Full Circle

by Christopher Nuttall

  It was nearly thirty minutes before the door opened again, revealing the slaver – and Jamal, wearing a slave’s loincloth and a collar around his neck. Charity almost didn’t recognise him; he’d once been tall and reasonably handsome, but now he looked dirty, hungry and thoroughly unshaven. He’d never learnt how to shave himself, not when he could use magic to do it; hell, he’d been dependent on magic for almost everything. His eyes went wide when he saw her.

  “Kneel,” the slaver said. Jamal, compelled by the collar, fell to his knees. “Is this the person you expected?”

  Charity hesitated, caught in a complex whirlwind of emotions. How often had Jamal humiliated her in front of her friends and family? How easy would it be to use the collar to force him to humiliate himself? Or simply whip out her wand and show him exactly what it felt like to be at the mercy of someone with more power than himself? Her hand itched; she knew a dozen spells she could use and she’d laugh while she cast them. But … he was her brother, even though he was a horrible bully. Part of her was horrified to see what he had become.

  “Yes,” she said, when she trusted herself to speak clearly. “He’s … he’s the person I expected.”

  The slaver nodded, slowly. “I can remove the collar, if you wish,” he said. “Or do you want it left in place?”

  Jamal’s eyes flashed with sudden hope, but Charity shook her head. “Leave it,” she ordered, shortly. “Transfer master authority to me.”

  The slaver pressed his hands together and bowed, then touched the collar while murmuring a spell under his breath. “Hear this,” he said. “Your servitude is transferred to this young lady, who will be your mistress. Hear her orders and obey them.”

  He waved a hand. Jamal’s body froze.

  “Touch the collar to establish the link,” he said. “And then you may do what you like with him.”

  Charity touched the collar, feeling a flicker of magic as it accepted her command over its victim. Jamal looked up at her, seemingly torn between hope and fear; Charity kept her face as impassive as she could, even though part of her just wanted to rub his situation in as much as possible. The slaver thanked her, then released the spell on Jamal and indicated the door.

  “Thank you,” Charity said. She looked at Jamal. “Follow me. Do not speak without my permission.”

  Jamal followed her as she strode back through the streets, always keeping two paces behind her. Charity couldn’t help feeling a cold sense of pleasure at his predicament, even though he was helpless. No doubt he’d tried to force a woman when he’d entered Knawel Haldane and discovered, the hard way, that he no longer had the power to protect himself. She smiled at the thought as they entered the camp and walked to the Emperor’s tent. Jamal said nothing – he couldn’t escape the commands she’d given him – but she sensed his burning curiosity as she told him to wait outside, then stepped into the tent.

  “I found my brother, Your Supremacy,” she said. “He’s a slave.”

  “Good,” the Emperor said. He waved a hand in the air. A guard stepped into the tent seconds later. “Fetch Moeder from her tent.”

  “Yes, Your Supremacy,” the guard said.

  The Emperor looked at Charity. “And what condition is he in?”

  “He seems reasonably healthy,” Charity said, “but he has a slave collar …”

  “Then we can bargain,” the Emperor said. “Bring him into the tent.”

  Charity obeyed, wondering just how Jamal would react to discovering that she was practically a slave too. But then, what could he do? His eyes widened as he saw the Emperor, then he knelt in front of Charity. The Emperor seemed amused at his expression.

  “So passes a once-great House,” he said, softly.

  The flap opened again, revealing a middle-aged woman with long brown hair and a thin expression that Charity found oddly familiar, even though she was sure she’d never seen the woman before. She prostrated herself in front of the Emperor, but there was something in the way she moved that suggested she was not under any form of compulsion. She’d offered her loyalty freely …

  … And that was odd. A man, sure; Charity knew that thousands of men had pledged their loyalty to the Emperor. But a woman? And clearly one of some resource … it didn’t make sense. She’d been forced to give her oath to the Emperor.

