Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “There are few guards near the docks,” Imaiqah offered, as they stepped onto the streets. “The fishermen didn’t take kindly to their intrusion.”

  Emily considered it as they walked quickly away from the docks, up towards one of the inns that catered for wealthy visitors to the city. Holding an entire city under control was not easy, even with modern weapons; a thousand soldiers, most of them armed with swords and spears, would have real difficulty controlling anywhere outside eyeshot. On the other hand, if they held the gates and most of the main roads, they could probably bring up more troops against any rebellious district. And they did have magic.

  But the attackers used wands, Emily recalled. Does that mean they weren’t strong magicians?

  The maid who’d tried to assassinate them on the first night had used a wand too–and no one had been able to find out who had given it to her. Or so Lady Barb had told her and Emily had grown to trust her, even though the woman seemed unable to decide if she liked Emily or not. Had the same person produced both sets of wands?

  Imaiqah led them into the inn and up the stairs into a small room. Emily’s nose wrinkled as she sniffed tobacco in the air, along with a scent she didn’t recognize. Imaiqah’s father stood up and bowed formally to Alassa, followed by the other men in the room, who watched her–and Emily–through shrewd intelligent eyes. Their faces were hidden behind simple glamors…

  They’re afraid, Emily realized. What would happen to them if the monarchy turned on them?

  “We have been told that the king is crippled and his brother, the Duke of Iron, has assumed the throne until he recovers,” one of the councilors said. The glamor added an odd hiss to his words. “And we have been told that you, Your Highness, are responsible for your father’s injuries. Why should we do anything to help you?”

  Alassa kept her voice under firm control. “You have magicians, I assume,” she said. “One of them could cast a truth spell to verify my words.”

  There was a pause as the councilors looked towards an empty corner. It was several seconds before Emily saw the magician sitting there, cloaked behind a glamor so powerful that she hadn’t even realized it was there until they’d pointed it out. The magician lifted his hand, cast the truth spell into the air and sat back, waiting to see what would happen.

  “My uncle appears to have turned on my father,” Alassa said. “I do not pretend to understand how he was able to keep his plans concealed for so long, but he seems to have succeeded. Right now, he controls the castle, the army–and, by holding the barons, he can prevent their families from interfering. Some of them will support him automatically. Given time, he can solidify his grip on power.

  “My uncle is also highly conservative,” she continued. “He is strongly opposed to the new learning”–she nodded to Emily, reminding them that Emily had helped many of them achieve wealth and power–“and he will certainly refuse to allow it to spread further. In this, he will have the heartfelt support of all the barons. You will find yourselves targeted and jailed, or executed. The wealth you have built up for yourselves will evaporate. Your families will be hunted down and killed.”

  There was a long pause. “My father wanted to embrace change slowly, believing that it would weaken the barons,” she concluded. “If you help restore him to the throne, that will continue. You will be able to make money and reap the rewards of having supported the rightful king in his time of need.”

  “King Alexis III made an offer to the commoners,” one of the councilors said, finally. “He promised them a share in power; he promised them legal rights that all would respect. Those rights lasted little longer than it took the ink to dry on the parchment. We showed the nobility that we could be a powerful force, then the king stood aside and watched as the nobles crushed those who dared try to claim those rights. Why should we do anything to help you, Your Highness? We have been betrayed once before.”

  He leaned forward, the glamor fading to reveal an elderly face. “If we help you, we will demand a steep price. You must bring the barons to heel.”

  Emily spoke before anyone else. “If we fight the barons at the same time as the duke, we could force them all into an alliance against us,” she said. “Why not ask for the right to levy taxes instead, then you can deal with the barons later.”

  The old councilor smiled. “That would suffice, if Her Highness swears to grant us that right afterwards,” he said. He looked up at Alassa. “Would you swear, Your Highness?”

  Emily saw Alassa tense and felt a flicker of sympathy. Oaths were dangerous things when sworn by magicians. Deliberately breaking them would result in death–or worse. No doubt Alexis III had found a way to wiggle out.

