Bookworm III (39 page)

But it will be a long time before they manage to duplicate everything we do with magic
, he thought.
A very long time indeed
.

He drained the last of his beer, then rose. “I’ll go to bed now, if you don’t mind,” he said, quietly. “Alone.”

“I understand,” Hawke said. He rose, taking one last look at the girls as he moved. “And good luck. I doubt we will see each other again past tomorrow.”

Johan stuck out a hand. “Good luck to you too,” he said. “And good night.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Charity entered the Emperor’s dressing room and stopped, dead. The Emperor stood in the centre of the room, stark naked, while a set of naked serving girls washed his body with warm, sweet-smelling water. She hastily looked away, blushing bright red, and then prostrated herself in front of him. The Emperor laughed, then ordered her to rise to her knees, forcing her to watch. Charity wanted to look somewhere – anywhere – else, but the orders were specific.

“I trust that all the preparations have been made,” the Emperor said, as the girls washed a
very
intimate spot. “And everything is in place?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Charity said. “Lady Aisling sent a note in which she confirms that the Arena is ready for your speech.”

“How good to know that someone can actually do their job,” the Emperor mused. “It’s
such
a pleasant change.”

Charity kept her face impassive with an effort, but suspected it was a waste of time. Lady Aisling and her family had been charged with operating the Arena since time out of mind, as they were politically neutral, while also not being powerful enough a bloodline to produce a Grand Sorcerer of their own. They knew how to handle everything from the acclamation of the next Grand Sorcerer, to the gladiator or beast fights that kept the plebs amused. It might have been short notice, but they’d definitely been able to prepare the Arena for the Emperor.

“But enough of such sweet thoughts,” the Emperor said. He struck a pose as the girls pulled back, allowing her to see everything. “What do you think of me?”

“Very ... masculine,” Charity said, embarrassed. She’d never known a magician to show off his body before, even the teenage boys she’d met at the Peerless School. A magician could be short and fat, yet – with enough magic – he would still have no trouble finding a girlfriend or a wife. “And very wet.”

The girls returned, carrying towels. Charity watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as they dried the Emperor, then left him standing in the middle of the room as they reached for his clothes. She’d honestly never heard of someone hiring maids to help them dress, unless they were old and frail or badly injured. The Emperor was certainly fit enough to don his own clothes and yet ... there was something about the whole affair that struck her as almost ritualistic. Piece by piece, the maids placed items of clothing on his body and then withdrew to pick up the next piece of clothing.

“These undergarments are designed for protection,” the Emperor informed her. “We wouldn’t want anyone harming the family jewels.”

He snickered, as if he’d made a funny joke, while Charity stared at him, perplexed. His chuckles grew louder, then sobered as the girls returned with the outer layers. A Grand Sorcerer would wear black and gold robes, but an Emperor, it seemed, wore only gold. By the time the girls were finished, the Emperor was decked out in gold thread from head to toe, covering every last piece of his body below the neck. Even his hands were hidden behind golden gloves.

“Excellent,” the Emperor said, as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Do I look impressive?”

“You look blinding,” Charity said. “Everyone who looks at you will be very impressed.”

“Good,” the Emperor said. “Let them be blinded with my magnificence.”

He stalked forward, heading for the door. “Follow me,” he ordered. “We’re going for breakfast.”

There was no breakfast provided for her, Charity discovered, as they entered the Emperor’s private dining room. She wasn’t too surprised, but she
was
a little relieved. The entire city – or at least the politically powerful sections of the city – would be attending the speech and all of them would, she knew, see her as the Emperor’s assistant. But would they realise she was his slave? He would probably find it amusing to make her prostrate herself when everyone was watching, even though it would destroy House Conidian. She said a silent prayer for the children, then forced herself to look around the chamber. Private dining room or not, it was large enough for a small army of diners.

The door swung open, revealing Dread. “Ah, Dread,” the Emperor said, wiping his mouth on a golden tissue. “I trust security is in place?”

“No one can enter the Arena without being checked,” Dread informed him, stiffly. “I have seen to it personally.”

