Void’s Tale

A Schooled In Magic Novella

Christopher G. Nuttall

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Cover By Tan Ho Sim
https://www.artstation.com/alientan

All Comments Welcome!

Cover Blurb

A hundred years before Emily, just after the fall of the Empire and the start of the Necromantic Wars, Void worked for the White Council as an agent of last resort, the sorcerer they called upon when no one else could complete the mission.  But this mission may make or break him.

Searching for a missing alchemist, Void is drawn into a deadly plot threatening the newborn Allied Lands, one that may send them plunging into ruin.  And, as he starts trying to unpick the plot, he is forced to confront a truth that will change his life forever ...

Author’s Note

The majority of this story takes place well before Schooled in Magic, but the section touching Emily is set between The Face of the Enemy and Child of Destiny.  

Prologue

Emily dreams.

In the dreams, she stands on a vast ocean, dark waters shifting below her feet.  Strange lights and shapes move within the shadows, things she dares not look at too closely for fear they might look back.  High overhead, the sky is a nightmare of lights and things that burn, eyes belonging to creatures and intellects so far beyond hers that even taking note of their presence risks madness.  She is alone, yet the sense of vast powers moving and shifting around her permeates her mind.  Lightning-fast thoughts dance at the corner of her eyes, daring her to look.  The dream world is a very dangerous place for an unshielded mind.  

“I thought we should talk.”  Void is behind and in front and beside her ... somehow, this is not surprising.  “Here, we cannot be overheard.”

Emily steps back, bracing herself.  Void looks ... old, his body bent under the weight of some vast burden.  Grey hair shrouds his face, hiding everything but his eyes.  It strikes her, suddenly, that this is how Void sees himself.  He may look young, in the real world, but he is old.  Emily knows it is just a matter of time before his magic can no longer keep him alive.

Her voice sounds weird, even to her.  “What is this place?”

“This is the dreamtime,” Void tells her.  For a moment, they are master and student again.  The warmth of his regard envelops her.  She likes it and hates it and wishes that certain things were not so.  “This is the place where minds, all minds, come to rest.”

He speaks the truth, Emily realises dully.  

The ocean below her feet is the vast dreaming mind of humanity itself.  The things above her are linked to humanity and yet so far beyond it, there are no points in common.  She remembers some of the things she’d seen outside the fabric of reality, when she was thrown back in time or linked to the entity that had invaded Heart’s Eye; she shivers at the grim reminder of just how fragile reality truly is.  The longer she stays in the dreamtime, the harder it will be to return to normal consciousness.  Ice washes down her spine as the implications dawn on her.  She might never escape the dreamtime.

She faces him.  She turns to face him.  She doesn’t face him.  All are true in the dreamtime.

“You thought we should talk,” she says.  “Fine.  Talk.”

Void says nothing for a long moment.  She can see thoughts - shadowy ones - below the water, below his feet.  The surface ripples beneath him.  She thinks, suddenly, of just how much power he’s expending to bring her into the dreamtime.  She knows he will not hurt her, and yet ... she fears.  She looks away, up towards a black sun high overhead.  It seems to look back.  She dreads to imagine what it must be.

“You wanted to know why I was taking control,” Void says.  “And you didn’t like my answer.”

“No,” Emily says, warily.  She understands his point of view, she follows his reasoning, but she doesn’t agree it justifies everything he’s done.  “You have a point.  But your actions have made everything worse.”

“I didn’t account for you,” Void agrees.  A wash of affection follows his words.  “A person from a world beyond my ken ... no, I couldn’t account for you.”

He takes a step back.  “I can’t tell you anything more, directly,” he said.  “There are no words I can use.  But I can show you.  Here, in the dreamtime, you can see my memories.  You can walk beside me as I made the fateful choice, the decision to take power for myself and use it.  You can watch through my eyes and decide if you would have made the same decision - or not.”

Emily cocks an eyebrow, hiding her interest even though she knows it is futile.  “And afterwards?”

“And afterwards, you are free to go,” Void says.  She knows he is telling the truth.  “You have my word.”

“I see.”  Emily thinks, quickly.  She cannot stay in the dreamtime for long.  Her body will die, leaving her a ghost on the astral plane.  “I’ll take your word.”

