held in a preservation spell and ate them both.  They would keep her going, for the moment.

She walked back to the sofa and sat down, skimming through the vast reserves of information in her mind.  What made the spell so dangerous?  And how could it best be broken?  There was little encouraging within her mind, nothing she hadn't already reviewed while waiting to see the Emperor.  To dismantle the spell from the inside, she would have to embrace it ... and, if she failed even slightly, she would fall under its influence completely, body and soul.  But she was starting to feel as though there was no choice.

Closing her eyes, she started to meditate, marshalling her reserves for the battle ahead.  In some ways, her limited magic was actually an asset; the spell had had much less to absorb into its own matrix and throw back at her.  But in others, she simply didn't have the reserves to hold it off long enough to pick it apart.  The more she looked at it, the more she hated the idea of trying to force it out of her mind.  And yet, she knew there was no choice ...

Johan, she thought.  The link between them was almost impossible to feel, even when she was meditating, her mind closed off to all distractions.  It tore at her more than she cared to admit; Johan could sense her, to some degree, but she couldn't sense him at all.  Who knew what would happen if they spent time apart?  Would the weak link break or would it merely go dormant?  And what would happen when her defences finally crumpled and she fell to Vlad Deferens?  

That cannot be allowed, she thought, coldly.  I cannot let my knowledge fall into his hands - or go to the Witch-King.

It was an odd thought.  She had assumed, given his history, that the Witch-King knew everything she knew and more.  And yet, he'd made at least two attempts to obtain Elaine for himself, maybe three, if one counted Hawthorne’s mad rampage.  Was there knowledge in the Black Vault the Witch-King didn't know?  It seemed absurd, yet she was starting to think it was possible.  She had cheated, after all, to reach such levels of knowledge.  No other magicians knew as much as she did.

The Witch-King had to be behind everything, she was sure.  Vlad Deferens would never have sat on the Golden Throne unless he’d known it was safe - and only the Witch-King could have ensured he knew.  And then, he hadn't surrounded himself with naked and submissive women, in the belief that it was all they were good for, but put them to work.  Elaine had never thought she would see the day when not acting like a misogynist would seem a bad sign, yet it was now.  It spoke of someone else pulling the strings, keeping his eye on the prize.  And who knew what the Witch-King really wanted ...?

How does he do it?  She asked herself, not for the first time.  How does he influence so many at such a distance?

The thought had nagged at her mind ever since she’d first deduced his existence.  There were no shortage of compulsion spells; some blunt tools that could be resisted, while others were so subtle that few could realise they had ever been influenced at all.  And yet, they all required someone to either cast the spell directly or leave the spell hidden for the victim to find and activate.  The idea of long-range control was unthinkable ... and if it was some form of long-distance control, the Witch-King should have won by now.  There was something about the method that made it work, but added limits.  But what was it?

He left a book for some of his slaves to find, she thought.  Some of the spells in it had been nasty, others might have tilted the user towards insanity, weakening their defences.  But how did he get it into their hands?

She sensed the spell holding her rubbing against her defences, just long enough to bring her mind back to the here and now.  Cursing mentally, she tightened her defences once again, then opened her eyes and looked around the chamber.  There was nothing she could use, either to escape or to kill herself.  The only option for the latter was a spell that caused instant brain death, leaving her thoughts so fragmented that no one, not even a necromancer, could summon her ghost back from the realm of the dead.  But would she be able to shape and cast it before the compulsion spell overwhelmed her?  The timing would be very fraught.  She couldn't afford a simple mistake.

Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she stood and started to pace, testing the limits of her bonds again and again.  There was no hope of escape unless she broke the spell, yet the mere act of trying to break the spell was dangerous in itself ... her thoughts raced around, time and time again, going back to the simple point that there was no other way out.  But would she have the time to break the spell?

And then she felt a presence pushing up against her mind.  No, inside her mind.  She almost panicked, then reached out, understanding in sudden wonder that the apprenticeship bond was finally working.  Johan’s mind was touching hers, a level of intimacy she hadn't enjoyed with anyone, even her first lover.  The mere touch sent her reeling; hastily, she checked and rechecked her defences, then tried to send a thought back down the link.  But there was no sense Johan had heard her.  

Concentrate, she told herself, firmly.  It had been years since she’d had any classes in mental communication - the bond should have formed naturally, if it had been normal - but she knew the basics.  Focus your mind.

