Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling (17 page)

“The Conidian might go along with that,” Elaine mused. “But would Johan?”

She considered it, quickly. The basic idea was that a junior magician was apprenticed to a stronger senior magician, someone who could teach them – and shut them down, if necessary. But if her darker thoughts about Johan’s true nature were accurate, it was unlikely that they would find
anyone
stronger than him. Light Spinner, perhaps, or Dread ... neither of whom could take on an apprentice.

“It would provide the most protection for him,” Light Spinner assured her. “And it is clear that he doesn’t want to leave you.”

Her eyes glinted. “I could probably turn Howarth Hall over to you,” she added. “If you want it, of course.”

Elaine had to smile. Lord Howarth, her Guardian, had vanished from the city. His ancestral home had been ransacked by his creditors, who’d taken everything apart from the building itself. She was marginally surprised that it hadn’t been sold – land was
very
profitable in the Golden City, particularly if there were gardens attached – but there were legal issues surrounding the Hall that would take years for the lawyers to sort out. Or a word from Light Spinner, if she felt disposed to settle the matter.

“No, thank you,” she said. Howarth Hall had never been her home. She’d often wondered quite why Lord Howarth had served as her Guardian, at least in name; now, she knew that it was one of the Witch-King’s manipulations. Nothing else could have kept him carrying out a role that distracted him from gambling and running up debts. “Burn it to the ground or sell it to the next set of immigrants from far away. I don’t care.”

Light Spinner chuckled, rather unkindly. “You do realise that having land in the city could set you up for life? You would automatically be considered part of the highest nobility in the Empire.”

Elaine shook her head, firmly. Howarth Hall had been stripped, after all. She would have to bring in everything from beds to bookshelves – and a kitchen, and hire staff ... no, taking the hall would mean spending most of her savings on renovating it. Selling the land was a more attractive thought, but she didn’t want anything from Lord Howarth. The gods knew he’d never done anything for her.

“Suit yourself,” Light Spinner said. Droll amusement ran through her voice. “But you may have to find yourself a house if you’re taking on an apprentice. You can’t keep him locked up in the library indefinitely.”

“I know,” Elaine said. She closed her eyes, wondering just what Johan would make of the offer. Student magicians wanted to be apprenticed to great and powerful sorcerers, not librarians. “I’ll ask him, either tonight or tomorrow. And then I’ll let you know.”

She bowed to Light Spinner and Dread, then returned to the library, unable to avoid feeling cold as she walked through the darkening streets. Once, the Golden City had never slept; now, the streets were almost deserted, apart from a handful of beggars and the ever-present City Guardsmen, who eyed her nervously as she walked home. Magic or no magic, Elaine still found them a little intimidating. She had never been a strong woman ...

Back at the library, she checked on Johan and was amused to discover that he’d gone to sleep in a chair, with a book on his lap. Shaking her head, she ordered dinner for herself, checked the wards, then climbed into her own bed without bothering to undress. There would be time enough for a proper wash in the morning, she told herself. Closing her eyes, she meditated for a few moments, then went to sleep.

That night, she dreamt of the Witch-King ...

... And woke up screaming.

Chapter Fourteen

“He turned you into a
rat
?”

Charity nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. Duncan would have wondered if she had been lying to him, if she hadn’t been trembling like a leaf. Whatever had happened in the Great Library had scared her badly and, as soon as she was safe, she had collapsed. No normal transfiguration could have had such an effect. Charity had been Jamal’s victim more than once until she’d learned to defend herself.

But it was great news, wasn’t it? His second son had finally come into his magic!

“So,” he said, carefully. “When is Johan coming home?”

“He said he wouldn’t be coming home,” Charity said. “He said if you didn’t want him without magic, you couldn’t have him
with
magic.”

Duncan could have kicked himself. He’d allowed his disappointment to show far too much – and Johan had now rejected him. And, now that he had magic, it would be hard to claim that Johan would be in danger if he went out of the house. Maybe there was still time to train Johan to take over as Prime Heir – if Jamal were to be executed – but if Johan didn’t want to learn ...

