Bookworm (Sample)

Christopher Nuttall

Prologue

Alone in the darkness, he waited.

He had long since become accustomed to the gloom, even though he cursed it with every breath he took through his ravaged throat.  The power that had once raised him high – which had made him among the strongest of sorcerers, the masters of the world – was all that kept him alive.  It was a bitter irony that all of his power, all of the secrets he had won through dangerous research into the limits of magic, was all that kept him alive.  The final curse from his enemy or an unexpected gift from his own patrons, there was no way to know.  All that mattered was that he could not die.

Time moved quickly in the unchanging darkness.  It had been years as mortals reckoned time since his final, catastrophic defeat, yet he could not help playing and replaying the struggle for power over and over again in his mind.  If he’d done this, if he’d done that...but the one thought he never allowed himself to have was what would have happened if he’d chosen to avoid the temptations magic promised.  To be someone happy, but small; never to have involved himself with the destiny of the entire world...it was a fate worse than death, worse than facing the ten million devils baying for his soul.  He could not have avoided his reach for power, even knowing his possible fate.  Power was all that had driven him for a very long time.

It had driven him to ruin.  He had long since overcome the pangs of hunger or thirst; his magic kept him alive, against all reason.  His soul remained chained in a body permanently on the verge of death.  Madness had threatened more than once, assailing his mind and offering permanent release from torment, yet he refused to take the final step and plunge into the abyss.  He didn't want to die, or to lose himself.  It was all that kept him together.

And there was the plan.

It had started life as a fantasy, one of many of the dreams of revenge that tormented him as he lay still and unmoving in the dark hall.  He had returned to it again and again, until it had finally penetrated his mind that the plan was no fantasy.  His power to influence the outside world was limited, subtle rather than the vast magical acts he had performed before his fall from grace, but it existed.  Slowly, wary of signs that his enemies were waiting for him to reveal himself before destroying him, he reached out with his mind.  Putting the pieces into play had required great care and the plan had come close to disaster more than once, but he was patient.  His immortality, once a curse, allowed him to work slowly where mortal minds would have demanded speed.

A seed, planted in fertile soil.  Promises made to those unable to see the long game.  The slow corruption of those who believed themselves immune to vice.  A hint of power here, an offer of wealth there...piece by piece, the tools came together.  His influence reached back towards the home of his enemies and slowly intruded into their sphere.  No one saw his hand behind a series of coincidences.  They would never have believed in his existence if they hadn't seen him, and no one had laid eyes on him for hundreds of years.

And slowly, but surely, the endgame came into view.

It was time to knock over the first domino...

And then a mighty empire would come tumbling down.

Chapter One

The sun rose above the Watchtower, scattering rays of light down towards the Golden City below.  As the light glittered off the shining temples, the voices of the priests rose in greeting to the morning light.  The bells, each one a representation of a different god, rang out, sending a glistening crescendo across the city.  It seemed to hang in the air, echoing off the five mountains that surrounded the city, before slowly fading away into a deafening silence.  In its wake, the sound of the city coming to life seemed dull and faded.  Nothing could complete with the morning chorus.

Elaine No-Kin cursed the morning as she tried to close her eyes and go back to sleep.  The tiny apartment seemed too warm, even in the mornings, but it was all that they were able to afford.  She tossed and turned as she pulled the blanket back over her head, knowing that it was futile.  It was already too late to go back to sleep.  The sound of Daria getting up from her bed on the other side of the room only reminded her that she had to get up herself.

“Get up, you lazy thing,” Daria called, as she tugged at Elaine’s blanket.  “I don’t think you dare be late again, do you?”

“No,” Elaine said.  She’d been reprimanded twice for being late, even though it hadn't really been her fault.  But no one was interested in excuses, not in the Golden City.  There was no shortage of trained, but untalented magicians to do the work their betters chose to ignore.  “I don’t want to be late at all.”

Daria snorted as Elaine released the blankets.  She was already standing in front of the mirror, studying her reflection as she donned her enchanted earrings and necklace.  Elaine felt a hot flash of envy – her friend’s redheaded looks brought no shortage of admirers – before swinging her legs off the bed and standing up.  There was no time to waste admiring Daria, or cursing her own mundane appearance.  She walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to wash away the last traces of drowsiness.  There were spells to wake oneself up, without ill effects, but she’d never been able to master them.

And besides, the voice of one of her tutors whispered in her ear, magic has a price...

Elaine shrugged off the memory as she walked back and stood in front of the mirror, glaring at herself.  She saw a mousy girl with light brown hair, dark eyes and a slightly oversized nose, one large enough to suggest that one of her parents – whoever they’d been – had been an aristocrat.  It had certainly been suggested by the other children at the orphanage, and later by her classmates at the Peerless School.  They’d taunted her for being motherless since the day they’d realised that no one was interested in adopting her.  In truth, Elaine wasn't entirely sure why she’d been accepted to the Peerless School.  Her magical talent was very limited, barely more than any hedge witch.  A hedge witch would probably be more useful than her to anyone who needed genuine magic.

She pulled off her nightdress and reached for her tunic and shirt.  As a graduate of the Peerless School, she was entitled to wear black, but she’d never felt the urge to show off her very limited talent.  Instead, she wore subdued brown that matched her hair.  It was strictly functional.  She didn't have the money to waste adorning herself.

“I may be home late tonight,” Daria said.  “Jade was talking about going to the Arena, and then to one of his favourite eateries.  And after that...who knows?”

Elaine felt herself flush.  An upbringing in the orphanage hadn't prepared her for the life of a free woman in the Golden City, although she didn't really want to go out dancing and enjoying herself with young men.  Or so she told herself; in truth, part of her would have loved to go out and just lose all of her inhabitations.  She looked over at Daria, who was donning a red dress that showed off enough of her legs and chest to make Elaine flush.  Her friend seemed to have a knack for meeting people and making friends that Elaine lacked.

“Have fun,” she said, automatically.  Daria didn't notice, but then she never did.  She was a good friend, perhaps the best friend Elaine had, yet she never seemed to notice when anything was wrong.  “Try not to catch anything you don’t want to catch.”

Daria chuckled as she headed into the small kitchen.  “I’ll keep myself safe,” she promised.  “And you’d better be off.  Miss Prim will have you transfigured into something more useful if you’re late again.”

Elaine nodded, picking up her wand and placing it into the small holster hidden within her sleeve.  Most magicians hid their wands in dimensional pockets, where they could be retrieved at a moment’s notice, but Elaine had never had the skill or patience for such complex spells.  Besides, it sometimes came in handy not to have to cast a spell to recover her wand.  Without it, she was barely capable of any magic at all.

“Have fun,” she said, again.  Daria was her friend, after all.  “I’ll try not to wait up for you.”

The hex on the door hissed at her as she placed her hand on the knob, reluctantly recognising her signature and allowing her to exit.  Even combining their resources, they hadn't been able to afford an apartment in the better parts of the city, not when the entire population of the Empire seemed determined to move to the Golden City.  The landlord charged incredibly high rates, too high for her to afford if she lost her job.  She silently cursed him as she walked down the stairs and out onto the streets.  Whatever he did with the money he collected from his tenants, it didn't include renovating the apartments.  There was no security hex on the outer door.  

As always, the streets were crowded with people trying to get to their workplaces or merely wandering the city, enjoying their chance to see the Empire’s capital.  Elaine had to smile at the expressions on some of their faces as they gawked around, looking up at the Watchtower or down towards the Imperial Palace.  History had been made in the Golden City, from the First Necromantic War to the disappearance of the Lost Prince.  On every corner, a statue of some nobleman from the wars or particularly legendary wizard seemed to gaze down disapprovingly at the tourists infesting the city.  In their days, Elaine was certain, the Golden City had been truly golden.

She walked along the streets, careful to ignore the horses and carts as the aristocracy headed towards the Imperial Palace to start playing politics with the Regency Council and the Grand Sorcerer.  There had been a time when she’d wondered if her magical talent would be enough to win her a place among the rich and powerful, but like all of her dreams it had come crashing down into dust.  She simply didn't have the talent to serve as a Court Wizard, helping to maintain the fragile peace in the Empire, or as an Alchemist working to push back the boundaries of magical knowledge.  All she was...was a librarian.

It wasn't a bad job, really.  Books had always fascinated her, even as a child.  The orphanage had had quite a few books and her guardians had insisted that she learn to read, believing that it would be easier for her to attract a family who might adopt her.  That had never happened, even as she grew older, but she’d never lost the fascination for books.  And if she couldn't afford her own library – even the new-fangled printed books were expensive – at least she could work with them in the Great Library.  It was a position of great responsibility.  Miss Prim had told her time and time again.

“Read all about it,” one of the broadsheet criers shouted, breaking into her thoughts.  “Duke of Tara to visit the Golden City!  May be engaged to Princess Lorraine!  Read all about it!”

Elaine ignored the proffered paper and strode past the crier.  She wasn't entirely sure that she approved of demeaning the printing press by publishing stories about the rich and famous, but she had to admit that it was encouraging people to read.  Not that they always printed the truth, of course.  Even in her position, she knew the underlying reason why the Duke of Tara would be visiting the Golden City – and it didn't have anything to do with asking the Regency Council’s permission to wed anyone.  The Grand Sorcerer, the supreme authority in the Empire, was dying.  And if the Duke happened to be in the Golden City when the Grand Sorcerer died, he'd be in a position to influence the outcome of the contest to select the next Grand Sorcerer.

The thought made her look up, towards the Imperial Palace, a dark building of towering, brooding stone.  No Emperor resided there now, not after the Second Necromantic War.  Officially, the royal bloodline had died out when the Witch-King made his desperate grab for supreme power before unleashing a nightmare across the entire world.  Unofficially, there was supposed to be a missing heir – but no one had come forward and claimed the Throne.  A vast number of pretenders had tried to claim the Throne over the years.  They’d sat on the Golden Throne and had never been seen again.  The Throne, it was said, knew the true royal bloodline.  No substitutions were accepted.

She halted as she turned the corner, just long enough for a line of soldiers to march past and down towards the Watchtower, positioned on the North Peak.  Elaine had read enough history to know that the Watchtower had saved the city during the First Necromantic War, but had been destroyed and rebuilt during the Second War – after which it had been maintained by the Regency Council.  There was no threat to the Empire, at least as far as she knew, but doubtless they had their reasons.  It was also a none too subtle reminder of their power, of the mailed fist within the velvet glove.  The Golden City was the Empire’s capital.  No disturbance could be tolerated within its walls.

The last of the soldiers tramped off into the distance, followed by a small number of young boys with dreams of becoming soldiers themselves.  Elaine shook her head in wry amusement at their antics, before glancing up at the position of the sun.  She was running late and she really needed to move quicker.  Miss Prim would definitely not be happy if she was late.  Thanking the gods for her decision to wear her tunic, rather than a long skirt, she started to move as quickly as she dared.  The crowds pressed in around her, seeming to grow thicker as she approached the centre of the city.  They’d been joined by small children on their way to school, escorted by their mothers or, in some cases, the family slaves.  Elaine shivered when she saw them, remembering her tutors at the orphanage.  They’d threatened to sell her into slavery if she didn't behave herself.

She allowed herself a small pause for breath as the Great Library came into view.  It was a towering building, although not as tall as the Imperial Palace, surrounded by statues of famous Alchemists.  The statues were still as long as people were watching them, but they seemed to move slightly when they were unobserved.  They were part of the Great Library’s defences against unwanted intruders, but they had always given her the creeps.  The statues seemed to hate her somehow, even though she couldn't have explained why.  It was probably a reflection of her own limited sensitivity to magic.  

The massive stone doors opened for her as she approached, recognising her magical signature as one who was allowed access.  Successive Grand Sorcerers hadn't been inclined to place all their faith in the statues, no matter how many enchantments had been used to make them obedient and invincible guardians.  The Great Library was layered with layer after layer of defensive spells, some bluntly obvious to even the merest of magicians, some so subtle and deadly that any would-be thief would have no opportunity to realise that they were there until it was far too late.  Even the Peerless School, a building designed to contain magician accidents caused by trainee sorcerers, was less well defended than the library.  But then, the magical knowledge stored within the stone walls was the source of the Empire’s power.  It could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.

Inside, the cool dry air left her feeling uncomfortably sweaty as she ran through the corridors, feeling them twisting and turning around her.  The interior of the building lay within a pocket dimension, making it literally bigger on the inside than on the outside.  Elaine had been told that the Great Library was actually alive, at least on some level, but she’d never been able to sense any governing presence.  Perhaps it was just too subtle for her senses to detect, or perhaps it didn't talk to mere humans.  The Great Library had outlasted both of the Necromantic Wars and many other conflicts besides.

The corridors straightened out suddenly and she found herself in the foyer.  It was a luxuriously decorated room, covered with paintings of librarians through the ages, but there was no mistaking its purpose.  Not everyone could be allowed access to the Great Library, or all of the collections housed within its walls.  Students from the Peerless School, Senior Wizards, the Regency Council...they had access.  Everyone else had to apply to the Head Librarian and convince her that they deserved to enter the Great Library.  One day, Elaine told herself, she’d be in that position of power.  It was an oddly cheerless thought.

“Elaine,” a stern voice said.  Elaine froze, and then tried to calm herself.  “What have I told you about being late?”

Elaine bit down several different answers and did her best to look contrite.  “I’m sorry, Miss Prim,” she said.  “The roads were crowded today.”

Miss Prim glowered at her.  She was a tall woman, old enough to be Elaine’s grandmother – and a slave, bound to the Great Library.  From the rumours Elaine had heard, Miss Prim – not her real name, but one fostered on her by the Grand Sorcerer – had been one of the more successful would-be thieves who tried to steal books from the library.  After she’d been caught red-handed, she’d been enslaved – and, as punishment, assigned to the library she’d tried to rob.  The spell binding her wouldn't allow her to leave, or to do a bad job.

“We are going to have to do something about your lateness, my girl,” Miss Prim said, severely.  Her voice had a knack for cutting through to the heart of any issue.  “It really is quite unacceptable.  The demand on our services has been rising over the last few months...”

As the Grand Sorcerer prepares to meet the gods, Elaine thought, sourly.  Every Senior Wizard in the world would be considering their own bid to become Grand Sorcerer.  They’d be studying, brushing up on their spells – and making contacts with other wizards and even the mundane community.  Power was a drug to many wizards and the position of Grand Sorcerer was the most powerful position in the world.

“...And so I expect better from you,” Miss Prim concluded.  “Consider yourself lucky that we are no longer in the habit of beating our inferiors.  I suggest that you go get yourself suitably presentable for doing your job.  You’re going to be assisting some of the very best wizards in the city.”

Elaine nodded as she walked through the foyer and into the small office behind the desk.  The Great Library had a dozen reading rooms and a hundred different open collections, but few of the visitors would be interested in books they could buy for themselves.  No, they’d be interested in the restricted volumes, the ones kept firmly under lock and key.  Some of them would even try to convince her to retrieve books from the Black Vault, despite the Grand Sorcerer’s edict forbidding access without permission from the Regency Council.  Elaine found herself silently praying that none of them would be foolish enough to turn nasty if she had to refuse their demands.  The Great Library itself took care of any troublemakers, but the effects had a nasty tendency to spill over onto unsuspecting bystanders.

She donned the grey smock worn by library staff and took a moment to check her hair.  There were a dozen other assistants in the library at any one time, scattered through the reading rooms and helpdesks.  Despite herself, Elaine knew that the job was important – and it required a special class of person, someone who could be trusted not to abuse the access granted to them by the library.  In her case, it hardly mattered how many forbidden tomes she read, whatever the rules said.  She simply didn't have the power to utilize many of the spells other wizards used daily, let alone dark spells that hadn’t been used since the Necromantic Wars.

“Room Thirteen,” Miss Prim said, when Elaine emerged from the office.  “Daphne’s on the desk, but she needs help finding material.  Too many wizards up there and they’re getting impatient.”