Void smiles, and snaps his fingers.  The ocean seems to shift beneath her feet ...

... And his memories reach up and overwhelm her.

Chapter One

There is a place near Whitehall, far too close to the Dark City for comfort, where the grass will never grow again.

I stood on the edge of the clearing and peered across the scene.  Two of my brothers had died there, ten years ago; a third had seen something so terrible, the sight had permanently blinded him.  Even I hadn’t been unscarred, although I could never have put the feeling into words someone could understand.  It felt like a shadow of a scar on my soul.

The magical emanations burned at me.  The power we’d unleashed - for a few short seconds - had permanently blighted the landscape, bleeding into the surrounding foliage and warping it beyond recognition.  No one came here, not even the more intellectually challenged students who thought they could handle anything.  The otherworldly magic in the air drove them away.  I was the only person I knew who could breach the clearing and even I couldn’t stay for long.  The magic was just too dangerous.

I stared at the scorched ground, breathing a silent prayer for my brothers.  The four of us had grown up together, outcasts from our more distant relatives because of how our father had chosen to sire us.  We had studied magic together, we had gone to school together, we had done everything together.  We’d thought we could change the world for the better.  And we’d been wrong.  

We’d played with fire and two of us died, vaporised so completely there’d been nothing left.  My brother and I hadn’t even been able to take their bodies home for proper funeral rites.

The magic shifted, a faint otherworldly sense pressing against my mental shields.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to walk into the clearing, into another world.  I wanted ... I clenched my fists as the contradictory urge grew stronger, unwilling to let it get the better of me.  I’d spent ten years researching the spell we’d tried to use, the rite we’d found in a forgotten tome and tested carefully before we actually cast it.  I still didn’t know if we’d made a dreadful mistake or if the entire spell had been a booby trap from the start, designed to kill anyone stupid enough to attempt it.  It gnawed at me, during the darkest nights.  What had we done?  What had we really been trying to do?

My nails dug into my hands.  My memories were vague.  I’d performed spell after spell designed to drag up old memories and yet, everything that had happened between the moment we’d started the rite and recovering in the burnt-out clearing was a blur.  I remembered ... things ... things I couldn’t see properly.  I knew I should be glad - my brother had been blinded - and yet there was a part of me that just wanted to know.  What had really happened in the period I couldn’t remember?

The magic shifted again.  I thought I heard my brother’s voice on the wind, calling to me.  It wasn’t real, and yet it felt tangible.  I turned and walked away.  Whatever we’d done, we’d blighted the land beyond repair.  I had been lucky to survive.  The sensation faded as I walked faster, unwilling to spend another second near the otherworldly magic.  There was nothing I could do about it.  The land was blackened and burnt and no longer the province of human minds.  It wasn’t safe for anyone, not now.

I dismissed the thought as I walked on, my magic bending the trees and foliage around me.  There were no paths here, not even animal tracks.  No students explored this far from the school, no hunters preyed on the local wildlife ... I’d been told there were a handful of hermits living so far from the civilised world, but I’d never seen them.  The odds were good they were no longer entirely human.  Being so close to the wild magic of the Greenwood did unpleasant things, at least those without the proper protections or agreements.  The Other Folk were always haunting the land.  I could feel unseen eyes watching me.

The sensation faded the moment I reached the ancient road that led from Whitehall to Dragon’s Den.  There were agreements here, ones forged so long ago that no one really knew who’d put their name to them, that the students would remain untouched by the Other Folk.  I’d hunted through the archives, trying to determine who - or what - had written the agreements and bound themselves to them, but I’d drawn a complete blank.  There was just no way to know what had really happened, so long ago.  Perhaps it had been the first emperors.  They could’ve spoken for the human realm.

I felt the shadows of the past lift as I kept walking, heading down to the town.  Dragon’s Den had survived the fall of the empire reasonably intact, given that it was ruled by Whitehall School rather than the local magnate - who now styled himself King of Alluvia - but everyone thought it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.  The town had attracted hundreds of refugees from magical communities over the last few decades, all of whom had been trying to find permanent homes that didn’t involve bending the knee to the newborn kingdoms or long-standing magical aristocracy.  The non-magicians in the town were having an even worse time.  There were just too many low-power magicians who took their frustrations and resentments out on their magic-less neighbours rather than trying to build up the power to strike back at their tormentors.  It was said - truly - that if you walked down the wrong street at the wrong time, you’d go through at least five unwilling transformations before you reached the end.

