Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling (12 page)

Elaine made a mental note to have a few words with the hospital’s administrators. Casting a numbing spell was hardly
difficult
. Zacharias had taken out his frustration at wasting time on the Powerless boy, not his far too powerful and well-connected father. Elaine could understand the irritation, but there were definite limits.

“The druid who attended you was an asshole,” Elaine said. She kept her eyes on the tiny cut, noting that it wasn’t even clotting over. It would have been simple to tell him to try to heal himself, but she doubted that he could do it safely. Druids had extensive training to ensure that they didn’t accidentally make the patient’s condition worse. “Don’t worry about it.”

She cast a healing spell and watched as the wound sealed itself up. “Time to try something else,” she said, standing up. “Have you ever tried to cook?”

“The cooks used to let me help in the kitchen, before my mother told me that I couldn’t go bother them,” Johan said, morosely. He seemed rather puzzled by the question. “But I don’t know how good I was at it.”

Elaine smiled, leading him over to the workbench. She opened the compartment underneath the wooden top and produced a cauldron, several bags of ingredients, a bottle of water and a spelled heater, ready to warm up the liquid. Potions could be fun, if one had the patience to do more than memorise a handful of recipes. It still surprised her just how few students failed to work out how to proceed beyond rote learning, even though she now knew more potion recipes than all of the tutors in the Peerless School.

“On the face of it,” she lectured, “a potion could be made by anyone, mundane or magical. But potions, certainly anything involving magical ingredients, require a magician to make them. Why would that be the case?”

Johan thought about it, furrowing his brow. “Because magic is needed to work with magic?”

“Close enough,” Elaine said. “The art to potions isn’t just brewing, but mixing together the intrinsic magic in the ingredients.
That
requires the power of a magician to manipulate the potion while it is being prepared. A skilled brewer will eventually gain a
feel
for how potions work that will allow them to develop newer and better potions.”

She set up the cauldron with practiced ease, then poured in the water. “I took the liberty of preparing the ingredients earlier, she said, as she stepped aside to allow Johan to stand in front of it. “I’m going to issue instructions and you are going to brew.”

Johan nodded, looking surprisingly interested.
That
would probably change, Elaine suspected, no matter the outcome of
this
experiment. Few students had the patience to do more than memorise the simpler formulas. Johan didn’t strike her as having the determination to study and brew until he was an expert.

“Right,” she said. “Start by adding the shredded root weed ...”

Seven minutes later, it was clear that everything was
not
going according to plan. Johan could follow instructions, but his potion refused to blend together into the bright orange liquid Elaine remembered from her studies. The Numbing Potion was a firm favourite among her fellow classmates – she hadn’t realised until midway through her first year precisely why it was taught to them – and it was considered simple to brew. But Johan’s potion was nothing more than muddy water and wasted ingredients.

Elaine wasn’t too surprised. Johan wasn’t in touch with his magic at all, despite being born to a magical family. He didn’t know how to extend his magic outside his body, let alone into the potion. All he could do was cast spells ... it would be enough for him, she was sure, but she knew that they had to unlock the mystery behind his power. Why did he have such odd limits?

“It hasn’t worked,” she said, shaking her head. Johan stirred it frantically, but nothing happened. “We’ll have to figure out a way for you to get in touch with your magic before returning to potions.”

“Charity always made it seem so easy,” Johan muttered, crossly. “Why can’t
I
do it?”

“Because your magic isn’t manipulating the potion,” Elaine said. A thought struck her and she picked up the grimoire from where it lay on the bench. “Put this on your head and see what happens.”

Johan gave her a look that suggested he thought she had gone insane, but obeyed.

“Nothing,” he said, after a long moment. “It’s just a heavy book.”

Elaine took the book back, thinking hard. Even mundanes could sense the wards surrounding the Great Library, but Johan hadn’t noticed a thing. Nor had he sensed the almost stifling presence of the wards in the chamber, or the magic surrounding some of the artefacts on the table, where even an untrained magician should have been able to sense them. His vast power in one field seemed to be matched by almost complete helplessness in others. It just didn’t make sense.