“Yes, Miss Prim,” Elaine said.  She turned and walked down the corridor.  Sometimes, the corridors shifted, seemingly at random, but this time the library seemed inclined to remain still.  Room Thirteen was larger than the foyer, with a handful of desks manned by grumpy wizards reading older books and making notes.  A small line of wizards stood in front of the main desk, waiting impatiently for their turn.  Elaine walked around the desk and looked up at the first in line – and realised, too late, that it was someone she already knew.

“Frogeye,” a delighted voice said.  “How nice to see you again.”

Elaine wanted to sink into the floor.  Of all the people who had to visit the Great Library – and who she had to serve personally – it just had to be Millicent.  The one person she'd met whom she never wanted to see again.

Wonderful, she thought, bitterly.  This day just keeps getting better and better. 

Chapter Two

“Millicent,” Elaine said.  “I...”

“I am absolutely delighted to see you, Frogeye,” Millicent said.  She ran one hand through her long blonde hair, calling attention to the shamefully tight white shirt she wore.  “This...girl wasn't going to give me what I wanted.”

Elaine winced, inwardly.  Millicent, blonde, beautiful and with a magical pedigree as long as her arm, had decided to hate her from the day that Elaine had been accepted to the Peerless School.  A young orphan girl couldn’t help Millicent with her carefully-planned career, so Millicent had felt free to pick on Elaine for five years of hell.  Elaine remembered – she couldn't forget – days when she’d discovered that someone had stolen her supplies, trapped her wand and scribbled on her books.  And the week she’d spent as a frog after Millicent had decided to practice her transfiguration on an unsuspecting victim.  No wonder Daphne had been uncooperative.  Millicent had a remarkable talent for irritating people.

“Here,” Millicent said, thrusting a sheet of paper at Elaine.  “I want these books, now.”

Elaine scanned the list, wishing that she was strong enough to stand up to Millicent.  But Millicent only respected magical power and good breeding and Elaine had neither.  No one knew who her parents had been, or why they’d chosen to abandon their daughter, but Millicent hadn't hesitated to draw a possible conclusion.  Illegitimate children were still regarded as shameful, even ones who showed signs of magical power.  And Elaine’s power had never been significant enough to convince her unknown parents to change their minds.

“You want all of these books?”  Elaine asked, in surprise.  None of them were on the prohibited list for a fully-qualified sorceress, but they were all alarmingly close to the line.  Some of them had only been one vote from being added to the Black Vault.  “Do you have...?”

Millicent grinned as she produced a scroll and passed it over to Elaine.  “My aunt, Lady Light Spinner, the next Grand Sorcerer, was kind enough to grant me permission to study how I liked,” she said.  “Now hop to it, Frogeye, or you’ll be hopping around for the rest of the day.”

Elaine rebelled the only way she could, by studying the parchment carefully.  Lady Light Spinner was known to her, although she hadn't realised that Millicent was actually her niece – but then, the family ties between the senior wizards were often confusing.  And she did have the authority to permit Millicent to study any tome outside the Black Vault itself.  Elaine checked the magical seal, doing her best to ignore Millicent’s twitching wand arm, and then passed it back to her tormentor.  Maybe she could take longer than she would normally have done to locate all the books.

“It seems to be in order,” she said, blandly.  “Why don’t you take a seat and wait while I go find the books?”

“I’m in Room Thirteen,” Millicent said, flatly.  “Bring them to me there.  I shall have others ready for you to find by then.”

She swept out of the reading room, leaving Elaine staring after her in helpless rage.  Millicent had always been a bitch, but then she’d had the breeding and magical power to back it up.  She hadn't even been significantly punished after the frog incident, even though she had been read out by the Administrator himself.  A less well-connected girl might well have been expelled, or forced to serve as the test subject for junior potions.  Shaking her head, she picked up the list and skimmed through it again.  Some of the items on the list were definitely not books she wanted Millicent to read.

But there was no choice.  Leaving Daphne behind in the reading room, she stepped into the office and through the hanging mirror on the wall.  Like most magical buildings, the Great Library had a reflection within the mirrors, an alternate dimension that could only be accessed by its staff.  Elaine felt her head swim as she entered the mirror world and looked around.  Great stacks of books lay everywhere, some covered with dust that suggested that they hadn’t been touched for a thousand years.  There were some books, Elaine knew, that hadn’t been opened even during the worst days of the Necromantic Wars.  Miss Prim had told her that the sorcerers of those days had feared the secrets within the books far more than they’d feared the Witch-King and his armies of undead servants.

Where the mundane world had the reading rooms and other compartments for the staff, the mirrored world had endless rooms of books.  Elaine picked up the list, selected the first title, and concentrated, allowing the magic in the Great Library to guide her to the book.  It had been stuffed into a nearby room and buried under a pile of other dusty books, as if the last user had taken care to hide it from casual view.  Only the staff – and the senior wizards – were permitted access to the mirrored dimension, and the magic in the library made it impossible to hide anything permanently, but someone had definitely tried to hide it.  Elaine glanced at the title as she pulled it out from its hiding place, shaking her head.  A tome on ways to boost one’s own power reserves by uniting with other magicians was the last thing Millicent should have needed.  Elaine knew, to her everlasting regret, that Millicent had power to spare.  And why would her aunt have given her permission to read the books anyway?

She mulled over the question as she found the other books on the list.  One of them was on transfiguration, ways to maintain a change long enough for reality to catch up with the spell, while another was on ways to brew complicated potions.  Two of the books were written in a language that had been dead and gone for a thousand years, although a simple translation spell would allow Millicent to read them.  And one of them talked about bargains that could be made with the gods.  Elaine smiled savagely as she added that one to the growing pile of books.  There were enough cautionary tales about magicians who tried to bargain with the gods to make her hope that that was what Millicent had in mind.  But then, Millicent was good at avoiding blame for her actions.  Maybe she’d manage to charm the gods too.

One of the books was out already, according to the library.  It was a strange book, one that discussed ways to tame magical creatures like werewolves and mermaids, at least according to Millicent’s notes.  Elaine suspected that it was actually something far darker.  They’d learned about potions that could be made by someone with access to werewolf fur, or mermaid scales, potions that were quite definitely on the forbidden list.  But Millicent would have to wait for it, she told herself as she walked back towards the mirror.  There were strict rules against disturbing one patron because a second patron wanted a book.  

The mirror flickered around her as she stepped back into the normal world, carrying the books with her.  Millicent had said that she would be in Room Thirteen, naturally.  Room Thirteen was normally reserved for senior wizards and while Millicent didn't count as a senior wizard, no one was likely to argue with Lady Light Spinner’s favourite niece.  The door opened as Elaine approached, spying Millicent seated on one of the comfortable chairs and reading through one of the older catalogues.  They dated back to the time before one of the first librarians had designed the spells that automatically updated the catalogues when a book was added to the library’s stock.  No book was ever allowed to leave the Great Library, even one that had been thoroughly disproven by later research.  The very thought was blasphemous.

“There’s an article in Alchemical Monthly about a new version of Luminous Potion,” Millicent said, in an almost friendly tone.  And then she reverted to form.  “But you wouldn't care about that, would you?  Your potion skills were non-existent.”

Elaine ignored her as best as she could.  Millicent was right, of course.  Elaine hadn't had great success with potions, although surprisingly few students became Potion Masters.  It required skill, patience and innate talent, all traits that Elaine had lacked.  But she’d managed to master enough potions to pass her exams, even if she hadn't made any of them since she’d left the Peerless School.  Even the potions designed to help with female issues were easier – and safer – to buy from a local apothecary.

But she was a good librarian.  “Your books,” she said, shortly.  “I’m afraid that one of them is currently out on loan to one of the other readers, but I’ll pick it up for you when it is returned.”

Surprisingly, Millicent didn’t chose to make an issue of it.  “Leave them here, Frogeye,” she said, taking the first book from the stack and blowing off the dust.  “And here’s the next list.”

Elaine sighed.  “I’ll go find them for you,” she said, tiredly.

“Hop to it,” Millicent said.  She chuckled, as if she hadn't been making the same joke for three years.  “I’ll let you know when I need you.”

She kept Elaine busy for nearly an hour before Miss Prim finally arrived and ordered Elaine to deal with someone else.  Elaine, relieved, spent the rest of the morning in a different part of the library, dealing with customers who all seemed to want to brush up on their spells and studies of ancient magic.  Maybe it did make a certain kind of sense, she resolved, after finding yet another pile of books.  The Grand Sorcerer was dying and every magician in the world would be considering his or her chances of making it through the trials to become the most powerful person in the Empire.  Millicent had mentioned that her aunt would be the next Grand Sorceress, suggesting that Lady Light Spinner definitely intended to try to compete herself.  Elaine couldn't think of that as anything other than bad news.  If Millicent was unbearable now, what would she be like if her aunt became the Grand Sorceress?

The question nagged at her mind as she took a break and then walked down to the workroom below the main library.  Miss Prim kept her staff moving from position to position, ensuring that they had the experience to take on any role at a moment’s notice.  Elaine had been told to start examining a new consignment of books that had been left to the library, but she hadn't had time to go start on it for several days.  It was a relief to finally have a chance to get to work on the boxes.  This was real librarianship.

Every magician in the world – and everyone who fancied themselves a magician – collected books on magic.  There were thousands of copies of some common spellbooks, along with books on theory and books on creatures that had been touched by magic.  None of them were on the prohibited index, although it wasn't unknown for a long-lost copy of a prohibited book to emerge when a dead would-be magician’s books were examined.  Some of the books had been very dangerous, only prevented from causing harm by the fact that their owner barely had enough magic to light a candle.  According to Miss Prim, several copies of Shade’s Darkest Shadow had only been found when the boxes of books had been opened in the Great Library.  Elaine knew better than to doubt her.

She’d run through the standard curse and hex detection spells when the boxes had first arrived in the Great Library, but she ran through them again before she picked up the first box and deposited it on her worktable.  Nothing showed up as dangerous, which meant nothing; it was easy enough to conceal a hex from most of the detection spells.  Elaine braced herself and muttered an incantation under her breath.  The spells that bound the box together came apart, allowing her to remove the wood and stack it up neatly in one corner.  Inside, a small pile of books awaited her attention.  She paused, long enough to enjoy the thrill of not knowing what she’d find inside the box, and then picked up the first book.  It was disappointing.  Common Magic was a standard reference work for students, but even Elaine had long since surpassed it.  

Shaking her head, she reached for the notes that recorded where the books had come from and skimmed through them.  Duke Gama, the younger brother of King Hildebrand, had fancied himself a magician, like many of the younger nobility.  No real power, according to the notes, but that hadn't stopped him buying up every magical book he could lay his hands on.  Some of the less scrupulous traders had probably enriched themselves at his expense, Elaine realised, as she pulled up a pair of books that were known hoaxes.  Duke Gama hadn't had the experience or magic to tell when someone was trying to con him into buying worthless parchment.  Elaine put the two books to one side, marked for disposal.  The Great Library’s laws against not throwing out books didn't apply to books of false spells and non-existent magic.  No wonder Duke Gama hadn't achieved anything when he'd tried to work magic.

The next book was much more interesting – and, like Millicent’s reading list, one step short of prohibited.  Naming of Demons should have been on the prohibited list, but there were so many copies out in the world that even the Inquisition regarded attempting to track them all down as futile.  There were no instructions on how one could summon demons, yet merely knowing their names and natures could give a lucky amateur a chance at calling them up from the darkness.  Elaine glanced at two of the pages, shook her head at some of the illustrations, and then placed it on the trolley.  Miss Prim would have to inspect the copy, determine if it was identical to the others stored within the Great Library, and then decide what to do with it.  She’d probably end up adding it to the library’s collection.  Duke Gama’s ghost would probably be pleased at the thought.

All five of the next books were cheap trash from a basement printer, a series of hopelessly unrealistic novels about a wizard who seemed to have so much power that it was hard to see how he ever had any problems at all.  Elaine remembered reading a couple of them while she’d been in school, only to marvel at how many inaccuracies the unknown writer had managed to stuff into a handful of slim volumes.  Even the Grand Sorcerer would have had problems matching the hero’s spell-casting ability, although maybe he would have had as many girls throwing themselves at him as the hero.  Magical talents bred true; everyone knew that.  She felt herself flush as she recalled an offer made to her by one of Millicent’s peers, a magician with more magic in his little finger than Elaine had in her entire body.  He’d thought that she would jump at the chance to have his baby.  

She added the novels to the pile for disposal and then picked up the next book – and found herself flushing again.  A Guide To Sex Magic wasn't anywhere near the prohibited list, even though it was one of the more dangerous books ever written – if used by someone who didn't know what they were doing.  It was possible to use sex to generate magical power – the illustrations left absolutely nothing to the imagination – but it required intense concentration and a dedication that surpassed even the most sour-faced of Potion Masters.  Her generation of magical students had preferred to pass dog-eared copies around and use them as props when trying to pick up the opposite sex.  Memories of the days when some of the boys had discovered copies and tried to talk the girls into bed – for research purposes, naturally – left her flushing darker.  Why did some people, like Millicent, manage to glide their way through life when others, like Elaine, just kept stumbling?

The final book caught her eye and she picked it up, puzzled.  There was no title on the front, not even one of the glyphs that some wizards used to represent their names.  It was a small book, almost the size of the diary she’d tried to keep at the orphanage before two of the older girls had stolen it and put it down the toilet.  She turned it over and over in her hand, trying to see how to release the pages from the spell holding them together.  Had Duke Gama stumbled upon one of the spells that writers used to keep their works secure?  Or had someone else done the spell for him?  Every kingdom was supposed to have a Court Wizard representing the Grand Sorcerer – and making sure that none of the local rulers harboured dreams of rebelling against the magical order.  Surely Duke Gama could have convinced the Court Wizard to cast the spell for him.  

She muttered an incantation under her breath and was surprised when the book refused to open.  A second spell produced no other effect, nor did a third.  That was a surprise; it suggested that the spell on the book was personalised, perhaps complex enough to be the work of a senior wizard.  Elaine knew that some wizards used similar spells to keep their work from being read by their peers, but she’d never heard of a non-wizard being able to use such a spell.  Surely...

The book seemed to flicker with magic.  Elaine felt it, a sudden sense of something uncurling from within the book.  She wanted to drop it as the magic field suddenly spiked, but her hand refused to let go of the pages.  And then there was a brilliant flash of light, a sense that something was being pushed into her head, and then she crashed down into darkness.

Chapter Three

...There was fire...and ice...and someone was calling her name...and she wanted to call back, but her voice was tiny against the roaring that filled the air...and strange memories that weren't hers were raging through her mind...and...and...and...

“Elaine!”

Elaine’s eyes snapped open.  She was lying in bed, her head spinning as if someone had slapped her several times.  Her mind felt thick and congested, her thoughts moving slowly through her mind.  It took her what felt like hours to recognise the face bending over her and then it seemed to take hours more before she could reply.

“Dar...Daria?”

“You’re awake,” Daria said.  Her friend leaned down and gave her a hug.  “What happened to you?”

Elaine found herself struggling to recall.  She’d been at the library, she’d served Millicent and a dozen others, and then she’d opened Duke Gama’s box...and then nothing.  But her mind felt as if she’d spent years cramming for a single exam, yet could no longer remember even what she’d been cramming for.  She felt faint, even as she struggled to sit upright.  Where was she?  And what had happened to her?

“I...I don’t know,” she said, struggling to look around.  She wasn't at home, wherever she was.  The bed was in a small room, illuminated only by a single glowing bulb of light.  A hospital, perhaps, except she could hardly afford to pay for treatment.  What had happened to her in the library?  “What happened to me?”

Daria looked down at her, her large eyes worried.  “They found you in your workroom, slumped over the table,” she said.  “Something sounded the alarm and called them to help you.  But you were completely stunned, so they brought you to the Merciful Rest.  I hear that Miss Prim is going to be picking up the bill for your stay.”

Elaine stared at her.  “How long...how long have I been out?”

“Four days,” another voice said, from behind her.  Elaine looked up to see a tall thin man, wearing a long white robe.  A druid, she realised; a sorcerer who specialised in medical treatment.  “Whatever hit you hit you very hard.  It must have been a very powerful curse bound into that volume.”

A memory flashed into Elaine’s mind.  There had been a sealed book, held closed by a charm...and she’d tried to open it.  And then...nothing.

