“Hi,” Cass said, with a wink. Her voice was light and airy, so airy that Elaine realised at once that she was overacting. But maybe a male wizard, unable to take his eyes off her chest, wouldn’t realise that he was babbling out all his secrets to a chit of a girl. “I understand that we have to look after you?”
“Yes,” Elaine said, flatly. Cass managed to make her feel dowdy, even unintentionally. It wouldn’t have bothered her before Daria had finally kicked her into trying to start a proper romance. She was certainly not going to allow Cass to escort her on the next date. “How much has he told you?”
“Only that we’re not to allow you to be taken by anyone,” Karan informed her. She was subdued, almost submissive. Elaine started to look for a collar before realising that it was just as much an act as Cass’s blonde bimbo pretence. “And that we should be careful about where we let you go.”
It was possible, Elaine decided, that Dread had also told them that Elaine was not to be taken alive, even if they had to kill her themselves. It wouldn’t be difficult; even without wands, either of them was more than a match for Elaine herself. The spell which had surprised Millicent probably wouldn’t work on a sorceress who had spent most of her adult life matching herself against the best in the business. She wanted to be angry at the Inquisitor for his action, if he had issued such orders, but it was hard to blame him. Anyone who had a clear idea of the horrors unleashed by the necromancers would do anything to prevent them from being unleashed again. The last war had nearly destroyed the entire world.
“Sounds about right,” she said, mildly. She wondered if she should confirm that they should follow Dread’s orders, if there were such orders, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. “Shall we go?”
Seen from the North Peak, the Golden City seemed to glow with light. Where Ida had been drab and grey, and Castle Adamant a brooding monstrosity on the hill, the Golden City was alive. She had never really understood it before, but the Golden City was the best and worst of the Empire gathered in one place. The styles and techniques developed by thousands of different civilisations had been fused into one, while people from all over the world travelled to see the Golden City, each one adding a little more diversity to the most diverse city in the world. There were even people who believed that the streets were paved with gold.
But not all of it was kind, she knew. Some came to the city, fell into poverty and never managed to climb out. Different cultures rubbed each other the wrong way; different priests used their daily sermons to call down hellfire on their rivals. From High Tory to Low Town – and the Blight – the city was the empire in miniature. Powerful men and women, some aristocratic and some magical, ruling over thousands of small states. And the Blight, perhaps, serving as a counterpart to the necromantic wars...or the dead lands where the Witch-King had made his final bid for power. Nothing would grow there for thousands of years, unless some of the undead mutated into forms that could survive the waves of wild magic washing across the continent. It wasn’t a comforting thought. The one thing everyone knew about wild magic was that it couldn’t be controlled – and that its effects were effectively random.
She allowed Cass to precede her down the road leading into the city. Unlike Ida, the Golden City didn’t bother with a road that was part of its defence line, although if a hostile power gained control of the mountains the Golden City would be forced to surrender anyway. But who would dare attack the Grand Sorcerer? Just for a moment, she wondered just how far the Prince’s plans actually went. Had he forged links with the states closer to the Golden City, convincing them to send their armies to attack? It didn’t seem likely, if only because the preparations would be noticed...wouldn’t they? But if there had already been one catastrophic intelligence failure, why couldn’t there have been a second? Or a third...?
The sights and sounds of the Golden City were music to her ears after the dour city of Ida. Street vendors competed savagely with each other in advertising their food, drink and souvenirs of the city. A pair of candidates for the City Council were engaged in a political debate, egged on by the crowd who had brought rotten vegetables to throw at candidates they didn’t like. Half the city didn’t have the property, money or magical qualifications to vote, which didn’t stop them enjoying the debates and the chance to throw stuff at their social superiors. The City Guard knew better than to intervene unless people started throwing objects – or magic – that could cause real harm.
A witch operating a stall was offering curses, potions and charms for anyone’s requirement. Selling curses wasn’t technically illegal, but it did tend to draw the Inquisition’s attention on the grounds that it represented a misuse of magic. Elaine suspected, even without drawing on the knowledge in her head, that the witch wasn’t really offering anything more than placebos. A person without proper magical training was unlikely to realise that the curses didn’t work, or only worked briefly; the witch probably claimed that they caused ill-luck rather than something specific. The love potions might be real, or they might be something intended to push someone into growing the confidence to ask their intended victim out. They didn’t not work, one of her tutors had once explained, but they weren’t really magic. The distinction was lost on the uninitiated.
“And I tell you that the proper place for a woman is on her knees,” a voice boomed. There was magic in it, not compulsion spells but magic intended to convince the listener to keep listening. No one threw rotten fruit or eggs at the speaker. “She should remain silent, forever faithful and obedient to her man, silently serving him as is her natural role...”
Elaine rolled her eyes, noting without surprise just how much of the crowd was male. Vlad Deferens was in his late thirties, with unkempt black hair and a scruffy long beard. He wore a bright red tunic and kilt – the nasty part of Elaine’s mind wondered what, if anything, he wore under his kilt – and carried a faintly disturbing staff in one hand. The tip of the staff looked alarmingly like a very important male organ. It was clear that Deferens used it to do all of his thinking.
