Full Circle

by Christopher Nuttall

“Yes,” Dolman said. “The control spells are lodged in their harnesses, allowing anyone to actually fly the dragons once they’re mounted up. But I don’t think the Witch-King will have any problems casting the same spells you used to defend Ida and knocking the dragons out of the sky.”

  “He didn’t see the spells in action,” Sarah objected.

  “It’s unlikely to matter,” Elaine said. “If he took the knowledge from … from my mother, he won’t have any difficulty crafting similar spells for himself.”

  “You’re smart,” Johan objected.

  “So is he,” Dread said, before Elaine could muster a response. “Someone who turned himself into a near-lich and laid plans that matured over generations – and brought the Empire down in flames – can hardly be called an idiot.”

  Except he nearly lost everything, Elaine thought. If we’d managed to get to his coffin before Deferens arrived, he would have been unable to find a source of magic potent enough to keep him alive, once he rose.

  “I threw everything I had at him,” Johan said. “He’s immune to my power. We hit him with Elaine’s spells and even buried him under falling rocks and he just kept coming.”

  “He’s not all-powerful,” Dolman said, firmly. “There would be no point in having this meeting if he could just snap his fingers and blot us from existence.”

  He’s not all-powerful, Elaine agreed, mentally.

  She reached into her pocket, produced a notebook – the one she’d taken from Deferens’ dead body – and started to scribble down calculations. The Witch-King had managed to combine both wild and high magic to create his new body; that, at least, was obvious. Indeed, his body was very definitely made of raw magic. But he clearly needed to refuel regularly or he’d simply wind down and stop, his body dissolving into dust. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure they were missing something obvious.

  He’s going back to the Golden City, she thought, recalling the earlier discussion. They’d agreed the Witch-King needed a source of power. There, he can find the Peerless School and the Great Library …

  She sucked in her breath. “Deferens … what did Deferens leave behind, when he left the Golden City?”

  “He left the city under martial law,” Dolman said. “There were a couple of thousand troops on the streets and a handful of magicians, but not enough to force the defences of the Great Houses or the Peerless School.”

  Elaine frowned, looking down at her calculations. “And the Great Library?”

  “Remains locked, unless the wardcrafters managed to break through the defences after the army left,” Dolman supplied. “I don’t think the Great Houses wanted to take up arms against the Emperor, not after his dragons made an example of House Lakeside.”

  Ouch, Elaine thought. She sensed Johan’s sudden concern through the bond. They’d left his younger siblings at House Lakeside before leaving the Golden City. They may not want to fight Deferens, but the Witch-King would be worse.

  “The Golden City remains the single strongest concentration of magicians in the world,” she said, after a moment. “If my calculations are correct” – she knew there was no way to test them – “the Witch-King should be able to make himself effectively immortal by sacrificing the remaining children at the Peerless School. He’d achieve a level of magic, ebbing and flowing around his intellect, that would never actually fade.”

  She took a breath. “He would, to all intents and purposes, make himself a genuine god.”

  “So we have to stop him from reaching the Peerless School,” Dread said. “How?”

  “Force him to expend magic,” Sarah said. “The more he uses to defend himself, the less he will have to keep himself alive.”

  “He’s got a lot of magic,” Dread warned. “Even if we managed to catch him, he’d have enough power to just keep walking, burning his way through all resistance, until he reached the Golden City.”

  “He could probably walk over the Peaks if he couldn’t get into the tunnels,” Johan added, darkly. “I don’t think he’d be deterred by wild magic.”

  “He’d just see it as a source of power,” Elaine mused. Had the weather-control spells been meant to feed the Witch-King? Light Spinner had prevented that, at least, when she’d used the remainder of the spells to kill a dragon. “Unless he had problems absorbing wild magic …”

  She looked back down at her calculations. “There is a possibility,” she said. “But we’d need to get back to the Golden City ahead of him.”

  “Use the dragons,” Dolman said. “Leave the army here and leapfrog over the Witch-King.”