Charity had wanted to learn so badly that she’d asked for a spell that
compelled
her to learn, even when she wanted to slack off. Johan had no such motivation.

And
, his thoughts mocked him,
why should he
?

Everyone knew that mundanes – and Powerless – were crippled. They couldn’t enter into binding agreements, for the very simple reason that they had no magic to uphold the agreements. Nor could a Powerless hope to control even the simplest set of wards, let alone the ancient wards built into the family’s ancestral home. Johan was far from stupid, but he couldn’t have served as Prime Heir. And nor could Charity. As the daughter of a proven breeder – particularly now that Johan had finally developed magic – she would serve far better as a marriage partner for another magician than as Prime Heir.

But if Johan
could
serve as Prime Heir, wasn’t it his duty to the family?

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Charity said, when Duncan said that out loud. There was an expression on her face that reminded him of the day he’d discovered the identity of her first boyfriend, a grim assertion that she would not allow groundings, thrashings or even punishment hexes to dissuade her from her chosen course. She was as stubborn as Duncan himself. “You allowed him to be treated like ... well, badly ... and now he doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Duncan fought down the anger that demanded that he lash out at her. Charity was right – and nothing would change that, no matter how mad he got at her. Instead, he tried to think. He had to lure Johan back, deal with Jamal’s situation – and then somehow turn the whole affair to the family’s advantage. If it got out that his second son no longer wanted anything to do with them ... the family’s enemies would scent weakness. And then they would attack.

“Tell me what he said,” he ordered. “Everything.”

Charity looked mutinous, but obeyed. Duncan listened with growing concern as she explained what had happened, including the minor detail that the Head Librarian had been unable to break the transfiguration spell.
That
was more than a little worrying; Duncan was practiced enough to know that most accidental magic was easy to undo, as long as it didn’t actually kill the target. Casting a spell that could only be undone by the caster required a great deal more practice, far too much for Johan to master in three days.

He closed his eyes as Charity finally came to a halt, swaying unsteadily on her feet.

“Thank you,” he said, without opening his eyes. “You can go – and there will be a reward for this.”

“Thank you,” Charity said. She didn’t sound too pleased with his promise of a reward. No doubt she’d felt as if she were betraying her brother, even though their father had every right to know what was happening to him. “What will happen to Jamal?”

“We don’t know yet,” Duncan said. “Go.”

He opened his eyes long enough to see Charity flouncing out of the room, swinging her hips in a manner calculated to annoy her father, then looked down at the notes on his desk. Jamal was in deep trouble – and there would almost certainly have to be a trial. Light Spinner had pointed out, a smile no doubt hidden behind her veil, that Jamal was responsible for at least nineteen deaths and countless injuries. Mundanes or not, someone was going to have to answer for those deaths.

The Inquisitors hadn’t allowed him to speak to his son, which had been lucky for him. Duncan had intended to force Jamal to give up the names of his allies, names that might have bought him a lighter sentence ... but instead all he’d been able to do was send his son a note, a note that would no doubt be read by every Inquisitor in the Watchtower before Jamal received it. And his son might conclude that it had been
written
by the Inquisitors.

Shaking his head, he reached for another sheet of paper and started to write a formal letter to Johan. He could go in person, but if his second son was as hostile as Charity claimed ... he wrote out a formal note, then tore it up in disgust. Charity had been right; it was far too late to brush aside Johan’s treatment as he grew up. The pranks that had helped Charity and her younger siblings tap into their powers had turned into a never-ending torment for Johan. But what choice had they had?

Magic was the source of power, everyone knew that. And the younger one’s powers developed, the greater their powers would be in adulthood. Everyone knew that too. But if it had taken sixteen years for Johan’s powers to emerge ...

“By the gods,” Duncan muttered to himself. “What have I done?”