Johan leaned forward. “Are you all right?”

“I need to think of better tests,” Elaine said. She considered, then pushed the thought aside for later contemplation. There were other issues that needed to be addressed. “And I need to teach you how to cancel your spells properly. In fact, we’ll do that now.”

She couldn’t help smiling at his relief, which covered her concern. Johan’s case was completely unprecedented, unlike hers. But there were enough similarities to worry her, starting with the fact that someone seemingly powerless had developed remarkable abilities that might be very dangerous.

Could this be the work of the Witch-King?

Chapter Ten

Where in the name of all of the gods was Johan?

Duncan Conidian tossed the question over and over in his mind, trying to think of a proper answer. There had been tracking spells attached to Johan, but none of them seemed to be working any longer. That was ...
worrying
. Jamal and Charity had both mastered the art of removing such spells, yet Jamal would hardly do anything for Johan and he’d threatened Charity with an awful fate if she even
thought
about removing the spells. As humiliating as it was for Johan to know that his father was watching him, it was far safer for him than letting him wander the streets without some protection. After all, he had none of his own.

But it was three days after he’d vanished and there had been nothing, nothing at all. Duncan couldn’t help imagining his body being found as the Inquisitors and City Guardsmen cleaned up after the riot, but surely someone would have notified him? Or perhaps not; Johan’s mere
existence
was a closely-guarded secret. The family would be shunned if the world knew that they had produced a Powerless. Johan might be dead and no one would ever know.

He’d made very quiet inquiries, but there had been no positive results and he didn’t dare push too hard. Even the people who were completely dependent on his patronage might turn against him if they knew about Johan, or start using the information for blackmail purposes. The family couldn’t take the risk, not when they had a chance to rise to the very highest levels of society. But where was Johan?

Jamal had come home, smirking from one side of his face to the other – and Duncan had interrogated him, wondering if Johan had been transfigured and abandoned somewhere. But Jamal had sworn blind that he’d had nothing to do with Johan’s disappearance and Duncan had been forced to believe him. Asking his eldest son and heir to swear on his magic would have been a grave insult, after all. And besides, whatever cruel tricks Jamal had played in the past, he had never really risked Johan’s life.

Not that you did much to stop it
, he told himself, angrily. Once, he’d thought that Jamal’s bullying would bring out the magic he was so sure lurked inside Johan. And then he’d stopped thinking about his second son altogether. It had been easier to turn a blind eye than face the fact that his bloodline had produced a Powerless. Jamal had been right, all those years ago. Johan should have had his memory modified and been sent to an orphanage. Cruel, but kinder than endless taunting from his siblings.

There was a tap on the door.

“Come in,” he snapped. The hesitant sound told him that it was almost certainly one of the maids. “And it had better be important!”

May stepped into the room, her eyes downcast. Jamal had hired her purely because of her looks, Duncan knew – and she
was
a looker. Duncan didn’t care – his son should learn to be a man in all ways and experimenting with a maid was far less dangerous than flirting with the daughter of another magical family – but Jamal had moved on after a few months of having May in his bed. She’d since tried to seduce Duncan himself, fearful for her position in the household. Duncan’s reaction had taught her never to try that again.

“The Druid Zacharias is at the door,” May whispered. Her voice was barely loud enough to be heard, unsurprisingly. She was absolutely terrified of him. “He wishes to speak with you urgently.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. The
druid
? He’d called Zacharias three days ago for yet another series of tests on Johan; he certainly hadn’t expected to see him again for another year, where they might run yet more tests. Zacharias was lean and hungry, ready to do anything for gold coins, something that made him more than a little untrustworthy. No one knew better than Duncan just how easily oaths could be subverted by a devious magician.

“Send him in,” he ordered. “And then wait outside.”

May bowed and retreated. Duncan cast a handful of concealing charms over his desk – he didn’t want Zacharias to see anything he didn’t have to – and then waited for May to show the druid back into his office. Zacharias looked ...
keen
. That bothered Duncan more than he wanted to admit. The druid definitely knew something ... and wanted something else in exchange.