A gaggle of students stood at the edge of the town.  They weren’t helping.  Grandmaster Boscha was a firm believer in harsh discipline - I’d felt his wrath often enough - but he cared nothing for the mundanes in his town.  The students had no qualms about acting like entitled brats, intimidating the townsfolk and often humiliating them for shits and giggles.  Slip someone a love potion or a particularly nasty charm and watch the results, laughing all the time ... bastards.  I didn’t bother to mask my magic as I walked past the students, watching in dark amusement as they scattered and fled.  No one would have faulted me for slapping them down, even without provocation.  The only safe streets in the town were the ones protected by powerful magicians.  It was unlikely things would improve unless the Grandmaster took a personal hand or he was replaced with someone a little more aware of his responsibilities.

The town was disturbingly quiet as I strode through the streets.  There were fewer students than I’d expected, even though it was a weekend.  Perhaps they were up to something or ... I shrugged.  It wasn’t my problem.  I wasn’t a teacher.  I didn’t have the patience for it.  A young woman, barely out of her teens, made eyes at me.  I glanced at her, noted her dress - she was clearly from a magical bloodline - and ignored her.  My cousins had been raised to marry the strongest magicians they found, practically ordered to seduce them in hopes of breeding even stronger magicians.  I might be handsome - if I said so myself, and of course I did - but it wouldn’t matter if I was uglier than a troll’s buttocks.  The girls would still be pushed into trying to marry me.

I felt nothing.  I’d never really been interested in anyone.

The cafe sat at the edge of the town’s centre, owned and run by a powerful magician.  I could feel his wards pulsing through the air, even from a distance.  A pair of students hung upside down outside, trying to keep their robes in place as they dangled from invisible strings.  They’d probably tried to harass the patrons on a dare, only to discover - too late - that the owner was too strong.  I didn’t bother to wonder what would happen to them.  The owner could do whatever he wanted, from putting them to work washing dishes to turning them permanently into toads.  The Grandmaster wouldn’t care enough to help them.

I stepped through the door, hung my cloak on a hook and walked to the table.  My brother - Hasdrubal - sat there, eyes hidden behind a tattered blindfold.  He could still use magic to see - his first students had found that out the hard way - but ten years of research hadn’t been able to uncover a way to repair his eyesight.  Whatever had happened, it had proven impossible to fix.  And that should have been impossible, too.

It was growing harder to tell we were brothers, I reflected, as I took the seat facing him.  I was tall, with pale skin, dark eyes and long dark hair that fell down to my shoulders; he was shorter, his eyes hidden, his body hunched as if he were carrying some great weight.  I supposed that being a teacher must have taken a toll, particularly with a Grandmaster who didn’t give much of a damn about his kids.  I had no illusions about the students.  They’d been obnoxious when I’d been a student and they were still obnoxious, even to the teachers.  My brother was the most powerful teacher in the school - he was head and shoulders ahead of many others - but that only made the thought of getting the better of him all the more attractive.  There wouldn’t be a student who hadn't at least considered trying to sneak into his office.  Anyone who tried and succeeded, according to tradition, would be granted a free pass for the year.

Poetic justice, I thought, with a flicker of dark humour.  We tried to sneak into their offices when we were students, too.

“Void.”  Hasdrubal looked irked.  He’d never liked the moniker I’d chosen.  “Thank you for coming.”

“Your message was very clear,” I said.  “You had someone you wanted me to meet?”

“Someone who wanted to meet you,” Hasdrubal said.  He flicked his finger in the air, sending a message.  “He has a job for you.”

“Oh, does he?”  I made a face.  I’d had a feeling it was yet another commission from the White Council.  Or, more accurately, a subcommittee of a committee within the council ... a confusing mixture of sorcerers and aristocrats and newly-minted kings who could neatly evade the blame and deny everything if something went spectacularly wrong.  “And who might this person be?”

