by Jasmine Walt
“It’s still Lord Polar,” I snapped. “And Secretary Toring cannot arrest me. Not yet, at least.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gelisia sputtered. She turned to Garrett. “Secretary Toring, I demand you arrest this criminal immediately and appoint me acting Chief Mage in his stead.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Polar is quite correct,” Garrett said, his eyes hard. “I cannot arrest a Chief Mage in his own state without a warrant signed by the Minister. As we are in Nebara territory, Lord Polar outranks me. A Chief Mage can only be indicted by the Convention, something you ought to know, Miss Dorax.”
“Fine,” Gelisia said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “So we’ll wait to get that warrant, but it’s just a technicality. In the meantime he should be under house arrest, and someone else needs to be running the government in his stead.”
“Agreed,” Garrett said tersely, with a dry look at me. “But it won’t be you, Miss Dorax. You are far too young and eager—to reward such naked ambition would be unwise. If this conversation is anything to go by, you lack the required experience or steadiness of character.”
I felt a perverse flash of pleasure as Gelisia’s cheeks mottled with fury, momentarily distracted from my own dire situation. I was not sure how to react to such a disastrous turn—inwardly, I was still reeling.
“You only say that because I’m female,” Gelisia hissed at Garrett, slapping her hand on the table. “And you damn well know it, Secretary Toring. No one else in this office has anything like my guts and determination, or my devotion to upholding the Great Accord.”
“I’ll take what you’ve said under advisement,” Garrett said sternly. “For now, you are dismissed.”
Gelisia left, shooting me one last venomous glare as she flounced out. I met her gaze coolly, refusing to let her see any glimmer of emotion. It might have given me a fleeting satisfaction to see her miss out on the coveted Chief Mage position, but she’d still managed to ruin me, rob me of everything. I was about to be relieved of my position and executed for treason. And though I’d known deep inside this was a price I might have to pay, now that the end was inevitable and imminent, a yawning pit of despair opened up in my stomach.
“Well then,” Garrett muttered when Gelisia’s angry footsteps had faded from the hallway. “What a harpy. You know what to do, don’t you, Lord Polar?”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. A public scandal will not do anyone any good. I understand your parents are still alive, and they will be embarrassed and devastated. The Federation would have to deal with the resulting scandal for decades. The obvious solution is an unfortunate magical accident for you so that no one needs to know you were responsible for the Mundell family’s escape. It is the only way.”
“I do believe, according to mage law, that I am entitled to a trial,” I said lightly, my veins icing at the thought of arranging my own suicide. “The Accords do not say anything about murdering mages in an accidental fashion in order to cover up their crimes. Besides, I stand by what I have done and want to have my say before the Convention.”
“Come now, Polar!” Garrett rose from his chair, eyes widening in astonishment. “You cannot be serious! Why would you risk such public embarrassment? This will only make it harder for you.”
“Because,” I said, my voice heating with anger, “the law that has resulted in this fiasco is cruel and unjust. The Mundell family should never have been imprisoned or forced to leave the country to save their daughter’s life. If I can contribute to getting that law repealed, or force the Convention to come up with a better solution, at least my death shall not be in vain.”
Garrett clamped his mouth shut, pacing back and forth in front of my desk, deep in thought. “You are still in shock at being discovered,” he finally said, his eyes glittering. “Very understandable, considering you are facing death far sooner than you expected, but I cannot allow you to make such a rash decision without thinking about it. I’m sure you’ll see reason once you are calmer. Consider your colleagues and how likely a trial is to move them to amend the law—it’s hopeless, not worth the attempt.”
He was right about that, damn him. My pigheaded fellow Chief Mages were about as likely to amend a law based on the Great Accord as they were to abolish the mage regime altogether and embrace the Resistance.
“I’ve brought two of my agents with me—they’ll watch over you until I get that warrant, discreetly,” Garrett went on. “I will spread the word that you are ill, so you can enjoy the comforts of your private chambers while you mull over this difficult decision. In the meantime, I shall return to Dara and get the Minister to sign the warrant for your arrest.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I replied, unable to hide my sarcasm as Garrett opened the door and called for his agents. Apparently, two large, burly mages had been standing in the hallway, waiting for his command. I doubted they’d been expecting to arrest me—they probably acted as bodyguards for Garrett most of the time. I got to my feet and glared at the men as they approached, and they came to an immediate stop. “I will come quietly,” I said, “so long as you do not attempt to touch me.”
The mages glanced questioningly at Garrett, who nodded. “Do not manhandle the Chief Mage unless it is necessary,” he said as the guards escorted me out of the room. Garrett followed, warding my office door shut behind him with a spell. “I strongly suggest that you deal with this mess yourself before I return,” he murmured as he moved past me. “It would be better for all concerned.”
I gritted my teeth as the guards escorted me up to my chambers. Garrett was hoping that I would kill myself before he came back, relieving him of the need to execute that warrant. I stalked into my chambers, holding onto my fury so that I did not succumb to the yawning abyss of despair waiting to swallow me.
I deserved a trial, I fumed, pacing back and forth in my living room. If I was going down for helping a little girl escape death, the world deserved to know why. I was going to explain myself no matter what.
