“If they ever do,” Emily said. Heart’s Eye had fallen ten years ago. The survivors would have made new lives elsewhere. They probably wouldn’t want to return. “But I won’t make a fuss.”
She paused. “Did you find anything interesting in the remains?”
“Very little,” Void said. He grimaced. “Breeding pits, both human and orc; half-faded spells intended to detect children with magic and identify them before they started to use it ... I suspect Dua Kepala was experimenting, as well as preparing for his next conquest. We’ll probably never know just how far he delved into forbidden mysteries. I don’t know how he managed to survive for so long.”
“He was relatively sane,” Emily pointed out. “Perhaps he was careful.”
“That’s the problem,” Void said. “No matter how careful they are, necromancers always go mad. They lose all ability to realize just how far they’ve fallen.”
He rose, giving her a very brief hug before heading for the door. “I’ll see you again soon,” he promised. “And give my love to Caleb.”
Emily had to smile. “I’m sure he’ll be grateful,” she said. She doubted that was even remotely true. “But I don’t know what he’ll say when I go home.”
“Death is part of life,” Void told her. He stopped at the door, turning to look at her. “And that, alas, is true.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“MY LADY EMILY,” LORD FULBRIGHT SAID, as Emily and Lady Barb stepped out into the bright sunlight. Five horsemen and seven horses stood outside, waiting for them. “It is a pleasure to escort you home.”
Emily gritted her teeth. Lord Fulbright was as arrogant as always, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes when he looked at her. He’d never taken her seriously, not really. Losing the duel to Casper probably hadn’t helped, even before she’d told him off for putting his horses ahead of the soldiers. But now, Emily had killed a third necromancer ...
Maybe he counts as two necromancers, Emily thought. Dua Kepala had been one mind in two bodies, after all. Or ...
“Thank you,” she said, cutting off the fawning. “Shall we go?”
Lady Barb shot her a sharp look as they mounted their horses, the cavalrymen wheeling around and taking up position around them. Emily felt a stab of guilt, mixed with an odd bitter resentment. Casper had died — countless soldiers had died — and yet Lord Fulbright had survived. His men had charged into the teeth of enemy formations and been slaughtered, but he was still alive. She wondered, vindictively, if he’d stay in command long enough to lead his men against rifle-armed infantry. They’d be wiped out to the last man.
And what, her own thoughts pointed out, would his men have done to deserve it?
She forced herself to calm down as her mind reached out to the nexus point. The spellware was growing and changing, slowly turning into something that might — one day — match Whitehall. It responded to her call, awaiting orders. She carefully sealed the building, ensuring that no one else could enter without her, then closed the connection. She’d have to come back, one day, to search the school for books and documents. Until then, it would have to remain isolated.
Her horse started into motion, picking up speed as he cantered down the ruined street. The city had been utterly devastated, with only a handful of buildings left marginally intact. Dozens of armed soldiers were poking around, piling up swords, clubs and other enemy weapons in the streets. Others — carrying swords or muskets — were patrolling the edge of the city, watching for orcs. They’d been scared off, but they might come back. There weren’t any other sources of water in the desert.
That might change, Emily thought. The nexus point is alive again.
A gang of soldiers were digging a large mass grave, preparing a burial ground for countless orcs and their former captives. Others were butchering the bodies, cutting them up to ensure they couldn’t rise again. Emily felt sick, but she knew there was no choice. They probably didn’t have time to burn the bodies, even if they’d had enough wood to make a fire. She just hoped the orcs didn’t come back to dig up and eat the bodies.
They passed the edge of the city and raced out into the desert. The sandstorms were gone, but she could still taste sand in the air. And yet, something was different. All the stories had insisted that there was something malicious in the Desert of Death, a force bent on destroying all life. Perhaps they’d been right, Emily thought. The sand had been spreading northwards, destroying farms and villages as if it were a living thing. But now ... the nexus point was alive again, bringing life back to the land. The country could be reclaimed.
Lady Barb cantered up beside her. “What did he tell you?”