Hasdrubal nodded in the direction of the rear door, a moment before it opened.  I smirked inwardly - the door led to stairs, which led to the brothel - and then schooled my face into an expressionless mask as Lord Ashworth stepped into the cafe.  I wasn’t too surprised to see him - Lord Ashworth had always been too mealy-mouthed to do anything directly - but lurking there?  It was commonly believed he didn’t have any balls.  His face twisted as he saw us, lips starting to curve into a sneer before he hastily hid it.  He’d never liked my father.

“Lord Ashworth,” Hasdrubal said.  His voice was calm, so calm I knew he was irritated.  “Please.  Join us.”

Lord Ashworth sat, face artfully blank.  I had no trouble reading his eyes.  He was both confident and afraid, a reflection of his power and his awareness of my far greater power.  I had no family - we’d been disowned after my father died - while he had a small army of magicians at his beck and call, but we both knew I could kill him.  He was far too close to me for his peace of mind.  I might not make it out alive - House Ashworth would spare no expense to hunt me down - but he’d be dead.

“Void,” Lord Ashworth said.  He summoned the waitress and ordered the most expensive drinks on the menu.  “We have a problem only you can solve.”

I resisted the urge to point out I wasn’t amused by his petty flattery.  I had no false modesty - I knew I was good - but I was hardly unique.  He didn’t want my problem-solving skills.  He wanted a deniable asset, someone who could be disavowed if necessary.  He wanted ... he wanted something he’d be unwilling to come out and say.  I kept my face expressionless, despite my disgust.  Lord Ashworth was one of the most powerful men in the world, despite his venality.  He didn’t have to jump around the issue for hours before finally getting to the point.

The waitress returned, with three glasses of something rare and expensive.  I didn’t touch it.  I didn’t want to accept any obligation to Lord Ashworth, no matter how small.  If he noticed - if he cared - he gave no sign.  Instead, he sipped his own glass with casual abandon.  I noticed a flicker of disgust cross my brother’s face.  Drunken magicians were dangerous.  Hasdrubal had managed to convince the staff to ban alcohol from the school, but the students could still drink in town.  And when they got drunk ...

“We have a problem,” Lord Ashworth said.  His face twisted in distaste.  “Have you ever been to the Principality of Yolanda?”

“No,” I said.  “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually visited.”

Lord Ashworth made a face.  “The principality is really nothing more than a town, some countryside and a handful of mountain passes,” he said.  “It would have been swallowed by a bigger kingdom by now, except for a combination of geography and political reality.  Her neighbours - she has three - want her, but they don’t want their rivals getting their hands on her either.  King Jonathon - he styles himself the just - has managed to play his neighbours against one another, through a mixture of threats and promises.  It doesn’t hurt that Yolanda has a sizable magical community.  King Jonathon himself may be a mage.”

I nodded, impatiently.

“We have been quietly monitoring the situation,” Lord Ashworth told me.  “The White Council has been using it as an example of what the council can do, meditating disputes between kingdoms and arranging matters so everyone is reasonably happy.  Keeping Yolanda independent, and the trade routes open, is in everyone’s interests.”

“Of course,” I agreed.  “And what does this have to do with me?”

“A handful of magicians, including a top-rank alchemist, have gone missing,” Lord Ashworth said.  “They were in Yolanda, all long-term residents.  And we don’t know what’s happened to them.”

“An alchemist,” I repeated.  “Was he one of the ones with ... interesting ... ideas?”

“She,” Lord Ashworth corrected.  “And no, Layla wasn’t known for flights of fancy.  There was certainly no suggestion she should take her experiments somewhere unpopulated, where she would be the only person at risk if something went badly wrong.  She ran a simple apothecary and generally kept herself to herself.  She had no partner, no children, no apprentice.  The only reason we know she’s missing is because her former master didn’t get a letter from her.”

I had no patience for his bullshit.  “You mean, she was there to keep an eye on things for you,” I said.  “And you lost contact with her.”