I just hoped the Minister wouldn’t try to have me assassinated before then.
8
The next two days passed in solitude. I kept to my rooms, disinclined to bargain with my guards for a stroll around the park. All my meals were brought to me, and I could request anything I wanted, but I would only cause an undignified scene if I tried to set foot outside my chambers.
Under normal circumstances, a few days off with nothing but my spell books for company would have been paradise. But having my freedom taken away from me had a stifling effect—I felt like I was suffocating, and could not muster the motivation to concentrate on my studies. In fact, I could only focus on my impending arrest and the excruciating trial and execution that were sure to follow. Given my position, they would make the news all over the Federation, but would that help me make the slightest headway toward changing the law I had broken? Even if some minds were changed, I would not live to see the eventual outcome.
The more I pondered my doom, the more uncertain I felt whether I was choosing the correct path. Was Secretary Toring right? Would it be best if I died in an unfortunate “magical accident” so my name would not go down in disgrace? My parents would be devastated either way, but at least they would not be forced to suffer public humiliation for having raised a traitor against the Federation. I had always hated creating spectacles of any kind, and a trial and public execution would be agonizingly embarrassing, even discounting the fatal outcome.
And yet, the notion of committing suicide was still revolting. Killing myself might be the conventional, and least painful, choice, but I couldn’t stomach the idea that Gelisia of all people should be the one to bring me down. And I didn’t much care for Garrett either, though the two of us had never been at odds before. Like Gelisia, he valued power above all else, which in my opinion made a person untrustworthy. The only thing you could count on when it came to power-hungry officials was that they would pick the path that led mo
st quickly to promotion. Even if it hurt other people in the process.
On the third morning, I was startled awake by the sound of my telephone ringing. I threw on a robe and rushed into my sitting room to answer it. Who would be calling for me? Was it the Minister? Perhaps he wanted to hear my side of the story to see if there was any way to pardon me. The Minister and I had gotten along well enough—the man had no cause to hate me. Latching onto that small hope for all it was worth, I snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Polar,” a male voice with a slightly musical accent answered. “I hope I am not calling too early, but the parcel you sent me just arrived, and I wanted to thank you.”
“Oh. Iannis.” I made an effort to sound cheerful, even as my shoulders slumped with disappointment. Normally I would have been happy to hear from my friend, the Chief Mage of Canalo, but listening to his familiar voice only reminded me that he would soon be called to vote on my execution. “I’m glad the scrolls made it to you.” Iannis’s birthday was coming up, and I’d sent him a rare set of scrolls with pre-Conflict spells as a gift. “Have you had a chance to start studying them yet?” The spells were written in Old Manucan and dated from over four thousand years ago. Since Iannis originally hailed from Manuc, he was very likely the only mage in the Federation who could make sense of them. Even for him it would not be easy, as the language had changed over time.
“No, they only arrived this morning.” Iannis paused. “Is everything all right? You sound preoccupied.”
I sat down heavily on the couch. “I’m afraid this is likely the last conversation we’ll be able to have, Iannis, so I’d better say goodbye while I still can.”
“What do you mean?” Iannis asked sharply. “Has something happened?”
I hesitated, not wanting my friend to see me in a bad light or ruin his day with bad news. But Iannis would find out soon enough what had happened, and it was better to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “I’m under house arrest for helping a human family with an illegal magic user escape across the border. The Secretary of Justice is obtaining a warrant as we speak to formally arrest me so that I may be tried and executed for treason.”
Now that I’d opened the floodgates, I found myself telling Iannis the whole story, from the conflicting feelings I’d struggled with when I’d first seen the execution order, to that heart-wrenching interview with the family and the reckless rescue mission I’d undertaken, and finally to Gelisia’s successful efforts at catching me in the act. By the time I was finished, I felt a lot better, even though Iannis would condemn me for my actions. How could he not, as a Chief Mage himself? My own father had reproached me for my overly emotional attitude.
“This is an unfortunate situation,” Iannis finally said. “But even though you have broken the law, I do not believe that you should forfeit your life, Polar. You are a brilliant scholar and talented mage, and executing you for refusing to kill a child is barbaric. The Convention is aware that some of our laws are outdated—they simply are not motivated to change them, since these draconian laws do not affect us mages directly. At least not until now,” he amended.
“Yes,” I agreed, “which is why I had thought to stand trial. There seems to be no way out of my execution, so if I am going to die, the least I can do is force our peers to confront these draconian laws, and perhaps convince some of you to do something about them.”
“An admirable outlook, but I doubt you will get that far,” Iannis said sadly. “The Minister’s office will likely try to arrange an accident for you, especially since you’ve already declared your intentions to Secretary Toring. The last thing they’ll want is a public confrontation where you can have your say and everyone else puts in their two cents. Besides, it would be grist on the mills of the Resistance.”
My heart sank. “I know, and there is not much I can do about it. But if I am to be assassinated anyway, perhaps I should commit suicide as Secretary Toring suggests. If I must die, I would prefer it to be on my own terms.”
