"I stand as one of six librarians, Lord Alphonse, in the Palace Library. My title is Junior Assistant to the Chief Librarian, meaning I assist Chief Librarian Darien in the day-to-day running and care of the library. This includes research, scribing, copying, and, yes, cleaning the library."
More grumbles, startled exclamations. Em ignored them, keeping her eyes on Alphonse.
"As to why I sit before you today, my Lord," she pressed on, "I presume the King wishes me to inform you, and those who do not otherwise know, of my observations and experiences regarding the events perpetrated by the Prince against King and country."
"Absurd," a man standing next to the Prince scoffed. "What would a woman know about politics, about the domain of men?"
Em didn't know the squat man with a pocked face and red-gold hair worn loosely about his shoulders, but presumed he spoke as Prince Whillim's advocate. She did recognise the dark haired man with moustache and light beard who sat behind and to the side of the Prince among the nobles, doing his best to stare beyond her as though she didn't exist. Em decided to return the favour, disliking wizard Marcus nearly as much as he despised her. She looked again at the man standing beside Prince Whillim, wishing she at least knew his name.
"As I understand it, sir, Lady Destiny knows a great deal about politics and the domain of men." Em tried to keep the scorn from her voice; didn't know if she succeeded. "As she, a wizard and undeniably a woman, stood with the Prince, I fail to see your objection to listening to the words of a librarian."
"An impressionable young woman who should stick to cooking and cleaning and sewing," the squat man curled his lip. Em heard a brief snort from someone up on the dais, and wondered whether it had come from Prichard, Stefan or Fred. Each had worn an example of Em's poor attempts at sewing. Her opponent didn't seem to notice. "You should leave your female fancies to yourself and let us get on with important matters."
Em blinked at him a couple of times, her brows raised high. Then she turned away from him, dismissing him as she gazed serenely up at Lord Alphonse, waiting to see what the old Councillor would do.
With a heavy sigh, and perhaps a subtle nudge from the King, Alphonse shook his head wearily.
"Lord Dondar," he addressed the Prince's man. "If you object to every witness before we even hear their testimony, these proceedings will last far longer than necessary. We should at least make an effort to learn why this girl sits before us today."
Em's eyes narrowed before she schooled her features into stillness again. Not a rousing endorsement from the man who seemed in charge of this trial.
Alphonse turned an impatient glare on Em.
"So tell us, girl, in detail, why your account of Prince Whillim's actions should matter?"
"The Prince wanted a copy made of the Royal Proofs," Em began. "Chief Librarian Darien charged me with scribing said copies."
"A woman?" blurted out one of the other Councillors.
"Gentlemen," King Stefan's voice overrode the outraged murmurs, despite its deceptive softness. "If we keep interrupting her, we'll never hear Emily's tale."
In the ensuing silence, Em sensed their discomfort. It's not me they disapprove of, she thought. Or not only me. They fear hearing the truth behind their own actions. Destiny's device had robbed them of their confidence. Hearing Em's words, learning her proof, would make the Prince's treachery real, and their own duplicity, however unwilling, would come fully to light. In blaming her, belittling her, they hoped to assuage their own actions. She understood their aversion, but she wouldn't allow that understanding to colour her discourse.
"The copying of the Proofs kept me in the library late," Em continued her recitation. "Late enough, that the two mercenaries who claimed themselves under the hand of Captain Milos, working under the pay of the Prince, did not expect me to overhear them when they discussed the Destiny Seat, nor their orders to take the Royal Proofs, then assist in the capture of King Stefan."
Although her statement elicited another explosion of furious cries from those gathered, Em simply raised her voice and went on, her tenacity and refusal to allow dramatics to shadow the proceedings quickly bringing quiet to the room again. She thought she saw Stefan's lips quiver as he suppressed a smile. Prichard didn't bother to hide his own wide grin as he tilted his head in approval.
