The Broken Throne

by Christopher Nuttall

  Her eyes rested on the craftswoman, just for a moment. She was a few years older than Emily, with dark hair tied into a tight bun, but there was something about the way she held herself that suggested she was formidable. Emily was tempted to ask how she’d become a craftswoman, how she’d managed to convince someone to take her as an apprentice, but she knew she couldn’t. Asking that in front of the men would undermine the craftswoman’s position.

  She exchanged a few meaningless words with the craftsmen, then Rosen dismissed them back to their tables and led Emily back to the door. A handful of apprentices – and messengers – stood by the door, looking insufferably proud in their new uniforms. They weren’t particularly fancy, not compared to the military uniforms Emily had seen during the war, but they conferred status. The apprentices had good reason to be proud. They were on their way to positions that would make them respected men about town.

  And women, Emily thought, as she caught sight of a female apprentice. She was about sixteen, wearing a uniform that had been carefully tailored to hide her curves. She’ll have a chance...

  The female apprentice stepped forward, lifting her hand. She was holding a flintlock... for a second, Emily’s mind refused to accept what she was seeing. The girl was pointing a flintlock at her? And then the girl pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang – someone cried out in shock – and Emily staggered back as the bullet slammed into her wards. It would have killed a sorcerer who wasn’t smart enough to devise wards against physical blows, instead of merely crafting them to break up enemy spellware. Emily still felt as though she’d been punched in the belly.

  She hit the ground and rolled over, half-expecting the girl to take another shot. Instead, the girl was buried under a pile of male apprentices, the flintlock lying on the floor. Rosen was standing beside the weapon, wringing his hands in shock. Emily gritted her teeth, then forced herself to stand. Her chest hurt, even though the wards had absorbed most of the impact. A flintlock ball had more than enough power to kill.

  “My Lady,” Rosen said. “I...”

  “Quiet,” Emily snapped. She gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of the young apprentices. It felt as if she was going into shock too. Everything had happened so quickly! “Get her to the castle.”

  The apprentices slowly pulled themselves off the girl, allowing the older craftsmen to tie her up and half-carry her towards the door. Emily had the oddest sense that the girl was in shock too, as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. The girl probably didn’t have any reason to hate me, she thought. Had someone controlled her? Where had she found the flintlock?

  She picked up the weapon and examined it, thoughtfully. There was no Craftsman’s Mark, nothing to suggest where it had been made. And yet, it had clearly come from a practiced hand. Alexis? King Randor wouldn’t have any qualms about sending assassins into Swanhaven, with orders to target Alassa’s supporters. Emily was fairly sure she was right at the top of people the king wanted dead. Even Jade hadn’t been so disruptive...

  “My Lady,” Rosen babbled. “I... please accept my...”

  “You will not be blamed,” Emily said. There had been no way for him to know that one of the apprentices would try to kill his patron. “But I will have to go back to the castle myself.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Rosen said, with profound relief. “I’ll have the carriage brought round immediately.”

  Emily would have preferred to walk, if only to get her thoughts in order before she faced Alassa and Jade, but it was quite a distance. The factories were right on the edge of Swanhaven. She tightened her wards – the pain in her chest was refusing to fade – and followed him out of the building. A carriage was already moving off into the distance, taking the girl to the castle. Emily felt a flicker of sympathy for the girl, if indeed she had been under a spell. Jade and his guards would not be gentle.

  She clambered into her carriage, when it arrived, and leaned back in her seat as it came to life. Closing the curtains, she lifted her shirt and examined her chest. It looked as though someone had punched her several times, although the pain was finally lessening. She touched the bruises lightly, then pulled her shirt back down. She’d have to check with a healer, just in case one of her ribs was broken, but she didn’t think so. The wards had done their job.

  And saved my life, she thought. In hindsight, she should have anticipated an assassination attempt. Jade’s paranoia wasn’t unjustified after all. If I hadn’t had that ward up, I’d be dead or seriously injured.

  She dismissed the thought as the carriage rattled over the castle’s drawbridge and into the courtyard. Emily opened the door as soon as it came to a halt and jumped down, landing neatly on the cobblestones. It wasn’t particularly dignified, not for an aristocratic woman, but she didn’t care. The guards saluted her as she strode into the castle and up towards Alassa’s chambers. If Emily remembered her schedule correctly, Alassa and Jade were supposed to be planning the offensive. She hoped her friend wasn’t sharing everything with her fair-weather allies. Too many of them would switch sides if the king made them a decent offer.

  Alassa’s eyes went wide as Emily was shown into her private chamber. “Emily? What happened?”

  “Someone tried to kill me,” Emily said. She glanced in a mirror and recoiled. She looked as if she’d been in the wars. “A girl who might have been under someone’s control...”

  “Again?” Alassa leaned forward. “Do we doubt the target this time?”

  “No,” Emily said, remembering the maid who’d tried to kill her five years ago. “She was aiming at me.”

  Jade stood. His voice was so harsh that Emily shivered. “What happened to her?”

