Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (36 page)

Emily rather doubted that the trick had fooled anyone, which did raise the question of just what Imaiqah’s father thought he was doing. She pushed the thought to one side and allowed Imaiqah to lead her through a corridor and into a massive room, where several dozen craftsmen worked on a number of projects. Several of them were putting together a new version of the printing press–one that might allow printing in the local language, without using English letters–although it looked incredibly cumbersome compared to the original models. But it might make it easier for the printing press to be adopted by the nobility.

Most of the craftsmen were men, she noticed, but there were a couple of young girls working at their own tables. One of them was a woodworker, slowly putting together a child-sized abacus; the other seemed to be working beside an older blacksmith who watched her with a gimlet eye. It took Emily a moment to realize that the girl was working charms into the metal, making it safer to use. They hadn’t quite solved all of the problems presented by inferior metals just yet.

“You’ll want to see this,” Imaiqah said, pulling Emily over to a large machine at the far end of the room. “It was built from your designs.”

It seemed to be nothing more than a giant metal container hanging over a fire, which was carefully tended by two young men who glanced at the girls whenever they thought they weren’t looking. The container was connected to a smaller set of containers, which released puffs of smoke at regular intervals. She couldn’t help smiling as she realized that it was a working model of a steam engine. Another one was being put together by a team of blacksmiths and craftsmen.

Imaiqah was wrong, Emily saw, as she studied the half-completed model. Her original design had been badly flawed; the theory had been right, but local science and metalworking was simply not up to the task of turning it into a working model. But she’d given them ideas and some genius had outlined one that was actually within their capabilities. They might still have needed spells on the boiler to ensure that it didn’t burst, but it should be capable of powering a locomotive or steamboat.

The craftsman waved at Imaiqah. She pulled at Emily’s hand again, tugging her into a small side room. It had a large bathtub of water positioned right in the center of the room. Emily frowned, puzzled, before the craftsman dropped a small boat into the water. A moment later, it began to move of its own accord. The locals would take it for magic, she knew, but instead it was nothing more than science. There was a tiny steam engine inside the boat. If Boy Scouts could build them, why not skilled craftsmen–once they’d gotten the idea?

“I’ve been showing this off to fishermen and traders,” the craftsman said. His accent was different to Imaiqah’s, suggesting that he came from a different country. “Most of the smaller operators don’t like the idea of abandoning their sails, but the bigger traders think that it will be brilliant, once we manage to build a full-sized steamboat.”

Emily nodded in agreement. Steamboats would transform the world, making it much easier to build trading networks with the other continents. The necromancers would have real problems stopping them, which suggested that–in the long term–the Allied Lands might be able to build up a position away from their interference. And then, if they built new weapons, they might even be able to cleanse the Blighted Lands.

But millions of people would still be at risk
, she thought. It would be impossible to evacuate the Allied Lands; even her own world, with far higher levels of technology, couldn’t have evacuated a whole continent. Maybe new positions could be built up overseas, eventually producing the reinforcements that would beat the necromancers. Or maybe it was just a pipe dream.

“Building the rails is proving harder, but we’re working on it,” Imaiqah explained, as they walked back into the main room. “The real problem is obtaining enough iron to make them–most of the mines are owned by the barons and they’re not keen to sell, unless we pay them vast amounts of money. My father has been trying to look for other sources in the mountains, but that will raise its own problems. The nearest kingdoms might object.”

Emily smiled inwardly, wondering if her friend–or anyone else–truly understood what was being born in the converted warehouse. The whole world would be transformed by steam power–and how long would it be, she wondered, before they made the jump to electrical power? She hadn’t been able to work out how it had been done on Earth, but she knew it was
possible
. Perhaps she should have spent more time studying the latter parts of the industrial revolution. And then there was nuclear power…

“Your father has good reason to be proud,” Emily said, finally. “How far are these ideas spreading?”

“Well, the basic technique is already out,” Imaiqah admitted. “We’ve heard rumors that Drake–one of the free cities–is working on producing its own steam engine design. Other kingdoms have been quiet on the matter, but we have had quite a few visitors. If something happens here, the idea will still be out in the world.”

And someone will use it
, Emily thought.

Imaiqah led her back outside, into the bright sunlight. “I’d prefer not to go back to the shop,” she said. “Would you like to explore the city?”

“Why not?” Emily asked. She grinned at Imaiqah ‘s expression. “You don’t want to go back to work?”

“It’s just
counting
, and minding the store,” Imaiqah said. “Just because I have magic…well, no one dares to steal from us, but it’s
tedious
. And Johan keeps glancing at me oddly. And sometimes other magicians come in and offer to marry me.”

Emily started to laugh. “You too?”

Imaiqah stared at her. “You
too
?”

“Yes,” Emily admitted. She hesitated, then plunged on. “Jade offered to marry me.”

“That was nice of him,” Imaiqah said. “But are the two of you really suited to be together? You come from very different backgrounds.”

Emily snorted. Her friend didn’t know the half of it. “I don’t know,” she said. “Do
you
want to marry him?”

“I could do worse,” Imaiqah said. “If father hadn’t become so rich, I might have been pushed into marrying one of the other magicians. But right now he’s holding out for another match.”

She grinned up at Emily. “And that is all your fault,” she added. “So…
thank you
!”

Emily had to laugh. “There have been quite a few other suitors,” she said, changing the subject. “And poor Alassa has twenty-two princes after her!”

