Bookworm III (35 page)

“Most Noble Inquisitor,” the girl said, as she sat back on her haunches, “the Emperor has awakened and desires your presence. And yours, Lady Charity.”

“Then we shall attend upon him,” Dread said, gravely. “Take us to him.”

The serving girl bowed low, exposing the tops of her breasts, then turned and sashayed off, swinging her hips in time to a beat only she could hear. Charity felt instantly jealous, then looked at Dread and realised he wasn’t impressed. Most of the men who saw the girls fell in lust instantly, but Dread wasn’t affected. Perhaps it was true, part of her mind noted, that Inquisitors were
fixed
. They had nothing to distract them from their duty.

They walked through the long corridor and into the Emperor’s morning room, which didn’t seem to be part of the complex she’d seen the previous night. The Emperor himself was sitting at a table, eating breakfast; Charity gritted her teeth as her body automatically fell into yet another prostration. Beside her, Dread merely nodded, holding his hands behind his back.

“Rise,” the Emperor ordered. “What news do you bring me?”

“I have reviewed the plans for Ida that were drawn up in the wake of the attack on the Golden City,” Dread said. “They called for additional regiments of troops and at least a dozen Inquisitors, none of which could be spared. The Grand Sorceress, therefore, decided to leave the kingdom under Queen Sacharissa, in the hopes she could root out the dark influence within her realm.”

The Emperor snorted. “And she
trusted
this Queen?”

“There was no reason to suspect Sacharissa of anything other than an unfortunate choice of parents,” Dread said. “The Inquisition kept a careful eye on Ida and concluded there was no reason to worry, now King Hildebrand and Prince Hilarion are both dead.”

“I remember Hilarion,” the Emperor said. His lip curved with disgust. “He thought he could become Grand Sorcerer, did he not? And now he is dead?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dread said. “The entire family is dead, save for Sacharissa.”

The Emperor tittered. “She will have to choose her consort carefully,” he said. “Or maybe I will choose one for her, should Ida be free of dark magic.”

He looked up at Dread. “How quickly could the invasion be launched?”

Dread didn’t hesitate. “We would need at least two weeks to get troops into position, then assault up the mountains, if we didn’t manage to trick the Queen into just letting us get our troops right into the city. I assume, if she knew we had bad intentions, we would have to force our way into the capital or lay siege to the city until the population starts to starve. But if she is using dark magic, that estimate may be very badly wrong.”

“It would be possible, I suppose,” the Emperor said. He sounded oddly irked by what Dread had said, although Charity couldn’t see why. “How quickly could we overwhelm the city?”

“It would depend on too many factors,” Dread said. “If the Queen happened to be alert, we would have to fight our way up the mountainside, which would be hideously costly. Ida is a small state, but its geography means that even a tiny handful of defenders can put up a real fight. I think we might be looking at several weeks, at the very least; months, if they have defences lined up, ready and waiting for us. It could go very badly.”

“Then we will need more troops,” the Emperor said. He looked at Charity. “How are we proceeding with recruitment?”

Charity blinked, tiredly. That was one of
her
responsibilities?

“We have started to recruit hundreds of young men,” she said, remembering what had been written on a piece of paper in the vast pile. The Emperor, perhaps wisely, had turned recruiting duties over to a bunch of officers from his homeland. “But there is little enthusiasm for joining the army among mundanes, sire. They are ... concerned that there is no honour in serving in the ranks.”

The Emperor spat. “What a spineless bunch of ninnies inhabit the Golden City,” he sneered. “Small wonder that the last five Grand Sorcerers all came from outside the city limits.”

He didn’t mention Light Spinner, Charity noted. But she rather doubted he counted the petrified woman as anything other than a bump in the road to success.

Or maybe he thinks she proves his point
, she thought, morbidly.
She was born in the Golden City, after all
.

“You will start conscripting from second sons, if they will not come voluntarily,” the Emperor ordered. “Once the barricades are lifted, it will be time to start moving my armies to Ida.”

Dread cleared his throat. “Your Majesty,” he said. “There are other problems that deserve your attention.”

“Ida can serve as a demonstration of both my power and my will,” the Emperor said. “The destruction of the state will break all those who question my right to the throne.”