  “Jamal Conidian,” the Emperor said. “You are a slave. There is no hope for freedom, unless you pledge yourself to me.”

  Charity blinked. He already had Jamal as a slave. It wouldn’t be hard for the Emperor to make her pass command authority to him. He didn’t need Jamal to do anything.

  “I have a task that needs doing, one you can perform,” the Emperor continued. “If you complete the task to my satisfaction, you will be freed.”

  He looked at Charity. “Tell him he may speak freely.”

  “You may speak freely,” Charity said to Jamal.

  Jamal stared at her. “What happened to you?”

  “She is mine,” the Emperor said. “And so are you. Do you accept my offer?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jamal said.

  “That’s Your Supremacy,” the Emperor said. He didn’t sound annoyed, merely amused. But then, Jamal had left the city before he’d claimed the Golden Throne. “The Head Librarian is ahead of us, heading towards Ida, in company with your brother. You, Moeder and a squad of my guards will intercept them. Moeder will deal with the Head Librarian while you kill your brother. If this task is completed properly, you will be freed.”

  Jamal nodded, immediately. “I will do it.”

  “I imagine you don’t like being a slave,” the Emperor said. He reached out and touched the collar gently, very gently. “You will swear oaths once the collar is removed, oaths binding even on a powerless mundane. And if you betray me, you will suffer in ways deemed unimaginable.”

  He smiled, coldly. “Charity, take your brother to your tent, clean him up and make sure he gets some sleep,” he ordered. “We’ll swear the oaths tomorrow, then he can depart.”

  “Yes, Your Supremacy,” Charity said.

  Chapter Four

  Johan didn’t sleep well.

  It wasn’t Elaine’s fault, he knew; indeed, the sense of her presence at the back of his mind was comforting. But there were some problems he wanted to deal with himself, without help, which made the bond between them awkward at best and embarrassing at worst. He waited until Elaine had slipped into sleep, then sat up and climbed out of bed. Dread gave him a sharp look, then tapped his lips sharply. Johan nodded, glanced at where Elaine and Daria were sleeping, then walked over to the window. Outside, night was falling over Falcone’s Nest.

  There are still hundreds of people on the streets, he thought, slowly. What are they doing now?

  Dread came up behind him, walking so quietly that Johan didn’t hear him coming. He wouldn’t have known the former Inquisitor was there if he hadn’t seen the reflection in the mirror. The older man moved with surprising stealth for his age. But then, he would have spent most of his career chasing Dark Wizards and Rogue Mages. He wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t been very good at sneaking around.

  “You should get some sleep,” Dread said, very quietly. “We might need to leave in a hurry.”

  Johan turned to look at him. “You think we’ll be attacked?”

  “A team of soldiers could cover the distance between Knawel Haldane and Falcone’s Nest in less than a day, if they exchange horses at each coachhouse along the way,” Dread said, flatly. “We stayed off the main roads too, while they can take the direct route. They could be searching for us now.”

  “But they won’t find us,” Johan said. “Will they?”

  Dread shrugged. “You’d be astonished just how much gets noticed,” he said, dryly. “A person asking the right questions in the right place may locate us very quickly.”

  Johan swallowed. “We told the guards that Elaine was going to be married,” he said, ignoring the odd feeling in his chest at the words. “They’re not going to connec
t a high-born magical brat with the Head Librarian, are they?”

  “Depends on what they think they’re looking for,” Dread warned. “The cover story won’t hold together if someone starts asking the right questions.”

  “Like just who she’s going to marry,” Johan said. He’d known his father had planned to organise marriages for his siblings, marriages that could easily have taken his sisters away from the Golden City; surely, he wouldn’t have sent them off without telling them who they were going to marry. “And the dowry and other matters.”

  “The first question would be bad enough,” Dread said, wryly. He shook his head. “We’ll go downstairs once the girls wake up and try and make contact. If we fail, we head onwards tomorrow without waiting any longer.”

  Johan nodded, slowly.