“If you truly wanted that, I would not try to dissuade you, Polar,” Iannis said gravely. “But you have had two days to kill yourself, and yet here you are, still alive. You are not the type to lie down quietly. I strongly suggest that you leave Nebara, rather than waiting for the Minister to kill you.” There was a moment’s pause. “I believe our most recent haunt will be unoccupied during the new moon.”
I blinked. Iannis was suggesting that I run off to the mountain lodge where the two of us had hunted together for a week last year, high up in the lush green mountains of Northern Canalo. The new moon was only a fortnight away—I could make it there in time, and I imagined Iannis would be waiting for me when I arrived, if I was reading between the lines correctly.
“It had not occurred to me to flee,” I said slowly, mulling the idea over in my head. “It is cowardly not to face the consequences of my actions. My name would forever go down in disgrace”—not that it wouldn’t do so already, I thought—“and I would likely be caught anyway. The Convention would double down on their efforts to find me, and their arm is long, even outside the country.”
“Perhaps,” Iannis allowed. “But a reputation can be recovered, whereas a life cannot. Your life and knowledge are the most valuable commodities you have, Polar—don’t be so hasty to throw them away. And as far as being caught, surely you have more faith in our combined intellect and abilities than that? We are at least as smart as our fellow Chief Mages.”
“If not more so,” I murmured, my lips curving into an unexpected smile. Suddenly, my heart was lighter than it had been in days. “I think I know what to do now. Thank you, Iannis.”
“My pleasure. Good luck.”
I hung up the phone, then strode to my bedroom closet. On my rare free weekends and short leaves, I often went fishing or hunting, and my outdoor supplies took up a wing of the closet. I grabbed my waterproof backpack, then stuffed it with a small pouch of gold, some pemmican, fish hooks and a sharp knife, and a glass bottle that had been spelled to constantly refill with pure, fresh water. I also managed to fit a change of clothes, and swapped out my robes for an earthen tunic with spells laid into the cloth that would protect the fabric from wear and tear as well as waterproof it. Last, I put on a sturdy pair of hiking boots, good for trekking through the wilderness. I had a feeling I would be doing a lot of hiking before I made it to safety.
As soon as I finished packing, I hitched my bag higher onto my back. Then, with one swift push, I knocked over the huge standing clock in the corner. It made a loud racket as it crashed onto the smooth floor and the glass broke into glittering shards. Just as I’d hoped. Casting aside my dignity, I let out a strangled shriek, then jumped behind the door, out of view.
The door opened, and one of the guards came stalking in, peering suspiciously around the room. His gaze widened as he saw the broken clock, and then me, standing there in my outdoor gear. “What is going on?” the agent asked, his mouth tightening with suspicion.
Rather than reply, I hit him with a stun spell that knocked him off his feet. Moving fast, I caught him before he hit the ground, then dragged him into the bedroom and laid him down on the floor of my walk-in closet. I scrutinized his features thoroughly, then used an illusion spell to switch our appearances. As I studied the fake me lying on the ground, I wondered if there was any merit to sticking him in my bathtub and slitting his wrists to make it look as if he’d committed suicide. I could use a transmogrification spell to permanently change his appearance, make him look like me . . .
No, I told myself firmly. What is the point of going through all this if you’re going to turn yourself into a murderer anyway? The man is just doing his job.
A shudder went through me as I realized just how close to desperation I had to be if I was entertaining such brutally cold thoughts, and I backed away from the unconscious man. Stick to the plan, I ordered myself. There’s no need to kill or maim anyone. You’re clever enough to avoid unnecessary casualties.
“He hurt himself when a clock fell over and gave me a list of herbs to procure from the castle apothecary,” I said, using magic to mimic the other agent’s voice. I’d requested herbs just the other day while I was tinkering with a potion, so this excuse wouldn’t raise a red flag. “Guess the prisoner has to keep himself busy somehow. Give me twenty while I get them.”
The other agent rolled his eyes. “Maybe he’s making a poison to off himself this time. Would save Secretary Toring and the rest of us a lot of trouble.”
I forced my lips into a grin. “We can only hope.”
I strode off quickly down the hall before I gave in to the urge to hit the man, heading toward the stairwell that would lead me in the direction of the apothecary. As soon as I was out of the agent’s sight, I changed my appearance to that of a generic palace guard. If there was any chance that Garrett was in the Palace, I didn’t want him to rope me into going back upstairs to arrest myself.
I made it out the front door, and though I resisted the temptation to pause and take in my first sight of the outside world in days, I did suck in a deep breath of fresh air. It tasted like freedom, and I was suddenly buoyant and carefree. I’d gotten out of the palace without a hitch. Why hadn’t I thought to do this sooner? Yes, it was cowardly to flee, and unbecoming of a Chief Mage. But I was not a Chief Mage any longer. I needed to adapt to my new reality, and I was not ready to die on anyone’s command.
I was halfway across the front gardens when a carriage pulled up to the gates. My stomach went leaden as I watched Garrett disembark, along with two agents, and my step faltered for just a moment. But I quickly recovered, and nodded politely as Garrett and his minions approached. Garrett returned the nod briskly, barely sparing me a glance, and the taller agent didn’t even bother. But the other narrowed his eyes, pausing.
