Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (42 page)

Both girls cast spells at once, directing them at the guards. One guard’s armor overloaded, sending him falling to the floor; the other kept coming, balefire crackling around him without touching his skin. For a long moment, Emily stared in disbelief before realizing that the guardsman was actually a magician in disguise. He lifted one hand and threw a powerful paralysis spell at the two girls. Emily parried it with an effort and threw back a blast of raw power. The magician would have no trouble deflecting it, but he’d be blinded for a handful of seconds. Emily lunged forward, sword in hand, and lashed out with a more focused spell she’d learned in Martial Magic. The magician’s wards failed, just for a long second, long enough for Emily to bury the sword in his chest. He let out a grunt and staggered backwards, toppling to the ground. Emily pulled the sword out and then beheaded him, just to be sure.

There was no time for horror and revulsion at what she’d done. Emily turned and rejoined Alassa, leading her rapidly down the corridor towards the tunnel entrance. They rounded a corner and stopped dead. Seven heavily armed men and two magicians were standing in front of the tunnel, clearly ready to prevent anyone from escaping into the underground network. Alassa used a vile word and lashed out with her magic, but the two magicians deflected it from their companions. Emily caught Alassa and yanked her backwards as the magicians started throwing spells back at the girls. One of them struck Emily’s wards with something that almost knocked them down before they got out of range. Oddly, the guards didn’t seem interested in giving chase.

They have to guard the tunnels
, Emily thought, grimly.
Can’t risk having King Randor or his family getting back to the castle
.

Alassa led the way through a pair of wooden doors and into a smaller chamber that was less ornate than the main hall, but built along the same general principle. The commoners had to sit here, Emily decided, as they ran through the middle of the hall and out towards the commoner exit. There would be guards outside by now, she knew, but if they failed to break out they might as well surrender…no, that couldn’t be risked. Alassa would probably be forced into marriage to one of the barons, assuming the barons were actually behind the plot; Emily herself would be executed. Unless Void came to the rescue…

“Wait,” she said, before Alassa could run out of the building. “We need to disguise ourselves.”

Alassa gave her a blank look, then nodded in understanding. Every girl at Whitehall–and at least half the boys–learned how to use glamors to change their appearance. Some were simple illusions, designed to hint at larger breasts or cleaner faces, others were suffused with tiny compulsion spells which insisted that no one should look too closely. It would be easy to place a more powerful version of the charm on themselves, but it was too likely that they would run into another disguised magician. He might well spot the glamor and then wonder what it was concealing.

Emily recalled the first set of guards they’d encountered and carefully shaped the glamor spell, casting it over them both. As always, it felt faintly odd to be wearing a glamor of any kind; she hadn’t been able to understand why so many girls used them when they made their magic feel a little strange. But then, vanity had never been one of her vices.

“You look like a hairy man,” Alassa said. She giggled, suddenly. “What do I look like?”

Emily frowned. Was Alassa going into shock? The coup had to be the most shocking event in her life, even more shocking–and terrifying–than the moment Emily had almost killed her. She
did
know that people could fall into shock as soon as they had a moment to reflect; God knew she’d certainly felt that way after Void had snatched her out of Shadye’s clutches…and
he
had used a spell to keep her calm.

“Like there’s two of you,” Emily said. She
knew
the glamor was there, so it seemed like an insubstantial shadow concealing the girl below. The guardsman was only an illusion, after all. She took a breath, then transfigured Alassa’s dress into something smaller, small enough that it wouldn’t break the glamor. “Remember you have to walk naturally, not run. The last thing we need is to attract attention.”

She pushed the door open and stepped out into the bright sunlight, wincing as the light stabbed into her eyes. Outside, a small group of guardsmen stood at the edge of the grounds, while others were heading into the building. Emily wondered just what they intended to do with the captives, before pushing the thought aside. There was nothing she could do for them now, apart from keeping Alassa safe and then…she didn’t know. They’d have to work out some kind of solution or flee back to Whitehall.

“Stay calm,” she muttered, as they headed for the gates. The sergeants had told her that you could get away with a great deal simply by acting as if you had a perfect right to do whatever you were doing. Someone who looked shifty, on the other hand, would attract immediate attention. “If anyone asks, we have been sent with an urgent message to the castle.”

The sergeants had also hammered observation techniques into her head, reminding her that combat sorcerers and sorceresses were often called upon to spy. She counted upwards of forty guardsmen near the Assembly, a sizeable percentage of the force legally available to any of the barons. But if someone had determined on a coup, they wouldn’t let little details like a ban on more than two hundred armsmen get in their way. None of the guardsmen wore anything that identified them, suggesting…what? Was their master still unsure of success?

She pushed that out of her mind as they reached the gates, silently cursing Whitehall under her breath. The tutors allowed the students to use glamors freely because it taught them how to sense their presence and peer
under
the illusion. If one of the guardsmen happened to be a magician, he might well realize that two people were trying to escape. Emily nodded to one of the guards as they walked through the gates and out into the streets. No one moved to stop them.

“Thank the goddess,” Alassa breathed. “Back to the castle?”

Emily glanced up the long road towards the castle gates and shook her head. There were squadrons of horsemen patrolling the streets, with heralds bellowing commands for everyone to remain indoors and lock their doors. They didn’t seem interested in giving explanations, Emily realized, although
that
wasn’t too surprising. King Randor was a reasonably popular king–he was certainly more popular than any of the nobles, particularly the barons–and the populace might rise up in his support, if they knew what was happening.

“I think we’d be caught if we tried,” she said. And even if they
did
get into the castle, what could they do? Just sit there and wait for the enemy forces to catch up with them? It probably didn’t matter; by now, the castle had to be crawling with enemy troops. “Where else can we go?”