“And as Grand Sorcerer, I will see to it that women return to their natural place,” Deferens thundered. “I will make collars freely available to every man who wishes to control his wife, to encourage her to be submissive and obedient...”
Elaine stared at him, feeling outrage growing in her breast. She had never been a wife, but she’d seen enough of married life to know that men were just as responsible for marital problems as women. And women invariably got the worst of it, even in the most cosmopolitan cities. They could be beaten by their husbands, forced to obey his every whim...magic provided some freedom, for sorceresses, but not for those who were only mundane.
“He’s been doing this all week,” Cass muttered. The female Inquisitor sounded just as disgusted as Elaine felt. She was one of the most powerful magicians, male or female, in the world. Deferens would have her abandon all that to become little more than chattel. “I don’t even know how seriously he takes the contest to become Grand Sorcerer if this is the sort of shit he excretes at every opportunity.”
A spell danced through Elaine’s mind and she triggered it before she had a chance to reflect on what it actually did. There was a brief pause when she thought it did nothing, before a gust of wind blew across the stage and flicked Deferens’ kilt up, exposing him to the world. The crowd burst into laughter; Deferens looked to be very small, although Elaine had nothing to compare it to. Grand Sorcerer candidate or not, Deferens would find it very hard to live that down.
Cass gripped her wrist and dragged her away before she could do anything else. Behind her, she heard the sound of rotten fruit being thrown at a target. Who knew what would happen now? Maybe Deferens would do something so stupid that he’d be put out of the running.
And if that happened, she realised, Prince Hilarion’s chances of victory became that much higher.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her apartment almost felt unfamiliar to her as she entered, after trying to c
onvince her bodyguards to wait outside. They refused to listen to her and insisted on searching the apartment before allowing her to go inside. Elaine heard enough of the discussion between Cass and Daria to know that her friend wasn’t happy about the sudden intrusion – and completely mystified. It was another thing for Elaine to regret, she realised, and to feel guilty over. Daria’s life had been turned upside down just because she had been friendly to an almost-friendless girl.
Daria didn’t look different physically, but she seemed younger to Elaine’s eyes. Or maybe Elaine had grown up. Had she ever been a mature adult since she’d left the Peerless School, or had she merely been marking time and pretending that she was still a teenager? But then her teenage years hadn’t been anything interesting, really. She’d sometimes believed that she’d been born old.
“Well,” Daria said, finally. “Who was that...blonde person in our apartment?”
“It’s a long story,” Elaine admitted. She couldn’t blame Daria for being a little irritated. Her friend had always been a deeply private person, despite the number of boys she had invited to enter her. As a werewolf, she’d known what it was like to be hunted; the Peerless School would have expelled her if enough of the important parents had complained. Werewolves were not trusted in human society. “I...I want to tell you, but it could put you in very real danger.”
“You’ve been with the Inquisitor,” Daria said. At one point, her deduction would have surprised Elaine. Now, she knew that the werewolf had smelled Dread’s scent on her. And everyone else’s, for that matter. “I assume that your trip to Ida didn’t go precisely as planned?”
Elaine flushed. It hadn’t really been planned at all, something that – in hindsight – should have warned her that she wasn’t entirely acting under her own volition. She’d been luckier than she wanted to admit. If she hadn’t encountered Dread, she would have been broken and then killed in the torture chamber below Castle Adamant. And as it was, she’d managed to meet her own obligations under the Mage’s Oath. The Inquisition now knew about a dreadful threat to the entire Empire.
“It didn’t,” she said. “Daria...I love you, but this could put you in danger. If you want to leave, I will understand...”
Daria shook her head, tossing her long mane of hair. “I think you know me better than that,” she said. She knew that Elaine wasn’t exaggerating. It was easy to control one’s voice to lie, but a great deal harder to control one’s scent. “When have I ever backed down from a fight?”
“Never,” Elaine agreed. “Just listen, please.”
She started with the entire story, running through it from beginning to end, and then detailed what they’d discovered in Ida. Daria listened silently, her nose flaring slightly; in hindsight, it was easy to see a distinctly canine aspect to her features. Her big eyes were remarkably like a dog’s eyes. No wonder Millicent had laughed so much when she’d hinted at Daria’s secret. Elaine had missed something right under her own nose.
“Sounds like you’re in trouble,” Daria said. She shrugged as she picked up the latest collection of pamphlets from the touts – and supporters of the various candidates. “I can see why the Prince would want to cheat. He has exactly five supporters – and one of them is Lord Melchett, so he doesn’t count.”
Elaine snorted. Lord Melchett had been the heir to a distinguished family...until he’d been caught engaging in a practice that made incest and necrophilia look forgivable. His family had disowned him, his friends had melted away and he’d started drinking himself to death. What he’d done wasn’t exactly illegal, but High Society had passed judgement on him and treated him as a pariah. Elaine had little patience for Millicent and the rest of the aristocrats, yet for once it was easy to take their side. Lord Melchett was a disgrace to the entire society of inbred morons.