“I own Heart’s Eye,” Emily said, after casting a privacy ward. She paused, then pressed on before Lady Barb could say a word. “Are you going to be sticking around? Sergeant Miles is here.”
Lady Barb gave her a sharp look. “Don’t be cheeky,” she said. “Unless you want to spend the next two weeks as a toad.”
Emily shook her head, hastily. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll be around,” Lady Barb said. She glanced back towards the city. “I was asked to accompany Void into the Blighted Lands, but I’d prefer to go alone.”
“I understand,” Emily said. Lady Barb hated Void. Spending so long working with him had to have been hellish. And yet, she’d done it for Emily. “I do need to talk to you.”
Lady Barb nodded. “About Caleb?”
Emily flushed. “And other things,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to Casper’s father.”
“The truth,” Lady Barb said. “You won’t do him any favors if you try to soften the blow.”
She shrugged. “Besides, he already knows his son is dead,” she added. “You’re not the person who had to tell him.”
Emily felt a stab of sympathy for the unlucky messenger. Who had told him? Void? Lady Barb? Or Sergeant Miles ... there was no reason he couldn’t have a chat parchment of his own, linked to Lady Barb. The person who had told him ... General Pollack didn’t normally shoot the messenger, but this time he might make an exception. His eldest son was dead. All of his plans for the future had died with him.
And now Caleb is the heir, Emily thought. What will that do to us?
“We’ll have time to talk in the city,” Lady Barb assured her. “Miles can probably arrange for us to have some privacy, if you wish.”
“And privacy for you two as well,” Emily said. She ducked a half-hearted blow. “Did I do the right thing?”
“You killed a necromancer,” Lady Barb said. “I doubt many people will be able to look past that, even if they want to.”
Emily shook her head. She’d let Casper win the duel, she’d let him follow her into the Desert of Death ... she’d made mistakes, some of them quite dangerous. In hindsight, she’d come alarmingly close to losing everything — again. If the necromancer had beaten them both, if she’d lost control of the nexus point, if ...
She pushed the thought out of her head. She’d won. They’d won. The war was over.
The cavalry galloped onwards, passing through a half-wrecked village. Bodies — human and orc — lay on the ground, rotting under the sun. A couple of scavengers were poking through the hovels, looking for anything useful. Emily silently wished them luck. Even if the refugees started returning at once, it would be years before they could rebuild their homes and farms. The entire region had been devastated.
And their king probably won’t send any help either, she thought, as they found a road and headed north. He doesn’t care about the peasants.
Her eyes opened wide as they passed a POW camp. Orcs — hundreds of orcs — were chained together, sitting on the ground and waiting. Armed guards were watching them, their eyes flickering nervously from orc to orc. Emily was honestly surprised. She’d assumed that every last orc would be killed on sight as the Allied Lands mopped up the remains of the invasion force. But there were prisoners, so heavily chained they could barely move ...
S
he waved to Lady Barb. “They’re taking prisoners?”
“That’s new,” Lady Barb agreed. “They may have plans to use them for labor.”
Emily frowned. It didn’t seem likely. All the books insisted that the orc was either at your throat or at your feet, something she vaguely recalled being said about ethnic groups back home. Perhaps the kingdom could batter the orcs into submission, like the necromancers ... or maybe they were just preparing a rod for their own back. If the orcs realized their own strength, they would break free and slaughter everyone nearby ...
“They’re mad,” she said, as they left the POW camp behind. “They can’t trust them!”
“No, they can’t,” Lady Barb agreed. “But the only other option is killing them all.”
Emily kept her thoughts to herself as the small convoy galloped onwards, heading towards the city. There were more and more patrols criss-crossing the landscape, cavalry hunting down the remainder of the enemy force while the infantry did its best to secure the roads and direct the newcomers towards Heart’s Eye. She shook her head in amused disbelief as they passed a large formation of cavalrymen heading south, their silver outfits glinting under the bright sun. The orcs would have no trouble spotting them from a distance ... perhaps their commander thought the flashes of light would blind the enemy ...