And so Em detailed what she had heard, what she had done, both during Whillim's overthrow, and after, when Stefan worked to reclaim his land. When she neared the end, where Stefan had infiltrated into Destiny's Sanctum with a small group of people, Em among them, she kept her gaze focused just beyond anyone on the dais so that she needn't meet anyone's gaze. She knew this part of her experience, when the Prince had forced Fred into the Destiny Seat to magically alter his loyalties, would cause the large Captain pain, but she refused to spare anyone at this point. She couldn't afford to, not if she wanted to give an accurate rendition of all that Prince Whillim had done in his bid for undeserved power. She could, however, keep it succinct.
"Prince Whillim sought to bait King Stefan when he struck me," Em said. "Then he ordered Captain Frederick into the Destiny Seat. Once the Captain fell under Destiny's spell, the Prince used the King's own guards to take King Stefan. After a brief struggle, they managed to force the King into the Destiny Seat. Prince Whillim himself ordered Destiny to activate her Focus, and the wizard obeyed his command." On this point, Em wanted every man there to understand that Whillim had acted of his own free will, and not under any influence from Destiny.
"With King Stefan's memory now also affected," Em concluded, "everyone in the kingdom and under his rule lay trapped in Destiny's spell, even the Prince. At this point, Lady Destiny informed Prince Whillim that 'the renegade must die to seal the spell.' She did not wield the knife intended to kill the King; Prince Whillim did. The Prince hesitated but a moment, questioning the need for this death. Destiny replied: 'You insisted upon that much. With his death, you seal your reign. Do as you will.'
"At that moment, with Prince Whillim's knife poised over King Stefan, something distracted Lady Destiny. I believe it was Wizard Marcus, as Destiny mentioned the proximity of another wizard. While this diversion held the attention of both Destiny and the Prince, I climbed into the Destiny Seat and, with the help of Guardsman Faulk, reversed the spell, allowing the King and his guards to subdue those who stood against them."
Finished with her story, Em sat waiting in the silence of the Chamber. The stillness lasted but a moment before shouts, objections and questions flew from every corner. Men shot to their feet, arms gesturing in wide arcs, or with fists pumped impotently in the air. It occurred to Em, seeing both Stefan's pale face as he sat staring at her, and Fred's incredulity from where he stood behind the King, that perhaps only Destiny had also known those words spoken to the Prince, that Whillim, not Destiny, had insisted upon Stefan's death. They knew Em wouldn't lie, that she would not misremember words they themselves hadn't noted.
The other Councillors and spectators didn't know this about Em, about her gift to remember. Her Lesser Magic, if she could believe Destiny's theory. And Em braced herself for this disbelief now.
Surprisingly, Lord Alphonse could make his voice both loud and penetrating when he wanted to. The old man used that skill now to call for order, drowning out all other objections. He glared at Em.
"You say everyone in the kingdom under King Stefan's rule fell prey to this spell when he did, yet you did not. Pray tell how a simple librarian managed to break a wizard's spell. Do you claim wizard blood yourself?"
"I do not, my Lord," she replied. "I did find myself wondering about the strange man under the Prince's knife, but then I recalled the Royal Proofs. I have a memory for the written word, Lord Alphonse. I remember everything I've ever read. When I thought of the Proofs that I had copied, I saw Stefan's name listed. 'Stefan, son of Ulrich, son of Detrich, King of Dalasham.' Prince Whillim appears on a secondary branch as brother to the King. With this evidence in my head, I thought to use the Destiny Seat, se
e if I could alter the false memory it had implanted into the realm. With the King's memory stolen, I didn't think I could make it any worse, so I did the only thing I could think of to help.
"I still don't know how or why it worked, but that memory somehow destroyed the Destiny Seat and reversed the spell."
More grumbles now, more questions, but Em didn't hear them. Instead, she followed the prickling at the base of her skull, turning her head until she found the source of her sudden disquiet. She met the frightening intensity of Wizard Marcus' stare, and felt a shiver of foreboding pull icy fingers down her spine.
She desperately wanted to quit the room now, escape the strange weight of that newly speculative gaze, and when finally she had answered questions to everyone's momentary satisfaction, Em happily fled when Fred led her away. Still, she imagined that the dark eyes of an intimidating wizard followed her out, watching her every move even through the press of bodies.