  “There’s still an occupation force there,” Dread said, quietly. “And the hidden defences of the city itself.”

  Elaine blinked. “Hidden defences?”

  “They’re normally only discussed with the Grand Sorcerer,” Dread explained. “We are sworn to secrecy on pain of” – he looked at his hands – “magic loss.”

  “Except that the defences require a Grand Sorcerer – or an Emperor,” Dolman said. He took a harsh breath, then let it out slowly as it became clear the secret was already out. “There isn’t an Emperor in residence.”

  “There will be,” Dread said, darkly. “Deferens presumably had relatives who share his bloodline. The Witch-King might be waiting for one of them to reach the Golden City and take the Golden Throne.”

  But there could be one there already, Elaine thought, grimly. And if that happens, Dolman will switch sides again. He’ll have to.

  She sensed the sudden burst of amusement from Johan, an instant before he threw back his head and started to laugh. Everyone stared at him as he giggled helplessly. Elaine opened her mouth and closed it again, realising there was no point in trying to calm him down. He was just too amused for anything short of a kick to work …

  Dread didn’t seem to agree. “And what’s so funny?”

  “Deferens got the Golden Throne because he was related to the original bloodline,” Johan said. He shot Elaine an unreadable look before continuing. “Does the Throne automatically accept children or does it merely wait for someone else with the right bloodline?”

  Elaine hesitated, skimming through the knowledge buried in her mind. “It would go for an adult with the right bloodline,” she said, after a moment. “The sitting Emperor would designate a heir, but whoever got to the Golden Throne after the Emperor’s death would be the next Emperor, backed up by the Inquisitors.”

  Johan looked right at her. “You’re related to Deferens,” he said. “Why can’t you take the Golden Throne?”

  Elaine stared at him in shock. The Witch-King had had no reason to lie; he’d known she was dying, he’d merely wanted to speak with her before she passed on. It made a certain kind of sense, too; if the original plan had worked, she could have been held in reserve at Ida until the Witch-King emerged, then used to shut down the defences and take the city. And yet, what if she wasn’t close enough to the bloodline? The Golden Throne might have barely considered Deferens a viable candidate.

  She closed her eyes, trying to gauge how the throne would react. There was no way to know what criteria the original Emperors might have used; there had been candidates who’d died when they sat on the throne, but she didn’t know anything about them. Later, the Privy Council had checked each candidate thoroughly before allowing them to take the throne. Deferens had been the first person in a thousand years to sit on the throne and not die horribly. It could work, if she was close enough to qualify …

  … Or it could end very badly. The last unsuccessful candidate had taken hours to die.

  “It might work,” Dread mused, as Elaine opened her eyes. “But Elaine might not share the bloodline.”

  “She’s related to Deferens,” Johan insisted.

  “Yes,” Dread said, patiently. “If we assume the Witch-King was telling the truth, then she is – but tell me, on which side of the family? For all we know, Elaine and Deferens were close relatives even though she doesn’t carry a droplet of the bloodline
.”

  “There is a test,” Dolman said. He tapped the table, thoughtfully. “We take the dragons and head straight back to the Golden City, perhaps taking the time to warn everyone along the way about the Witch-King. If we get into the city, we take Elaine straight to the palace …”

  “Apart from the minor detail that there’s an occupying army,” Brian injected.

  Dolman ignored him. “We get Elaine into the palace and test her blood,” he said. “There’s an … artefact within the palace that glows if it’s worn by anyone of the bloodline. If she does qualify as a potential candidate, she takes the throne and control of the defences. They’d slow the Witch-King down, if nothing else, buying us time to get the students away from him.”

  “He might attack the wards directly,” Elaine said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about the prospects of becoming Empress. It had been quite bad enough serving on the Privy Council. “I suspect he can drain power from them directly or simply burn through them. Johan didn’t have any trouble seriously damaging the wards in the Great Library.”