  “But enough of that,” Dread said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I should be asking you that,” Johan said. His father and Jamal had been broken when he’d taken their magic, but Dread … seemed almost unchanged. “How are you feeling?”

  “You didn’t have a choice,” Dread said, curtly. “I told you that, remember? I can’t blame you for taking my magic.”

  “My brother would consider it a fate worse than death,” Johan muttered.

  “Which suggests a lack of imagination,” Dread commented. “There are far worse fates than losing one’s magic.”

  He met Johan’s eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Odd,” Johan confessed. “I keep thinking about my sisters. Cass … Cass told me I was being nasty to them, that I was being like Jamal.”

  “You probably were, if she called you out on it,” Dread said. He didn’t try to offer any false reassurance. “Cass was always very perceptive.”

  “I wish I thought she was wrong,” Johan said. “Will I end up like Jamal?”

  “Make a choice,” Dread advised. “And then stick to it.”

  Johan gave him a sharp look. “That makes no sense.”

  “It makes plenty of sense,” Dread said. “You have power. What you do with that power is up to you. Using it to torment your sisters is a choice. So is using it to heal the sick and save countless lives. You’re not” – he glanced around the darkening room – “a cockroach, scuttling helplessly across the floor. Make a choice about what you want to do with your life and stick to it.”

  He shrugged. “But I think you know what it’s like to be helpless,” he added, after a long moment. “Do you really want to make anyone else feel that way?”

  Johan shook his head, quickly.

  “You’re talking too loudly,” Daria said, sitting up. “I can hear you even in my sleep.”

  “I’m sorry,” Johan said, quickly. He felt a tingle in his mind as Elaine awoke too. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Stay here,” Dread said. “Johan and I will try to make contact with the Levellers. Keep the door closed and don’t open to anyone, except us.”

  “Understood,” Elaine said. She rubbed her tired eyes as she sat up next to Daria. “Good luck.”

  Johan had to force himself to look away. Elaine was cute, rather than pretty … and yet he felt a surge of attraction that surprised him. It struck him, a moment later, that she would sense his feelings … flushing bright red, he opened the door and stepped outside, glancing up and down the darkened corridor for any signs of life. Dread followed him, closing the door firmly. Elaine’s wards would keep out anyone without magic who wasn’t already keyed into them.

  “Follow me,” Dread ordered. “And keep one hand on your pouch at all times.”

  “Yes, sir,” Johan said. There was something about Dread that just compelled respect from him, even though he was no longer an Inquisitor. “Shouldn’t I be carrying a sword?”

  Dread gave him a sharp look. “Do you know how to use a sword?”

  “No,” Johan said. “You point the sharp end towards the enemy, right?”

  “It’s a little more complex than that,” Dread said, sarcastically. “Unless you spend hours training with a mundane blade, you’re not going to be anything more than dead meat if you get into a swordfight. I’ll try and teach you a few tricks, if you like, but you won’t find it easy.”

  He led the way down the stairs and into the bar. A handful of men were still boozing, but most of the patrons seemed to have left the bar and headed home. Dread looked around, then headed straight towards the bartender. The blonde-haired girl standing behind the bartender eyed them both sourly, her eyes promising mayhem if they even dared try any games with her. Johan stepped up next to Dread, then cleared his throat.

  “Knowledge is power,” he said.

  The bartender scowled. “Oh, piss off.”

  “But power is knowledge,” the girl said. Her eyes glinted with sudden suspicion. “I don’t recall seeing either of you before.”

  “We’re from the Golden City,” Dread said. “And we need to talk.”

  “Hawke sent us,” Johan added.

  “I’ll take them into the backroom, father,” the girl said. Her voice was brisk, rather than harsh or subservient. Indeed, she sounded like someone who was used to taking control. “Can you close up here?”