At least, she hoped she only imagined it.
Chapter 7
Destiny didn't know whether speaking with Darien helped or hurt. She did know that she had never spoken at such length with anyone before, and it left her feeling somehow raw. The man definitely had a way of drawing forth information. While Destiny had already determined to reveal all the salient details of her and Whillim's exploits, her odd ease at imparting other irrelevant old memories and wounds that she hadn't intended to share left her disturbed even as it somehow brought a measure of comfort. She knew Darien would use the information to help grant her a fair trial―and didn't that notion seem altogether foreign?―but right now, she wanted this whole experience over and done with. She wanted out of this cell, wanted to reconnect to her magic so she could wrap a protective shield around herself, escape the pressure of Darien's soothing ability. She understood fear, arrogance, even guarded respect; compassion, empathy, hints of pity, lay so far outside her experience that it left her vulnerable.
Now that Darien knew what she wanted him to know (and more), she wished he would leave. She could barely admit it to herself, but reliving so much of her past had left her exhausted, and she just wanted to sleep. Yet even as the Chief Librarian shifted as though to rise, take up his lantern and leave her in darkness once more, they both heard the light tread of approaching footsteps. The surprise on Darien's face as he turned to see this new visitor, his pleased smile pulling quickly into a worried frown as he stood, had Destiny sitting up straighter, leaning forward on her hard bench to see who had so thoroughly caught his attention.
Emily stepped into the light. Destiny supposed that shouldn't have surprised her.
"What's wrong?" Darien asked, reading more into Emily's still face than Destiny did. Emily shook her head and stared in at Destiny.
"I just came from speaking at the Prince's trial," she began, speaking to Darien, but keeping eye contact with Destiny.
"Did they listen to you?" he asked.
A brief twist of lips that put Destiny in mind of so many conversations she herself had had with recalcitrant men.
"Eventually," Emily answered. She squared her shoulders and took a trembling breath. Then she addressed Destiny directly.
"Can you see them?" the little librarian asked.
Destiny frowned.
"See what?"
"The Lesser Magics," Emily replied.
Startled, Destiny sat back, nearly pulling her knees up to her bench before she remembered she still wore her gown, somewhat the worse for wear after so many days of confinement. She settled for crossing her legs instead as she regarded her new guest.
"You don't see magic," she said. "But if you know what to look for, you might sense it, note its results."
"Can you sense them, then?" Emily pressed. "Can any wizard look at us, those of us you claim have some trace of these Lesser Magics, and sense its presence?"
"In a way, if they know what to look for."
Emily gave a fierce shake to her head, her eyes narrowed and showing a hint of distress.
"Please explain." Destiny wondered if Emily even noticed how smoothly Darien pressed her to sit on the stool he had vacated, so that the two women sat facing each other across the short length of cell separating them while he stood to the side, leaning against the door.
"When a wizard uses magic, another wizard will feel a hint of the power unless one takes measures to hide that use. When you use a Lesser Magic, unless you employ it directly against another who's sensitive to the power, it will likely go unnoticed. But the result of that use will eventually attract notice." Destiny took a breath, trying to put into words what she simply knew. "When Darien urges me to confide in him, I can feel his will press against mine. If I didn't suspect he had mastered a Lesser Magic, would I know he employed magic? Not necessarily. I might mistake it for sheer intensity, his charisma, his capacity to invite confidences. But I have studied him, and others in your kingdom, enough to recognise that pressure as magic-based. Given enough time, others would sense that ability as well, but only if he used it. One would not look at any of you and immediately deduce the magic flowing through you as anything other than the usual spark of life."
Destiny regarded Emily a moment, watched a lingering uncertainty dance with the reflection of the lantern's light in her pale eyes.
"Why?" the wizard asked.
Emily shuddered and dropped her gaze before Destiny could see any other emotion cross her features.