Lord Ashworth didn’t bother to deny it.  I wasn’t too surprised.  House Ashworth had clients everywhere, as did the rest of the Great Houses.  I’d long suspected they were used as a covert intelligence network, particularly the ones with no apparent links to the magical aristocracy.  For all I knew, Layla might even be related - indirectly - to Lord Ashworth himself.  She would hardly be the first member of magical aristocracy to set off on her own path, trying to forge a life for herself.  And as long as she stayed in touch and made herself useful, her family wouldn’t care.

“We made indirect inquiries,” Lord Ashworth said.  “We were told she closed her shop and left.  That would be so out of character for her that we know it’s not true.  Further inquires revealed a number of other magicians going missing.  It isn’t easy to keep track of magicians, and it isn’t uncommon for the more independent-minded to simply vanish after graduation, but somewhere between five and twelve magicians have gone missing.”

“In Yolanda,” I said.

“Yes,” Lord Ashworth confirmed.  “They were all residents of the city.”

“And not the sort of people who would simply vanish one day,” I mused.  “What have you done about it?”

“We cannot send an investigation team into the town,” Lord Ashworth said.  “The politics are very delicate right now.  If the monarch refuses to allow it, we cannot do it.  We can’t even ask without risking a political crisis.”

“That is true.”  Hasdrubal looked as disgusted as I felt.  “There is nothing, legally, that can be done.”

“Really.”  I met Lord Ashworth’s eyes.  He looked away.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Go to the town, find out what’s happening and report back to us,” Lord Ashworth said, bluntly.  “We’ll decide what to do upon your return.”

“If that is what you want,” I said, with heavy sarcasm, “it will be my pleasure to serve.”

“Good,” Lord Ashworth said.  He slapped a pair of gold coins on the table for the waitress, then stood.  “You know where to find me when you have something to report.”

He strode away.  I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back.  It was childish, but ... I’d put up with his sneers since I’d been a child.  Even now, when he needed me, he sneered.  I was going to make him pay for it, one day.

“There are odder rumours coming out of the region,” Hasdrubal said.  “One of them involves a necromancer.”

I doubted it.  The established necromancers were quite some distance to the south.  There might be a newborn necromancer in Yolanda - the rite was terrifyingly easy - but there was no way he could escape notice.  Not for long.  The tiny kingdom would be knee-deep in bodies by now.  The White Council would have all the excuse it needed to intervene.  None of the surrounding kingdoms would argue.

“I’ll sneak into the town, see what I can dig up,” I said.  “But it isn’t a necromancer.”

“No,” Hasdrubal agreed.  “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t something bad.”

I couldn’t disagree.  Magic could make monsters out of magicians.  I knew that far too well.

Chapter Two

“Have you ever been here before?”  Gabby was a sweet little girl, her magic a promise I hoped would flower in time.  “Uncle?”

I kept my face carefully bland.  Gabby and Juliana - her mother - normally travelled alone.  It had been child’s play to enchant them, convincing them I was a very distant relative from a cluster of magical bloodlines linked to their own.  The secret to permanently enchanting someone was to let their own minds fill in the details, to cover any holes before they were ever consciously realised.  It helped that I meant them no harm.  Juliana was a travelling magician, with a speciality in charms.  Her wards would have tried to rebuff me if I’d wanted to do anything beyond hitching a ride.

“No,” I said, honestly.  It felt strange to be called uncle, although it was the custom for distant relatives in the travelling families.  Juliana had convinced herself we were too closely related to be partners, with - I will admit - a little nudge from me.  “But it is a beautiful place.”

I leaned back as the travelling convoy made its way towards Yolanda City, capital of the Principality of Yolanda.  Lord Ashworth had been right to insist the city was really nothing more than a large town, not much bigger than Dragon’s Den.  The Principality of Yolanda itself was small, located within a handful of mountain valleys that could be traversed within a day.  And yet, it was the mountains that made the tiny kingdom so important.  As long as it controlled the passes, it was effectively invulnerable.  I’d read the reports as I’d made my way to the traveller camp.  The king was definitely working a delicate balancing act with the surrounding countries.

The view was gorgeous, I conceded.  Towering mountains, their peaks hidden in the clouds; deep valleys, hidden within the rocks, filled with forests and lakes and wild animals.  The roads were in good condition, better than many.  A kingdom that depended on trade for its wealth couldn’t afford to make life hard for traders.  It was a surprising show of common sense, coming from a monarch.  My experience had taught me that most kings and princes were self-centred assholes.  Earl Bitterhop, who’d suffered a tragic accident not too long ago, had put tariffs on traders to boost his revenues and then wondered where the traders - and his revenues - had gone.