Charity scowled, inwardly. If she’d never heard of Ida before now, it was unlikely to be as important as any of the larger kingdoms. Destroying Ida might serve as a warning from the Emperor, without risking the already-fragile united economy. Or maybe the Emperor was just acting out of spite. If Prince Hilarion had truly opposed the Emperor, before he’d taken the throne, destroying his homeland could be seen as delayed revenge. Petty and pointless, but perfectly understandable. Hilarion had broken more than a few taboos when he’d stepped up and put his hat in the ring.

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Dread said.

“I will start conscripting,” Charity said. She’d have to tell the recruiting officers to do it, she knew. “But I ...”

She yawned, suddenly, and staggered as her legs suddenly threatened to give out.

“Go take a nap,” the Emperor said, as if he’d given her a great boon. His voice turned sickly-sweet. “Dread can handle the recruiting sergeants, can’t you?”

Dread didn’t look best pleased, but he nodded.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Charity said, as she yawned again. She wasn’t blind to the smirk on his face, or the certainty that he was being kind to someone he considered little better than a pet dog. “I ...”

She yawned. This time, she thought she saw something vast and horrific leaning over the Emperor, something that didn’t seem to quite come into focus. A spider’s web, perhaps, or something stranger. She blinked ...

... And it was gone.

“Go rest,” the Emperor said. “Now.”

Charity obeyed, thinking hard. What
was
that thing? Something real, something the Emperor had summoned, or something else? Dread clearly hadn’t seen anything ... or, if he had, he hadn’t said a word.

And, when she finally reached her rooms and fell asleep, her sleep was plagued by nightmares.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“This is a waste of time,” Cass grumbled, after twenty minutes had passed. “We’re out here, exposed and helpless ...”

“Wait,” Daria urged. “The Levellers wouldn’t show themselves so openly.”

Johan shrugged, keeping his thoughts to himself. Hawke had approached him ... but that had been before his supposed death. Now, Hawke thought Johan was dead, while two of his companions were a Privy Councillor – assuming that Deferens hadn’t already fired Elaine – and a former Inquisitor. He didn’t blame Hawke for being careful, not when his entire organisation was at stake. Deferens was unlikely to live and let live when he felt his power was being challenged.

The waiter came up to them, carrying a tray of drinks. Johan looked up – the waiter looked utterly unremarkable – and took his drink, then frowned as he saw a flicker of amusement on the waiter’s face. There was no glamour, no attempt to magically hide his features, yet he was sure the man was wearing a disguise. The waiter placed the last two mugs on the table, then smiled at them.

Johan took a gamble. “Hawke?”

“Johan,” Hawke said. “The boss has organised the back room for you and your friends. If you would like to come with me ...?”

Johan exchanged glances with Elaine, then picked up his mug of hot chocolate and rose, following Hawke through a back door and up a cramped flight of stairs. The compartment smelt unpleasant, a mixture of beer, urine and something he didn’t want to identify, but somehow he managed to breathe through his mouth until they reached the top floor. A woman – barely older than himself – stood outside a wooden door, smoking. The outfit she wore left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Hawke nodded to her and she stepped to one side, allowing them to pass. Inside, it was a simple business room, complete with table, chairs and a small drinks cabinet. If it hadn’t been for the aroma, and the mundane candles hanging from the walls, it could have passed for one of his father’s meeting rooms.

“Well,” Daria said. She sounded edgy. If the room smelt bad to him, Johan realised, it had to be far worse for a werewolf. “I never knew this was here.”

“This pub is neutral ground,” Cass pointed out. “Having a place for people to meet runs with the territory.”

“You’re very welcome,” Hawke said, putting the tray down on the table. “I should warn you that this place has a strict no fighting policy. Unless you want to take a round or two in the pit downstairs. It’s quite spectacular and people will bet on you.”

“Bare knuckle fighting isn’t my thing,” Cass said. “And I doubt this place could handle a wizard duel.”

“It couldn’t,” Hawke confirmed. “But most magicians who come here don’t want to fight. They want to get drunk, to feel they’re doing something naughty, and then spend the rest of the night with a whore.”