"When I described how I reversed your spell―" Emily paused. Destiny barely managed not to fling herself forward, wrap her hands around Emily's arms and shake the girl, demanding she reveal how she had done the impossible. She clutched the edge of her bench instead, holding herself still, but her sudden halted lunge drew Emily's focus. "I felt Wizard Marcus staring at me, saw a cold light in his eyes that went beyond our mutual animosity." She met Destiny's stare full on, dark blue eyes to light grey ones, holding, measuring, speculating. "I don't know how I beat your spell. I can guess at part of it, but I don't know. Could Marcus figure it out? Could he somehow deduce I have a Lesser Magic?"
"Tell me what you did." Destiny heard her voice croak as she swallowed past her own need to know.
"The Royal Proofs," came the unexpected answer. "I saw them in my mind, remembered Stefan's place in Dalasham, and with that knowledge, forced the truth into the Destiny Seat. At the trial, I told them I remember everything I've ever read. Would that give Marcus enough information to speculate on the possibility that I have a Lesser Magic?"
Destiny could almost laugh. Whillim had wanted the Royal Proofs copied so that he could destroy Stefan on paper as well as in person. Having them to placate the rulers of other nations had seemed almost secondary to the Prince, and in truth, they could, and had, worked around their absence. To discover now that their failed precautions had instead led to their defeat .... Without Whillim's vain need to see his brother eradicated in every way, they might not have bothered with the Royal Proofs; without insisting on the best hand to copy the Proofs, Darien would not have enlisted Emily; without the presence of the girl in the library that night―without even the need to send mercenaries into that library―none would have overheard the plans to take Stefan and replace him with Whillim. All their plans, come to naught because of the Royal Proofs, and a young woman's Lesser Magic granting her the ability to remember what a powerful spell wanted her to forget.
It took a moment for Destiny to recall that that young woman had posed a question, and awaited an answer.
"The Marcus I recall wouldn't make the connection, but you have to remember that I fled that accursed place where he trained with Nathan seven years ago. I haven't encountered any of them directly for five years. I cannot say what experience or wisdom that time might have given him, but the Marcus I knew believed women only existed to serve men. Feed them, clean up after them, birth future generations for them; that's the purpose of a woman to those who studied under my sire. The idea that a woman could think for herself, act on her own behalf, have any desire other than
to serve a man, would not enter his thoughts. Certainly he would never believe a woman could wield magic."
Emily's snort surprised Destiny.
"Yes, I learned his views on women when travelling with him." Her tone carried a mixture of amusement and disgust. "And even when we described your spell, he refused to acknowledge that a woman could create it. Women 'lack the capacity' to become wizards, or so he claimed." Still, Emily frowned, her eyes narrowed in thought. "However, given the evidence of your spell, of now having seen you face to face, can he continue to adhere to that foolish notion? He had to bind your magic so that the King's soldiers could bring you here to this cell, for goodness sake; surely he must acknowledge your powers now. Forcing him to accept the possibility that other women might possess magic too."
"It might open his mind to the possibility," Destiny agreed. "Although his upbringing would make him loath to accept it. One thing to consider, however; they all believe the magic is not mine." Destiny nodded slowly when Emily cocked her head, a considering light in her gaze. "My own father refused to see what stood before him, thinking only to harness the power in my veins. He also believed I lacked the capacity to learn. To Marcus, to Tyrandel, to any who still stick to my brother's side, I stole the magic from my father the night I killed him. How else could I have possibly escaped?" The last came out bitter.
"So your magic doesn't belong to you, in Marcus' little world," Emily mused, drawing an unexpected grin from Destiny. "Therefore, how could I, a lowly librarian of common birth, possibly have any form of magic unless I also stole it." She shook her head. "He saw something, though, or extrapolated some theory that put that unholy spark in his eye."
Destiny marvelled that any who heard Emily speak, watched her work though ideas, would consider her less than formidable. Destiny could almost wish she had had occasion to interact with this young woman before Emily had rescued King Stefan, setting them on the path that made them enemies.
The Forgotten Magic Page 6
