Bookworm III (31 page)

He smirked, then gave her a long considering look. “You are to stand over there and watch calmly,” he ordered. “Whatever happens, you are not to move from that spot until I give you leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said, defeated.

She walked into the corner and turned to face the ritual circle, wishing she could close her eyes. The red-robed magicians had appeared out of nowhere and were marking the outer edge of the circle with blood, sealing in the magic. But the Emperor’s orders wouldn’t let her do anything but watch helplessly. The children looked sweet and innocent as they waited, dressed in white robes that glittered in the candlelight. Maybe they weren’t as innocent as they looked, but it hardly mattered. Compared to the sins of adulthood, childhood was an innocent time.

“We begin,” the Emperor said, as he stepped into the circle and walked to the centre, careful not to step on any of the lines or runes. “Let us commence the ritual.”

The red-robed magicians started to chant, rapping out words in a harsh-sounding language that echoed with magic. Charity shivered as she felt the magic – cold, unfamiliar magic – drifting into existence, shimmering around the chamber. The chanting grew louder, including a handful of names she knew to belong to long-forgotten gods. Light flared around the circle, brilliant blue-white light, while shadows built up at the edge of the room. And ...
something
started to manifest in the chamber, as if it were slowly imprinting itself into the human world.

She should be panicking, she knew, but the Emperor’s orders had cast an inhuman calm over her as she watched. The chanting reached a crescendo, then stopped; silence hit like a thunderbolt, broken only by faint sounds of breathing from the magicians. Charity watched, helplessly, as the shadows grew stronger, as faint
things
moved in the darkness. If it hadn’t been for the light of the ritual, she was suddenly sure, they would all be dead by now. There was something out there, just watching them ...

“This is our time,” the Emperor said. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking in the standard tongue for her benefit or for the children, but it hardly mattered. “The wheel has spun once and we are now free to walk the world once again. And soon, he who is gone will return.”

Magic surged around him, then the crystals lit up with blinding light. Charity half-covered her eyes as the light grew brighter, then she heard the children start to scream. The drug, whatever it was, had been cancelled by the spell. She stared as the children withered away in front of her, their bodies collapsing into dust. Magic pooled around them, then snapped away as soon as their bodies were completely gone. The crystals flared one final time, then faded to a dull white glow.

“They come,” the Emperor shouted. “They come!”

Charity saw ...
something
form out of the darkness, then vanish before she could get a proper look at it. Another followed and another, until there was a whole stream of ...
things
appearing out of the shadows. Some seemed tiny, barely larger than a cat or dog; some appeared so vast that the entire chamber seemed unable to hold them. She had to remind herself, as she tried to get a better look, that creatures of pure magic might not be comprehensible to human eyes. There was something about them that made it impossible to get more than a vague impression of their shape and form, if indeed they had either. The entities were so completely inhuman that, in comparison, werewolves and vampires were practically human.

There was a final flare of light, so bright that she had to cover her eyes despite the Emperor’s orders, then the room plunged into darkness. No, she realised slowly; the candles were still burning. And yet, the room felt dark. She blinked, several times, then rubbed her eyes until tears started to form. The ritual had finally come to an end.

She looked towards the centre of the circle and stared. The Emperor was lying on the ground, his red outfit torn to shreds. For a long moment, she thought – prayed – that the forces he’d been manipulating had killed him ... and then he slowly, casually, rose to his feet and looked around. Charity had to fight back a gasp. His face was covered in tiny scratches, each of which had drawn blood. His bare muscular legs were also scratched, so deeply that blood was trickling down his skin and pooling on the floor. The gods alone knew what it would do when it interacted with the remaining magic in the chamber.

The Emperor muttered something, too tired to be loud. There was a flicker of magic, then the scratches healed and his blood vanished. Charity hoped he’d lost enough to make him ill, or careless, but as he made his way out of the circle a young girl appeared, carrying a gourd of potion. A blood potion, she guessed, as the Emperor took it and drank in one smooth motion, then handled the gourd back to the slave. If he’d practiced such rituals before, a long way from the Inquisition, he would have known to take precautions against accidentally hurting himself.