  “I will swear,” Alassa said. Emily was perhaps the only one who saw her fear. “How do you wish me to phrase the oath?”

  “Carefully,” the old councilor said. There were some chuckles from the others. “We do have some ability to help you, but…”

  Emily jumped as she heard a thunderous racket from downstairs. “Soldiers,” someone shouted. “They’re outside!”

  One of the councilors pushed aside a curtain and gazed outside. “They’re here,” he snapped, as something rattled off the window. He looked over at Alassa. “They’ve come for you!”

  Imaiqah grabbed Alassa’s hand. “This way,” she snapped. The noise from downstairs grew stronger, suggesting that someone was trying to break in. “Quickly!”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  THERE WAS A DARK STAIRCASE HIDDEN behind one of the curtains. Imaiqah yanked Alassa through it and up a flight of stairs that were barely large enough to take the three girls. A man in armor would have real trouble climbing up unless he was prepared to undress, Emily realized, as the sound of banging and crashing grew louder. It sounded as though an entire army was trying to break into the inn.

  “Your father,” she said to Imaiqah. “What’s he going to do?”

  “There are other ways out,” Imaiqah said. “They just wanted to make sure that you were safe.”

  Me, Emily thought. Not Alassa, not his daughter…Emily herself. It left her with an odd feeling in her chest. Was that what it was like to have a proper father? Or should she be angry that Imaiqah’s father had put Emily first, rather than Imaiqah or even Alassa?

  Imaiqah stopped as the stairway came to an end. “Hold on,” she said, casting a light ball into the air. It revealed a wooden hatch set in the ceiling above them. “We just need to get this open…”

  She levitated up and pushed the hatch aside, allowing bright sunlight to stream down into the stairwell. Emily tensed, realizing that they’d be caught like rats in a trap if the soldiers had already taken up positions on the rooftop, but no one moved to stop them as they climbed up and out onto the roof. The sound of angry citizens rose up from below and she realized that gangs of youths had moved to confront the soldiers. Emily hoped they would provide a distraction, then cursed herself a moment later. They’d be slaughtered by the soldiers if it came down to a fight.

  “This way,” Imaiqah said. “Hurry!”

  She ran towards the edge of the rooftop and leapt to the next building, using a hint of magic to ensure that she covered the gap. Emily and Alassa exchanged glances, then followed, just as they heard shouting from down below. Someone had clearly seen them running for their lives. Emily landed on the next building and followed Imaiqah towards the edge of that rooftop. They had to keep running to get ahead of the men on the ground.

  Alassa giggled, despite the situation. “Good thing we’re not wearing skirts,” she said.

  Emily rolled her eyes.

  “Keep moving,” Imaiqah called. “We have to get out of here!”

  The sounds from the ground were turning ominous. There were hundreds of youths now, confronting the soldiers and slowing them down. Emily heard someone cry out in pain, but there was no way to know if it was one of the soldiers–or one of the youths trying to slow them. People were hurling rocks at the soldiers now, along with rotting fruit and anyth
ing else they could throw as a missile, she guessed. Sergeant Harkin had told her that mobs could be the most dangerous enemy a soldier could face. It was funny that she’d never really believed him until now.

  She landed on the fifth building and glanced up sharply as she saw a flock of birds moving through the air. The sight reminded her of some of the lectures from the sergeants covering the many ways that magic could be used for warfare. There were certain magicians who could form a blood-bond with animals and use them as spies; birds, for some reason, were particularly useful for such magic. And who would be able to pick out the right bird when the skies were full of them, assuming they ever suspected at all?

  The birds–crows, she realized–hovered down in front of Imaiqah, blocking their escape. A moment later, they blurred together and became a man, wearing a long dark robe and hood that concealed most of his features. All she could see was pale skin, very dark hair and a beak-like nose. How had he done it? Animal transformation was normally into one animal, not over a dozen different creatures! But if he’d spread his thoughts out over the flock, he might have been able to keep his thoughts almost completely human.

  “Princess Alassa,” he said, gravely. His voice had an irritatingly screechy note that made Emily wince. “You have to come with me.”