Cursing, he started to rewrite the letter. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t quite dare, not when he had a feeling that another Privy Councillor would be reading the letter. Light Spinner had been smart, assigning the Head Librarian to Johan’s case. Her fellow Privy Councillors didn’t take her seriously, not when she was nothing more than a quiet little mouse. But it was clearly time to find out more about her. Even if she was just Light Spinner’s crony, seats on the Privy Council didn’t go to just
anyone
.

Finishing the letter, he called for a maid. When May appeared, he passed the sheet of paper to her and told her to take it to the Great Library. It was late at night, but she would be safe on the streets. There were enough City Guardsmen on patrol to keep thugs and other criminals well away from the centre of the city.

And then he headed to bed.

***

Elaine sat upright, sweat pouring down her face as the nightmare shimmered back into the realms of unreality. Dreams were important, everyone agreed, but they were also the random products of a person’s mind. There were times, Elaine thought, when having so much information in her head was a definite disadvantage. None of the theories had ever been proven, despite countless books having been written to support one side of the argument and discredit the other.

It was hot, too hot. She glanced around, half-expecting to see a fire, before her mind cleared enough to remind her that she was still wearing her full robes. Muttering curses under her breath, she swung her legs out of bed and stood upright, wincing slightly at the feel of the sweaty material against her skin. Her hands refused to cooperate at first; she almost panicked before realising that she’d been dreaming so vividly that the dream-pain had left lingering shadows in her mind. As if the thought were enough, her hands started to work properly, but she still fumbled as she undid her robes and allowed them to fall to the floor.

Some of her fellow students at the Peerless School had worn nothing under their robes, but Elaine had never had that sort of confidence – and besides, making robes jump off a person’s body was a well-known trick. She wore a set of underclothes underneath her robes that hadn’t made her sleep any better; it took her two tries before she managed to pull them off and stand naked in the centre of the room. A simple spell would lower the temperature, but she didn’t dare cast any magic. Her mind was in no state to shape the required spells.

Picking up her robes and underclothes, she carried them over to the basket and dumped them inside for the maids. Maid service was not something she was used to, but she had to admit that it came in handy. The robes she’d worn as a simple library assistant had been easy to wash – or clean with magic – when Daria and she had been living together, but the Privy Council robes required special treatment. She’d actually contemplated suggesting to Light Spinner that they change the heavy robes for something more practical, but the purple robes were traditional and some traditions couldn’t be gainsaid, even by the Grand Sorceress. They represented continuity even when the autocrat’s face changed.

It was useless to go back to sleep, she decided. Instead, she turned and walked into the bathroom, marvelling again at the luxury someone had decided the Head Librarian needed to do the job. Elaine had tried to look it up in the records, but there was apparently no paper that stated just
who
had made that decision, although she would have bet half of her salary that it had been the first Head Librarian. Maybe he or she had been as bound to the library as Miss Prim had been, before the last Grand Sorcerer had died. Or maybe, like Elaine, the first librarian couldn’t be bothered buying a house to suit his dignity.

She snorted at the thought as she twisted the tap, filling the bathtub with water. It would have only cost her a month’s salary to buy a house on the other side of the Four Peaks, but High Society would have sneered, no matter how grand the house. Everyone who was anyone had a residence inside the Golden City, where space was constrained and only the very wealthy could afford anything bigger than a tiny apartment. And where they could reach anyone else of wealth and power, just by taking a short walk.

The Golden City is a microcosm of the Empire
, she thought.
But now the bonds holding the Empire together have frayed
.

She climbed into the bath and let out a sigh of pure pleasure as she sat down, the water coming up to her neck. Hot baths had been an impossible luxury while she’d been living with Daria; their apartment had had no bath and she had never been able to work up the nerve to go to the public baths, even during the women-only hours. Daria had, of course, and she’d filled Elaine’s ears with tales of all she’d seen and heard while bathing. None of them had managed to convince Elaine to overcome her fear of crowds. But now ... now she could soak as long as she wanted.