She gritted her teeth.  Johan hadn’t broken her defences.  The bond was already present within her mind, allowing Johan to contact her.  All she had to do - all  - was make contact in return.  She held her defences in place with part of her mind, then reached through the bond with the rest of her attention.  There was a flurry of confusing images - Daria in wolf form, Daria naked as the day she was born, a blonde-haired girl who looked oddly familiar - and then an overwhelming sense of him pressing his mind against hers.  She shrank back from the contact - it wasn't painful, but it was powerful - and tried to warn him to moderate his voice.  The barrage of thoughts were coming at her so fast she couldn't separate them out into individual, understandable concepts.

“Slow down,” she said, or thought.  She honestly wasn't sure.  Some of the books in her head insisted that some mentalists preferred to vocalise their thoughts, but she was all-too-aware that someone might be spying on the holding cell.  “I can't understand you.”

The jabbering grew louder for a long moment, then faded.  “Elaine,” Johan said.  She heard his voice in her mind.  “Where are you?”

“In the Imperial Palace, a prisoner,” Elaine said.  It was important to get that piece of information out first, although she wasn't sure what Johan could do with it.  At least he would know to remain hidden.  “How did you make contact with me?”

“There’s an Inquisitor - ex-Inquisitor - here,” Johan said.  “She boosted the link.”

Elaine felt a sudden flush of overwhelming pride.  She had never thought of asking another magician to help, if only because it would have exposed her thoughts - and Johan’s - to outside scrutiny.  Her mental privacy had been important to her even before she’d absorbed the contents of the Great Library.  It had been the only privacy she’d enjoyed at the orphanage, then at the Peerless School.  The idea of private rooms had been laughable.  

But Johan, who had been abused far worse than her, had opened his mind to another, just to contact Elaine.

“Then you need to listen,” Elaine said.  She briefly outlined the spell holding her and what she’d done to hold it back.  “You have to break the link completely.”

“No,” Johan said.  “I won’t.”

There was a sudden sense of ... expansion, as a third person joined the conversation.  “I know the spell,” Cass said.  The sense of her identity flooded through Elaine’s mind as she spoke, bringing with it a awareness of power and confidence that left her feeling envious and afraid at the same time.  “It’s astonishing you’ve held out as long as you have.”

Johan coughed.  “Why?”

“The spell is known only to Inquisitors,” Cass explained.  “Unlike most compulsion spells, it absorbs magic and strengthens itself by attacking the target’s defences.  The standard response to any compulsion spell will merely make the spell stronger, while it burns through the victim’s mind.  It isn't used unless you don’t care about your target walking away with real damage.  Even the merest use of the spell can leave someone in deep trouble.”

She paused.  “Elaine has held out very well.”

“Not well enough,” Elaine said.  She knew something about escaping ordinary compulsion spells - Millicent had given her more than enough practice, while they’d been at school together - but this was different.  “My body is under their control.”

“That sounds like a bad romance novel,” Cass observed.  “Or a line from a worse play.”

Elaine tried to bite down on the anger surging through her mind.  Emotion, no matter the cause, would only weaken her defences.  Cass was right; there were no shortage of plays about women - and sometimes men - who had married someone they hated, merely to carry on the family line.  The heroines always talked about surrendering their bodies, but never their minds.  Elaine had always hated those plays with a white-hot passion.

Johan tried to pour oil on troubled waters.  “Can you break the spell?”

“Not from here,” Cass said.  “I’d have to do it in person and ... and there would be no guarantee it wouldn't leave traces in her mind.”

Elaine shuddered, knowing that both of them would feel her horror.  There were no shortage of people who took damage from using the wrong kind of spell.  Light Spinner, as horrific as it seemed, had maintained her sanity.  Others had gone mad, or lost their confidence, or simply killed themselves as soon as they could.  Who knew what this spell would do to her if it had enough time to leave its hooks in her mind?

“Then we have to rescue her,” Johan said.  “Is there a way into the Imperial Palace?”

“A couple,” Cass said.  “But we shouldn't be talking about them through the bond.”

“She needs to know we’re coming for her,” Johan said.  “We should tell her ...”

“No,” Elaine said.  She was touched - more than touched - by Johan’s loyalty.  Even if she had been the first person to treat him with a modicum of human decency, his loyalty was still astonishing.  Or perhaps it was a function of their bond.  “What I know, they can make me tell.”