She took one of the sheets of paper and skimmed through it. Prince Hilarion’s allies were few and far between; an aristocrat who was known for dabbling in magic, a pair of tradesmen who wanted a powerful political patron – and no one was higher than the Grand Sorcerer – and an aristocrat who had lost a suit against his peers that had been judged by the previous Grand Sorcerer personally. Elaine guessed that he hoped that the new Grand Sorcerer would reverse the ruling. But all of them had good reason for gambling on a long shot.
But Prince Hilarion also seemed to have a great deal of money. She doubted that it had all come from Ida; the cost of a successful political campaign, let alone one by a candidate to become Grand Sorcerer, was staggering. Prince Hilarion had to have other backers, but the touts hadn’t succeeded in tracing them. They’d probably handed over bags of Crowns, knowing that even the Inquisition would be unable to track them back to their source. He was buying influence in various places, influence that would be all the more effective for being underestimated...
...And yet...what was he doing?
There were only vague hints in the knowledge she’d absorbed about just what happened in the process of selecting a new Grand Sorcerer. Almost nothing was known publicly, although it was assumed that it was a test of a candidate’s magical power and their political support within the Empire. It was almost as if whoever had devised the contest – the first Grand Sorcerer, perhaps – hadn’t wanted to write anything down. Maybe the knowledge was in her mind, still locked up until she asked the right question, or maybe the details were passed on by word of mouth. But if that were the case, who was in charge of masterminding the contest?
“It could be a repeat of the Jury Law,” Daria said, when Elaine outlined her thoughts. “I had to study that for work, back when they were offering me the chance to become a manager and even open my own shop.”
Elaine felt her mind click as new knowledge seemed to blossom open in front of her. The first century after the Second Necromantic War had seen corruption spreading throughout the Empire, particularly within the Golden City. It was simple for the rich to bribe juries into taking their side, using their power to ensure that no laws were passed limiting the practice. The early Reform Party had had real problems making any kind of changes. Finally, the Grand Sorcerer of that era had died and been replaced by a man with different ideas about how a city should be run. He’d expanded each of the juries until there were no less than five hundred prospective candidates for each jury, forcing anyone who wanted to bribe them to bribe them all, even though only thirteen of the five hundred would actually serve on the jury itself. The cost of bribing promptly skyrocketed. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but even the richest of citizens would have problems bribing every possible member.
“See who gets the most bribes?” Elaine said. It sounded possible, but it seemed a little unlikely. “Maybe they just throw magic at one another until all but one of them are dead.”
“Could be,” Daria agreed. “But I was thinking that the victor would be the one who managed to galvanise enough support from the city’s power blocks. Power is one thing, but they all have power. Actually ruling the state needs more than just raw power. Maybe the tests force them to cope with a crisis and see how they handle it.”
Elaine nodded. There were thousands of books on the history of government in the Great Library...and they were now all in her head. Some states had eaten their – metaphorical – seed corn and suffered economic crashes due to bad leadership. Others had lasted for centuries before the dictates of aristocratic supremacy put an idiot or a madman in power. Hell, the reason why the Southern Continent was governed by an Empress – and never an Emperor – was that their last Emperor had been a madman who slaughtered his way through most of the upper classes before one of the widowed women, forced to share his bed, cut his throat as he slept.
“You should ask your friend the Inquisitor,” Daria added. “I bet they’d know, if anyone does...”
“It doesn’t matter for the moment,” Elaine said. “I have something else to tell you.”
Daria paused, pretending to consider. “You’re getting married to Bee? You dumped Bee for Dread? That Princess you broug
ht here convinced you that girls are more fun than boys?”
Elaine laughed, despite herself. Daria always took such an irreverent view of the universe. “It’s worse than that,” she admitted. “I have a confession to make.”
“You stole my latest boyfriend?” Daria asked. “Bah – how terrible. And he was terrible in bed too...”
“This is serious,” Elaine snapped, angrily. “I’m trying to make a confession here...”
“I try not to take life too seriously,” Daria admitted. “Not having anywhere permanent to call my home does tend to ensure that I remain flippant at all times.”
Elaine shook her head. After spending so long nerving herself to confess to Daria, it was weird to see the confession being waved away so flippantly. But Daria still didn’t know what she was talking about. How could she?
“I discovered that you were a werewolf,” Elaine said, in a rush. “I’m sorry, it was wrong of me...”
Daria gaped at her and then started to laugh. “We have known each other for seven years,” she said, between laughs, “and you only just found out that I am a werewolf?”
Her chuckles grew louder. “I always assumed that you knew!”
“I never even considered the possibility,” Elaine admitted, ruefully. Of course Millicent had laughed. She’d realised Daria’s secret long ago. “I...”
Her friend held up her palm in front of Elaine’s eyes. It was covered with fine, almost invisible hairs. “I have more hair on my body than you do,” she said, dryly. “You never bothered to take a peek when you were helping me to dress?”
“I always hated it at the orphanage,” Elaine said. Communal living there had been embarrassing, particularly when dealing with children who had actually grown up in a family before being sent to the orphanage. They’d peeked on the girls as they tried to wash, despite their complaints. No one in the orphanage had really cared if the children started to pick on each other. “And then Millicent sent me streaking naked through the corridors...”
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