Or perhaps there wasn’t that much thinking involved, she thought, dryly. Their commander just thought they looked good.
She sucked in her breath as Farrakhan finally came into view. Teams of workers were swarming around the walls, hastily fixing up the damage from the assault; hundreds of tents had been pitched outside, dozens of flags flapping in the breeze. She only recognized a handful of them, all from places right across the Allied Lands. Lady Barb had been right, she thought. Now the hard part was over, everyone wanted a share of the credit.
The gates opened, revealing a cheering crowd. Emily winced inwardly, wishing she could run and hide. She’d never liked public events, even before King Randor had ennobled her in front of his entire court. But there was nowhere to go. Lord Fulbright tore off his feathered hat and waved it in the air as the horses slowed, trotting through the gates. His fellows followed suit, encouraging the crowds to yell louder. Emily had to hastily cast a spell to avoid being deafened.
It looked as though the entire city was lining the streets, cheering louder and louder. She caught glimpses of men and women in the crowd, children running around ... it was a giant party, complete with food, drink and games. Innkeepers had thrown open their doors, women were passing out plates of food ... she even caught sight of a pickpocket plying his trade as the small parade distracted his marks. But he was lost in the crowd before she could decide what, if anything, to do.
The horse seemed to shudder underneath her as the racket grew even louder. Emily gripped the reins, silently breathing a sigh of relief as they reached the center of town. Horst — the Patrician — was standing there, flanked by his fellows. Emily wondered, as the horse slowed to a halt, if he knew how close he’d come to utter disaster. Even if the necromancer hadn’t taken the city, his own people would have eventually torn him apart. Perhaps he did, she reasoned. He’d obviously been quick to end rationing when the enemy army had been broken. The food she’d seen passed out proved that.
Lord Fulbright slipped off his horse and, before Emily could say a word, hurried over to help her dismount. She saw no way to tactfully refuse his hand, at least in front of thousands of people, so she allowed him to help her jump down. The crowd roared, the racket so loud that she couldn’t help wondering why it hadn’t knocked down the entire city. She caught sight of a handful of familiar faces in the crowd — Cat, Sawford, a couple of masters — but there was no sign of General Pollack. That, she suspected, wasn’t a good sign.
“You have saved us from certain death,” Horst said. His voice echoed over the city, quietening the crowd at once. “Our entire city owes you everything.”
His speech went on and on and on, leaving Emily convinced, once again, that Horst was entirely too fond of the sound of his own voice. She’d heard of Senatorial filibusters that could go on for hours on end, but Horst ... by the time he finally came to a stop, she was torn between trying to sneak out — leaving an illusion in her place — or trying to hex him without anyone else noticing. Her head was starting to pound again.
“And so it is our pleasure to present you with the keys to the city,” Horst finished. He held out a silver and gold key larger than Emily’s arm. “May you always find a welcome here.”
Emily took the key, wincing slightly at the weight. There was nothing special about it, as far as she could tell; it was merely a key, a symbolic gift. She made a mental note to look up what rights — and responsibilities — came with it, then hastily cast a lightening charm. There was no way she could carry it for hours without collapsing.
“Speech,” someone called. She thought it was Cat, but she wasn’t sure. “Speech!”
Horst looked at her, expectantly. Emily groaned inwardly — she hated giving speeches — and then turned to face the crowd. Her throat still hurt, mocking her. Giving a long speech was utterly out of the question. And really ... did anyone want to hear a long speech from her? Or anyone? She rather doubted Horst had polled the crowd before he’d started talking for nearly an hour.
She cast an amplification spell, then forced herself to smile. “We won. It came at a very high cost, but we won.”
The crowd cheered. Horst looked surprised as she dispelled the spell; Lady Barb, still mounted on her horse, looked amused, although she was trying to hide it. Emily met her eyes, silently pleading to be allowed to leave. Surely Horst wouldn’t keep her if she wanted to go.
