Bookworm III (11 page)

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

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

“Your Majesty,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And serve as a hostage
, she thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Nine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was nothing fun about being under military occupation.

“Hey!” A voice snapped. “Stop right there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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