I
T FELT WRONG TO ADMIT IT,
but there were times when Emily felt more comfortable with Imaiqah than Alassa. The royal princess could be overbearing and thoughtless at times, both character flaws that could never be ascribed to Imaiqah. And besides, Alassa had to act more like a princess when she was at home. Alassa was fun, but Imaiqah was steady.

They compared notes on marriage proposals as they walked through the streets, exploring the city. Imaiqah, being a new-Blood Magician, had had quite a few offers, all from local magicians interested in using her blood to boost the vigor of his children. Some of the offers had been relatively good ones; she would have no other obligations, apart from bearing children. In a sense, she wouldn’t even be the magician’s wife. As long as she was careful, the magician had assured her, she could take lovers.

“I was warned that it would only get worse as we grew older,” Imaiqah said. “Second-years can be approached directly, rather than talking to parents and guardians. If someone makes a magical oath…”

Emily winced. She
had
made an oath, one that she suspected would return to haunt her in the future. If someone swore to marry someone, or bear his children, they risked the oath rebounding on them if they broke their word. A young girl like Imaiqah would be in particular danger…but then, she
had
been warned of the possibility. No one had ever told Emily that people might try to marry her, just because of her genes.

They probably assumed that Void told me
, she thought. Or perhaps it was simpler than that, more fundamental. The boys she knew always affected a peculiar deafness when anything approaching women’s matters were mentioned. They’d been too embarrassed to even
think
about it. But then, it was much simpler for the guys.

She looked over at her quiet friend and shook her head. “Do you
want
to marry?”

“I don’t know,” Imaiqah said. “I do want to have children one day…but I haven’t found anyone I would actually like to marry. And father would insist on having a say.”

“He does seem to boss you around and keep you working,” Emily observed, neutrally. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have you putting up wards everywhere for money.”

Imaiqah shrugged. “Basic wards that keep out mundanes are easy,” she said. “
You
ought to know that, after all those lessons in Martial Magic. No one wants to hire me for that. Keeping out another magician, let alone a sorcerer…my wards won’t stand up to them for more than a few seconds. You could break in simply by applying enough force to the ward.

“But I could be worse off,” she added. “Poor Alassa will have to put up with her husband for the rest of her life, no matter how horrid he is.”

They walked through the middle of a vast market. No one paid them any attention, apart from a handful of children who ran up and begged for money. Emily felt something twisting inside her heart, but she knew better than to actually give them anything. Mistress Irene had made it clear, on her second visit to Dragon’s Den, that it merely encouraged the beggars–and the children rarely managed to keep their gains. Their older masters would take the coin and give them scraps, if anything, in return. Any objections would result in a beating.

“Your father should adopt some of these kids,” she muttered, as the beggar children ran on to seek other victims. “Why are they even here?”

“Richer folk come to the market,” Imaiqah explained. “And some of them are quite happy to give the children coin.”

She hesitated. “Why would my father want to adopt them?”

“Buy a large house and turn it into an orphanage and school,” Emily suggested. Some orphanages could be awful, but surely they could find a staff willing to work without treating the kids like monsters. “They’d have enough of an education to be able to repay him when they were adults. And he’d have a small army of loyal servants, willing to support him later on.”

Imaiqah shook her head. “It’s not that easy to escape a life on the streets,” she pointed out. “The street children are always seen as thieves and murderers–or worse. Not many people would give them a chance.”

Emily shook her head in dismay, but said nothing. Instead, she allowed Imaiqah to buy a handful of oddly-shaped fruits from a stall and pass her a couple to eat. It was hard to figure out how to eat them–the skin was leathery and looked inedible–until she saw Imaiqah use her fingernails to tear one open, revealing a juicy white mass inside. The fruit tasted unfamiliar, but nice.

One of the later stalls was selling abacuses, ranging from very crude designs to one that had been decorated by the craftsman who’d produced it. The stall
next
to it was offering lessons in using an abacus, with a handful of young men and women signing up for tuition. Emily looked up and saw a lesson in the alleyway, with one young man showing the others how best to use the devices. It didn’t take long to master the basics, Emily knew, and then they could advance on their own.

She picked up the decorated abacus and studied it. Back home, it would probably have been mass-produced, but here it would have been designed and produced by a master craftsman. It was covered in a numbers motif, suggesting the triumph of Arabic numerals over the old system. Emily couldn’t help admiring the skill and dedication that had gone into the work. What would happen to the craftsmen, she asked herself, when the techniques for assembly-line production were worked out? Somehow, she knew it would be almost as disruptive as the new numerals had been for the accounting profession.

“I think I’d like to buy this,” she decided, suddenly. A quick glance revealed that the seller wanted one gold piece for the abacus. “Maybe…”

“Let me do the bargaining,” Imaiqah said, quickly. “I’ve
seen
you try to bargain.”

Emily flushed. Bargaining wasn’t a skill she had managed to acquire; she always wound up paying more than strictly necessary for almost everything. Imaiqah stepped forward and sweetly pointed out that one gold piece was excessive unless the gold piece was very small; surely the seller could see that no one would buy it at that price. Twenty minutes later, they finally came to an agreement; Emily could buy the abacus for three silver pieces. She produced the coins from her pouch, watched the shopkeeper check them carefully, then picked up the abacus. Imaiqah had to remind her that it needed to be wrapped up first.

“I can deliver it,” the seller offered. “Where do you want it to go?”

“My home,” Imaiqah said, before Emily could mention the castle. She gave him her address and accepted a receipt, then turned back to Emily. “You can pick it up when you next come to visit me, although if there really
is
a cockatrice in your luggage…”