“I thought we were going to lose you that first day,” the druid added.  “None of our treatments seemed to work, but thankfully you started to come out of it on your own.  Is there a god of librarians who might have protected you?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine admitted.  There was a god for just about everything, but she couldn't recall if there was one specifically for librarians.  Her head was refusing to clear.  She hated having headaches at the best of times, yet this was far worse than anything else she had ever experienced.  “But if there is, I will light a candle in thanks.”

“That would be a good idea,” the druid agreed, dryly.  He produced a wand from his sleeve and started to run it up and down her body.  “Most of the curse seems to have dissipated on its own, but I’d recommend a few more days of rest.  Stay away from magic too – this curse seemed to have tried to hijack your own magic and galvanise it into attacking you.  You were very lucky.  Something of that power should have killed.”

“I don’t understand,” Elaine said, slowly.  “I checked for deadly spells.”

“Some of the black magicians who create new curses are very good at hiding them from our detection spells,” the druid said.  There was an odd note in his voice, one that promised blood and pain for any dark magician he caught.  “I’d give a great deal to meet the bastard who invented this one.  My best guess is that it was really nothing more than a standard compulsion spell, but with enough power to slip right into your mind and try to force you to commit suicide.  Now, I’m going to put you back to sleep and...”

Elaine opened her mouth, but it was too late.  His wand touched her forehead and she was out like a light.

***
The next time she opened her eyes, it was daylight.  Bright sunlight was streaming in through a window she hadn’t noticed the last time she’d been awake.  Her head felt better, although it still felt as though there was something jammed inside her mind.  Elaine sat up in bed and looked around, half-hoping that Daria was sitting next to her bedside.  But there was no sign of her friend.  Instead, there was a jug of orange-flavoured juice and a small gourd of potion for her to drink.

She looked over at the door as another druid stepped inside.  He was older than the first druid, with a long white beard that hung down to his legs, but his eyes were kind and Elaine liked him on sight.  One hand held another gourd of potion, which he passed over to her and motioned for her to drink it.  It tasted foul, but somehow she found herself thirsty enough to swallow it all down.  He picked up a glass of juice and passed it to her, which Elaine swallowed gratefully.  It tasted far better than the potion.

“I should hope so,” he said, when she pointed that out.  “I don’t want people drinking more of my potion than they need.  It can be addictive to those with weak minds.”

He sat down beside the bed and looked at her.  “How are you feeling now?”

“Strange,” Elaine admitted.  “What...what happened to me?”

“Someone cursed you, as far as we can tell,” the druid said.  He seemed unaware that the other druid had told her the same thing.  “We had to feed you ourselves over the past few days, before you finally recovered enough for us to risk allowing you to awaken.  I’m afraid that you’re going to have a few more rough days ahead of you.”

He shrugged.  “And there’s an Inquisitor who wants to have a few words with you,” he added.  “Do you feel well enough to talk to him?”

Elaine stared at the druid.  “An Inquisitor?”

“I don’t think that you’re in any trouble,” the druid said, hastily.  Very few people ever wanted to meet an Inquisitor, let alone find themselves on the receiving end of an Inquisition.  The Inquisitors answered to the Grand Sorcerer alone and had wide powers to investigate suspected breaches of the Mages Code.  “The curse was powerful enough to warrant immediate investigation.  Whoever set that trap might be setting other traps for unwary mages.”

Elaine remembered the boxes from Duke Gama she hadn't opened and shivered.  “I understand,” she said.  She doubted that she’d ever feel well enough to talk to an Inquisitor, but it was something she had to do.  “Tell him...tell him that I’m ready to talk to him.”

“I have told him that your condition may still be serious,” the druid said.  “If you feel distressed, just tell him to leave.  Even an Inquisitor has limited power in my building.”

He stood up and walked to the door.  “I can call your friend,” he added.  “If you should happen to want company...?”

“Yes, please,” Elaine said, quickly.  Daria had been with her, hadn't she?  And she was the only friend Elaine had in the Golden City.  “When can I go home?”

“Maybe in a few more days,” the druid said, as he opened the door.  “I’d prefer to keep you under observation for a while.  Whatever hit you was new and we had to guess at the correct way to treat you.  The next person might not be so lucky.”

He left the room.  A moment later, the door opened again and the Inquisitor stepped into the room.  Like all sorcerers who wished to advertise their nature, he wore long black robes and carried a wand at his belt, but unlike most magicians he wore a single ring on his ring hand, a silver skull.  His face was stony, half-hidden behind a charm that prevented his features from being clearly seen.  Elaine had never been so close to an Inquisitor and had to fight the urge to back away as he sat down beside her bed.  His unseen eyes seemed to be staring right into her soul.

“You are not in any trouble,” he said, in a surprisingly gentle voice, “but we do need to know what happened to you.  I am Inquisitor Dread.”

He paused, as if he expected her to recognise the name.  All Inquisitors abandoned their birth names when they graduated and put on the silver skull that marked their rank, although very little was known about how they were trained by their superiors.  There had been any number of rumours, including some that suggested that demons were involved somewhere, but Elaine knew nothing for sure.  Dread didn't seem to want anything from her in return, even her name.  But then he probably knew everything about her already.

His voice darkened, slightly.  “How much do you remember?”

Elaine had to think back carefully.  All of her memories appeared to be slippery, sliding away from her the moment she tried to recall them.  “I...I was opening a box from Duke Gama,” she said, finally.  Had Duke Gama been a real magician?  She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to use a curse to seal up a book unless it was their own curse.  “There was an unmarked book in the box...”

The Inquisitor reached into his robes and produced a book.  “This book?”

“Yes,” Elaine said, staring.  How had he managed to take it out of the library?  Miss Prim would have had quite a few things to say about it...but he was an Inquisitor.  And he worked for the Grand Sorcerer himself.  “I...I tried to open it and then...”

Her mind refused to recall anything past that point.  There had been something, but what?

“There was a curse of some kind woven into the book’s pages,” Dread said.  He seemed more interested in the curse than the effect it had had on her, but Elaine supposed she couldn't blame him for that.  “Most of it had dispelled itself by the time I examined it carefully.  I think it must have been intended to murder whoever opened it without permission.”

Elaine shivered.  Just had close had she come to death?  “But...but Duke Gama wasn't a real magician,” she said, finally.  “How did he make the curse?”

“A very good question,” Dread agreed, gravely.  He peered down at the book, flipping through an endless series of blank pages.  “It is possible that the Duke received tutoring from a rogue magician instead of the Peerless School.  Given his rank, it is unlikely that he would have been accepted at the school even if he had applied.  But it is equally possible that a black magician cast the spell for him and he trusted in his own precautions to prevent the book falling into the wrong hands.  His decision to send the books to the Great Library after his death might have been intended to prevent his brother or nephew from trying to open the book.”

Elaine nodded, slowly.  “But we will be following up on this as a matter of urgency,” Dread added, before Elaine could speak.  “If someone else produced the curse for him, who knows what else he may have done in the years between his work for the Duke and the Duke’s death?”

His lips twitched into a humourless smile.  “Do you have any idea what the curse was intended to do?”

“Not really,” Elaine said.  “I thought that it was nothing more than a lock to keep unwanted people from reading his private thoughts.”

Dread looked at her for a long moment.  “Perhaps I misspoke,” he said.  There was an odd note of puzzlement in his voice.  “Do you know what the curse was intended to do?”

Elaine felt her mouth opening before she quite realised what was happening.  There were whispered stories about Inquisitors, about how they possessed voices that could command obedience from anyone, no matter how powerful they were.  He could have ordered Elaine to throw herself at his feet and do anything and she would have obeyed.  She couldn't have lied to him, even if she had wanted to lie to him.  Elaine had experienced compulsion spells before – Millicent and her cronies had thought them a terrific joke – but this was different, far more powerful than anything she’d ever known.

“No, sir,” she said, quietly.  “I don't know what it was intended to do.”

“I had to be sure,” Dread said.  There was no apology in his voice, even though she felt violated on a level that no one, not even Millicent, could have matched.  He might have thought that it was justified and maybe he was right, but Elaine disagreed.  How dare he do that to anyone?  “The druids inform me that you will recover in the next few days.  I have spoken to your superior and convinced her to allow you two weeks to recuperate from your ordeal.  Should you learn anything else about the curse that struck you, you will of course contact the Inquisition at once.”

There was no compulsion in his voice this time, but it was an order.  “Yes, sir,” she said, as he stood up.  “Will you be sending someone to visit King Hildebrand?”

“There will be an investigation,” Dread assured her.  He walked over to the door and then stopped.  “I suggest that you spend the next two weeks in bed.  It will improve your chances of making a full recovery.”

Elaine hesitated, and then decided to gamble.  “Inquisitor,” she said, slowly, “they say that the Inquisition knows everything.”

“We certainly like to give that impression,” Dread agreed.  “But you must realise that our knowledge is not to be shared.”

“I just wanted to ask,” Elaine said, hating just how vulnerable she sounded.  “Do you know who my parents were?”

Dread, for a moment, looked almost kindly.  “I’m afraid that that piece of knowledge isn't known to the Inquisition,” he said.  “If there had been something...scandalous about your birth, we might have had a record, but there was nothing that my predecessors knew about when you were born.”

Elaine flushed.  Of course there hadn't been.  It wasn't as if she was the secret love child of the Grand Sorcerer and the Dark Witch.  Her magical talent was so weak that it was quite likely that her parents had had no magical talent of their own.  And if she’d been born to a prostitute in the Golden City, her mother might have believed that she would have a better life in the orphanage than on the streets.  But that wouldn't have attracted the Inquisition’s attention.  Why should it have?

“Thank you,” she said, and sank back into the covers.

The next thing she realised was that Daria was standing beside her bed.  “You look much better,” her friend said.  “The druids said that you could go home in a day or two.  I’ve missed you dreadfully...”

“You missed having me to help clean up after your latest boyfriend,” Elaine said, and tried to tell herself that she wasn't bitter.  She could have had a boy of her own, if it wasn't so completely inconceivable that a boy would be interested in her.  “You should get him to help with the cleaning.”

“You can't ever trust a guy to do the cleaning,” Daria said, dryly.  “Besides, he only wanted one thing and didn't even bother to attend to my needs, so I dumped him.  I should have taken him shopping first before inviting him to bed.”

“I didn't think that you had the money to go shopping,” Elaine said, trying to sit up.  Her head was threatening to split open again.  “Or did you happen to find something so interesting that they gave you a bonus?”

“I can still go look,” Daria said.  “You should try looking at clothes instead of those books you love to read.  Clothes make the woman, don’t you know?”

She shrugged.  “Anyway...what happened to you?”

Elaine opened her mouth to say what little she knew, just before she felt something unlocking itself in her mind.  She let out a yelp as new knowledge flooded her brain, leaving her feeling as if she'd finally understood something she should have realised all around.  The curse that had been used to secure the book...hadn’t been intended to secure the book.  It had been waiting for someone to pick up the book in the right place...

...Each of the steps involved with crafting the curse flooded into her mind.  A simple spell to deflect anyone without enough magic to energise the rest of the curse, followed by a series of complicated incantations that seemed to have been designed for the Great Library.  As if the first realisation had been enough to unlock the second, she realised that the curse had somehow reached out, using her magic, to absorb the entire collected knowledge of the Great Library.  Millions of books, hundreds of thousands of spells...all crammed within her skull.  She screamed out loud as the knowledge blazed through her mind, knowledge that the senior wizards had locked away long ago.  Spells so dangerous that even the Witch-King would have blanched at the mere thought of using them floated inside her mind...

...Knowledge that was forbidden on pain of death.

“Elaine,” Daria said.  Her voice seemed to come from a very far distance.  “Elaine!”

“I’m...I’m all right,” Elaine lied.  The druids hadn't known how to deal with her, if only because they hadn’t realised that the curse had been far more than just a simple murderous incantation.  She knew now how it had worked, and what would happen if Dread realised what had become of her.  “I think I’m all right.”

“I think you need more potion,” Daria said.  “I’m calling the druid.”

“No,” Elaine said, panicking.  What would happen if they realised the truth?  “I’m all right, really.  Just let me sleep.”

Chapter Four

Elaine lay in bed, thinking hard.

Her old tutors had used to say that the difference between a magician and a non-magician was that a magician would remember every spell perfectly, as soon as they learned the spell.  Even Elaine, with her limited magical talent, had the perfect memory of a magician, even though some of the spells she'd learned were beyond her ability to actually cast.  Now...now every spell known to the world floated through her mind, including some forgotten and some long prohibited on pain of death.  

The necromancers who had started the First Necromantic War had known how to raise the dead.  Their grimoires had been recovered after the war and stored in the Black Vault, just in case they were needed by some future Grand Sorcerer.  All of the spells they had used to create vast armies of the undead were floating through Elaine’s mind, waiting to be used.  It would be easy to reanimate a soulless corpse and send it out charged to kill the living, infecting their dying bodies with the curse that would see them rise again as one of the undead.  She had wondered, when she’d started to study magic, precisely how the Witch-King had solved the problem of keeping the curse going over such vast periods of time, but now she understood.  His spells had fed on its victims and just kept going.

And there were other secrets within the Black Vault.  Truth spells that were impossible to resist, far beyond the voices used by the Inquisitors.  And she knew how those worked too now.  Spells that could turn someone into a frog, or a cat, or a slug, or an inanimate object permanently, warping reality far beyond anything Millicent had ever done to her.  Names and rituals that could be used to summon demons from the darkness, or call down the gods to the mortal plane, or recall the souls of the dead to the world of the living.  Spells that could boil a person’s blood in their veins, or make them a devoted slave, or any number of atrocities that could be carried out by someone with enough magic and ruthlessness to make it work.  The tales stored within the Black Vault shocked her.  Who would have known that the Witch-King had once been a Grand Sorcerer?  That had never been included in her History of Magic classes.  

Some of the other spells made little sense to her, until she started combining the spells with the knowledge that had been dumped into her head.  One spell stripped a person of their magic permanently, something that she had always been led to believe was impossible.  Why would the Grand Sorcerer have bothered to enslave Miss Prim if there had been another way to render her harmless?  But how badly would knowledge of such a spell shake up the established order?  Maybe the Grand Sorcerer kept it to himself for a reason, or maybe he didn't even know it existed.  He might never have bothered to search the Black Vault himself, even though he was the one person with unquestioned right of access.  

Her mind started to spin as darker spells assailed her.  She could create a disease that would send an entire population to sleep, only for them to awaken as her creatures, body and soul.  Or she could call down lightning from high above and strike down Millicent, or create a volcano right in the heart of the Golden City.  She found herself staring temptation right in the face and shuddered at what she’d learned about herself.  Maybe there was a good reason why the Grand Sorcerer was the only person permitted access to the Black Vault.  He already ruled the world and didn't need such powers to enforce his rule.

Restlessly, she pulled herself to her feet and stared out of the window over the city.  As always, it was illuminated by countless magical lights, lights she now understood how to create for herself.  The Watchtower, positioned on the mountain, seemed to glow to her eyes, marking the presence of sensitive magicians watching for the presence of a necromancer like those who had started the war.  All of the knowledge flowing through her head seemed to confirm one thing she had been taught in school; the defeat of the Witch-King had been a very near thing.  The Necromantic Wars could have ended with the Lords of the Dead ruling over an undead world for the rest of time.

She looked over into the mirror, seeing her haunted eyes and tired expression.  It was a surprise that all the new knowledge hadn't changed her, but perhaps it had in some ways beyond her ken.  There were spells that could have made her as beautiful as Millicent, reshaping her body until she had the charm and sex appeal of a succubus.  And yet, there were less dangerous ways to use magic for cosmetic purposes, but they wouldn't have changed who she was.  Even if she had been far better looking that Millicent, she would still have been the same Elaine underneath.  She couldn’t have hoped to compete with her.

There was a click as the door opened, revealing one of the druids.  “You should be in bed,” he said, reproachfully.  “You’re not ready to get up without supervision.”

Elaine hesitated.  There were spells that could make him forget what he’d seen, even though he would be protected against accidental magical discharges from his patients.  Or there were spells that could convince him to let her go now and then forget that she’d ever existed.  But using them would be wrong.  She’d hated it when Millicent had made her run through the corridors naked or humiliate herself in front of the other girls.  It would be wrong to use her new knowledge to do the same to others.