“The shrine,” Alassa said. “The priestesses would give us sanctuary, but…”

She broke off. “They wouldn’t help us fight back,” she added. “They’re not allowed to involve themselves in mundane matters.”

Emily wasn’t too surprised. From what Alassa had said, the sisters of the crone goddess lived on the very edge of acceptable society. It was easy to see their existence as a challenge to male authority, even if the very concept of male authority was thoroughly absurd. The temples could be closed down and the sisters scattered if they annoyed enough people in power, whatever defenses they might believe the goddess offered them. No, they’d be unwilling to assist openly. It was more likely that they would simply keep Emily and Alassa within their shrine, unable to leave.

“We can’t stay here,” Emily muttered. By now, the faceless enemy would probably have realized that they hadn’t caught Alassa. They’d start hunting for her as soon as they had secured the castle and the garrison. If they worked along the same lines as Dragon’s Den, they might well have secured the gatehouses leading out of the inner city too. “Come on.”

She felt an odd flash of
déjà vu
as they slipped down the stairs where she and Imaiqah had been attacked, barely a week ago. “Stop here,” she ordered, summoning charms Sergeant Miles had taught her. “We don’t want them tracking us.”

The simplest way to track someone, Sergeant Miles had said, was by using a trained dog. There were no shortage of huntsmen in the nobility, all of whom owned dogs; a simple spell broke the trail, making it impossible for the dogs to follow them any further. A second set of spells disrupted the link between Alassa and her father, at least to some extent. But then, Alassa was almost as unique as Emily. Given time, the Royal Bloodline could probably be used as a needle to point directly at her.

There were other ways. Sergeant Miles had tracked Emily and Jade through the forest near Whitehall so effectively that Emily had been
convinced
that he’d used magic. He hadn’t; afterwards, he’d taken them back along their route and pointed out all the subtle hints they’d left that had shown him their path. It would be harder to leave a trail in the city, but…if someone could track them, they’d better be prepared to fight. Who knew
what
would happen once they fell into enemy hands?

They’ll want Alassa alive
, Emily told herself.
But they won’t want me
.

“I’m going to alter the illusion slightly,” she said, out loud. “We won’t look like guardsmen, but ordinary citizens. Just remember to walk with your head slightly bowed.”

“Understood,” Alassa said. Her voice was uneven, but she was holding herself under control. “Where are we going?”

“We need help,” Emily said. And Alassa needed a place to collapse for a few minutes. “There’s only one place we can go.”

“Imaiqah’s,” Alassa said.

Emily nodded, thinking hard. The problem was that their unknown enemy, if they knew
anything
about Alassa, would almost certainly draw the correct conclusion. Alassa didn’t have any friends in Alexis apart from Imaiqah…who else would she run to? And Emily shared the same friend. If
she’d
been in command of the hunt for the missing princess, she would have staked out Imaiqah’s apartment right from the start.

We could go to the warehouse
, she thought, instead.
I could break in easily and then…what?

Nothing came to mind. They needed help and Imaiqah’s family were the only ones who could provide it.

They will be targeted too
, Emily thought, although she wasn’t sure if she really believed it or if she was trying to salve her conscience. The coup might well be aimed at reversing the changes Emily had brought to Zangaria before it was too late, in which case Imaiqah and everyone else associated with the new knowledge would be targeted for elimination. Maybe they had moved too far, too fast; maybe other guilds had feared their own destruction and decided to help the aristocracy strike back.

“Come on,” she said, shaking her head. There would be time to unravel the mystery of who was behind the coup once they were safe. “We need to move.”

They kept to the shadows as they walked away from the castle, heading down towards the docks. The streets were being patrolled by horsemen, who paused long enough to bellow instructions to the citizens, ordering the market sellers off the streets and back into their homes. Here, where people actually had to work daily for a living, there was grumbling and defiance, even outright resistance. The horsemen looked ready to draw their swords and lash into the crowds as Emily and Alassa slipped by them, hidden under the glamor. Passing through the market would also add some more confusion to their trail, Emily told herself. Thousands of people passed through it every day.

“They can’t keep everyone off the streets forever,” she muttered, as they slipped into a darkened alleyway. “The entire city would grind to a halt.”

The thought was chilling. Alexis depended on a constant supply of food from the farms surrounding the city. If that supply line were to be broken for more than a day or two, the citizens would start to starve and then die. The new authorities would have riots on their hands.

Or is that what they want
? She asked herself.
Do they want the entire city dead?

She was tempted just to run into Imaiqah’s shop, but held back, checking out the entire area first. There didn’t seem to be any guards, or magical surveillance, apart from a handful of wards that had Imaiqah’s signature. Bracing herself, Emily stepped into the store and saw Imaiqah sitting behind the counter, her eyes narrowing as she saw the glamor. Emily smiled, allowing the glamor to fade away into nothingness.

Imaiqah stared at them as she looked up. “Emily?
Alassa
?”

Y
OUR HIGHNESS,” IMAIQAH’S FATHER STAMMERED. “WHAT
are…what’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Emily admitted. She ran through a brief outline of the attack on the Assembly, concluding with their escape from the attackers and flight through the streets. “Do you have a place where you can hide us?”

Paren hesitated, studying Alassa thoughtfully. “Hiding you might be difficult, Your Highness,” he said, finally. “You’re quite recognizable.”

Emily couldn’t disagree.
She
could pass for a local, at least once she’d changed into more basic clothes and undone her hair. Alassa, on the other hand, was the result of a breeding program that had produced a stunningly beautiful girl. She’d draw eyes wherever she went, no matter what she wore. Perhaps they could give her a headscarf and claim that she was married, using the scarf to conceal her blonde hair, but her face would still be recognizable. And a glamor might well be noticed once the enemy started searching in earnest.