  Johan looked from one to the other, puzzled. He’d assumed the bartender would be the Leveller, but it was the girl? On the other hand, he had to admit that no one would believe she was a Leveller. Bar wrenches weren’t expected to do anything more than hand out the beer, take the money and put up with being groped by drunken patrons. It was the perfect cover, assuming someone was prepared to tolerate the job. And the girl looked tough; her long blonde hair and dirty dress didn’t disguise the muscles on her arms. Johan wouldn’t have cared to get into a fight with her, not without magic.

  The girl led them into a backroom, then closed the door and waved her hand. Johan’s ability to sense magic was very limited, but it was clear she’d cast a privacy ward of some kind. The door locked of its own accord a second later, keeping everyone else out. It didn’t escape Johan’s notice that they were also locked in with a magician of unknown power. If the meeting went wrong, they could end up in deep trouble.

  He closed his eyes, gently touching Elaine through the bond. She’d be looking through his eyes, for all the good it would do. Maybe, if the meeting went badly wrong, Elaine and Daria could escape before it was too late. He felt a flicker of concern on the other end of the link, then nothing more than calm patience. Elaine had always been more patient than him.

  “My name is Sarah,” the girl said, shortly. “The reports from Knawel Haldane are not good.”

  Dread leant forward, urgently. “What do they say?”

  “The city has been attacked by dragons, werewolves, basilisks and hundreds of other creatures out of legend,” Sarah said. She didn’t sound particularly concerned. “We don’t know how seriously to take them.”

  “The Emperor is using dragons, summoned using the magic of sacrificial victims,” Dread said, flatly. “I imagine he won’t have any difficulty summoning other creatures, if he wishes.”

  He cleared his throat. “And does that convince you,” he added, “or do you want to keep the truth spell up?”

  Johan blinked in surprise. He hadn’t sensed the truth spell! How had Dread known it was there? Did he have some residual sensitivity to magic? Or had he recognised her casting the spell? Or had he tried to lie and found it impossible?

  “I’d prefer to keep it for the moment,” Sarah said. She gave them a crooked smile. “You’ll be surprised just how many infiltrators have tried to sneak into our ranks.”

  “I wouldn’t be,” Johan said. He cleared his throat. “I saved Hawke’s” – he tried to say son, but failed – “daughter. He was willing to pass on code words to us in exchange.”

  “So I hear,” Sarah said. She studied him for a long moment, as if she was attempting to peer under his skin. “Did the Watchtower really fall?”

  “It did,” Dread said. He cleared his throat. “The Emperor is advancing towards Ida, for various r
easons. There is … something … hidden there, we believe, that will utterly change the world. We have to get there first, before his army. However, we also need to slow the army down as much as possible.”

  “And recruit other magicians,” Johan added. It was an insulting question, but it had to be asked. “How powerful are you?”

  Sarah gave him a nasty look. “Would you like boils on your bum?”

  “I’ve had worse,” Johan said. It was true. Jamal had once tested a torture curse on him, back when he’d been home from school. “I’ve met nastier sadists than you.”

  “I was taught by a friend here,” Sarah said, after a moment. “I never went to the Peerless School … or any school, really. My wand is a hand-me-down that doesn’t always work.”

  “And you cast the truth spell on the whole room, rather than just the two of us,” Dread said, flatly. “You don’t have the power to isolate a couple of subjects …”

  “I have enough to keep the patrons from doing anything too bad,” Sarah said.

  “You’re a magician,” Johan said. “Why are you also a Leveller?”

  Sarah’s face darkened. “Do you think it’s easy being a very low-power magician when there are hundreds far more powerful and capable?”

  “No,” Johan said. He thought, suddenly, of Elaine. She could have been like Sarah if things had been a little different. Enough magic to make her different, but not enough to become truly great. And yet, given enough knowledge, Elaine had managed to start rewriting her spells to do more with less. “I know it isn’t easy.”

  “I am a Leveller, first and foremost,” Sarah said. She waved a finger at Johan, threateningly. “Do you want to question me further?”