“I just wanted to stand up,” she said, as she walked back towards the bed.  Whatever else could be said for the foul-tasting slop the druids fed her, it did give her remarkable levels of energy.  But then, most of it was meant for recovering from the curse that had hit her.  “Do you have something else to drink?”

“You should be eating something properly now,” the druid said.  “I’ll have something brought in for you.  Eat it – and if it stays down, you can probably consider leaving tomorrow.”

Elaine watched him leave, shaking her head.  Now that she knew what the curse had done, she felt much better, at least physically.  But mentally...?  She knew what the Inquisitors would say if they discovered what had happened to her, even if it hadn't been her fault.  There were some magical curses that meant that their victims had to remain segregated from normal society for the rest of their lives, or transfigured into stone to ensure that they could no longer threaten anyone else.  And her curse was knowledge...knowledge she hadn't intended to acquire, but still made her an incredible danger to the status quo.  The Inquisition would try to wipe her mind and, if that failed, kill her.  They wouldn't have any choice.

She looked up as one of the nurses entered, carrying a small tray of stew.  The smell reminded her of how hungry she was, even though she hadn't been able to eat more than a little food over the last few hours.  It suddenly seemed the hardest thing in the world to take small bites and nibble the food, hoping that it wouldn't start forcing its way out of her stomach again.  Some of the potions the druids had given her didn't seem to like competing with proper food.

But this time it all stayed down, thankfully.  She closed her eyes and went to sleep, praying to the gods that Inquisitor Dread wouldn't return to ask more questions with his voice of compulsion.  She’d have to answer...and that would be the end of her.  They’d kill her if they couldn't cure her and she knew, somehow, that there would be no cure.  Whoever had designed the curse hidden in Duke Gama’s book had meant it to stick.

***
“You’re much better,” the druid said, the following morning.  “I think you can probably go home, but remember to take it easy for the next two weeks.  Do not use magic unless you absolutely need to use it.  And come back here for a check-up before you go back to work.”

Elaine nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  Druidical healing didn't come cheap, but Miss Prim had clearly picked up the bill, just as the druids had promised.  Maybe the Inquisitor had had a word with her, or perhaps her Guardian had spoken to one of his contacts in the establishment...or maybe she was nicer than she chose to act.  If it had been a normal illness, she would have preferred to stay in the hospital, particularly if someone else had been paying for her treatment.  But this was different.  She didn't dare attract more attention.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Daria said, as they left the building.  “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m glad you managed to come pick me up,” Elaine said, only partly truthfully.  Daria was a comforting presence, but she was also alarmingly cheerful when Elaine wanted to get home and hide under the bed.  “Didn't your work have something to say about it?”

“I just happened to mention that there was an Inquisitor involved,” Daria said, with a wink.  “They couldn't fall over themselves fast enough to give me a couple of days of leave to be with you.  I’ll have to go back tomorrow, but by then you should be settled into bed.  I don’t like seeing you ill.”

“I don’t like being ill,” Elaine said, ruefully.  “Did you hear anything from Miss Prim?”

“Not a word,” Daria said.  “But you know how the senior wizards feel about my sort.  They don’t want to commit themselves to anything they don’t have to.”

Elaine stumbled as new knowledge flooded into her mind.  Daria had come from a travelling family, one of the Traveller sects.  The Travellers had some strange magic of their own, magic that wasn't well understood by the establishment, perhaps even by the Grand Sorcerer himself.  They shunned the Travellers, even the ones who had left the road and taken up permanent residence in a city.  But they didn't seem to put any blocks in their path.  The Travellers were allowed to move from state to state as they pleased.

And there was something else, something so important that no one had written it down.

“But don’t worry about a thing,” Daria continued.  She hadn't noticed Elaine’s sudden distraction.  “Miss Prim didn't notice the curse that zapped you, did she?  She’s really not in a good place to complain about you taking a few weeks off to recuperate.”

Of course she didn't, Elaine thought, coldly.  Her new knowledge illustrated exactly what had happened to her, and why the curse hadn't triggered any of the wards that were supposed to protect the library.  Someone with a fantastic level of skill and patience had built it up, and then compressed it down into something that had needed her magical field to fuel its transformation into a deadly spell.  By the time the wards had realised that there was a problem it had already been too late.  

“I suppose not,” she said, finally.  “But you know what people can be like.”

She leaned on Daria’s arm as they walked down the street.  It seemed busier than she remembered – had it really been six days ago?  Thousands of newcomers thronged through the streets, from high-born aristocrats to low-born magicians considering their chances of becoming Grand Sorcerer.  Elaine could understand exactly how they felt; she'd been treated as a low-born herself, if only because no one knew who her parents had been.  It bred an icy cold determination to succeed in those who had the talents to carve out a magician career.

“I hear that the Empress of the South is on her way to the Golden City,” Daria said, cheerfully.  She’d always paid more attention to rumour and gossip than Elaine.  “I don’t think that she’s a magician herself, but she probably wants a chance to try to seduce the next Grand Sorcerer.  Rumour has it that they had to send her a female Court Wizard to try to stop her seducing her minder...and she still slept with her.  Not that anyone dares say so outright, of course.”

“Of course,” Elaine agreed.  The Empress of the South controlled vast territories that had barely been touched by the Necromantic Wars.  It had given her a degree of independence from the Empire that wasn't shared by most other states – and their rulers.  She also had a reputation for ruthlessness that matched most of the senior wizards.  Being appointed to ride herd on her ambitions couldn’t have been the easiest post in the world, even if the Empress’s seductive talents had been nothing more than rumour.  “Or maybe they just wanted to try to weaken her position.”

“I don’t think it worked,” Daria said, after a moment.  “The Empress doesn't have the sort of kingdom that we can meddle with openly, not without risking too many consequences.”

She shrugged as they reached the apartment block and passed through the ward at the door.  Even without her new knowledge, Elaine had known that it was weak...but now she knew how to unlock the ward without actually breaking it, leaving the occupants unaware that anyone had entered their apartments without permission.  The small letterbox at the bottom of the stairs included a small amount of junk mail, an invitation to renew her subscription to a broadsheet that covered magical books and a demand from their landlord that they pay their rent or face eviction.  Elaine felt the old flicker of helplessness, matched with the sudden awareness that she did have the power to punish him for taking liberties with a pair of magicians.  Some of the spells she now knew were well within her capabilities.

“Nothing important, of course,” Daria said, as they walked up the stairs and into the apartment.  Elaine was surprised at how much she’d missed it.  “I think that they never actually send us anything important.  We’d probably fall down dead from shock if they did.”

Elaine glanced at one of the pieces of junk mail – an advertisement for a cookery that offered food at all hours of the day – and then threw it towards the bin.  Miss Prim had been known to rage that the printing press hadn't really been a benefit to librarianship, even though it made it easier for printers to produce thousands of books.  Whatever had been published back before the printing press had needed to be published, but now anyone could publish a book, from a genuine magical textbook to a trashy romance novel.  There were other libraries in the city that catered for people who wanted to read fiction that didn't have to be based on reality.

“I was expecting something from my Guardian,” Elaine said.  She didn't want to admit how much not receiving something hurt, even though she had little reason to expect it.  He’d certainly made his feelings clear the last time they’d spoken, four years ago.  “You’d think he would have cared enough to ensure that I was well.”

“What do you expect from a man so inbred that his ears stick out?”  Daria demanded.  “You know that he never really cared for the duties forced on him by his rank.  And it isn't as if you became anything important to him.  Forget him and concentrate on getting better.”

She grinned, suddenly.  “Do you want to come out tonight with me?  I could take you to the dance hall and find you a nice attractive man to dance with...”

“I couldn't,” Elaine said, softly.  And she couldn't.  If she went, she’d be nothing more than a wallflower, watching helplessly as others, more confident than herself, danced the night away.  And the thought of a man dancing with her...she wanted it, but how could she work up the nerve?  “You go and have fun.  I’ll be here when you get back.”

A thought crossed her mind.  There were spells in her mind now that could change how a person thought.  Perhaps, with a little rewriting, she could use one on herself.  If she made herself more confident, she could go dancing and enjoy herself the way that other girls enjoyed themselves.  But she knew how dangerous such spells could be.  She might rewrite her personality permanently.  Or maybe even have the spell wearing off after she had started, but before she was finished.  

She looked over at her roommate and felt the old flash of envy.  Daria was kind and caring, but she had the kind of life that Elaine wanted.  And that hurt more than she wanted to admit.

“I should stay with you,” Daria said.  “You shouldn't be alone for the first night...and druids don’t count.  Do you know that they swear vows of chastity that are bound into the magic?  They can't even get hard...”

Elaine flushed.  “Shame really,” Daria added, mischievously.  “I thought that that younger druid was right up your street.  Young, educated, bookish...he was lovely.  Shame about the vows he took...”

“But he worked with female patients,” Elaine pointed out.  There were female druids, but not that many of them.  “Without the oaths, who knows what he might do when he was alone...”

“But men aren't animals,” Daria said.  She paused in mock consideration.  “Actually, they are animals.  I misspoke...”

She broke off as the magic field surrounding the Golden City suddenly twisted, snapping into a new configuration.  Elaine felt the sense of loss running through the city, feeling tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she looked up at her friend.  Daria, irrepressible Daria, looked as if she were about to cry.  They both knew what had happened.

Elaine put it into words.  “The Grand Sorcerer is dead.”

Chapter Five

Only the very wealthy, or those belonging to an incredibly old bloodline, enjoyed large gardens in the Golden City.  The city had always been confined by the Four Peaks, for reasons that had probably made sense long before the rise of the Empire.  Some of the knowledge in Elaine’s mind whispered that the city’s founders had tapped vast levels of natural magic below the mountains, using it to protect the heart of their vast empire.  Maybe it was nothing more than tradition these days, but it was still forbidden to build outside the mountains, even away from the Blight.  

Maxim, Lord Howarth, had never lacked for money and breeding.  From what Elaine had heard during her long stay at the orphanage, Lord Howarth was merely the latest in a long line of inbred aristocrats piling up debts on the gaming tables while protecting his aristocratic rights with a single-minded determination that would have taken him far, had he applied it to anything else.  Even the Golden City’s notoriously unmerciful creditors preferred to wait and bide their time rather than try to collect from one of the city’s foremost bloodlines, knowing that attempting to bully him into paying up might earn them the wrath of the entire aristocracy.  Elaine found it hard to understand why anyone would choose to squander so much wealth and status on gambling and whoring, not when his name could get him into any establishment in the land.  He was little more than a waste of life.

She halted outside the gates and hesitated.  By law, each orphan who remained in the orphanage when they entered their teenage years had to have a guardian from among the aristocracy.  It was one reason why the orphanage worked hard to have each child placed in a good home – or at least somewhere away from the orphanage – before they grew up, if only because the aristocrat might have resented the demands on his time.  There were stories of some orphans who had been adopted into wealthy families and given a chance to succeed, but as far as Elaine knew they were only stories.  Adopted children couldn't compete with bloodline in the aristocratic world.  It was more likely that an illegitimate son would be retrospectively legitimised than have an orphan brought into the family.

Lord Howarth had been appointed Elaine’s Guardian when she’d turned thirteen and grown into a woman.  She wasn't sure why Lord Howarth had accepted the position in the first place – given his breeding and general reputation, he could probably have avoided the responsibility – or why he’d never severed ties between them once Elaine had graduated from the Peerless School.  Not that he'd ever done much for her, she had to admit.  One interview per year, a handful of questions that sounded as if he didn't care...and nothing else.  He hadn’t even bothered to mark her graduation with a party.  Elaine had honestly never expected to see him again.

Bracing herself, she walked up to the gate and pressed her hand against the seal.  A man like Lord Howarth had little trouble in purchasing the most secure wards in the empire, even though he was no magician himself.  Rumour had it that he kept a small army on the grounds to protect his privacy, including a pair of combat magicians.  Elaine should have known, but didn't.  She cursed her own oversight as the gates slowly hissed open, revealing a long pathway leading up towards the mansion.  The grassy field surrounding the building would have been fun to run on as a child, if she’d ever been allowed.  Lord Howarth had no children of his own.  His line might end with him.

Knowledge whispered in the back of her mind as she walked up the pathway towards the house.  Someone in the Howarth line had played a vitally important role in founding the Empire, and in fighting and winning the First Necromantic War.  Elaine pressed one hand to her head as the knowledge refused to congeal into specifics; whoever had written the sealed histories had refused to be too clear on what had actually happened.  It was strange – surely they should have expected the records to be sealed until long after their death – but there was nothing she could do about it.  Perhaps the writer had had reason to believe that the wards surrounding the Great Library weren't as impenetrable as everyone had thought.

The steps leading up to the house were surrounded by statues, strange demonic creatures cast in stone and empowered by magic.  Elaine had known, even before running afoul of the curse in Duke Gama’s book, that they were the house’s first line of defence, but now she knew how to create them for herself, if she wanted unstoppable defenders.  They weren't the most dangerous known to magicians, yet they were almost unstoppable by anything less than a sorcerer with a great deal of power to spare.  A footpad with a sword wouldn't be able to hold one off for a second.  Very few would dare to slip into Lord Howarth’s territory uninvited and only a handful would have survived the experience.

She put one foot on the steps and felt magic crackling around her, before it slowly faded away into nothingness.  The wooden door at the top of the steps – strengthened by magic – opened, revealing a hulking monstrosity of a man.  Judd, Lord Howarth’s butler, had given her nightmares from the first day she’d visited his mansion to have her Guardianship formally confirmed, even though he'd never been anything other than polite to her.  The knowledge bubbling through her mind confirmed that there had been good reason to fear.  Judd was very far from human, a rocky statue granted human seeming and powered by a spellbound demon.  Elaine had heard that Judd had been around for centuries – something that should have been impossible, even with the strongest magic – and now she knew why.  Her Guardian’s long-distant ancestor had created a servant for his family who would be loyal, obedient – and utterly unstoppable.  Destroying the fleshy form wouldn't release the demon from the spells binding it to the mortal plane, merely allow it to bring more of its power to bear against the imprudent trespasser.

Elaine shrank back, feeling her mind desperately scrabbling for the handful of rites they’d been taught to banish demons – and the far deadlier rituals stuffed into her mind by the mysterious curse.  Judd waited, as always giving the impression of endless patience combined with a certain disdain for her presence.  Daria had once commented that servants were, if anything, even more snobbish than their masters.  Judd certainly seemed to actively disapprove of Elaine’s presence.  But then, who was she really?  Nothing more than an orphan girl whose parents were mysteries and whose magical talent was hardly worth considering.  If Lord Howarth had hoped that she would grow into something useful, he’d been bitterly disappointed.

“I’ve come to see my Guardian,” Elaine said, fighting to keep her voice steady.  The same laws that insisted that orphans had to have protectors from among the aristocracy also insisted that the orphan had the right to see her Guardian whenever she chose, but Lord Howarth had never considered himself bound by the rules.  “I trust that he will see me?”

Judd seemed to consider, and then he bowed, using one great hand to invite her into the mansion.  Elaine felt a trickle running down her back as she stepped inside, leaving Judd behind her to close the door, before he walked past her and down the long corridor.  The first time she’d visited the mansion, Judd had given her a lecture on how everything in the building was charmed to prevent anyone from taking it out of the building – as if he’d expected her to be a thief!  Now, with adult eyes, Elaine could see just how tacky most of the assembled valuables actually were, although that wouldn't stop them from being worth more than her entire yearly salary.  Lord Howarth’s family had been determined to acquire more material goods than anyone else and never give anything up.  She paused to study a tiny golden statue of one of the gods, before a cough from Judd drew her back down the corridor.  Lord Howarth had never been particularly religious.  Elaine couldn't remember ever having seen him entering a temple.

The butler paused outside a heavy stone door and knocked once.  It swung open, revealing a study that had been designed for Lord Howarth’s father, a man who had been genuinely interested in the books he collected before his untimely death.  Elaine had wanted to read some of the volumes on the shelves, but naturally she’d never been allowed to soil them with her grubby orphan hands.  They weren't books on magic, or they would have been examined by the Great Library after the Lord’s death.  He’d been more interested in genealogy than magic.  But all of his breeding hadn't stopped him from drinking himself to death.

