Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Time to get up,” Emily said. She looked over at Lady Barb. “Is there any chance of a large mug of Kava?”

  “Downstairs,” Lady Barb said. “If you are not rested, you can sleep in the carriage.”

  Emily didn’t feel very rested–but then, drifting off to sleep after the maid had been captured had been difficult. The wards she’d constructed around the room weren’t very strong, certainly not strong enough to stand up to a combat sorcerer for more than a few minutes. On the other hand, if someone had tried to break them down, she would have been alerted before it was too late. Sleeping in the rocking carriage suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

  She tried to ignore the maids as she washed, then dressed herself in traveling clothes. Alassa did the same, waving away their attempts to help her. Emily had to smile as Alassa used a very basic spell to keep her hair under control, even though neither of them had been able to get the spell to remain in place permanently. A maid who was close enough to brush Alassa’s hair was also close enough to cut her throat.

  Lady Barb inspected them both quickly, then led the way out of the room. Outside, the guards were on the alert, clutching weapons as they eyed their local counterparts suspiciously. Emily wasn’t very reassured; the maid had slipped past them without being noticed, which should have been impossible. But Sergeant Miles had taught her that someone with magic could sneak past anyone without magic, as long as they were careful and didn’t make silly mistakes. And if the necromancers really were involved, the guards would last about as long as a snowflake in hell.

  “The castle is on alert,” Lady Barb muttered, as they walked down a corridor. Guards were everywhere, although Emily had a feeling that there were so many guards that someone with bad intentions could probably sneak through in the confusion. “And King Jorlem is very unhappy at what almost happened to you.”

  Emily had expected to return to the grand hall, but instead Lady Barb led them into a smaller chamber, barely larger than their room. King Jorlem and his younger son sat at a long table; they stood up as Alassa entered the room. The king looked tired, but grimly determined; Prince Hedrick, Alassa’s prospective husband, didn’t seem to care that Alassa had almost been assassinated. Crown Prince Dater was nowhere to be seen.

  “Please, be seated,” King Jorlem said. “I will have food brought in for you.”

  “Thank you,” Alassa said, as she took the seat facing King Jorlem. “Right now, we need Kava more than anything else.”

  “It will be provided,” King Jorlem assured her. “And I deeply regret what happened last night.”

  Emily leaned forward. “Do you know why she did it?”

  “The Court Wizard is examining her now,” the king said. If he was annoyed at Emily asking him a question, he said nothing. “Hopefully, we should have answers before you depart.”

  Emily concealed a flash of bitter amusement as the maids put steaming mugs of Kava in front of them. It was impossible to escape the feeling that King Jorlem wanted them out of his castle, which made sense if he believed that the necromancers were involved. Whitehall hadn’t been able to keep Shadye out for long–certainly not with his secret weapon in the castle itself–and Castle Alluvia’s defenses were flimsy in comparison. A necromancer would knock down the walls and smash the castle flat.

  But then, she asked herself, why would they try to assassinate Alassa when they could just take out the entire castle?

  Necromancers were insane. Everyone knew that–but Emily knew that they could also be surprisingly rational. Or, for that matter, delay their pleasures long enough to allow all the pieces to fall into place. And yet she found it hard to understand why a necromancer would use a maid to assassinate Alassa. Unless they wanted King Jorlem blamed for the attack…but that seemed rather subtle for a necromancer. She rubbed the side of her head, cursing the tiredness under her breath. Maybe it would make more sense when she felt better.

  She sipped her Kava as the servants returned, bringing large platters of meat, eggs and bread. Once, just looking at the meal would have made her feel sick; now, thankfully, she could eat it–and be grateful for a high-energy breakfast. There were almost no fatties in Whitehall; magic was demanding, even of those who didn’t take plenty of physical exercise along with their magic studies. The food and drink made her feel a little better, although the necromantic plot–if it was a necromantic plot–didn’t make any more sense. But then, looking for sense in an insane mind was probably a waste of time.