  Alassa shook her head, stumbling backwards. Behind them, Emily heard the soldiers finally breaking out onto the roof and jumping after them. They had no magic, she assumed, to keep themselves from falling, but they were probably better trained and stronger. The boys in Martial Magic had almost always been able to outpoint Emily and the other girls over long exercises. No doubt they could leap over the gaps and reach them before they could escape.

  “No,” Alassa said, finally. “Who are you? A necromancer?”

  Emily doubted it. Shadye had emitted an aura of power that had dwarfed that of every other magician, even the grandmaster and Void. But the newcomer didn’t seem to be anything like as powerful. It was possible for a magician to conceal his strength by using his wards to shield himself, but a necromancer would find that tricky, if he even thought to try. Even so, that didn’t mean the newcomer was less dangerous. If he could keep his thoughts together when in an animal form–multiple animal forms–he would be very focused, capable of using his magic more effectively than any of them.

  “No,” the newcomer said. “Come with me, now!”

  He advanced towards Alassa, who threw a spell at him. It struck the newcomer’s wards and faded out of existence. His face twisted into an ugly sneer as he threw a spell back, a draining charm that slammed right into Alassa’s wards and started to claw them down. Emily cursed and threw her own set of spells at the newcomer, trying to push as much power as she could into the attack. Raw magic was the easiest to dispel, but it would distract him–she hoped.

  “Drop your wards,” she hissed to Alassa. No magician would do that easily, which was why the draining charm was so effective. “Quickly!”

  Imaiqah threw a cutting hex at the newcomer, who ducked it rather than trying to absorb it and threw something of his own back. There was a massive gust of wind and Imaiqah toppled backwards, falling off the edge of the rooftop. Emily let out a shout of horror and threw the most lethal spell she had memorized at the newcomer. He exploded in a sheet of black light which rapidly took on other forms–and crows swooped down to attack her. Emily ducked and tried to use her magic to swat them away, generating fireballs and throwing them at the birds. But they seemed to be very good at dodging…

  “She fell!” Alassa yelled at the birds. “What did you do to her?”

  One of the birds came too close–and Alassa caught it, holding it tightly in her hand. “What did you do…?”

  The bird broke free, its sharp claws cutting at Alassa’s hand. Alassa let out a curse and used a handkerchief to mop up the blood as the birds drifted away and gathered at the edge of the rooftop. The magician couldn’t use magic in bird form, Emily realized. Most magicians had enough trouble keeping their human mentality in control, let alone trying to use magic. It was good to know that their unnamed adversary had some limits.

  There was a crash as the first of the soldiers landed on the rooftop and advanced towards them. Emily swore to herself; she didn’t feel like she could generate enough magic to overwhelm the armor they wore. If it was enchanted armor…but then, the duke had been one of the richest men in Zangaria. He could probably afford to buy enchanted armor from every kingdom in the Allied Lands. And if he was careful, it probably wouldn’t even raise eyebrows. She cast around for alternatives and saw the pile of stones someone had left on the rooftop. Before she could think better of it, she shaped a spell in her mind and hurled the first stone at the soldiers with staggering force.

  Sergeant Miles had told her that stone-throwing had its weaknesses. Most warded locations included spells that would automatically disrupt the spells propelling the stones through the air, causing them to fall harmlessly to the ground. Magicians accompanying armies could deflect stones before they crashed through the ranks, if they saw them coming. But the soldiers facing her had no defenses at all, apart from the enchanted armor. And while it worked well against magical attacks, it was almost useless against physical force.

  Emily recoiled in shock as the first soldier seemed to disintegrate into a mass of bloodstained chunks. The others were slammed backwards, two of them toppling off the rooftop and falling to the streets far below. One more seemed to be dead; the other two badly injured. Even with the most powerful healing spells Emily knew, their survival would be in doubt. She hesitated, shocked at what she’d done. How could she inflict that much damage on anyone?