  “I don’t see any other option,” Dolman said. “The longer we delay, the greater the chance that someone else will be plonked down on the Golden Throne.”

  “Then we leave tonight,” Dread said.

  Elaine swallowed. She didn’t want to be Empress … and, if Johan was wrong, they’d be in the middle of the Golden City, surrounded by an army of occupation. There was the other idea nagging at her mind, but she needed time to sit down and think about it properly. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get that time.

  Everyone wants to be Emperor, Johan sent.

  Not me, Elaine sent back. I’d be a prisoner of the Golden Throne.

  She knew he’d sense her reluctance – but, at the same time, she understood what he meant. There wasn’t any other choice. The Witch-King wouldn’t have gambled everything on Vlad Deferens surviving to adulthood, not when half the men in his homeland died before they turned eighteen. There would be another heir waiting in the wings, perhaps far closer to the Golden City than themselves.

  But then, his homeland is weeks away even on Iron Dragons, she thought, numbly. And Deferens might not have wanted a potential rival so close. Could there be a heir a week from the Golden City? Or …

  She shook her head. There was no way to know.

  “Very well,” she said, trying to sound commanding. “We will take the dragons and fly tonight. The remainder of the army can be sent home, if they wish, or allowed to go wherever they please. They’re nothing more than targets to the Witch-King.”

  “Of course, My Lady,” Dolman said. “With your permission, I’ll ready the remaining Inquisitors and other magicians. We should be ready to depart within the hour.”

  “Have Charity come too,” Johan said. “She might be able to convince the Great Houses to assist us.”

  “Do it,” Elaine said.

  She looked down at the table as the meeting slowly broke up, refusing to meet their eyes. Sarah and the Levellers had to be horrified; they’d watched the death of an Emperor, only to discover that they might be about to see the rise of an Empress. And yet, what other choice did they have? The Inquisitors had to see her as a better mistress than any of the Witch-King’s puppets and they’d be in a race against time. Failing to put Elaine on the Golden Throne quickly enough to pre-empt the Witch-King would see them reduced to slaves again, slaves who would be perfectly placed to betray their former allies. They didn’t see any choice either.

  Dread patted her shoulder, gently. “You can abdicate once it’s over,” he said. “Or even leave the task of ruling to the Privy Council.”

  Elaine sighed. She had never wanted anything but the Great Library. Now … she’d have to sit on the throne and rule … or die, if it rejected her. Dolman was right; there was a test, but was it precise enough to be definite? It was a lot easier to say that someone was not related to the bloodline than close enough to pass the test, yet not close enough to sit on the throne.

  “I will,” she said, tiredly. She’d have to have children … the idea of having children wasn’t bad, but she’d never wanted them before. And then they’d be prisoners of the throne too. If they abandoned the throne, one of their distant relatives would take it in their place. “If we survive, if we make it work, we have to change the system. This cannot be allowed to happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Dread said. He turned towards the flap, then stopped. “For what it’s worth, you know enough to prevent the same mistakes from being repeated.”

  “I’m sorry,” Johan said, once Dread had left. “I just saw it …”

  “I didn’t,” Elaine said, miserably. She felt a flicker of grim amusement as a thought struck her. “You do realise that makes you the Prince Consort?”

  Johan blinked. “What?”

  “The bond makes us married, by some rules,” Elaine said. She smiled at his shock. “You’re not going to be Emperor, just Prince Consort.”

  Johan stared at her, then smiled gently. “We’re married?”

  “By some laws,” Elaine said. “I’m afraid it wasn’t a big wedding …”

  “Big enough,” Johan said, firmly. “Besides, we can have a proper ceremony afterwards.”

  “If we survive,” Elaine said. She met his eyes. “Dread was right, you know. We don’t know precisely how I’m related to Deferens. It’s quite possible I don’t share the same bloodline – or enough of it to register. If the test fails, the whole plan falls through …”

  She took a breath, then reached for him. “And if that happens,” she added slowly, “there’s only one last card to play.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You don’t have to watch me, you know,” Charity said. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Daria said. She’d been sitting by the bedside when Charity awoke, then stayed with her despite polite requests and outright threats. “But your brother does want a friendly eye kept on you.”