“How good to know,” the Emperor said. “And are there any threats?”

“I do not believe so,” Dread said. “The Great Houses are still trying to decide what it means to have an Emperor instead of a Grand Sorcerer, while the others pose no threat.”

“And what do you think it means,” the Emperor said, “to have an Emperor instead of a Grand Sorcerer?”

“More instability,” Dread said. “I do not think it means we will have a peaceful future.”

Charity’s mouth dropped open. She would never have dared say
that
to the Emperor ... but then, Dread’s oaths probably didn’t prevent him from offering good, if unwanted, advice to his superiors. Indeed, she could see some advantages on
insisting
that the Inquisitors could give good advice. Their oaths already prevented them from becoming a major threat to the Grand Sorcerer – or the Emperor.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “And why do you think we won’t have a peaceful future under my rule?”

“You have seven sons,” Dread said. “Fourteen children, if you count daughters. Which one of your children will inherit the Golden Throne?”

Fourteen
children? Charity stared; her father had been older than the Emperor and he’d only ever had seven children. But the Emperor came from a culture where men were permitted multiple wives. It was quite possible that he’d had several wives pregnant at once ... and, given that he was a wealthy man, he could certainly have afforded all the help they’d needed to bring up the children.

“It is a contest, as always, among the heirs of my blood,” the Emperor said, darkly.

“Which will plunge the Empire into instability,” Dread said. “You have fourteen children who can inherit the Throne. Each of them will become the centre of a faction dedicated to placing
them
on the Throne while advancing the interests of their supporters. And, as your culture insists on testing strength against strength, the children you don’t select as your heirs will attempt to overthrow the one you do. The end result will be civil war throughout the Empire.”

The Emperor leant forward, angrily. “Who are you to say such things?”

“I am charged with offering good advice to the monarch, should he or she ask for it,” Dread said. There was a very faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You are quite within your rights to refuse to accept it.”

For a terrifying moment, Charity was sure the Emperor was about to throw a spell at Dread, or simply order him to kill himself. And then he calmed down, so quickly that she would have suspected a spell if she hadn’t been sure his protections would have prevented anyone casting a charm on him. Maybe he’d faked his anger. Her father had once told her that faking anger before one actually became angry wasn’t always a bad idea.

“I thank you for your advice,” the Emperor said, “but the entire Empire was – is – based on the rule of the strong. Choosing the strongest of my heirs to succeed me will be simple.”

“I highly doubt it,” Dread said.

“Then leave the issue to me,” the Emperor ordered. “We will be at the Arena in two hours from now.”

“The crowds will be waiting,” Dread said.

“Let them wait,” the Emperor said. “Charity?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Make the arrangements for us to arrive twenty minutes late,” the Emperor ordered. “We don’t want to arrive
too
early.”

Charity was tempted to point out that the Great Houses valued precision and timekeeping, even in minor matters. Her mother and father had often told her off, when she was a little girl, for showing up to meals more than five minutes late. It had helped to prepare her for the Peerless School, she realised in hindsight, but at the time she had screamed and thrown tantrums, like any young girl threatened with going to bed without supper.

But instead she merely nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

***

Johan hadn’t slept well. Part of him had been dimly aware that the Waving Wand was still buzzing with life, even after the curfew; part of him kept thinking that he should have taken Hawke up on his offer. It was frustrating, immensely so, to know he could have a girl ... and yet know his mistress would
also
know. He couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if he’d actually developed a proper relationship with Jayne, if his father hadn’t tried to meddle. Would Elaine have felt their kisses and lovemaking through the link?

Of course she would have known what we were doing
, he thought, as he pulled himself out of bed and peered out of the grimy window. Dawn was just breaking over the city, greeted by chanted prayers from a hundred temples, but hardly anyone was visible in the street below, apart from a handful of marching patrols.
She would have known what we were feeling, when we were together
.