  Prince Hedrick still didn’t seem to show any real reaction to Alassa–or anyone else, for that matter. He just sat there languidly, seemingly unwilling to do anything. Emily watched him eat with a dainty caution that seemed almost the exact opposite of his elder brother, wondering just what was going through his mind. If he had graduated from Whitehall, he couldn’t be stupid–or touched in the head, as the locals said. Stupid magicians lasted about as long as it took them to mess up a spell and blow themselves to bits.

  The food wasn’t quite as good as the meals at Whitehall, she decided, as she finished her meal and pushed the plate to one side. On the other hand, she had a feeling that they would be grateful for it; there hadn’t really been any lunch yesterday, not even combat rations. She had realized that nobles considered sandwiches to be commoner food during her first month at Whitehall, but it seemed odd that they would starve themselves deliberately while traveling.

  She looked up as the door opened, revealing Crown Prince Dater and the Court Wizard. They were followed by five other men in military tunics, two of them clearly magicians even though they weren’t wearing robes or carrying staffs. Emily frowned inwardly as she saw one of them looking at her, then looking away sharply when he realized that she had realized that he was staring. Was he impressed with her reputation, Emily asked herself, or was he being wary? Were the other magicians intended to back the Court Wizard up if he confronted Emily?

  “Father,” Crown Prince Dater said, with a bow. “We have completed the interrogation of the maid.”

  Of course, Emily realized. He’d told her that it was his job to serve as chief investigator of any serious crime. And this one definitely involved the nobility.

  “Good,” King Jorlem said. “And what have you discovered?”

  “Ails was deeply in love with Hedrick,” Dater said. He sounded as if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. “She believed that he was going to marry Princess Alassa and go to live in Zangaria, that her only hope for keeping him with her was to murder the princess before it was too late.”

  Lady Barb swung around to stare at Prince Hedrick. “And what do you know about this?”

  Hedrick showed the first trace of any real emotion–annoyance–that Emily had seen on him.

  “I know nothing about it,” he said. “I certainly did not know that she was in love with me.”

  “And no doubt you didn’t tumble her when you had a moment,” Lady Barb sneered. She turned back to the Crown Prince. “I thought that all of your servants were under loyalty and obedience spells. How could she successfully break into the princess’s room and come close to murdering her?”

  “We believe that she convinced herself that murdering the princess was in the crown’s best interest,” the Court Wizard said. “As such, she could have brought herself to assassinate the princess…”

  Emily frowned inwardly as Lady Barb picked away at the explanation. She’d studied mind control spells after Shadye had used one on her and discovered that they were tricky things to use properly. The more powerful the spell, the greater the risk of side-effects, including reducing the intelligence of the victim. Most servants were under spells that prevented them from knowingly doing anything to harm their masters, but if the maid had reasoned out that killing Alassa was in their best interests, she could have done it. Perhaps.

  She held up a hand before the argument could grow any worse. “Where did she get the wand? And the knives?”

  Dater frowned. “We are investigating,” he said. “
Whoever made the wand was clearly a formidable enchanter, but there are at least seven possible suspects in the city. The maid herself was not a magician. As for the knives…they’re really nothing more than stone. They could have come from anywhere.”

  But the runes couldn’t have, Emily thought. Either they were necromantic blades that simply hadn’t been used before or they were fakes, intended to convince us that we were looking at necromantic work.

  Stone knives weren’t uncommon outside the nobility, she’d learned, when she’d been researching how magic interacted with materials. Professor Thande, in one of his many digressions, had explained that stone could soak up a surprising amount of magic, or channel it without turning to dust. Some metals allowed faster passage of magic, but they tended to decay rapidly. The necromancers used stone tools because metal knives would destroy themselves before they had finished draining every last drop of mana and life energy from the corpse.