Johan sensed Elaine’s embarrassment at Hawke’s words. He couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed too, as well as amused. Was that what Jamal had been doing when he’d been away at the Peerless School? Maybe there was something to be said for not going to the school, after all. But then, he would have happily worked at the Waving Wand if it had meant getting out of the house for a few hours.

“Please, sit,” Hawke said. He sat down at the end of the table, shedding the last fragments of the waiter persona, and gave Johan a friendly smile. “I thought you were dead?”

“The reports of my death were a little inaccurate,” Johan said, as he sat down. “It was decided, by various people, that the city would be happier if it had a report of my death, so one was written and distributed. I thought they could have exaggerated the report a little, maybe come up with an exciting story, but no one would have believed it.”

Hawke smiled, again. “And you’re here now,” he said. His eyes suddenly sharpened. “Why?”

Cass stood behind her chair and leant on it, as if she was unwilling to sit down. “Why a waiter?”

“A waiter hears much and sees all,” Hawke said, dryly. “And no one ever pays attention to the staff.”

He was right, Johan knew. His family certainly hadn’t paid much attention, at least until the staff had taken advantage of his father’s ... indisposition to flee. Jamal had always been more interested in using the maids for sexual pleasure, rather than regarding them as living beings in their own right. Johan wondered, suddenly, what Jamal might have told the maids while they were sharing his bed, then dismissed the thought. It was impossible to imagine Jamal knowing anything useful that he could babble to his unwilling partner.

“Point,” Cass said. “But what about loyalty spells?”

“Not here,” Hawke said. He rested his hands on the table in front of him, then smiled. “And then, I don’t always work as a waiter.”

“True,” Cass said. “I should have recognised you from the start.”

Elaine cleared her throat. “Why ...?”

Hawke rose and gave her a sweeping bow. “Robert Hawke, at your service,” he said. “You may have heard of me.”

Johan felt Elaine’s astonishment. “You’re a merchant!”

“And as powerless as a Powerless,” Hawke said. He sat down, his eyes hooded. “And what could I do if some magician decides he wants my property – or my wife and daughters?”

“So you joined the Levellers,” Cass said, softly. “Why?”

“He had cause,” Johan said, quietly. Hawke’s daughter had been cursed by a magician, one of Jamal’s friends. Johan had broken the spell ... had that really only been ten days ago? It felt like years. “Believe me, he had cause.”

“Very well,” Cass said. “What’s happening out there?”

“Nothing good,” Hawke said. “Homes are being ransacked, hostages are being taken, daughters have been ravished, a handful of people have been enslaved for daring to protest ... and soldiers are being recruited for the Emperor’s armies. I believe they will even start to conscript young men soon enough, as they haven’t had many volunteers.”

Johan blinked. “Why not?”

“Few people would willingly join the army,” Cass said. “It would be one thing if you got to stand around in a fancy uniform all day, but most soldiers either find themselves chasing bandits or serving as targets for mad magicians. There’s just no one to fight.”

“There might be,” Elaine said, quietly. “Not everyone in the Empire is going to be happy about having an Emperor again.”

“Yes,” Daria agreed. “The events of the last six months weakened the Grand Sorcerer’s grip on power. There are quite a few kingdoms that might declare independence if they thought they could get away with it. Deferens would have to fight a long civil war to put the Empire back together or accept a sundering of his power.”

“He wouldn’t,” Elaine said. “He’s the kind of person who wants it all.”

“Worse than that,” Cass said. “He was raised in a society where endless competition is the order of the day. To beat someone is to claim all they owned, from wives and children to goods and obligations. He won’t allow a state to declare independence; he’ll just see it as another challenge to his power. Civil war will result.”

“Unless the revolts come right up to the mountains,” Daria pointed out. “The Golden City can’t beat the rest of the world on its own, can it?”

“Maybe,” Cass said. “We still don’t know what Deferens was
doing
last night.”

“I was hoping you could shed some light on it,” Hawke said. “Our best guess is that he killed a great many people.”

“Children,” Elaine said. “But we don’t know why.”

“All that matters is that he has to be stopped before things fall apart completely,” Cass said, firmly. “He has to be stopped.”