The convoy kept moving up the road, heading to the gates.  Yolanda City seemed to be built into a mountain, the narrowing valley walls sealing off the city on two sides and forcing anyone who wanted to visit to come from one of two directions.  The walls looked almost organic, as if they’d grown out of the mountain.  I was fairly sure someone had used stonecarving magic to build the city, although it was hard to be sure.  It was astonishing what one could find in tiny isolated kingdoms.  A man could spend his entire life travelling, researching techniques unknown in more populated regions.  My brothers and I had talked about it, back when we’d been young and foolish.  There was a part of me that still wanted that life for myself.

My eyes narrowed as I spied a giant statue just outside the gates.  It was carved in the traditional style, making the subject look so muscular he’d probably fall over backwards or collapse under his own weight.  The subject was a young man, with a face so handsome I knew the carver had been given strict orders to blot out all imperfections.  His stone hand rested on a stone sword as he struck a vigilant pose, ready to defend his kingdom against all comers.  I rolled my eyes in disdain.  Anyone who tried to hold that pose for more than a few seconds would be in no state to fight by the time the enemy came into view.  And yet, there were some curious spells woven into the statue ...

Gabby sighed.  “He’s so handsome.”

“He doesn’t look anything like as handsome in real life,” I told her.  King or prince, I didn’t know.  Either way, the statue told a lie.  “Don’t let him trick you into thinking he’s a good guy.”

“No,” Juliana agreed, as she clambered out of the rear of the caravan and took the reins.  “Put not your trust in cityfolk.”

I hid my amusement and settled back to wait.  The travellers were almost brutally honest with one another.  They might drive hard bargains - they haggled amongst themselves as savagely as they haggled with outsiders - but they never pretended to be anything other than what they were.  They kept their word, even when it would be more advantageous to break it; they never lied, not even diplomatic lies.  It often put them at odds with cityfolk.  They often had to lie, cheat and steal to get ahead.  It was no way to live.

“Are you going to be staying here?”  Juliana looked at me.  “Or will you be coming with us further along the road?”

“I don’t know,” I said.  There were limits to how long I could stay.  Juliana might be convinced I was a distant relative, and she was probably glad of an extra pair of skilled hands, but she wouldn’t want me to stay forever.  I understood.  The custom of always welcoming relatives had a few disadvantages.  “It depends on what I find here.”

I closed my mouth as the convoy shuddered to a halt in front of the gates.  There shouldn’t have been more than a couple of guardsmen on duty in peacetime, but I counted seven guards standing by the gatehouse and five more on the battlements overhead.  I was sure there’d be others waiting in the barracks, weapons at hand.  They looked tough and professional, a far cry from the indolent city guardsmen I’d seen elsewhere.  It looked as though the kingdom was preparing for war.  I watched the convoy father - the elected leader of the convoy - talking to the guards, wondering if I’d have to abandon the caravan and sneak into the city.  It wouldn’t be hard.  I could levitate over the walls if necessary.

The guards checked papers, then eyed the caravans as if they were considering searching them before allowing us into the city.  It was surprising.  Most guards knew better than to risk poking through magical convoys.  The risk of being hexed - or worse - was just too high.  And yet ... the gates opened, allowing us to make our way into the city.  I frowned as we passed through the gatehouse.  They’d readied boiling oil to greet unwelcome guests.  It really did look as though they were preparing for war.

Gabby had been chattering happily, but she fell silent as soon as we passed through the gate.  Fear hung in the air.  The streets were largely deserted.  I saw a handful of men - no women - hurrying along the pavement, eyes lowered to the cobblestones.  My eyes flickered from side to side, taking in the scene.  The homes were built of gray stone, their doors firmly closed.  Statues were everywhere, all showing the same aristocrat in a number of different poses, from brave warrior and leader of men to stern father and master of his country.  It was hard to hide my contempt.  Anyone who felt the need to promote himself so blatantly clearly suffered from more than a few insecurities.  Perhaps that explained the soldiers on the gatehouse, too.