“Elaine,” a voice said.  Lord Maxim Howarth was sprawled over one of his father’s couches, studying a leaflet from the racing tracks.  There were all kinds of magical safeguards built into the fields to prevent cheating, all of which could be subverted with the correct spell.  Elaine wondered just what her Guardian would say if he knew that she could ensure that his chosen horses always won, before pushing the thought aside.  She’d never been that desperate for his approval.  “I was...relieved to hear of your recovery.”

Tradition dictated that Elaine should go down on her knees before him, but a strength she didn't know she had kept her upright.  Lord Maxim Howarth wasn't more than ten years older than her, yet he looked almost old enough to be her father.  He’d been slim when she’d first seen him, but now even the most expert tailoring in the world couldn't disguise his growing paunch or the lines on his face.  His dark hair was thinning out and his eyes were too bright, a mark of some of the more complex – and illegal – potions he took to entertain himself.  Some of them were banned even to people of his rank, which was probably why he wanted them.  He’d always considered himself above the law.

“I am glad to hear it,” Elaine said, with equal insincerity.  The law stated that her Guardian should continue to interest himself in her well-being until she married or reached a social position where she could be reasonably assured of a long and happy life, but Lord Howarth had never bothered to show any interest in her ever since she had graduated.  She was surprised that he’d even heard that she’d been ill.  “It was a most unpleasant experience.”

Lord Howarth shrugged.  He’d probably felt worse after the first drink of narcotic potion.  “But you recovered and your medical bills were met by the Great Library,” he said.  He’d probably been worried that she’d try to make him pay for it, even though he could have afforded to finance hospital treatment for the entire city without even noticing the cost.  “I fail to see what that has to do with me.”

Elaine felt a flash of hot anger, tempered by a dull helplessness that had been part of her ever since she’d realised that she would always be a victim.  “I need to ask you some questions,” she said.  Spells danced through her mind, spells that could compel him to tell her the truth – or give her half of his inheritance.  Judd’s looming presence behind her wasn't as much a deterrent as he might have hoped.  There were words that banished even the most persistent and deadly of demons in her mind.  “Why did you become my Guardian?”

Lord Howarth shrugged, languidly.  “There are...duties that come with one’s birth,” he said.  Elaine felt her eyes narrow in disbelief.  Since when had he even considered the possibility that his birth brought responsibilities as well as the freedom to enjoy himself into an early grave?  “I merely felt that such duties had to be honoured.”

Something snapped inside Elaine’s mind.  “You never showed any concern for such duties before,” she said.  “Why now?  Why then?”

“Have a care,” Lord Howarth said, coldly.  And yet there was something else hidden under his voice.  “I can have Judd take you outside and thrash you for imprudence.”

Once, that threat would have stopped Elaine from pressing the matter any further.  She'd known that Lord Howarth had ordered several of his servants whipped over the years, once for a crime as petty as having his bathwater slightly too cool for his enjoyment.  And technically he was her Guardian, with almost paternal power over her.

“Of course you could,” she said, keeping her voice calm, “but that won’t stop me asking the question.  Why did you become my Guardian?”

She heard Judd’s hulking form rustle behind her, but kept her eyes on her Guardian.  “Why did you decide to take on my Guardianship?”

Lord Howarth met her eyes, but looked away first.  “It was...pointed out to me that I had a duty to uphold,” he said, finally.  “My father had promised to serve as a Guardian when the next child required a Guardian.  He was one of the patrons of your orphanage and I believe that he took it seriously.  When he died...I was in the position of choosing to renounce his word or taking up the position myself.  You were the child in need of a Guardian.”

Elaine wasn't sure that she believed him.  It was true that an aristocratic family passed clients, favours and debts down the line from father to son, but becoming a Guardian was something different from calling in favours incurred by the previous generation.  Perhaps it was why he’d never shown any real interest in her, even after she'd been accepted into the Peerless School, and yet...something about it didn't quite ring true.

“Right,” she said.  Judd’s presence seemed to loom closer, but she refused to look away from his face.  “Who pointed it out to you?”

“Councillor Travis,” Lord Howarth said, finally.  “He said that I should honour my father’s wishes or no one would ever take me seriously again.”

Elaine felt her knees buckle as she fought to prevent herself from laughing out loud.  The thought was absurd!  Councillor Travis had made his money in trade, not something that a respectable older family like the Howarth Family would consider respectable.  Travis would have gone to Howarth to beg favours, not the other way around.  He certainly wouldn't have had the influence to make a noble lord assume a responsibility he didn’t wish to assume.

And yet she had the strange feeling that Lord Howarth was telling the truth.

“That was good of him,” she said.  Part of her was astonished that she’d pushed it so far, but there was one more question to ask.  “I assume you read my file at the orphanage?”

“Well, of course,” Lord Howarth said.  He seemed to be relieved that they’d moved away from Councillor Travis.  Elaine made a mental note to go back to that issue at a later date.  Even if her Guardian was telling the truth, there was something about it that didn't make sense.  “I had to be sure that I wasn't assuming the Guardianship of a thief.”

“Of course not,” Elaine muttered.  Never mind the fact that an orphan would have better reason than most to steal.  She cleared her throat.  “Do you know who my parents were?”

“I was told that you’d been passed to the orphanage as a baby,” Lord Howarth said.  He shrugged.  “The orphanage never bothered to investigate your parentage.  You could be the last surviving heir to the Empire for all I know, or the daughter of a scullery maid and a noble-born son.  The gods know that such births are rarely treated as important to the families...”

Elaine nodded.  Bastard children were a problem for any noble family, particularly when their sons were raised in a world where lower-class female servants literally couldn't say no.  Very few families would consider such a child an equal, no matter the circumstances of his – or her – birth.  Farming the child out to an orphanage was one of the kinder ways to deal with the situation.  Elaine had always considered such families to be heartless.  She wondered, absently, if she was actually related to Lord Howarth, before dismissing the thought.  If that were true, she would have preferred to forever remain Elaine No-Kin.

“I suppose they do,” Elaine said.  Lord Howarth shrugged, again.  He really didn't care very much about her, she realised, but that was no surprise.  She’d never been given any reason to assume he cared.  “Could you ask if they kept some records they never showed you...?”

“They would have showed me everything,” Lord Howarth said.  He looked up at her, sharply.  “Why do you care, all of a sudden?  You might not like what you found out.”

“I don’t know,” Elaine admitted.  She honestly didn't know where the desire to know the truth behind her birth had come from.  It had always been part of her, but it hadn't been important...not until she’d been hit by a powerful curse.  And then she’d dared to ask an Inquisitor about her birth.  There had been a time when she would have preferred to die rather than speak to one of the Inquisitors.  “I think...”

Something clicked in her mind.  “You don't have any money left, do you?”  She asked.  It seemed impossible, and yet Councillor Travis had been in a position to influence her Guardian.  And he’d seemed to worry about the cost of her medical treatment.  “You’ve finally spent your inheritance...”

“Throw her out,” Lord Howarth ordered, so sharply that she knew that she was right.  “Now.”

Judd grabbed Elaine’s arm and dragged her out of the room, back down the corridor towards the door.  A dozen spells rose up in Elaine’s mind for breaking his grip and freeing herself, or banishing the demon back to hell, but she pushed them down.  There was no need.

She was still chuckling when Judd threw her out of the gate and onto the street.

Chapter Six

“He’s got no money left?”

Daria started to chuckle.  “No money...and he owes money to every loan shark in the city!”

“I don’t think it’s quite so funny for him,” Elaine said, before she started giggling herself.  It was funny, damn it.  “He might have to start watching what he spends money on now.”

“Drink and whores,” Daria said, tartly.  She shook her head in disbelief.  “I wonder how long it will be before he has to sell his grand house.”

“Maybe he can’t,” Elaine said.  The orphanage hadn't been a proper school, but they had battered reading, writing and basic maths into her head.  She might have become an accountant – or a housewife – if she hadn't had a talent for magic.  “The house could already be used to back a debt.  Someone might be intent on claiming it even now.”

She grinned at Daria.  “Maybe he’ll have to sell some of the tacky ornaments his family has been collecting for a thousand years,” she added.  “And what will happen when people realise that he’s selling them off?”

The great houses in the Golden City seemed strong and untouchable, which was probably why Lord Howarth had gotten away with his gambling debts for so long.  But if the loan sharks scented weakness, they would probably start demanding more and more guarantees from her Guardian before they agreed to pony up more cash.  How long would it be before one of them decided to call in the debts and demanded the mansion in payment?  And what would happen when they tried?  The aristocracy might close ranks behind Lord Howarth, or they might throw him to the wolves for fear of provoking their own creditors to demand immediate payment.  It would take the Grand Sorcerer to sort out the mess – and the Grand Sorcerer was dead.

“Well, he deserves it,” Daria said, unsympathetically.  “How exactly has he treated you over the last eight years?  The best that can be said of it is that he largely ignored you.”

She paused.  “You’re not his adopted daughter, are you?  You can't get any of this muck on you?”

Elaine snorted.  “I’m not even a ward to him,” she said, dryly.  “I don't think they can demand that I pay his debts, or anything that I might have to do if I was his daughter.”

“Perhaps you are his daughter,” Daria said, mischievously.  “Would you inherit his debts if he spent your entire life ignoring you?”

“He would have to have started having kids when he was seven,” Elaine said.  She had wondered, back when she’d hoped that Lord Howarth would be more than a distant presence in her life, but the timing didn't work out.  It was possible, she supposed, that she was his half-sister, yet that wouldn't force her to pay any of his debts.  “Besides, he spends more money each day at the tracks than I earn in a year.  His creditors aren't going to get money out of me that I don’t have, are they?”

She chuckled as she walked back into her room.  “I think we’d better get dressed,” she added.  “It won’t be long until the funeral begins.”

It had been nearly two years since she’d worn sorcerer’s black.  The robes had been given to her after her graduation by the staff, a tradition that Millicent and her cronies hadn't hesitated to use to make fun of the younger Elaine.  Only poor graduates were allowed to keep their robes.  Richer graduates tended to purchase their own tailored robes after their graduation and exchange them regularly, in keeping with the dictates of fashion.  Elaine had had to let out the hem herself over the last few days, using half-remembered sewing lessons from the orphanage.  Neither of them could have afforded a tailor, or even one of the seamstresses from the poorer parts of the city.

She pulled the robe on and looked at herself in the mirror.  Graduate or not, she just didn't look very impressive.  She bit her lip as she picked up her wand and stowed it away in her sleeve, wondering if she should even go to the funeral.  Everyone who was anyone would be there, attempting to make deals and political alliances even during the funeral itself, but she wasn't anyone.  The Grand Sorcerer hadn't even been a nodding acquaintance.  She'd only ever seen him once, at a dinner hosted by the Peerless School.  And she couldn't even remember what he’d looked like.

There had been a faint note of unease hanging in the air as she walked back to the apartment after Judd had tossed her out of the mansion’s gates.  The Grand Sorcerer was dead...and everyone knew that that meant that the competitions to select his successor were about to begin.  Once he was decently buried, the competition would start in earnest.  Elaine half-wondered what would happen if she’d been born with enough talent to make her own bid for supreme power, before pushing the thought aside.  Even with the spells floating within her mind, including ones that would see her put to death if anyone knew she knew them, she was no match for a more talented sorcerer.  Anyone who thought they could be the next Grand Sorcerer would have power to spare.

“Come on out,” Daria called.  “What do you think?”

Elaine stuck her head out of her room and smiled at her friend.  Daria wore black, setting off her long white hair nicely, with her robes pulled tightly around her body.  She looked spectacular, even though she was going to a funeral.  Elaine made a mental bet with herself that there would be no shortage of sorcerers trying to ask Daria to come out with them.  The normal rules about how unmarried females should behave didn't apply to female magicians.

“Striking,” she said, tiredly.  The spells that would have made her just as stunning floated up to the surface of her mind again, tempting her.  Each time she pushed them back down, it got a little harder.  “You’ll bring the dead back to life.”

“Let’s hope not,” Daria said.  “The last thing I need is to be branded a necromancer and chased out of the city by a horde of angry sorcerers.”

Elaine shrugged.  “I suppose not,” she said.  She checked her wand out of habit, before heading over to the door.  “Shall we go?”

The streets were buzzing with people as they walked towards the Parade of the Endless, the massive arena at the heart of the Golden City.  Elaine saw hundreds of guards and soldiers trying to keep order and failing miserably, if only because thousands of magicians and sorcerers had descended on the Golden City, intent on networking while they buried their former master.  Every year, there was a magical convention – and every year, families were sent out of the city by everyone who could afford to send them away to safety.  Magicians loved to show off, or play practical jokes on the defenceless commoners...and there were no longer a single authority who could provide a final sanction for misbehaviour.  The streets wouldn't be safe until the new Grand Sorcerer was established and had a chance to impose his authority.  Still, she doubted that any of them would try to pick a fight with two graduates in black robes.  It was very hard to gage a magician’s power until it was too late.

“Over there,” Daria said.  “That’s Hanson – I used to date him before I graduated.  Nice guy, but a little grabby in bed.  Watch yourself.”

She pulled Elaine over towards the young man and his cronies before Elaine could object.  Hanson was fairly handsome, in a bland way that suggested he used glamours to improve his looks.  Hardly uncommon among sorcerers, male or female, but something Elaine had always considered rather dishonest.  He smiled brightly when he saw Daria and gave her a hug, before looking over at Elaine and dismissing her a moment later.  Elaine rolled her eyes, even as she felt the old stab in her heart.  She would have loved to have a guy chasing her, just once.

And there were spells in her mind now that could turn Hanson, for all of his magical talent, into her devoted lover...

The crowd pressed closer as they approached the gates.  Elaine had only been to the Parade of the Endless once before, but in its own way it was as magical as the Great Library.  No matter how many people crammed into it, it would always be large enough for more – and all of the spectators could see perfectly.  The knowledge in Elaine’s head provided a precise description of the spells used by the city’s founders to warp space around the Parade of the Endless, hollowing out the interior to allow it to become bigger on the inside than on the outside.  In some ways, it was rather like the mirrored alternate dimension that made up so much of the Great Library.  Mirror magic was complicated and very unstable, at least under normal circumstances.  The sheer level of talent that had gone into producing the Great Library stunned her.  Even knowing how it had been done, she doubted that any of the magicians of her era could have duplicated the feat...

“But I’m telling you, that is my wife,” a man was saying.  Elaine felt a shiver as she recognised the man he was trying to speak to as Inquisitor Dread.  Who governed the Inquisitors when their only master was dead and his successor not yet selected?  The Inquisitor looked tired, even behind the glamour hiding his face.  “One of those bastards did this to her!”

He was holding onto a pig’s neck, despite its struggles.  “You have to do something,” he insisted.  “She can't remain like this forever!”

The press of the crowd pushed Elaine and Daria away before she could hear Dread’s response.  With so many sorcerers around, it was unlikely that the Inquisitor would be able to catch up with the culprit before he managed to escape into the crowd.  The gods alone knew what the poor woman had done, if anything.  Perhaps she’d been rude to the magician, or perhaps she’d refused a crude attempt at getting her into bed, or perhaps she’d just been a convenient victim.  Dread could probably break the spell once the man had stopped begging for assistance and let the Inquisitor do his job.

Daria caught her arm as the magic caught at them, allowing the crowd to see the small party gathered at the bottom of the arena.  “Look,” she hissed.  “See anyone you recognise?”

Elaine sucked in her breath.  Millicent was standing with some of the senior wizards, right next to a woman wearing a black garment that covered everything, but her eyes.  The woman was holding Millicent’s arm tightly, as if she didn't quite trust the young sorceress to behave herself.  Beside her, there were several wizards she recognised from the Peerless School, tutors in everything from potions to advanced spell-binding.  She’d never liked the spell-binding teacher, she recalled, not least because of his thoroughly unpleasant branch of magic.  He'd always given her the impression that he would have preferred to have everyone wearing one of his collars, with him in firm command of them all.   The potions master beside him, by contrast, was fat and always friendly, even to a girl with strictly limited talents for producing potions to order.  Elaine had some good memories of his patient tutoring and how he’d helped her get a passing grade.