If I were Alassa, I would have to stay, part of her mind insisted. She’s the Crown Princess.
Lady Barb slipped off her horse, spoke quickly to Horst and then led Emily away as the small group of city-fathers began to break up. Everyone was joining the party. Emily saw a dozen women, wearing fancy clothes, drinking beside soldiers and workmen; behind them, upper-class men were rubbing shoulders with commoners and peasants. Dozens of couples were forming up, kissing ... she saw couples doing other things in the shadows, even though they were technically forbidden. She caught sight of Cat, surrounded by a dozen girls; Sawford, beside him, was holding hands with a young man. The entire city seemed to be celebrating.
She sighed as they reached the barracks. The building felt cool, almost deserted. And yet, she could sense someone waiting for them. She wasn’t surprised, when they walked inside, to see Sergeant Miles sitting in the common room. A steaming mug of Kava sat in front of him, untouched. He looked up and smiled when he saw Lady Barb, but his expression was shadowed. Just what had happened, Emily wondered, between the moment she’d left the city and her return?
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles said, softly. He sounded tired, all his usual good humor drained away. “Pour yourself and Barb some Kava, then sit down.”
Emily did as she was told, feeling tired and sore. She’d never cared for large parties, not really. The small parties Alassa and Imaiqah had hosted for her, on the anniversary of her arrival on the Nameless World, had been far more enjoyable. She didn’t want to spend time with strangers, let alone people who wanted to say they’d been close to her ...
She sat, holding the mug in front of her. What had happened while she’d been at Heart’s Eye?
“I’ve heard ... fragments,” Sergeant Miles said, nodding to Lady Barb. “What actually happened while you were gone?”
Emily felt a sudden stab of guilt. Had she ... had she damaged their relationship? Or had something else happened? Or ... would either or both of them blame her? Or was she misunderstanding what she was seeing?
“Gaius betrayed us,” she said, finally. “He was the traitor.”
She ran through the whole story, leaving only a handful of details out. Robin’s spell, the bilocation spell ... Sergeant Miles didn’t need to know everything. She had the nasty feeling he wo
uld know she’d left out something, but — if she was lucky — he’d trust her judgement and leave it alone. And if she wasn’t lucky ... she sighed, inwardly, as her head started to pound once again. A long discussion with Sergeant Miles and Lady Barb wouldn’t make her feel any better.
“Technically, you should have headed back to the city,” Sergeant Miles said, when she’d finished. “But it would be churlish to complain.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said.
She swallowed. The war was over. Was she still his apprentice? It struck her, suddenly, that she’d miss it. Having someone teach her, while looking out for her ... Sergeant Miles hadn’t had as much time for her as she’d thought, but he’d still been good to her. Couldn’t she stay with him ... she shook her head, tiredly. He couldn’t have an apprentice while he was working at Whitehall and she couldn’t stay with him until she’d completed her education ...
... And then there was Void. Void and the chance to learn far more advanced magic.
“Yes, indeed,” Sergeant Miles said.
He sighed. “I’m afraid there will be an inquest,” he admitted. “Master Bone ... you said he wasn’t a traitor, but he’ll still have to answer a great many questions. And then there’ll probably be more questions for you. And then ... I don’t know where the pieces will fall, afterwards. Gaius’s family may refuse to believe the truth, even if you swear an oath.”
“Or blame everything on Fulvia,” Emily said. She couldn’t think of anyone who deserved it more. “Or his two companions.”
She shook her head. “Why did they follow him into treachery?”
“They would have been blood-brothers,” Sergeant Miles said. “It’s not uncommon at Mountaintop, certainly amongst the senior students. The three of them would have performed the rite, linking their destinies together. Gaius was probably their acknowledged leader.”
Emily blinked. “And so he could lead them into treason?”
“They would have been disgraced with him,” Lady Barb said. “Their only hope was to either find a game-changer or leave the country, finding somewhere to live where no one had ever heard of them. And so they tried to deal with the darkness.”
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 38