  Emily took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I had her sent back to the castle,” she said, wondering if the girl had actually arrived. A sorcerer powerful enough to cast a compulsion spell would have no difficulty in liberating – or killing – his tool before she reached the castle and relative safety. “I should have gone with her.”

  “I’ll check on her,” Jade said. His tone promised bloody revenge. “And I’ll move her to the cells...”

  “Check for compulsions,” Emily said, flatly. “If someone else controlled her, she shouldn’t bear the blame.”

  Jade gave her a look that said, quite clearly, that she was too soft and understanding for her own good, then walked out the door. Emily watched him go, hoping he’d make sure to check for compulsions before doing anything else. If the girl had been under someone’s control, she couldn’t be blamed – legally – for what she’d done. Emily had learnt to fight off compulsions the hard way. Someone without any magic – or mental defenses – could be turned into a puppet with ease.

  “I’m sorry,” Alassa said. She sounded badly shocked. “I... what happened?”

  Emily ran through the whole story, ending with her concern about assassins. Alassa herself was relatively safe, at least until she gave birth, but everyone else was a potential target for the king’s men. She made a mental note to insist that Imaiqah work on developing her own defenses, just in case she was targeted. Alassa would have problems running the war without her closest friends.

  And Jade will be targeted too, Emily thought, numbly. Randor probably sees him as nothing more than a nuisance, now he’s done his job and fathered the heir.

  She swallowed. What would happen to the war – and Alassa herself – if Jade was killed? Or Sir William? Or... a program of targeted assassinations could tear Swanhaven and Cockatrice apart. Emily shuddered, helplessly. How long would it be before suspicion and paranoia did the king’s work for him? She doubted it would be that long.

  A healer entered, carrying a bag of tools. Emily hesitated – she had never been comfortable undressing in front of strangers – then removed her shirt and allowed him to examine her chest. There was no real damage, he assured her as he slathered a healing salve over the bruises, but she needed to be more careful in the future. The next assassin might be far more successful.

/>   “You’ll be on your way to Eagle’s Rest soon,” Alassa said, once the healer had left the chamber. “The assassins won’t find you there.”

  Emily frowned. “Could the assassins have come with Hansel and his men?”

  “None of them are magicians,” Alassa said. “But... a magician who was skilled at masking his power might be able to avoid detection.”

  Or it might have been someone who’s been in the city for years, Emily thought. Swanhaven had never been a great magical town, certainly not on the scale of Celeste or Beneficence, but there had always been a few magicians who’d made their homes on its streets. King Randor set up a network of spies long before Alassa was born.

  She leaned back in her chair, suddenly feeling very tired. They would have to double or triple their precautions, despite the risks of impeding the war effort. God alone knew where that would lead. Proud craftsmen – and magicians – would not appreciate being treated as potential enemies. If Alassa made it clear she didn’t trust her people, it wouldn’t be long before they started to distrust her in return.

  Jade stepped into the room, looking grim. “There was a compulsion,” he said. “And it’s still in place.”

  “Shit,” Emily said. She gathered herself, then stood. “I’m coming.”

  “You don’t have to try to undo it,” Jade pointed out. “Emily...”

  “This girl was compelled to try to kill me,” Emily said. “And the only way we’re going to find out who did it is to undo the compulsion and ask.”

  “Be careful,” Alassa advised. “If someone is willing to use dark magics, they may not stop with simple compulsion spells.”

  “I know,” Emily said. “I’ll be careful.”

  Chapter Nine

  CAT WAS WAITING OUTSIDE THE PRISON cell. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Emily nodded, stiffly. She didn’t blame her friends for being concerned – a man who could plant a compulsion in a girl’s mind could easily plant a trap for anyone who tried to remove the compulsion – but she had to try. If the girl had seen her attacker, if she’d seen the magician who’d enspelled her, he could be arrested and executed before he could cause any further harm. Emily knew she’d been lucky. The next target might not be quite so fortunate.

  She peered through the bars, trying not to wince at the sight. The girl sat in a metal chair, her hands manacled behind her back and her ankles shackled to the metal. It looked as if she could barely move. Someone had stripped her of everything but a cloth bra and panties, leaving her dangerously exposed. Emily shuddered helplessly, remembering when she’d been held in a similar chair. She’d come far too close to death before she’d been rescued.

  “Stay here,” she said to Cat. She didn’t have time for overprotectiveness. “I’ll go in alone.”

  The girl barely looked up as Emily entered the room. She looked... despondent, although there was something about her attitude that suggested she was in full control of herself. Or, perhaps, the compulsion was in full control. Emily knew she wouldn’t have been so calm if she’d been arrested after trying to assassinate one of the most important people in the kingdom. The girl had no reason to expect anything other than an execution that would be neither quick nor painless.

  Emily knelt down, facing the girl. Her exposed skin was covered in bruises, but her face was flat and expressionless. Emily hesitated, unsure how to proceed, then reached out with her senses. The girl was no magician – she’d guessed as much – but the compulsion was terrifyingly obvious. Whoever had enchanted her hadn’t bothered to be subtle. The girl hadn’t even been able to find a way to trick the compulsion into letting go.