He shuddered at the thought, then undressed and stepped into the shower. Unlike the magically-powered showers in the Great Library, it was cold and weak; by the time he had washed himself, he was shivering from head to toe. Cursing under his breath, wishing his magic was reliable enough to heat the water for himself, he towelled himself off and dressed again, then took one last look around the room. Somehow, it didn’t quite match the descriptions Jamal had given him, back when he’d been bragging about having a different whore each night. Jamal had talked about fancy rooms, where the girls had worn nothing; the room Johan had been given, for himself, was small, dark and smelly. Perhaps he’d gone to a different place ...

Or perhaps he was lying
, Johan thought, as he picked up his bag and stepped out of the door, closing it firmly behind him.
He certainly loved to lie through his teeth, every damn day
.

He tapped on Elaine’s door, then stepped back sharply as it opened to reveal Daria, wearing absolutely nothing. Johan looked away hastily – the last thing he wanted was for Elaine to realise he was attracted to her best friend – and then stepped into the room. Elaine was dressed, thankfully, wearing a long brown dress that matched her hair. Cass was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” Elaine said, from where she was brushing her hair. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Yep,” Johan said, trying to keep his gaze fixed on the wall. “And you?”

“Make sure you have everything,” Daria said. A rustle behind him suggested that she was pulling her robe over her head. “We won’t be coming back to the rooms.”

“I’ve got my bag,” Johan said. “And you?”

“I have everything I need,” Daria said. “You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

Johan flushed. Behind him, he heard Daria snicker.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, in his most dignified voice. “But I don’t think you’re ever decent.”

Elaine laughed. “He’s got you there,” she said. “I remember you bringing two boys home at once.”

Johan was still bright red as they walked down a single flight of creaky stairs and entered a small dining room. Cass was sitting at a window table, staring out at the nearly-deserted streets. Her blonde hair was glimmering in the light; somehow, she looked years younger and softer. Johan knew she was an Inquisitor, but anyone who saw her without actually
knowing
her would think she was nothing more than a teenage girl, probably from a middle-class family. The act was really quite remarkable.

“Sometimes, people see what they expect to see,” Cass commented, as they sat down at the table. “And no,” she added, as Johan gaped at her, “I didn’t read your mind. I’ve just had that reaction before.”

“You look like a student,” Daria said. “But you smell too good to be a student. No sweat, no fear, no panic in the face of oncoming exams.”

“Luckily, most people won’t notice my smell,” Cass said. “There’s always been a ban on recruiting werewolves into the Inquisition.”

Johan blinked. “Why?”

“We’re meant to be controlled at all times,” Cass said, darkly. “I’ve yet to meet a werewolf who could keep his temper during the full moon.”

“I can,” Daria protested. “I go out and find a man instead.”

“That isn’t an option for most Inquisitors,” Cass pointed out. “Do you know how many crazies there are, running around on the full moon?”

The waitress, a pink-cheeked girl who couldn’t be older than fourteen, marched over to the table and held out a set of menus. “What can I get you?”

“Toast,” Cass said, before anyone else could say a word. “Toast and hot tannin and nothing else.”

Johan sensed a flicker of astonishment from Elaine; beside her, Daria twitched in annoyance.

“You don’t want to eat anything else in a place like this,” Cass informed them. “Trust me on that, really. You’d wind up spending the rest of the day on the toilet.”

“I wouldn’t,” Daria protested.

“Everyone else would,” Cass said.

Johan looked at Elaine, who shrugged. She hadn’t been out of the city very often, Johan knew, and probably had very little experience staying in hotels. When they’d stayed in the Western Hills together, Elaine had done most of the cooking herself. He was tempted to protest, to demand bacon, sausages and eggs for himself, but when he looked towards another early-riser, he saw the man had a plate of foul-looking meats in front of him. His appetite faded very quickly.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.

“Maybe you should,” Elaine agreed.

Cass smiled at the serving girl as she returned with a large pot of tannin, then waved her wand in the air, casting a light privacy spell. Johan frowned, then decided that everyone with anything even remotely private to say would use such spells. They weren’t too difficult to cast, he’d been told, and while they could be broken it was immensely difficult to break one without the caster knowing what had happened.