  “Thanks,” Charity said, sourly. She looked down at her dress and rose to her feet. “My brother should know I can take care of myself.”

  Daria met her eyes. “You were a slave for several weeks,” she said. “Like it or not, you will be feeling the after-effects for many years to come. I strongly suggest you allow me to stay with you for at least a few hours.”

  “Fine,” Charity said. She pulled her cloak over her head, then followed Daria as she led the way out of the tent. “Where are we going?”

  “The Golden City,” Daria said. A wild-eyed man was waiting for her, his features oddly canine. “One moment.”

  A werewolf, Charity thought. And if the man was a werewolf … she looked at Daria’s hands and saw, even in the twilight, a thin layer of hairs. Daria was a werewolf too. But compared to the Witch-King, and the Emperor, Daria was harmless. At least she can only tear my throat out if she gets mad at me.

  Daria spoke briefly to the man, who listened to her and then bowed his head. That was odd, from what Charity remembered; Daria should have had problems trying to give orders to an older male werewolf. But the werewolf turned and headed into the gloom, while Daria beckoned Charity to follow her towards the dragon pens. A handful of black-clad Inquisitors were already there, eying the dragons grimly. Charity felt another flicker of fear as one of the dragons peered at her, as if it were gauging her value as a food source. She told herself, firmly, that she wasn’t large enough to make a real snack.

  “We’re going to be flying back to the Golden City,” Daria said. She smiled, nervously. “I’m a little scared of heights.”

  Charity blinked. “A werewolf is scared of heights?”

  “I’m not scared of the fall,” Daria said. If she was surprised at being recognised as a werewolf, she kept it to herself. “I’m just scared of the landing.”

  “It isn’t that bad,” Charity said. It occurred to her that Daria might be trying to draw her out of her shell, but it was hard to care. “You just keep a tight
grip on the reins and pray the spells keeping the beast under control don’t fail.”

  Daria bared her teeth. “And what if they do?”

  “You die, I assume,” Charity said. She’d seen the dragons flexing their necks. They wouldn’t have any trouble snapping back and biting a rider right off the saddle. “There’s no point in worrying about it.”

  She looked up as she saw a pair of light globes approaching, heralding the arrival of the Head Librarian and Johan. They were standing surprisingly close together, their hands almost touching; Charity realised, in a sudden flicker of insight, that they were lovers. It was a shock, at first; she wasn’t that much older than him, but he was a Conidian while the Head Librarian had no family. And then Charity caught herself, bitterly. Elaine was a Privy Councillor, the sole remaining Privy Councillor, while Johan had abandoned his family and discarded his name.

  Father would have been pleased, she thought. He was always looking for new ways to gain influence over the other councillors.

  “Johan,” Charity said. There was no point in discussing the matter now, not when they might not live past the next few days. They could talk about a formal marriage contract and ceremony later. “When are we going?”

  “Now,” Johan said. He looked past her at the lead dragon, his eyes shining with excitement as he imagined soaring above the earth. “How easy are they to fly?”

  “Just think of them as oversized horses,” Charity said, dully. She hadn’t been allowed to control a dragon personally, but she’d watched and learnt. “Pull the reins up to steer the dragon into the air; push down on the saddle to make the dragon breathe fire. Don’t let the beast collide with another dragon or they’ll start fighting. Try not to cast spells while you’re in the air, unless they’re perfectly attuned to the dragon’s magic field.”

  “Great,” Johan said. He was smiling openly in a manner she remembered from when they’d lived in an isolated house, well away from anyone who might notice his lack of magic and remember. “This should be fun.”

  Charity exchanged glances with the Head Librarian. It was clear she didn’t think it was going to be fun. Nor did a handful of the Inquisitors.