They could be invaded at any moment, I thought.  The town wouldn’t be easy to take, without magic, but an invading army wouldn’t need to storm the walls to bring the kingdom to heel.  I doubted they’d stored enough food to feed the entire population long enough for help to arrive.  They might be making a show of strength to disguise their weaknesses.

I snorted, inwardly.  That wasn’t going to work.  Anyone conversant with power would pick out the insecurities and take advantage of them.  There were hard limits on how many men the country could prepare for war, let alone put in the field.  Yolanda’s real defence lay in its location, and its magic.  And yet ... I didn't like the fear hanging in the air.  It felt as if the entire town was holding its breath, waiting for something awful to happen.

The silence seemed to grow worse as we made our way to the magical quarter.  There were guards and soldiers on every corner, stamping up and down as though they owned the place.  They looked depressingly alert, sharp eyes flickering over us ... they didn’t even linger on Juliana and the other women, even though traveller women had a reputation for being loose.  That was odd, worrying even.  What were they so afraid of?  They wouldn’t have let us through the gatehouse if there’d been an invading army outside the walls, even if the army had been on the other side of the town.

“It should be busier,” Juliana said, quietly.

I nodded in agreement as we drove into the marketplace and found a spot.  The magical quarter was livelier than the rest of the town - there were more cityfolk and less guardsmen on the streets - but it should have been busier.  It should have been a lot more lively.  I spotted a handful of shops, boarded up and heavily warded.  Abandoned?  It took a lot to convince magical shopkeepers to cut and run.  The mobs knew better than to risk challenging the wards.  Even invading armies would hesitate.  

I didn’t like the look of it at all.

Lord Ashworth should have sent more spies, I thought.  I jumped to the ground, then helped Gabby to scramble down.  He clearly didn’t realise how bad things have become.

Juliana opened the rear of the caravan, then started to pass down boxes of trade goods.  I helped her with a will, payment for my passage.  The travellers might feel obligations towards their relatives, but those relatives had obligations to them. too.  If they wanted to travel with their fellows, they had to help out.  I didn’t mind.  Magical society operated on similar rules.  And besides, it would help keep the charm in place.

“Gabby will show you where to put everything,” Juliana said, as she cast a pair of spells to shelter the makeshift stall from the weather.  “I have to talk to Toby.”

I watched her go, then quietly tested her spells and reinforced them.  Juliana wasn’t inept, not by any reasonable definition of the word, but she lacked raw power.  She’d certainly never had the chance to go to Whitehall.  Her charms wouldn’t hold up forever.  Gabby darted around, dragging some boxes into the light while pushing others under the caravan.  I gave her a hand, listening with some amusement as she ordered me around like a servant.  She was a good kid, I decided.  I hoped she’d have the chance to go to school.

“That’s it, Uncle,” Gabby said.  “Well done.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I straightened, making a show of rubbing my back as I looked around.  Juliana was talking to the convoy father and a handful of others, their voices too low for me to hear without using magic.  I kept looking around, my eyes lingering on the statues.  They looked brave and noble and true, and yet there was something about them that made me uneasy.  Golems?  Homunculi?  It was possible.  A small army of stone warriors would be enough to stop invaders in their tracks.

But there are spells they could use to shatter the statues, I thought.  No one would risk relying on stone warriors to defend the kingdom indefinitely.

Gabby caught my hand.  “Can you teach me some magic?  Mummy says I’m too young, but I can do it and ...”

“You are too young,” I said.  My father had pushed the limits of experimentation as far as they would go - and even he had hesitated to risk developing a child’s magic before they were old enough to handle it.  Gabby’s magic would bubble out of control if she came into it too early, turning her into a deadly threat to everyone ... including herself.  “Your mother is quite right.”

“About what?”  Juliana came up behind us, looking grim.  “What am I right about?”

“Nothing,” Gabby said, quickly.

“Really.”  Juliana shook her head.  She sounded more resigned than angry.  “She’s been pestering everyone to teach her magic.”

I nodded.  I’d wanted to learn magic at a young age, too.  “It will come, in time.”

“Yes,” Juliana agreed.  “Can you go fetch our supplies?  Gabby can go with you.  She knows what to get.”