  There was a hissing sound behind her and she spun round, just in time to see the birds merging together and revealing the newcomer. Alassa lifted her hand to throw a curse, but he got his spell off first, slamming a hex into her wards that sent her staggering backwards. The bloodstained handkerchief fell to the rooftop as Alassa fell over and landed on her rear, still trying to cast a spell of her own. There was a blinding flash of light, but the newcomer seemed unbothered. Emily couldn’t have said what Alassa was actually trying to do.

  She gathered her magic, shaped a cutting hex of her own and threw it right into the newcomer’s wards. While he was dealing with that, she threw a second one, aimed at the rooftop below his feet. The rooftop shuddered and started to collapse inwards, forcing the newcomer to jump backwards before he fell into the room underneath. Emily took advantage of his distraction to summon up a wind of her own, shoving him over the edge of the roof. He fell, but a moment later a murder of crows rose up and hovered in front of them. It was easy to imagine that the sounds they were making were laughter.

  Alassa picked up a stone and hurled it at the birds, using magic to shape its trajectory. Several birds were hit and sent falling down towards the ground, forcing the others to dive after their comrades and save them before they hit the ground. Emily couldn’t help wondering what would happen if one or more of the crows were to die. They’d been warned, time and time again, never to split anyone into two or more pieces. The tutors just hadn’t been very clear on what would happen if they did.

  If we caught one of the birds, she asked herself, could he return to human form? Would he be missing a leg?

  “Keep him busy,” Emily ordered.

  She moved quickly to the edge of the rooftop and peered down. Imaiqah lay on the ground below, staring up at them. She’d broken one of her legs, Emily realized, but the impact should have killed her outright. Emily breathed a sigh of relief and made quick hand signals, promising that she’d be down as soon as they’d dealt with the bird-magician. She just hoped that it wouldn’t be before the soldiers reached Imaiqah. Sergeant Harkin had told them horror stories of what could happen when undisciplined young men discovered women who were apparently defenseless. And Imaiqah would be using most of her magic to hold back the pain.

  The bird-magician shimmered back into existence, drawing all of the birds–even the
stunned ones–back into his body. If it made the transformation harder for him, there was no easy way to tell for sure. Emily made a mental note to look it up when she got back to Whitehall; she’d never heard of a person transforming into more than one animal at a time. Maybe he could afford to lose a number of birds before he couldn’t change back, or his thoughts were submerged within the bird mentalities. It didn’t make logical sense, but so much else about transfiguration didn’t make logical sense either.

  Alassa threw a spell at him. He jumped to one side and advanced, firing off spells like they came from the barrel of a machine gun. He didn’t seem to have the power Lady Barb had demonstrated when she’d been drilling Emily, she realized, but he didn’t seem to be holding back at all. Alassa’s wards started to stagger, then crumble under the endless series of impacts. Emily gathered herself and threw a handful of practical joke jinxes at the bird-magician. It was odd, but she’d learned that the practical jokes could sometimes catch more experienced magicians by surprise. They tended to prepare for the lethal hexes and curses.

  The bird-magician threw a final hex at Alassa, knocking her to the ground, and then turned on Emily. She had barely a moment to realize that she might have made a mistake before he started throwing spell after spell at her, each one hammering into her wards. The pounding sent her staggering backwards, forcing her to abandon her own offensive just to keep her wards in place. Desperately, she picked up a stone with her bare hand and threw it towards him. For a moment, the bombardment stopped–his wards wouldn’t have stopped the stone, as it hadn’t been propelled by magic–and Emily used the opportunity to shape a lethal spell in her mind. Sergeant Miles had warned her never to use it unless she was in deadly earnest, but there was no other choice. She started to cast the spell…

  ...And the bird-magician threw a final hex into her wards. Bright green balefire flared around her, sending pain searing through her hands and arms. Half of the tutors at Whitehall had scarred hands, something that had puzzled Emily until she’d learned that most small magical accidents tended to burn hands. Hands were, after all, used for casting most spells, if only to indicate the target. The pain was so intense that Emily almost blacked out before it faded, leaving only a dull ache in her temples. Her hands looked undamaged, but they were shaking so badly she realized that it would be almost impossible to cast another spell for hours.