  But there was no point in trying to ban stone knives. They were simply too common–and besides, iron was too expensive. Emily had actually managed to dig the formula for making steel out of her mind and pass it on to the blacksmiths, but they hadn’t managed to actually produce it yet. And aluminium was shockingly expensive. If Emily had been carrying a couple of cans of fizzy drink when she’d been yanked into the new world, she would have been set up for life. Aluminium hadn’t become commonplace on Earth until new techniques for producing it had been discovered.

  “Really,” Lady Barb said. She shot Emily a sharp glance, no doubt wishing to question her further on why she knew that the blades weren’t necromantic, then looked back at the Crown Prince. “I would like to interrogate the girl for myself.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the Court Wizard said. “I… broke her mind.”

  Lady Barb’s eyes glittered. “Your servant should have been under spells that made it impossible for her to lie to you,” she said, addressing the Crown Prince. “Why was it necessary to break her mind while questioning her?”

  There was a long uncomfortable pause. “She was not quite right in the head,” Dater said, finally. “Either because she fell in love with Hedrick”–he shot his brother a snide glance, which brought no visible response–“or because there was something wrong with the obedience spells. She just started to babble when we asked her questions.”

  “Or someone befuddled her,” Lady Barb pointed out. “Did you check for that before you started poking into her mind?”

  Emily shivered. A sorcerer could peer into someone’s mind, if they were prepared to commit what was effectively mental rape. But it had very real effects, including causing terrible pain and–perhaps–snapping someone into insanity. What would it do to a girl who was already under an obedience spell–and, perhaps, someone else’s spells too? She could easily see a necromancer pushing the first set of spells aside, then imposing his own…but why would they be so subtle? It wasn’t in their nature.

  But who else benefited from Alassa’s death?

  King Jorlem didn’t benefit at all. He would have risked war with Zangaria if the princess died while in his castle. And if Hedrick didn’t want to marry Alassa, he could have gotten out of it without threatening his father’s kingdom.

  And no one in Zangaria benefited. Without a clearly defined heir to the throne, there would be civil war once King Randor died. Such chaos in the north would suck in the neighboring nations, each one looking for its own advantage. Eventually, the necromancers might be able to take advantage of a weakened Allied Lands…maybe it was their work after all. But it was still oddly subtle. There was no reason why they couldn’t achieve the same results by attacking Castle Alluvia openly.

  Emily shook her head, tiredly. Maybe she was underestimating them. Or maybe she was missing something obvious.

  “So we are left with a mystery,” Lady Barb concluded. “A young maid who might have been so deeply in love that she risks a war between two countries, a young maid who has never been touched by the prince she loves. Or a young maid who was used as a tool by someone else in an attempt to assassinate Princess Alassa. I do not like mysteries.”

  “You go too far,” Dater snapped. “We handled this investigation as carefully as we could…”

  King Jorlem tapped the table sharply, silencing his son. “Her first priority is safeguarding Alassa,” he said. “Hedrick; did you know anything about this?”

  His son shook his head. “I never even looked at her,” he said. “I had no idea she cared so much.”

  Emily scowled, inwardly. Even without obedience spells, the maids wouldn’t have been able to say no if the princes had wanted to have some fun with them. God knew that plenty of kings and princes on Earth had managed to have bastard children, often healthier children than they’d had with their wives. Henry VIII had even tried to have his bastard son put into the line of succession, although that had been before the birth of his sickly legitimate son. He had probably rolled over in his grave when he realized that both of his daughters had sat on the throne after him.

  But the princes might not have cared all that much about the maids. It was easy to imagine one of them giving gifts to his favored maid, or simply using her and then pushing her aside. And why would the maid become infatuated with Prince Hedrick? Why not his considerably more handsome elder brother?

  Maybe you’re just being shallow, Emily told herself, and snorted.

  “We will accept that, for the moment,” Lady Barb said, finally. “King Randor has instructed us to continue with the progression, despite the fact that we are already running late. With your permission, Your Majesty, we will depart for Red Rose.”

  “Hedrick should be ready to go with you,” King Jorlem said. He gave his son a sharp look. “And I’m sure that he will be a credit to the kingdom.”