“There have been developments,” Zacharias said. “Are you aware that your son Johan was taken to the hospital?”

Duncan stared at him, his feelings torn between relief and fear. Johan was safe ... but if they’d tested him, they’d know he was Powerless. And if they’d actually identified him ...

“... No,” he said, finally. “But it is a relief to hear that he is safe.”

Zacharias smiled. “He may also have developed magic,” he said.

It took Duncan several seconds to understand what the druid had said. “Magic?”

“Magic,” Zacharias repeated.

Duncan swallowed, feeling hope swelling inside his heart. “If this is a joke, or a hoax,” he said, “I swear to you that you will regret it.”

“He was apparently caught up in the riot three days ago,” Zacharias explained, pretending to ignore the threat. “For some reason, he was out of it for two days, during which time he was cared for by the Head Librarian and an Inquisitor. As he was one of my patients, I managed to take a look at his record. The tests definitely detected magic.”

His smile grew wider. “And they did some experiments when he awoke,” he added. “One of them apparently damaged the wards in the hospital room.”

Duncan pushed his emotions aside and thought fast. They hadn’t told him, which meant ... what? If they’d tested his blood, they might well have realised that Johan was a Conidian, even if he hadn’t been formally registered. They should have contacted him at once, no matter what had happened, unless ... Lady Light Spinner had ordered otherwise. Just what had happened at the riot? Every magician in the city – and considerably further away – had sensed that pulse.

And Johan apparently had magic. What did
that
have to do with the pulse?

“You said that the Head Librarian was taking care of him,” he said. “Why?”

“I do not know,” Zacharias admitted. “She is no druid.”

Duncan nodded. He’d met the Head Librarian at a couple of Privy Council meetings, but she tended to skip them. And she’d never struck him as a formidable personality, rarely speaking up or doing more than casting a vote when the time came. He’d always assumed that Light Spinner had deliberately appointed a non-entity to the post. Off-hand, he couldn’t recall her ever voting against the Grand Sorceress.

But if she had taken over ... something very odd was happening.

“Thank you,” he said. Zacharias hadn’t
quite
betrayed his oaths by coming to him, but it still suggested that the druid was desperate for money and connections. “You will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Zacharias said.

Duncan called for May. “Show the druid to the door, then fetch me my finest robes,” he ordered, when she appeared. He disliked wearing his Privy Councillor robes inside the house, even though they were charmed to be comfortable. Jamal, on the other hand, wore his finest robes everywhere. “And then I want you to tell my driver that I wish to go out.”

He watched them go, then picked up his wand and badge of office. If his son was in the hospital, he had every right to see him ... even if it would draw attention to Johan. And if Zacharias was wrong ...

If this is a trick of some kind
, he thought,
everyone will know I sired a Powerless ...

His thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous knocking that seemed to resonate through the house. Cursing under his breath, Duncan strode out into the hallway, careful to keep one hand on his wand. He saw Charity appear at the top of the stairs and shot her an angry glare, telling her to remain where she was. He’d grounded her after she’d confessed to letting Johan leave the house without a proper escort.
That
sort of carelessness required harsh punishment, no matter how Johan had talked her into it.

“Open that door,” he ordered, silently cursing inwardly when he realised that Zacharias had yet to leave the house. The druid would probably start talking about the newcomers as soon as he got back to the hospital. “Now!”

May obeyed; three Inquisitors strode in to the house, their faces half-hidden behind grey hoods that hung down over their eyes. Duncan stared, unable to quite hide his dismay; even as a Privy Councillor, he had few dealings with the Inquisition. They reported to the Grand Sorceress and the Grand Sorceress alone.

“I am Inquisitor Dread,” the leader said. His jaw, what little of it could be seen, suggested that he wasn’t a man who would give up easily. It seemed to be made of solid granite. “I have here a warrant for the arrest of Jamal Conidian. You will present him to us at once.”