“She’s right,” Cass said.  “The more that damned spell tightens its grip on her mind, the more they can control her and force her to talk.”

Johan’s horror was easy to feel through the link, but he held his peace.

“We will come,” Cass said.  “I promise.  The city may be under occupation, but we will have a way through if we’re careful.”

“I may have to try to remove the spell earlier,” Elaine warned.  “If it starts to break through my innermost defences, I won’t have a choice.”

“I understand,” Cass said.  “Just be careful.”

The link broke.  Elaine staggered as the presences withdrew from her mind, leaving her completely alone.  For a moment, she almost started to cry, knowing that they were gone.  And then she gathered herself and held back the tidal wave of despair.  She wasn't alone, not really.  Her friends were on their way.  

But it might be a trap ...

She cursed herself for not considering the possibility while she was in contact with Johan and Cass.  Light Spinner had told the Privy Council that Johan was dead, but Dread might well know better.  Elaine had lied to his face, but Dread was good at sniffing out lies ... and he was an Inquisitor, his loyalty sworn to the Golden Throne.  If Deferens asked, Dread would have no choice, but to admit that Johan was still alive.  And then Deferens would set a trap.

Had Deferens thought to ask?  There was no way to know.  She hastily reviewed all the knowledge in her head on Inquisitor oaths, but it wasn't clear if Dread would feel compelled to volunteer the information or not.  They were sworn to uphold the Throne, she knew, yet Dread had never liked Deferens.  He could do precisely as he was told, without volunteering any information he wasn't specifically asked to volunteer.  She knew Dread well enough to know he might well try to keep it to himself ...

... And yet, there was still no way to know.

She cursed under her breath, then closed her eyes and started to concentrate on strengthening her defences once again.  The spell hadn't remained dormant; it had taken advantage of her distraction to start breaking through wards that should have stopped any normal spell in its tracks.  Elaine shuddered in horror, then rebuilt her defences once again, knowing she was fast running out of magic.  Indeed, if she hadn't known how to angle her defences just right, she would be overwhelmed by now.  But it was only just a matter of time.

No wonder Deferens didn't bother to try to force me to swear an oath, she thought, savagely.  He - and his master - had been stung by Elaine before.  They probably preferred her to be a useless vegetable, a repository of knowledge, rather than a thinking human being.  She would be so useful to them, without the intelligence or willpower to seek loopholes in their command and use them as a weapon, or just a way to escape.  The bastard wants me ruined completely.

She opened her eyes, then started to pace the room.  Cass wouldn’t have hesitated, she was sure; Cass would have jumped right into the spell, counting on her prowess with magic to ensure that nothing went seriously wrong.  Elaine knew she was skilled, yet she also knew just how many things could go wrong.  She cursed the spell’s inventor, once again, as she stopped in front of the mirror and eyed her reflection.  There was no disputing the fact she looked a mess.  Her hair was sweaty and damp, while her face was pale and her eyes were sleepless.  The glamour that concealed her eyes had vanished, leaving red light glaring out of her face.  She yawned, as if the sight had reminded her that she really needed some sleep, but she knew she couldn't allow herself to rest.  When she opened her eyes, her free will would be gone.  

There’s no more time to waste, she thought, as she walked back to the sofa, then stopped just before she sat down.  Instead, she knelt down on the floor, feeling her body ache in protest as she rocked back on her haunches.  It was uncomfortable, which would keep her from falling asleep before she had finished, one way or the other.  I have to get rid of the spell now.

She focused her mind, pushing aside all thoughts of Johan, Daria or any of the handful of other friends she had made along the way.  There weren't many; she had never been a sociable person, even if she hadn't been Millicent’s favourite victim at the Peerless School.  It was funny, she reflected savagely, just how many of her old acquaintances had come crawling out of the woodwork when she’d been appointed to the Privy Council.  They had all believed she could help their careers with a single word.  And instead, she’d told them to go away.

But now ... she half-wished she’d done more with her life.  Daria had tried to take her out dancing - and she had met a few men - but none of them had stayed with her.  Perhaps there was something wrong with her; Daria had a different man every day, while Elaine half-hoped for a true love she knew she wasn't going to find.  The red light in her eyes would see to that, she knew all too well.  Even a mundane would find them more than a little creepy.

You’re not going to die, she told herself firmly, as she gathered what remained of her strength.  You’re going to live.

And then she closed her eyes, undid her defences and plunged into the maelstrom surrounding her mind.