“That’s Millicent,” she said, sourly.  At least something had managed to distract her nemesis from her studies.  “Who’s the woman who’s hiding her face?”

“Lady Light Spinner,” Hanson supplied.  Elaine was surprised he’d lowered himself to answer her question.  Perhaps he was just trying to impress Daria.  “She is the Court Wizard to the Empress of the South.”

Elaine remembered what Millicent had said and shivered.  If Millicent had been telling the truth, Lady Light Spinner intended to try to become the next Grand Sorcerer.  A Court Wizard in such an important post would be incredibly powerful – and whatever else could be said about Millicent, she didn't lack talent or power.  If her relative became Grand Sorcerer – Grand Sorceress, if she won – Millicent would be even more unbearable.

“And maybe she was seduced by the Empress of the South,” Daria added, with a wink.  “You think that she might be a man under that veil?”

Elaine started to giggle, only to force it down as silence rolled out from the centre of the arena.  The Caretaker, the current head of the Regency Council in the absence of a Grand Sorcerer, stepped forward.  He was an old man, a distant relative of Lord Howarth if Elaine recalled correctly, although there were few formal ties between their families.  She wondered absently if the old man knew about his relative’s spending problem and what, if anything, he intended to do about it.  Letting a noble family fall into wrack and ruin wouldn't make him popular, but failing to force his relative to pay his debts could unleash unpleasant consequences.  It hadn't been that long ago since the wealthy merchants had successfully pressed for their own representation on the city’s council.

And without a Grand Sorcerer, whose decision would be unchallengeable, who knew who would still be standing when the dust settled?

She smiled as she caught sight of another man standing to one side with his fellow commoners.  Councillor Travis was a dour-faced man, with a pleasant-looking wife and a pretty daughter.  Still not a social equal to Lord Howarth and the rest of the aristocracy, he was probably richer than any of them – or maybe all of them put together.  His family had been among the first to take advantage of the iron dragons built by the technicians to bring the Empire closer together and it had given them an unbeatable edge.  Perhaps his daughter could marry Lord Howarth and bring her dowry to the aide of the Lord’s finances.  But would she ever be accepted by High Society?

“Thirty-seven years ago,” the Caretaker said, his voice easily audible throughout the arena, “a sorcerer stood before the Regency Council and was elevated to the position of Grand Sorcerer.  He ruled firmly, but fairly, striking a balance between the different poles of our society.  It was our dearest wish that he would continue to rule for many years to come.”

And that, Elaine knew, was nothing less than the truth.  It was humbling to realise that the Grand Sorcerer – the last Grand Sorcerer – had ruled for longer than Elaine had been alive, but the time between Grand Sorcerers was always uneasy for everyone.  The knowledge in her mind whispered a single question; what was worse than a single all-powerful sorcerer ruling the world?  Two all-powerful sorcerers, fighting.

“But the gods have chosen to take him from us to their realm,” the Caretaker continued.  “It is fitting that we now consider the position he held – and the responsibilities he discharged so capably.  The Grand Sorcerer serves as the ultimate bulwark of our society.  To rule is also to serve – and he understood that better than many other rulers.  We will miss him now that he is gone.”

He stepped forward to the black casket positioned in the exact centre of the arena.  “I charge you all to remember what he did for us,” he said, softly.  His voice was still easy to hear.  “And to remember that power alone is nothing without responsibility.  May his successor be so wise.”

“May his successor be so wise,” the crowd echoed.

Elaine caught sight of Millicent and saw her staring soberly at the casket where the Grand Sorcerer lay.  Millicent was part of the established order in a way that Elaine could never be, but the established order had been badly shaken the moment the Grand Sorcerer passed away.  She understood, better than Elaine would have done without the new knowledge in her head, just what it meant to lose the centre of their world.  All of the old certainties had died with the Grand Sorcerer.

“The Grand Sorcerer was a great man,” Administrator Mentor said.  The master of the Peerless School looked grim, despite his youthful looks.  Elaine remembered a very unpleasant interview with him after Millicent had successfully framed her for theft and shivered inwardly.  She had managed to prove her innocence eventually, but it had come at a cost she hadn't been entirely willing to pay.  “He knew what he could do – and what he should not do, even though it was within his power.  We will not see his like again.”

Daria nudged her.  “Wasn’t he the one who had you caned?”

“Yes,” Elaine said, shortly.  Millicent wouldn't have been punished like that.  But Millicent had powerful relatives and Elaine had no relatives at all.  “Do you think that he wants to become Grand Sorcerer himself?”

“He has the power and connections,” Daria muttered back.  “And he has been master of the Peerless School long enough to grow bored.  He might want to grasp the highest position in the world.”

Elaine shrugged and turned back to watch the funeral.  Each of the tutors and councillors had a chance to speak.  Councillor Travis spoke briefly, but fittingly, commending the Grand Sorcerer for his services to the city.  Millicent’s aunt didn't speak at all.

Finally, the Caretaker stepped forward again.  “We shall not see his like again,” he said, softly.  “And now we bid him farewell.”

The casket blazed with a brilliant white light, so bright that Elaine had to cover her eyes from the glare.  A faint afterimage seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, and then it was gone, reducing the Grand Sorcerer’s body to dust.  His soul was long gone.   And yet there were spells in Elaine’s mind that would have allowed her to call him back to the world...

“Goodbye,” the Caretaker said.

Elaine saw the expression on the Administrator’s face and shivered.  The senior wizards were sharing the same thought.  Their master was dead...

...And the contest to select the next master was about to begin.

Chapter Seven

“Put a smile on your face,” Daria urged.  “This is supposed to be a party.”

Elaine looked up at her.  After the funeral, Hanson had invited Daria along to a party in honour of the Grand Sorcerer – and Daria, ignoring Elaine’s protests, had insisted on dragging her along.  Elaine felt terribly out of place; the singing, the dancing, the couples making out in the rear of the vast hall...it all felt alien to her.  How could she join the couples on the dance floor...even though part of her wanted to join them and dance the night away?

“I should go home,” she said, shaking her head.  “I don’t belong here.”

“Oh yes you do,” Daria said.  “You deserve a chance to have some fun, you know?  Come and dance.”

“I can't dance with you,” Elaine protested.  “That’s...that’s not decent.”

“I think no one bothered to tell those two that it isn't decent,” Daria said, nodding towards two boys who were dancing together.  “Which one of them is the girl, do you think?”

Elaine flushed as Daria pulled her to her feet.  “But I wasn't going to dance with you,” Daria added.  “You!  Come over here.”

One of Hanson’s friends came over, staring blankly at Daria.  “You two are going to dance,” Daria said, firmly.  She leaned closer to the boy’s ear and whispered something in it that made him flush.  “And if he lets you down, I’ll cut off his...”

The boy pulled Elaine’s stumbling form onto the dance floor before Daria had a chance to finish her threat.  He clearly didn't doubt that Daria’s wrath would be terrible if he messed up with Elaine.  It felt harder to dance than Elaine had expected, even with a surprisingly patient tutor who didn’t seem to mind if she trod on his foot.  The beat of the music was difficult to follow and she kept placing her feet wrongly, until she finally realised how to dance.  And then the dance came to an end.

“You just need practice,” the boy said, as the dancers filed off the floor.  “And now...”

Elaine watched him go and sighed inwardly.  Of course he hadn't wanted to dance with her.  Daria had bribed or threatened him into cooperating and he was now off to collect his prize.  The gods alone knew what Daria had offered him...but Elaine could guess.  A dance, a kiss...or something more intimate.  She didn't really want to know.

“That’s enough of feeling sorry for yourself,” Daria said, firmly, as Elaine appeared next to her.  “I saw you smiling on the dance floor.  Get back out there and get another guy.”

Elaine flushed bright red at the very thought.  “Come on,” Daria said, seriously.  “This dance needs two couples.”

She waved to a pair of strange boys and invited them to join the two girls.  Elaine had barely any time to think before the bandleader started calling out instructions, ordering the partners to take hands and start moving through the steps.  This dance was more complicated than the last one...she looked up and saw her partner smiling nervously at her.  He was just as worried as she was...oddly, that made her feel better about herself.  The music started and they fell into the steps, moving slowly through the first two circles.  And then the music started to speed up...

Elaine was laughing as the dance came to an end.  Daria smiled at her, gave the boy she’d been dancing with a kiss on the cheek, and then winked at Elaine.  Elaine’s partner didn't look as if he expected a kiss, thankfully, but just as Elaine was about to head back to the tables he caught her arm and awkwardly pulled her back into position for the next dance.  Elaine opened her mouth to object, saw Daria’s firm stare from the side of the room, and allowed him to lead her without further objection.  The next dance went well, but the one after it was too complex for her to follow easily.  It was a relief to note that several other dancers had had to leave at the same time.

“Want to join me for a drink?”  The boy asked.  He hesitated, and then flushed.  “I’m sorry.  I sound like an idiot.”

Elaine knew exactly how that felt.  “I’d love to,” she said.  “Just...juice, please.  Nothing alcoholic.”

The boy nodded and headed over to the bar, where a pair of half-naked girls were serving drinks.  Elaine watched him taking the drinks and heading back to the table, astonished at her own daring.  There was a time when she would have fled rather than face a reasonably handsome guy.  Maybe Daria had slipped her something to make her less inhibited, a simple charm or limited potion.  Or maybe whatever had happened to her in the Great Library had given her more confidence than she had possessed beforehand.

“I...I don’t even know your name,” the boy confessed.  “I’m Bee.  Blame my mother; she always loved bees as a child.”

Elaine smiled.  “Elaine,” she said.  She wasn't going to mention that she was an orphan to him, at least not yet.  The last thing she wanted was sympathy.  “You’re not trying to hide your face.”

“I could never get the glamour to work right,” he admitted.  His face was pleasant enough, although his blonde hair was cut too close to the scalp for Elaine’s liking.  No doubt he thought she should be wearing a dress like Daria’s, one that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.  “And besides, I always felt a little dishonest pretending to be something I’m not.”

“I know the feeling,” Elaine said.  Besides, she hadn't really been able to use a glamour herself, at least before her accident.  Now...a thousand different spells for creating a glamour floated through her mind, tempting her with the chance to present herself as whatever Bee wanted in a girl.  But he seemed to want her for herself.  Or maybe...no, she told herself firmly.  She would at least try to enjoy herself.  “What brings you to the Golden City?”

“My patron has plans to expand her holdings in this city once a new Grand Sorcerer gets selected,” Bee explained.  “I’m here to help with the work she can't dish out to the slaves.  They complain too loudly.”

Elaine smiled at the weak joke.  “What sort of holdings does he want?”

“Political patronage, really,” Bee explained.  “It’s really rather boring if you’re not able to play the game for your own sake.  And what are you doing in this city?”

“I...I was raised here,” Elaine said.  She had been about to say that she was born in the Golden City, but the truth was that she could have been born anywhere.  Magic could easily be used to move from state to state; her parents could have lived on the southern continent and used a teleporting mage to transport their daughter to the orphanage.  “I’ve never really been outside the city.”

“They told me that the streets here were paved with gold,” Bee said.  “I was most disappointed.”

They shared a laugh.  “I was told that there’s a land where dragons still fly through the skies,” Elaine said, ruefully.  “It wasn't until I was an adult that I realised that no one has seen a dragon for hundreds of years.”

“Mages hunting them down for their skins,” Bee said.  “I heard that a coat made out of dragon skin can repel any charm or curse.”

“It can,” Elaine said.  And they were incredibly rare now that there were no longer any dragons to hunt down and skin.  The Grand Sorcerer had had one in his small arsenal of magical tools and weapons, but she didn't know of any other sorcerer who possessed one in this day and age.  It was tempting to think that there might be more dragons out there, somewhere, yet if they were they were keeping a very low profile...

She staggered as a series of memories suddenly roared into her head.  Not dragons, not really, but something close enough to a dragon raised by the necromancers from the pits of hell.  They’d sacrificed countless lives for each fire-drake, knowing that the sorcerers desperately scrambling to stop them would have no way to counter the monsters...unless they used necromancy themselves.  And necromancy corrupted far faster than any other kind of magic.

Each memory seemed to trap her within an eternity.  The monsters devastating entire armies with their fiery breath, leaving their charred corpses behind on the battlefields...where the necromancers had raised them once again in their service.  Each magician, battling to stop the undead hordes, dying in fire as the monsters hunted them down and killed them.  Children, barely old enough to walk, being herded into death camps to have their life energies drained away by the necromancers, who were already becoming bloated with the power they’d stolen from the act of murder...

...And the Witch-King, a dark figure towering over the battlefield, acknowledged by all of the necromancers as their master...

Bee touched her shoulder and Elaine snapped out of it, breathing hard.  “Are you all right?”

“I...I think so,” Elaine said, quickly.  She didn't know what to say to him.  Bee wasn't a sorcerer in his own right; she doubted that he had any magical talent at all.  How could he understand what she was going through?  And if she told any magician, they’d be obliged to call the Inquisitors and tell them what had happened to Elaine.  “I think the air just got to me, for a second.”

“That’s not good,” Bee agreed, gravely.  Elaine cursed herself for her timidity.  The closest she’d gotten to a likeable guy and she just had to scare him away.  “Would you like to go outside for a few moments?”

Elaine flushed.  She knew what Daria did with some of the boys she picked up at parties...

“I didn't mean like that,” Bee assured her, hastily.  “I just thought you might like some air.”

“I think I’d like to dance again,” Elaine said, surprising herself.  “Let's go back onto the dance floor.”

The music had changed again, becoming a style that was surprisingly less formal than the earlier dances.  Elaine found it harder to follow, if only because there was nothing real to follow at all.  The dancers seemed to be inventing their own steps, some managing to look good, others managing to look like idiots.  Elaine wished, for the first time, that she had worn a shorter skirt.  Daria had tried to talk her into borrowing one of her dresses, but Elaine hadn't been able to bear the thought of revealing too much of her legs.  Besides, if she’d fallen down, the guys would have all been able to look up at her panties.

She looked over and saw Daria holding a guy she didn't recognise, kissing him with a desperation that seemed oddly out of place.  Her friend had always been more abandoned than Elaine, with an entire string of boyfriends, yet...could she be worried about the future too?  Elaine had known what was likely to happen even before all of the forbidden knowledge was dumped into her head.  The next Grand Sorcerer was likely to turn everything upside down just to stamp his own authority onto the world.

Bee looked down at her.  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

It would have been easy to kiss him.  Perhaps that was why she didn't.  “I think so,” she assured him.  “In fact...”

Someone slammed into her back, knocking her to her knees.  Bee caught her and helped her to her feel, just in time to avoid a second blow that nearly clipped the side of her head.  Elaine knew who was standing there before she saw her; Millicent and her cronies had arrived.  She hadn't even considered the possibility of running into her old enemy at the dance club.  Daria had certainly never mentioned her.

“Well, well, well,” Millicent said.  The other dancers were giving them a wide berth, knowing that Millicent wasn't someone to challenge unless their magical powers were great enough not to have to care about her – or her relatives.  “Look who decided to get above herself and come join us tonight.”

She looked over at Bee.  “And couldn't you find someone better to dance with?”

Bee met her gaze evenly.  Elaine would have been impressed, if she hadn't realised that Bee simply didn't know who Millicent was.  “I do not need...you to tell me who to dance with,” he said, coldly.  “I suggest that you leave.  Now.”

Millicent stared at him as if she hadn't been able to imagine that anyone, apart perhaps from an Inquisitor, would stand up to her.  And then she smiled in cold delight.  

“This girl shamed herself before the whole school,” she said, with an unpleasant smile.  “And I think that you won’t be defending her any longer.”

She clicked her fingers, casting a spell with casual ease.  Blue light washed over Bee and he froze in place.  The charm was a simple one for a magician to deflect, so simple that a standard magical protection amulet infused with magical power could protect a mundane non-magician, but Bee had no protections at all.  He would be rooted to the spot until someone cast the counter-charm or it wore off on its own.  Given Millicent’s power, she’d probably intended the spell to last for days.