“Take the dust,” the Emperor said, to his sorcerers. “Place it in storage for later use.”

Charity felt sick. Only the vilest of arts used human remains; she’d been told, years ago, that anyone trying to practice such arts had to be stopped as quickly as possible. But the Emperor
was
the highest authority in the land, while the Inquisitors were his slaves. Who could stop him? Certainly not a foolish girl who had managed to swear unwavering obedience before considering
all
of the possible consequences. With each passing day, death, or forced enslavement, or even permanent transfiguration seemed a far better option.

The Emperor walked over to her, holding his head high. “You will accompany me,” he said. “Come.”

Charity bowed her head, realising – for the first time – just how rapidly the air had cleared after the ritual. The sense of ...
presence
had faded, although she still had the jumpy sensation she was being watched. She glanced around, noting how the sorcerers were taking both the dust and the glowing crystals from the circle, then followed the Emperor through a side door and into a hidden passageway that led up a long flight of narrow stairs, all the way to the Emperor’s private quarters. The Emperor sagged as soon as the hidden entrance was sealed, stumbling on suddenly weak legs. Charity remembered the first time Jamal had drunk too much and – somehow – managed to keep her mouth closed. The Emperor would not have wanted to show weakness in front of his subordinates.

“Help me into a chair,” the Emperor ordered. “And then fetch water.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. The Emperor had a whole
collection
of chairs, some of them worth more than an alchemist’s takings for a year. Charity picked one that looked sturdy, then helped the Emperor to sit down. “Please stay still. I’ll find you some water.”

The Emperor’s bathroom was larger than her entire apartment back home, she discovered, as she looked inside. Powerful wards and protective charms stirred uneasily as she looked around, then took a glass of water from the sink. It would be safe to drink, she was sure, thanks to the magic running through the room. Nothing remotely dangerous would be allowed to enter without the Emperor’s specific permission. She carried the glass back to the Emperor, then helped him to drink it. Up close, she was far too aware of a faintly-unpleasant smell surrounding him.

“You’re a good nursemaid,” the Emperor said. “I chose well.”

Charity flushed, angrily. “I’m only doing what seems right,” she said. She briefly considered poison, but the wards would stop her if she somehow managed to break her oaths and survive. “I don’t know many healing charms.”

“They shouldn’t be necessary,” the Emperor assured her. He leant forward, resting his powerful hands in his lap. “Using the knife, cut off my jacket and leave it lying on the floor.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. She didn’t want to do it, but she had no choice. “Hold still, please.”

The Emperor snorted as she cut away his jacket, then stared down at his chest. There were scratches everywhere ... and, under a chest of grey hair, a series of nasty scars that didn’t seem to have healed properly. Compared to the glossy black hair on his head, it was a striking sight. She had to fight to conceal a sudden bout of amusement; did Vlad Deferens, the ultimate macho man, dye his hair?

She sobered as she studied the sight. There were blood clots on his chest that didn’t seem to have been removed by the spell he’d used in the chamber, something that struck her as odd, while some of the scars looked to have been made by creatures rather than by human swords or spells. She hesitated, then walked back to the bathroom to get a cloth and a bucket of warm water, which she carried back to his side. And then, carefully, she started to wipe the blood away from his body.

“You would definitely make a good nurse,” the Emperor said, snidely. “Such a gentle touch. You must have practiced.”

Charity coloured. There were few rules concerning how magicians could have relationships with other magicians – or even mundanes – as long as they were discreet and careful. Her father wouldn’t have been too pleased if she had managed to get pregnant, or had the entire city branding her a slut. Indeed, apart from a handful of kisses she’d exchanged with a boyfriend during her final year at the Peerless School, she hadn’t been intimate with anyone until now. Wiping the blood away from the Emperor’s body was the closest she’d been to a near-naked man.