“Of course,” I said.  It was my duty - and besides, it would give me a chance to see the town properly.  “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Gabby seemed oddly nervous, the moment we stepped outside the marketplace.  The fear struck us like a physical blow.  It permeated the air, even on the magical streets.  She clutched my hand and I let her, as my eyes scanned for threats.  There were none.  I couldn’t even see any footpads or pickpockets lurking in the alleyways.  The handful of people on the streets shot us sidelong looks as we passed, but did nothing.  It was astonishing.  I’d never known a vibrant magical community to be so ... quenched.

We kept walking, passing a handful of shops.  Some were boarded up.  One, I noted, belonged to Mistress Layla.  She - or someone - had put up strong wards, in hopes of keeping out intruders.  I tested them gently, then made a mental note to go back after dark to properly search the shop.  The wards didn’t feel very individualistic.  There was something so ... formal ... about their construction that suggested they’d been put together from a textbook.  It was odd.  An alchemist would normally tune their wards to meet their needs.

Unless she had something she wanted to hide, I thought.  It wasn’t uncommon.  Mistress Layla might easily have gotten bored and started to experiment, pushing the limits to see how far she could go.  Or someone in town might have been spying on her.  That wasn’t uncommon, either.  She might have cloaked the real protections behind half-assed wards.

I put the thought aside for later consideration as we reached one of the few shops that were still open and stepped inside.  Gabby cheered up the moment the door closed behind us, running to the jars of sweets the owner had conveniently placed by the counter.  I smiled, then turned my attention to the shelves.  The general store had everything a caravan could need, from camping gear to basic magical supplies.  Gabby collected everything we needed, then shot me a beseeching look.  I smiled again and ordered her a bag of local sweets.  Her mother wouldn’t mind.

“We’re new in town,” I said, as I paid for our supplies.  “What’s been happening recently?”

The shopkeeper paled, then frantically shook his head.  I sighed, realising he wasn’t going to tell me anything.  I could have made him talk - his wards weren’t strong enough to stop me - but that would have been far too revealing.  I had no idea what was going on.  Instead, I took the bag and headed to the door.  Gabby joined me as we stepped outside.  The sky was shading to dusk.  It wouldn’t be long before it was completely dark.

A pair of shapes stepped out of the alleyway, blocking our way.  “What do you have in that bag?”

Gabby shrank back against me.  I frowned as the two guards approached.  They looked professional, but also ... scared?  It was hard to be sure.  They weren’t frightened of me, but ...

“Open the bag,” the leader ordered.  Behind him, the street cleared rapidly.  “Now.”

Cold logic told me I should do as they said, to maintain my cover.  I ignored it.  Guards couldn’t be allowed to harass magicians on the streets.  It set a terrible precedent.  I reached out with my mind, assessing their defences.  Someone had given them charmed armour.  It wasn’t a bad design, but it wasn’t anything like as effective as they thought.  I could have done a better job in my sleep.  They’d left so much of their skin exposed, it would’ve been easy to kill them.

Instead, I cast a compulsion charm.  “You have searched our bags and found nothing,” I told them.  Their eyes went dull as the charm took effect.  I could have made them say or do or believe anything.  The temptation to cast an incontinence charm was almost overwhelming.  I resisted it, somehow.  “And now you will let us go.”

They looked stunned as I caught Gabby’s hand and led her past the guards, casting a second charm to scramble their memories on the way.  I wasn’t concerned about a small army of guardsmen showing up to arrest me - I doubted they’d try to arrest a traveller, not for something as minor as charming a guard - but I didn’t want to attract attention.  By the time the guards worked out what had happened, their memories of the last few minutes would be so thoroughly scrambled they wouldn’t recognise me if I walked up and punched them in the face.  There’d be no way they could point a finger at us.

Gabby held out the bag as we reached the caravan.  “Mum?  You want one?”

Juliana took a sweet, then glanced at me.  “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“No, thank you,” I said.  It was tempting, but I had work to do.  Somehow, I doubted the convoy would be staying much longer.  I’d have to ditch them if they left early, which would make maintaining my cover a little more problematic.  “I need to go have a night on the town.”