Elaine stared at her, unable to move.  She had been afraid of Millicent since the day they’d first met, since Millicent had decided to hate her.  And then Millicent had kept reminding her of why she was scared, from transfiguring her as a joke to using her as the test subject for all kinds of potions.  The mere thought of meeting Millicent was enough to keep her rooted to the spot, without any freezing charm.  Millicent knew it too.  There was no need to use magic to bind her feet to the floor when fear did it far more effectively.

“And I think it’s time to show you why you will never amount to anything,” Millicent said, lifting one hand languidly.  “You will not show your face here again...”

There was a scuffle as three of Millicent’s friends caught Daria, fighting her with magic and their bare hands.  Daria was stronger than Elaine, perhaps the strongest girl Elaine had met, but Millicent’s friends seemed to share some of her power.  Elaine saw one of them stumble backwards as Daria’s fist met her face, but the other two caught her and held her firmly.  They’d pushed something against Daria’s throat...

“You don’t even know her secret, do you?”  Millicent observed.  “Maybe you should find out, but not now.”

Her hand shaped into a casting posture and she tossed a spell at Elaine.  A transfiguration spell, just like the one she’d used years ago, keyed to her own magic.  Even a trained wizard would have difficulty undoing it without Millicent’s help.  Elaine felt the spell touch her, its perverse nature grappling with her body and altering it against her will...

...And then time seemed to slow down.  The spell broke apart into its component pieces, each one instantly recognisable to her.  Elaine felt one of the spells that had been forced into her mind rising up inside her, shaping a thought that required little power to turn into a spell.  Her magic flared around her and Millicent’s spell shattered as casually, as if it had been nothing more than a gossamer thought.  Other spells, some far darker than anything Millicent had ever unleashed on her as a joke, rose up to match it.  Elaine realised that her entire skin was buzzing with magic, not the magic forced upon her by Millicent, but something that rose from deep inside her.  She might have had limited power, far less than Millicent had on her worst day, yet she did understand spell-casting on a level she couldn't have put into words.  And Millicent couldn't have hoped to match...

...The spell, driven by hatred and rage and a burning lust for revenge, flared into existence within her mind.  In some ways, it was even related to the spell she’d triggered when she’d opened Duke Gama’s book.  It would feed on Millicent’s power rather than being dependent upon Elaine’s own limited talent.

Her hand snapped out before she had quite realised what she was doing.  Millicent was staring at her, shocked beyond words.  She'd known that Elaine didn't have the power to throw off her spell so casually.  Elaine didn't let her have a chance to react as power throbbed through her mind, magic feeding upon magic until it was beyond her ability to contain.  The spell flashed from her power to Millicent and overwhelmed her.  Any sorceress knew how to counter spells, but this was different.  Her desperate attempt to counter what Elaine had unleashed was too late to save herself.

Millicent let out a yell as she shrank, shrinking so rapidly that she made a whirring sound.  Her hands went up in a desperate attempt to strike back, but they turned to stone before she could do anything more than shape the first part of the thought that might have saved her.  Before Elaine’s astonished eyes, not quite believing what she had done, Millicent became a tiny statuette of herself.  Power danced in front of her eyes, sending her staggering forward almost as if she were drunk, forcing Millicent’s friends to step back in horror.  They’d joined her because she was a bully, because it was safer to be one of her cronies than feel her wrath – and become the butt of her jokes.  And now their client had been transfigured against her will by someone she had always despised...

And even her aunt might be unable to restore her to human form.

Elaine had no time to think.  Her head buzzing, her thoughts feeling as if they were on fire, she stumbled forward and ran into the night.  

Chapter Eight

The darkness seemed to reach out for her like a living thing as Elaine ran, barely aware of the crowds of people wandering the streets.  Few of them showed any sign of concern, but why should they?  The Golden City was not always kind to those caught up in conflicts between magicians, or those who served as the butt of magical jokes.  Elaine finally slowed to a stop, panting desperately, to find herself in a darkened alleyway.  There was no one else around as far as she could tell.

Her skin hurt, as if she’d been sunburned and it was only just starting to ache.  She’d felt something like it before as a student, when her magical abilities were being studied and gauged by her tutors, but this was different.  Even she had gained the control and discipline to keep a single spell from rebounding on her...yet she hadn't unleashed a single spell.  She’d unleashed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny spells that had worked in unison to produce an effect she didn't have the talent to create with a single spell.  No wonder Millicent had been taken so badly by surprise.  All of her countering charms had been used on the assumption that there was only one spell that needed to be deflected.  She could have countered half of the spells Elaine had unleashed without saving herself from an unwanted transfiguration.

There would be consequences, Elaine knew.  She wasn't a well-connected magician, or a student out on the town who knew that her idea of fun would be indulged, but someone without power and connections.  Maybe the Inquisitors would have let it pass if she’d worked her spell on a mundane, without power or connections, yet Millicent was connected to the very highest levels of society.  And yet...the thought of seeing her most hated enemy so savagely and suddenly reduced was satisfying on a level Elaine couldn’t begin to comprehend.  Power, the kind of power she’d never had, tempted her.  All the knowledge that had been poured into her head offered ways to enhance her magic, or to use it more efficiently than she’d ever learned in the Peerless School.  But there would be a price...

She looked up sharply as she heard a snuffle, as if there was a dog sniffing its way towards her, but saw nothing in the semi-darkness.  There were thousands of spells that could produce light, but somehow casting even one of them seemed beyond her power.  She lifted a hand, peering into the gloom, yet there was still nothing.  She wasn’t even sure where she was...

...And then Daria stepped out of the darkness towards her.  “Elaine,” she called.  Her dress was torn, leaving her forced to use one of her hands to hold it together or lose whatever remained of her modesty.  “Elaine...are you all right?”

Elaine stared at her.  “How did you find me?”

“Carefully,” Daria said.  She winked at Elaine, who could only stare back at her.  “I decided to leave the chaos behind and come after you before they recovered from their shock.”

Elaine fought down the urge to giggle.  All of Millicent’s cronies followed her because they had thought – had known – that she was an incredibly powerful and well-connected young woman.  Better to laugh at her jokes and indulge her sense of humour than to be on the receiving end of her torments, better to watch someone else suffer than suffer themselves.  But they would just have seen their leader transfigured against her will, forced into a form that would make being a frog seem comfortable and familiar...and transformed by someone they had believed to be barely strong enough to light a fire.  Their world had just turned upside down.

She winced, remembering Bee.  “And Bee?”

“I saw a pair of Inquisitors on their way to the club,” Daria said.  “I think they’ll take care of him.  He may not be very important in himself, but his patron is important enough to command attention even from the skulls.  I wonder what they will make of Millicent.”

Elaine shuddered.  Inquisitor Dread had terrified her even when she hadn't been the target of his investigation, only the unwilling victim.  What would he say to her if he had to hunt her down for breaking the rules?  And yet she hadn't really broken any of the rules, not when Millicent had done the same to her in the past.  But convention, the same convention that gave magicians free reign to wreak havoc as they experimented with their powers, probably didn't apply when the victim’s family was so powerful.

“I should run,” Elaine said.  Millicent would surely tell the Inquisitors what had happened to her – and who had done it.  She’d lose a great deal of her reputation – and maybe many of her cronies – but that would be no consolation for Elaine.  “But where can I go?”

“Home,” Daria said, firmly.  “You need a rest and a chance to eat something.  I don’t think they’re going to waste too much time trying to catch you.”

“Not if I go home,” Elaine said, through a sudden wave of dizziness.  Magic had a price...and she’d never worked such a complex series of spells before.  “It will be the first place they look.”

“If they bother to look at all,” Daria pointed out.  “Do you really think that Millicent is going to be honest with them about what happened to her?  The entire city would hear about it by the morning...and they’d all be laughing at her.  I dread to imagine what her aunt would say to her after she recovers from being a tiny statue.”

“There were hundreds of witnesses,” Elaine said, with some irritation.  “They could tell...”

“They won’t want to get caught up in a feud between magicians,” Daria said.  “I think they’ll suffer the kind of memory loss that even the most complex of memory charms couldn't produce.  And besides...what are they going to charge you with in the absence of a Grand Sorcerer?”

She reached out and took Elaine’s arm.  “Besides, you don’t want to stay here,” she added.  “Do you realise how close you came to the Blight?”

Elaine shivered.  If she hadn't been so tired, she would have sensed the wild magic floating through the air, mocking her with its promise of power unleashed by the wizards who had called the Blight into existence.  And yet she knew better than to go anywhere near the Blight.  Wild magic could inflict changes in a victim that no amount of controlled magic could repair.  There were no warning signs warning people to stay out of the Blight.  The Golden City’s council felt that anyone stupid enough to go into the most dangerous place in the world, short of the scorched continents that had once played host to the Witch-King’s armies, deserved everything that happened to them.

Centuries ago, a cabal of wizards had experimented with a branch of necromancy that wasn’t – technically – forbidden.  Murder offered vast magical power to the necromancer willing to take it; they’d reasoned that trapping a victim in an endless death would offer a bottomless supply of power, even though it wouldn't have the same charge as a true murder.  The Inquisitors had moved to stop the cabal and they’d fought back, unleashing all of their magic in one final cataclysmic burst.  They’d contaminated the entire area with wild magic.

And wild magic was difficult, almost impossible, to control.  It surged through the Blight like waves crashing over a beach, threatening random transformations – or death – to anyone caught up inside the field.  No one lived in the Blight, not even the lowest of the low.  With space in the Golden City so limited, the council had offered a vast reward for anyone who cleaned up the wild magic and opened the Blight to habitation again.  So far, no one had succeeded.

Spells floated through her mind as Daria pulled her away from the alley and back onto the streets.  Wild magic couldn't be dispersed; it had to go somewhere.  There were spells that would tap the wild magic and use it up slowly, but surely – spells that no one knew even existed, perhaps not even the Grand Sorcerer.  Elaine had known how many books of secrets were stored in the Great Library long before they’d all been jammed into her skull.  One man, even the Grand Sorcerer himself, could not have read them all.  And he could never have seen how to take some of the more complex spells apart and reassemble them in a form that might have served to drain the Blight.

Elaine had never been ambitious – but then, she'd known she had neither the talent nor breeding to be ambitious.  What if she cleared the Blight?  The Council had offered thousands of Crowns to the sorcerer who succeeded – and with that sort of money, who knew what she could do?  Millicent would certainly never try to hurt her again...

...And yet it would attract attention.  The Inquisition would start asking questions until they worked out what had happened, and then they would execute her for being in possession of forbidden knowledge.  It didn't seem fair at all, but they would have no choice.  The secrets within her mind whispered that there was a price to pay for greatly expanding one’s power, a price that was most often paid in sanity.  There were ways to make one’s self more powerful than the Grand Sorcerer, capable of working enough magic to destroy the entire city, but if she tried she would go insane.  They claimed that that was what had happened to the Witch-King...

History, the history she’d never been taught in the Peerless School, started to drift through her mind.  The first necromancers had been evil; they’d wanted power and hadn't cared how many thousands they’d had to butcher to gain enough power to turn the world into a living nightmare.  They’d had to be stopped – and it had taken six bloody years of fighting in the First Necromantic War to stop them.  But that victory had come at a price.  The Sorcerer Valiant, a name even the most uneducated knew from legends passed down from the wars, had absorbed the collected knowledge of the necromancers directly, using it to defeat them at the end of the war.

And then he'd become the Witch-King and unleashed a necromantic conflict more horrific than the first.  Power had driven him mad.  Dark knowledge had fuelled a quest for power that had threatened the fragile peace he’d helped create.  And when the conflict finally came, there had been little left of the sorcerer who had saved the world.  He’d been the maddened Witch-King.

No one knew that, outside the senior wizards.  No one knew that the heroic Valiant and the dreaded Witch-King were one and the same.  Elaine knew...

...And in a moment of insight, she wondered if the spell that had been worked on her, that had jammed all of the library’s knowledge into her head, was related to the spell that had started the long process of turning Valiant into the Witch-King.

She stopped dead, staring at the stone beneath her feet.  It was so hard to focus, but most of her tutors had been very capable at imparting knowledge to young minds.  Many compulsion and enslavement spells worked by placing irrepressible thoughts into helpless minds, commands that the victim couldn't even begin to disobey.  Could it be possible that placing vast amounts of knowledge into a mind would start corrupting the mind and eventually driving the victim mad?  The thought was terrifying.  Could she become a new Witch-King herself?  And yet Valiant had been an incredibly powerful sorcerer even before he’d started to tap the secrets of becoming a necromancer.  Elaine had far less power to use as a base for becoming a monster.

Maybe she should go to the Inquisition.  They would kill her and end whatever threat she posed long before she went mad.

“Come on,” Daria said, encouragingly.  Her friend sounded remarkably composed for someone who looked to be on the verge of exposing her breasts to the crowds around them.  “We’re nearly there.  Or maybe...”

She let go of Elaine’s hand and walked over to one of the roadside stalls.  Elaine had never fully trusted the meals one could buy on the streets, even the ones cooked by people who understood the concept of basic hygiene.  Daria seemed to eat far more meat than was good for her and never seemed to get ill, while Elaine had learned the hard way not to eat more from the street eateries than she needed to barely satisfy her hunger.  Elaine watched as Daria haggled briefly with an older woman standing behind the portable stove and eventually purchased two wrapped parcels of meat.  Her mouth started to water as she smelled the cooked chicken and bread inside the packets.  Daria opened one, sniffed it quickly, and then passed it to her.

“I had all the toppings on mine,” she said, by way of explanation.  Elaine nodded in understanding.  Daria seemed capable of drinking spicy sauces that set Elaine’s mouth on fire.  “That one should be fairly sedate.”

“I wonder if it’s edible,” Elaine muttered, as she picked up the first piece of chicken.  Her stomach growled and she swallowed it without hesitation.  It tasted surprisingly good, although there was a faint aftertaste of cooking fat.  “What about yours?”

Daria held up a piece of chicken covered in bright red sauce.  “I’ve had hotter meals,” she said.  Elaine caught a whiff of the sauce and shuddered.  How anyone could eat it was beyond her.  “Did I tell you that I once dated a guy from Cinnabar?  Now he knew how to cook the hottest of meals.”

Elaine remembered Bee...and shuddered.  “Do you think he’s ever going to want to see me again?”

Daria seemed to understand.  “I think that he’s a nice guy,” she said, seriously.  “And he seemed to like you.  Perhaps he’ll want to go out somewhere a little quieter in the future.”

“If he ever wants to see me again,” Elaine said.  Just once – just once – she would have liked to meet a guy and indulge herself without any fears for the future.  “He’ll probably hate me for the rest of time.”

“Maybe he’ll find it exciting,” Daria said, and winked.  “There are some guys who just love the thought of being enchanted by a woman.”

Elaine flushed.  She’d never been part of the inner circles when she’d been a teenager, but she’d heard rumours.  Some of them had been so absurd she’d been sure that her peers were trying to trick her into believing their lies.  And yet some of the knowledge forced into her head left her wondering if the rumours were actually true.  How could anyone get addicted to the sensation of being enchanted against one’s will?

“Then surely he’d want Millicent, not me,” Elaine said, bitterly.  Millicent enjoyed men, particularly the men who wanted to form an alliance with Millicent’s family.  The gods alone knew if she’d ever seal with a particular man, although some of the higher families pushed their daughters into marriages for dynastic purposes.  Whoever ended up unwillingly sealed to Millicent would be entering hell itself.  “She wouldn't hesitate to turn him into a frog for looking at her sideways.”

“I don't know,” Daria said.  She patted Elaine on the shoulder as they reached their apartment.  “Listen to the voice of experience for a moment.  You’ve enjoyed your first taste of male company and there’s no need to ruin it by pressing ahead too fast.”  She leered cheerfully at her.  “Take it from me – men like doing the chasing, not being chased.  The secret is to run away slowly enough to be caught.”

“That makes no sense,” Elaine protested.