She looked down at him, silently measuring his looks. A handful of girls would probably consider his rugged features to be attractive, although she knew enough about his politics to know better than to willingly form a relationship with him. Maybe he was vain enough to dye his hair, but there was nothing fake about the muscles on his arms and legs. She’d thought her father was strong, yet the Emperor was unquestionably stronger. It was rare for a magician to put so much effort into developing his muscles.

“Magic is one form of strength,” the Emperor said, as if he’d read her mind. “Muscles, knowledge, discipline ... a cool head in a crisis ... they are all alternate forms of strength, young lady. You can go quite some distance merely by keeping your head when everyone else is panicking.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. She took a breath. “How old are you? Really?”

“Thirty-three,” the Emperor said.

Charity wasn’t sure if she believed him or not. She was no expert, but her father had been in his fifties and
he
barely had the first hints of grey hair in his temple. Maybe
he’d
been dyeing it too, or using a glamour to hide the first signs of old age. And yet ... if someone had spent half of their life experimenting with dangerous or forbidden magics, maybe it would give them grey hair ahead of time too. It wasn’t something she had been encouraged to explore at the Peerless School.

“I see,” she said. “And why do you develop your muscles so well?”

The Emperor snorted. “Didn’t I tell you that life in my homeland is a constant struggle for supremacy?” he asked. “What sort of fool would I be if I drained my magic, without something else to fall back on?”

Charity considered it. She had never really thought about fighting without magic ... or done more than practice duelling, at the Peerless School. But she could see some advantages to being physically strong as well as skilled in magic. The opponent might not have thought to ward himself against a punch to the face.

“Thank you for your touch,” the Emperor said. He pushed himself to his feet, then walked unsteadily towards the bedroom. “I will sleep until I wake. You will go to the Throne Room and handle all business, in my absence, aside from that which touches on the ritual. If any of the sorcerers ask to see me, you will tell them to wait unless it is truly urgent.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. She sighed under her breath – she would need an energy potion to remain awake, although at least she would be spared nightmares – but she rose to do as she was told. “How long will you sleep?”

“As long as necessary,” the Emperor said. “You will have sole charge of the city, in my absence. Don’t do anything that might make it harder for me to regain control.”

“I couldn’t, anyway,” Charity said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I have to serve you.”

“You made your choices,” the Emperor said, coolly. “You have only yourself to blame.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

It hadn’t been a pleasant night. Johan had thought he was used to Elaine’s presence in his head, but he hadn’t really tasted a proper apprenticeship bond. Strange dreams tormented him; some erotic, yet horrific; others nightmarish, yet strangely attractive. By the time he finally gave up on sleep as a lost cause and stumbled into the shower, he felt a curious mixture of refreshed and utterly exhausted. Offhand, he couldn’t recall any of the apprentices he’d read about having the same problem.

But they were partnered with men
, he thought.
Or women, if they happened to be women.

He shuddered as he stared at his face in the mirror, feeling oddly as though he were looking at a stranger. It felt almost as though he should be looking at a feminine face, framed by long brown hair. Elaine’s face. Was that normal, he asked himself, or had they managed to mess up the bond still further? He dressed quickly, then walked down to the dining room, where Elaine, Daria and Cass were seated around the table. None of them looked as if they had had very much sleep.

“Something happened last night,” Elaine said, by way of greeting. “Something bad.”

“Black magic,” Cass said. “I think the whole city could feel it.”

Johan frowned. “Was that why I couldn’t sleep last night?”

“Probably,” Cass said. “Even people with a tiny sensitivity to magic, no real gift to speak of, would have felt
something
. I dare say the whole city will be on edge.”

“More than before, you mean,” Daria said, dryly. “I mean ... we’re only occupied by a few million soldiers and a bunch of strange magicians.”

Elaine snorted, rudely. “I think most people will try to get on with their own lives,” she said, “because it doesn’t really make much difference to them if we have an Emperor or not. But black magic ...? The entire city is going to be worried.”