  I should have sensed the spell on her earlier, Emily thought. In hindsight, she should have been scanning for magic as soon as she entered the workshop. If I’d seen it then, I could have saved her...

  She pushed the thought aside and gently touched the girl’s forehead. Her head jerked up, her teeth snapping at Emily’s arm. The compulsion was still driving her on, even though it was futile. There was no way the poor girl could break the manacles and wrap her hands around Emily’s neck, let alone escape afterwards. But then, she was completely expendable. The sorcerer who’d enchanted her probably didn’t give a damn if she lived or died.

  “I’m trying to help you,” Emily said, although she knew the girl couldn’t heed her. “Just... relax.”

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed her magic into the girl’s head. The compulsion was overpowering, a command to kill that had been shouted again and again until the girl’s resistance was broken.

  No, it was worse than that.

  The girl hadn’t been able to resist at all. She hadn’t even known something was wrong until it was far too late.

  Emily cursed under her breath, then concentrated on removing the spell. It clung desperately to the girl’s mind until Emily wrenched it away, banishing it into nothingness. The girl jerked again, then started to sob. Emily wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders and held her tight until the girl finally regained control of herself.

  She’ll have a very hard time for the next few days, Emily thought, grimly. And she won’t get the help she needs.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  The girl looked up at her. “Mila,” she managed. “I... I tried to kill you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Emily said. “That compulsion... even I would have trouble resisting it.”

  Mila shuddered. “I... really?”

  “Really,” Emily confirmed. “It isn’t easy to fight something in your head.”

  She took a long breath as Mila shuddered, again. “I need to know what happened,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as possible. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  Mila hesitated. “I was at the lodging house,” she said, after a moment. “The landlady was throwing a fit about the cleaning, I think. I... she said someone was here to see me, which I thought was odd. I...”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “You thought it was odd?”

  “We’re not allowed visitors after dark,” Mila said. “The landlady is our chaperone. She’s the only reason my parents allowed me to move into the lodging house. And then...”

  Her arms started to shake. “He was there and... and I don’t remember.”

  “It sounds as if he used spells to obscure your memories,” Emily said. There was no way to tell how seriously she should take Mila’s words. Memory charms worked by convincing the brain to devise false memories to cover the gaps. Everything Mila had said might be a lie – and the poor girl would have no way to know it was a lie. “Can I probe your memories?”

  Mila cringed. “Do you have to?”

  “If I can get a clear look at him, I can catch him,” Emily said. The memory charms might have hidden the truth, but they couldn’t destroy it. “Please?”

  “If you must,” Mila said. She sagged, as if she expected Emily to read her mind whatever she said. “Do it.”

  Emily braced herself, then touched Mila’s forehead again. A wave of emotions assailed her, from numb horror at what she’d been made to do to anger and bitterness at having to open her mind to an intruder. Emily recoiled, understanding the girl’s feelings all too well. Mila’s mind had been raped, to all intents and purposes, and now she was required to submit herself to another intrusion. Emily knew she wouldn’t enjoy it if she was on the receiving end. She gritted her teeth and pushed on, looking for the memories. Mila wasn’t trying to fight, but her mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and memories. It was hard to find the memories she wanted to see.

  They poured into her mind, a whirlwind of impressions that didn’t seem to be in any coherent order. Mila was a young girl, admiring her father; Mila was an older girl, taking lessons from her father; Mila was a young adult, claiming an apprenticeship and a room at the lodging house. An overweight woman loomed over her, staring down with utter disgust; Emily had to fight to keep the memory from pushing her right out of Mila’s mind. The la
ndlady didn’t seem to like the apprentices, even though they paid well. And then...

  Emily forced the memories to slow down as the sorcerer entered the picture. He was a tall man, but... but his face was obscured behind a spell. Panic gripped her as she discovered she couldn’t move, threatening to overwhelm her before she realized that Mila had been frozen and then... and then... the memories were so disjointed that she couldn’t retrieve anything further. Mila had never seen the sorcerer’s real face.

  It might be a sorceress, Emily thought. She’d worn male garb herself, once or twice, although she’d never made a convincing man. A couple of spells and no one would know the difference.

  She pulled back, thinking hard. It was possible the landlady had seen the sorcerer, although Emily doubted the bastard would make the mistake of showing her his real face. And anyone else? There was no one who might have seen the man, as far as she knew. The sorcerer had gotten away with it.

  Mila was sobbing, the sound tearing at Emily’s heart. There was no future for her now, not in Swanhaven. Rosen wouldn’t take her back, even though she’d been under a compulsion spell. The other apprentices certainly wouldn’t see her as one of them any longer. Emily considered the situation for a moment, then shook her head. She had enough power and influence to convince Rosen to take Mila back, but there was nothing Emily could do about how Mila’s workmates would react to her. It would be better for her to make a clean start elsewhere.

  Emily gave Mila a tight hug, then stood and headed for the door. Jade and Cat stood there, looking grim. Behind them, a jailer looked depressingly enthusiastic. Emily shuddered, remembering when she’d been in the dungeons. If she hadn’t been so important, if she hadn’t had someone protecting her, she would almost certainly have been molested – or worse.