  Emily doubted that, but held her tongue.

  “We will leave in twenty chimes,” Lady Barb informed Hedrick. “Be there–or you can catch up with us.”

  “I think we can forgo the full departure ceremony,” King Jorlem said, standing up. His sons followed him a moment later. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Alassa. You were barely knee-high when I last saw you.”

  Alassa stood up, walked around the table and gave him a formal embrace. The crown prince wrapped her in a bearhug, then whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. Hedrick didn’t even bother to hug her, although that might have been protocol. He was going to be traveling with them. Emily had listened carefully to all of Alassa’s lectures, but she knew that she didn’t have all of the protocols fixed in her head.

  “And it was interesting to meet the famous Necromancer’s Bane,” the king added, looking at Emily. “The Allied Lands owe you a great debt.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. She stood up and then curtseyed as best as she could in the traveling clothes. “And thank you for the hospitality.”

  Lady Barb shot her a sharp look–clearly, that was pushing the limits–but the king merely laughed.

  “I wish you were staying for longer,” he said. He certainly sounded sincere, but he’d been king long enough to know how to lie convincingly. “There is so much we could have shown you–and many of the sorcerers wish to talk to you. But it is not to be.”

  He waved his hand in a ritual pattern. “May the gods continue to smile upon your journey,” he added. His voice softened as he looked at Alassa. “And may the life of two become one.”

  Emily watched him walk out of the room, followed by his two sons, then looked at Alassa and raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s expressing the hope that I will marry soon,” Alassa said. She turned and started to walk towards the door. “Come on. We’re going to spend most of the day in the carriage. Again.”

  Chapter Twelve

  NIGHTINGALE MET THEM AS THEY WALKED out of the castle and into the courtyard, drawing Lady Barb aside for a frantic conversation. Emily heard enough to realize that he was annoyed at having been left out of breakfast with King Jorlem, al
though she couldn’t tell if he thought he’d been insulted or if he’d thought he should be there to support Alassa. Lady Barb’s response was quiet, too quiet for Emily to hear, but it managed to convince Nightingale to shut up. Emily was almost impressed.

  Prince Hedrick had a coach of his own, along with a small troop of soldiers as an escort. Emily was relieved; she’d worried that they’d wind up sharing a carriage with the Prince, which would have prevented them from talking openly. She scrambled up into the carriage and watched as Alassa waved goodbye to the castle’s staff, before she scrambled up to sit beside Emily. A moment later, the carriage lurched into life.

  “We’re several hours late,” Alassa observed. “We may end up spending two days in Red Rose.”

  Emily shrugged. “Is your father going to be happy?”

  “Probably not,” Alassa muttered. “But cancelling engagements would cause diplomatic storms. I’m not just meant to make an appearance; I’m meant to dance with the princes and show myself to the crowds.”

  “But you were attacked,” Emily protested. “Isn’t your safety important?”

  “So is pleasing–or at least refraining from offending–the other Kings,” Alassa said, sourly. She looked out of the window for a long moment, eying the cheering crowds. “If someone like you causes a diplomatic incident, it can be smoothed over. But me? If I cause a diplomatic incident, the entire kingdom could suffer.”

  Emily nodded and straightened up. “That blade wasn’t a necromantic weapon,” she said, flatly. “I handled Shadye’s knife and it felt…evil. The blades the maid carried were just ordinary blades, cursed to kill whoever they cut.”

  “And she was carrying several of them,” Alassa agreed. “Not the sort of thing anyone sane would do with a necromantic weapon. Or an Object of Power.”

  Enchanted objects were common, but they rarely lasted very long, unless the spells holding them together were renewed on a regular basis. Those objects that did remain charged for decades–or centuries–were often incredibly powerful, with hundreds of legends surrounding them. Emily had been amused to discover that Objects of Power were more common in legend than in reality. Besides, there was nothing that quite matched the One Ring or the Deathly Hallows, something so powerful that nothing could stand against it.