“Just you wait until you have more experience,” Daria said, as her leer became a grin.  “Like I said, don’t try to move ahead too fast.  Men always value what they have to fight for more highly than what they get for free.  Maybe on your next date you can kiss him a little, leave the heavy petting for the third date and...”

Elaine felt herself flush, again.  “You’re disgraceful,” she protested.  “I can't do that.”

“You said you couldn't dance either,” Daria said, not in the least bit offended.  “And yet tonight you were dancing as if you’d been dancing for years.”

They reached their apartment, dumped the remains of the paper wrapping in the bin and headed to their rooms.  “Get some sleep,” Daria advised.  “Tomorrow you can start thinking about what you’re going to wear on your next date.”

Elaine hesitated.  “Daria,” she said, slowly, “why did Millicent say that you had a secret?”

“Everyone has secrets,” Daria said.  “I have secrets that belong to my folk – I bet you that Millicent has secrets of her own.  She probably thinks that the Travellers had other ideas than just making sure that one of their people got a proper educations when they left me here.”

Elaine shrugged.  “Do you think that the Travellers would take me in?”

“Only if you married one of my brothers,” Daria said.  Elaine blinked.  Daria had never mentioned brothers before, let alone the rest of her family.  “Take it from me, you don't want to do that.  They’re dreadfully...traditionalist, set in their ways.  And besides, your children would be accepted, but you’d never be fully one of us.”

“I see,” Elaine said.  “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“They’re not very nice people,” Daria admitted.  “You know how most people treat Travellers, even ones who are harmless.  They’re never convinced that they should be nicer to people because no one is nice to them.”

Elaine could understand that, all right.  “I’ll get some rest,” she said, “and I know what I’m doing in the morning.”

“Looking up protection spells, just in case?”  Daria hazarded.

“Research,” Elaine said, firmly.  It was time that she started to try to figure out what had happened to her, preferably before the next surprise caught up with her.  “Maybe I’ll even go back to the library.”

Daria grinned, unpleasantly.  “Sweetheart, I have never heard it called that before.”

Chapter Nine

Duke Gama had been the younger brother of King Hildebrand.  Elaine had known that from the notes attached to the crates of books she’d opened when she’d been hit by the curse, but according to the writers of Peers of the Empire it was the single most important fact about the dead Duke.  The writers waxed endlessly on the subject of how worthy his bloodline was of the highest positions in the Empire, but they were remarkably short of actual details that might be of some use to her.  King Hildebrand was the ruler of Ida, a small state only a few hundred miles from the Golden City, whose son had been angling for a marriage alliance that would tie them to the strongest magical families in the world.  It took seventeen pages to tell Elaine something that could have been said in a few sentences.

But maybe it wasn't too surprising, Elaine told herself.  Ever since the last Emperor had died, killed in the Necromantic Wars, the Grand Sorcerers had worked hard to keep the nobility from having any real power.  They’d helped start the First Necromantic War because they’d feared that the magical bloodlines – and magic’s seemingly random choice of magicians – would eventually swamp the non-magical bloodlines.  Now, after the wars, the kings and dukes and even empresses were subordinate to the wizards.  The whole system of Court Wizards was intended to keep them in their place.  There would be no repeat of the necromantic wars.

Some of it she’d known from reading between the lines back at the Peerless School, but other details only made sense when viewed through the prism of the new knowledge that had been poured into her head.  Magicians were intensively competitive; the first necromancers had worked their dark deeds intended to make themselves supremely powerful, rather than unleashing hell purely for fun.  Now, magicians had an opportunity to develop their magic and climb the ladder towards Grand Sorcerer, something that required them to uphold a system that limited their freedom of action.  And the Peerless School steered its students towards developing what talent they had rather than attempting to gain new power.  There would be no more necromancers.

But perhaps there would be.  Elaine shivered as the spells started to jostle their way through her head.  She could raise the dead and set them out upon the land to consume their way through the living, or summon a dead person’s shade back to the world to answer questions, or...her sleep hadn't been peaceful at all.  All of the images of the past, of the hero who’d become the Witch-King, had marched through her dreams, warning her of what she might become.  And the potion she’d taken to ensure a dreamless sleep had failed badly.  She couldn't understand why.

She flicked through the book again and shook her head.  Ida might have had one of the oldest noble families in the Empire, but it was a tiny state, barely fifty miles across from one end to the other.  Only bad terrain and a certain ruthlessness had stopped her neighbours from conquering her centuries before the Necromantic Wars.  They’d even held out against swarms of flesh-eating undead unleashed by the necromancers, although the undead had had problems operating in the extreme cold.  Elaine had heard reports that melting glaciers had released hundreds of undead from their frozen sleep, whereupon they’d set out to continue their quest for human flesh.  At least they were less dangerous without the necromancers guiding their actions.  A small troop of soldiers and a wizard or two could have dealt with them before they became a major threat.

Duke Gama had had magic listed as one of his interests, but he’d never studied in the Peerless School or even been tutored by hedge witches from the surrounding countryside.  There was more magic in the world than that controlled by the Peerless School, and it was possible that Duke Gama had somehow avoided being noticed by the Grand Sorcerer, but if he’d had real power surely he would have used it to enhance his chances on the marriage market.  Instead, he’d collected books and a handful of artefacts that had been forwarded to the Great Library upon his death...

...Unless he wasn't dead at all.  There were spells that were meant to confirm that an aristocrat had passed into the realm of the gods, but they could be tricked by a clever magician or subverted by someone with enough power to simply override them.  What if Duke Gama had intended his books, including the cursed volume, to go to the Great Library?  It would have only been a matter of time before Elaine – or one of her fellows – opened the book and was struck by the curse.  Maybe he’d found a way to do the impossible and burgle the Great Library.  Who needed the books when all of their knowledge was inside a hapless human head?  

And yet...it seemed a risky plan, one rife with uncertainties.  What if the Inquisitors had realised what had happened before Elaine left the hospital?  Or what if she’d gone to them and confessed to what had happened?  Or what if the curse had killed her outright?  The druids had said that Elaine had come very close to death.  Someone with more power might have been killed as their magic was tapped to fuel the curse.  

She closed the book with some irritation and looked over at the next one.  Somehow, Ida had escaped having the normal thousands of volumes of books written on her history.  But then, Ida had simply never been very important.  Apart from the Court Wizard – a fellow named Trebuchet, according to the latest guide to magicians and their families – there seemed to be no magicians of note living within the mountainous kingdom.  Ida seemed to like to keep itself to itself, although perhaps that wasn't so surprising.  The advantages that had kept the kingdom as free as any other state in the Empire wouldn't allow it to build an empire of its own.  On the great plains below the mountains, Ida’s soldiers would be cut to ribbons by the armoured troops of the nearby states.  They could raid, but little else...

...And none of that now that the magicians ruled the world.

A crash from below, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs, announced Daria’s arrival in the apartment building.  She came in through the door, holding a set of papers, and smiled cheerfully at Elaine, before taking the seat opposite her and picking up one of the books.

“This doesn't look like a guide to protection spells,” she observed.  “What do you think you are doing?”

“Researching,” Elaine said, crossly.  She’d borrowed the books from one of the smaller libraries, borrowing everything she could find on Ida and its ruling family, which hadn’t really been very much.  “I don’t have time to think about guys.”

“There’s never a better time to think about guys,” Daria said, putting down the book.  “I thought you liked Bee.”

Elaine snorted.  “Do you think about anything else?”

Daria smirked.  “By the gods, I do believe I don’t,” she said, deadpan.  “Naughty Daria.  Very naughty Daria.”

“I’m thinking about paying Ida a visit,” Elaine said.  “You want to come with me?”

“I thought of a way we could make money,” Daria said.  “You know that there are thousands of touts in the city, right?”  Elaine nodded.  “So why don’t we join them in betting on who will be the next Grand Sorcerer?”

“It’s only been a day since the funeral,” Elaine said.  It was strange how it felt much longer, but then the funeral had been a minor event compared to accidentally turning Millicent into a statue.  Had she even been transformed back into a bitch yet?  “Don’t they have any decency at all?”

“They have a week to register before they actually begin the competition,” Daria said.  “Rumour has it that some of the senior wizards actually dropped out of the contest before their names were even listed.  Do you think that that is remotely likely to be true?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine said.  Putting one’s name forward as a possible candidate meant accepting the rules of the contest, as laid down by the first Grand Sorcerer.  He’d been the most powerful survivor of the Second Necromantic War and no one had dared to dispute too openly with him.  And yet, there was no rule against withdrawing from the contest.  “Maybe someone is just trying to fiddle the odds.”

“No doubt,” Daria agreed.  She picked up a sheet of paper and glanced at it.  “Ready?”

Elaine blinked.  “For what?”

“First on the list of declared candidates is Administrator Mentor, our old master from the Peerless School,” Daria said.  “The touts like his chances; he was the old Grand Sorcerer’s friend and he has access to all the books stored within the Peerless School.  And don’t forget that he played a role in directly shaping the last few generations of magicians.  And if he wasn't powerful, he would never have been able to hold his post...”

Elaine, whose only close contact with Administrator Mentor had been when she’d been punished for one of Millicent’s pranks, shrugged.  “He didn't really shape me, did he?”

“He certainly helped shape Millicent and the others like her,” Daria pointed out.  “They probably owe him a few favours, if only for covering things up and even protecting them from the wrath of their families.  Millicent’s family might not care what she does outside of their houses, but others would certainly be very angry with their children if they knew the half of it.  The Administrator certainly has a very good chance.”

She smiled.  “The next person on the list is Count Lucas, who is supposed to be the illegitimate son of the Duke of Randor,” she continued.  “Unlike most of the parents of bastards, the Duke of Randor saw to it that his son got a good education and eventually went to the Peerless School.  He graduated with high honours two years before we went into the school and...since then, he doesn't seem to have done much.  But he could have been doing anything even if he didn't build a proper reputation.”

“The name is familiar,” Elaine said.  She grinned as she put it together.  “He used to go to the Great Library – probably still is going to the Great Library while I’ve been off work.  I think he was studying rare magical hybrids from the outer continents.”

“Or maybe he thinks he has the power to defeat all comers in the arena,” Daria agreed.  “The touts aren’t sure what to make of him.  He doesn't have the reputation of the Administrator or most of the other senior wizards, but surely he wouldn't put his name forward unless he was fairly sure that he could back it up.  Or maybe he’ll just back out before the contest actually starts.”

She leaned forward.  “I don't suppose his recent fields of interest taught you anything about his aims?”

“Nothing,” Elaine said.  Despite herself, she was getting interested.  “Who’s next?”

“Millicent’s auntie, Lady Light Spinner,” Daria said.  “She’s supposed to be an initiate into the Elysium Mysteries as well as one of the Peerless School’s most powerful graduates in the last thirty years.  Unsealed, which is interesting given her breeding.  Maybe she couldn't have children or maybe she just had the power to tell her family to go to hell.  She served in a couple of minor roles before becoming Court Wizard to the Empress of the South after the scandal broke about how the last wizard had been seduced by the Empress.  And apparently she hasn’t even resigned from that post even though she’s competing in the arena.”

Elaine snorted.  Senior wizards loved their status.  “She’d have to resign if she became Grand Sorceress,” she pointed out.  “And what do the touts say about her chances?”

“Second, under the Administrator,” Daria said.  “It doesn't hurt that her family is connected to many of the more powerful magical bloodlines.  I have no doubt that they will bring pressure to bear on her opponents if necessary.  But there’s only ever been one other female Grand Sorcerer and that wasn't the best experience the Empire ever had.”

She smiled, humourlessly.  “Countering her is Vlad Deferens, one of the more...politically outspoken sorcerers in recent years,” she added.  “You’ve probably heard of him.”

“Yeah,” Elaine muttered.  “The one who keeps claiming that female magicians are unnatural and should be allowed to serve as nothing more than breeding stock.”

“What do you expect from someone who grew up in Gor?”  Daria asked, wryly.  “Half of their magic – and their culture – is based around keeping their females properly respectful to the males.  Even ten years in the Peerless School and then the Golden City hasn't convinced him that women are more than baby-factories on legs.  Let him have the power of the Grand Sorcerer and there will be riots in the streets.  Every female magician in the world will stand against him.”

She shrugged.  “But he has power and one hell of a reputation for squashing magicians who break the rules,” she added.  “Rumour has it that he was the one who suggested that your boss should be enslaved rather than killed outright.  The touts think that he has a good chance, unless some kindly magician kills him before the contest begins.  Or maybe he will be killed in the contest.  Deferens isn't the kind of person to back down if challenged.”

“The gods help us if he does get into power,” Elaine said.  “Who else is there?”

“Wizard Kane has decided to join the contest, but he’s not a particularly well-known candidate,” Daria said, checking her list.  “No great achievements, no great political relationships...he may decide to back out quietly rather than go into the arena as a contestant.  And then there’s the final contestant, the really strange one.  Prince Hilarion of Ida.”

Elaine stared at her.  “Of Ida?”

“Of Ida,” Daria confirmed.  “Do you know him?”

“Only through reputation,” Elaine said, picking up one of the books.  Prince Hilarion was, if she recalled correctly, the heir to the throne.  What was he doing serving as a magician?  Coming to think of it...was he even a magician?  “How...how did he get in?”

“Turned up at the arena, demonstrated his magic and then put his name into the pile of candidates,” Daria said.  “The touts don’t know what to make of him either.  He never even went to the Peerless School.  As far as anyone can tell, he never had any formal training at all.  And yet he thinks he can become Grand Sorcerer.”

Elaine frowned, puzzled.  It wasn't impossible to get a magician education outside the Peerless School, but anyone who wanted real power should definitely have gone to the Golden City.  And yet...if Prince Hilarion was the heir to Ida, maybe his father had hired a wizard to train his son rather than have him go to the Peerless School and end up sucked into the political struggles that ranged through the Golden City.  But how could he feel that he could compete with the mighty magicians who were going to face one another for the greatest prize of all?  Unless he thought that he might have an ace in the hole...

The thought struck her like a blow between the eyes.  Maybe he did have an ace in the hole, Elaine herself.  What could someone who hadn't sworn the Mage’s Oath do with the knowledge loaded into Elaine’s head?  The thought was terrifying.    He could boost his power, push himself into a position that matched the Witch-King himself...and then win the contest.  But the Inquisitors would act, wouldn't they?  Unless they couldn't – how could they when they were sworn to uphold the orders of the Grand Sorcerer?

Daria leaned forward.  “Are you all right?”  She asked.  “Does he sound familiar to you?”

“I was reading about Ida,” Elaine said.  Daria had provided the piece that linked the puzzle together.  Duke Gama might not have been a magician, but his nephew definitely was.  He could have enchanted the book Elaine had opened and then waited for her to emerge from hospital...complete with the knowledge he needed to make himself the most powerful sorcerer in the world.  “I think I definitely need to go visit the kingdom.”

“But the action is here,” Daria protested.  “Think about our chances of winning money...”

I could clean up the Blight and win money, Elaine thought, sourly.  If I dared risk exposing myself like that...

“I have to go,” she said.  “Someone needs to follow up on what Duke Gama did to the book that stunned me – and besides, I don’t want to be anywhere near Millicent when she returns to normal.”

“I suppose there is that,” Daria said, reluctantly.  “You go if you want.  I have to stay here and try to make money.”  She grinned.  “Do you want to place a bet?  If Prince Hilarion does become Grand Sorcerer, anyone who bids a hundred Crowns will win a million from the touts.”

“If I had a hundred Crowns, I’d find something better to do than place bets,” Elaine said.  “I’d prefer to bet on the Administrator myself...”

She broke off as there was a furious knocking on the door.  Daria walked over and opened the door while Elaine cringed, certain that it was an Inquisitor intent on asking her precisely what had happened to Millicent.  Instead, it was a tall footman wearing a bright red uniform that made him look faintly absurd.  No one would have risked laughing openly at him, not with the gold braid that denoted his mistress.

“Magician Elaine No-Kin,” he said, as he marched into the room.  His voice boomed through the tiny apartment, the voice of a man who was used to getting his way.  “You are commanded to present yourself before the Lady Light Spinner.  Attend on her or face the consequences.”

Elaine and Daria shared a look.  “Maybe,” Elaine said, finally.  “And maybe not.”

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