And stealing them might set off an alarm, she thought, as she opened the first scroll. I can’t take them out of here.
The parchment crackled at her touch, but opened without resistance. She peered down at the writing and froze. The writing was incredibly old, the words and spell notations horrendously anachronistic, but there was something familiar about it. She leaned closer, her mind refusing to accept what it was seeing. The spell diagram, fantastically complex, was a Mimic, but not a Mimic. She peered down at the writing, feeling her head starting to pound with shock. She’d seen the writing before, nearly a thousand years in the past.
Master Wolfe, she thought, numbly. She sat down in shock. But I saw him die.
She forced herself to work her way through the parchment. She’d been there when Master Wolfe had designed the first Mimics. He’d needed her help and insights to get started, although he’d taken the idea and run with it. Master Wolfe had been a genius beyond compare, even if he had been seen as a low-power magician. And yet, he’d died before he had a chance to improve on his work. She’d always assumed someone else had found his notes and brought the Mimics to life.
But this…this was his handwriting, his personal sigil. It made no sense. She’d seen him die, his head caved in by a treacherous magician. He couldn’t have written the parchment scrolls before he’d met her, because he hadn’t been that advanced at the time. But he couldn’t have written them afterwards because he’d been dead! Unless…
He wanted to make himself immortal, she thought, numbly. What if he succeeded?
She pushed her feelings aside as she studied the scrolls. The Hands of Justice had stumbled across a way to build a god. It was a very complex spell – all the more so because the ‘god’ wouldn’t be drawing its core from a living being – but doable. And yet, the more Justice grew and developed, the greater the chance of something going badly wrong. Justice might wind up questioning its existence…
…Or developing the intellect to judge its creators.
She felt sick as the implications started to sink in. The Mimic, for all of its power and the terror that had followed in its wake, had been a limited entity. It had killed its victims, then replaced them, burying its true nature until the time had come to feed again. Justice, by contrast, was a growing entity. Sooner or later, no matter how many layers of control the priests wove into the spellwork, it would break free.
They’re sacrificing countless people to make it work, Emily thought. And yet, the power requirements are steadily increasing.
She resisted the urge to giggle. Vesperian’s Ponzi scheme had fallen apart when the inflow of money had come to an end. The Hands of Justice might also fall apart when they ran out of people to kill…
Gritting her teeth, Emily read through the rest of the parchments. Most were part of the god-creation spell, but a handful seemed to be part of something greater. She looked at the bookcase, wishing she had the time to go through it more carefully. The spell in front of her was so huge that she couldn’t tell what it was actually meant to do. All she could say for sure was that the power requirements were astronomical…
They couldn’t muster so much power without a nexus point, she thought. But why?
Emily looked up as she heard a scream, echoing through the window. Something was happening down there, but what? She had a feeling she knew the answer. She rose, knowing she’d have to be careful. If she was seen, the Fists of Justice would come looking for her and they wouldn’t be distracted by a glamour…
She slipped over to the window and peered down. Four red-robed priests, all carrying staffs, stood around an altar. A young man – still a boy – lay on the stone, his eyes wide with terror. Emily stared in horror as the priests lifted their staffs and brought them down on the boy’s head, killing him instantly. The surge of magic flowed into a cobweb of spellware that flared into existence, channeling the power through the building…
…And then it was gone, as quickly as it had appeared.
Necromancy, Emily thought. Shit.
She hurried back to the desk. If she glanced at the scrolls, just for a moment, she would be able to use memory charms to reproduce them later…
…And then a spell slammed into her back.
Chapter Thirty
Emily froze.
SHE THOUGHT, FAST, AS THE SPELL sliced its way through her wards. It was unusual, not configured like any freeze spell she knew; it was actually a handful of spells, rather than a single enchantment. The combination allowed it to get through her wards, freezing everything below her neck. And it…it wasn’t very secure. She tested it, readying a spell to break free.
“Lady Emily,” a calm voice said. “It is a great pleasure to meet you at last.”
Emily kept her face expressionless as Janus stepped into view. He wore a golden robe and carried a staff in his hand, a staff glowing with magic. His eyes were bright with something Emily didn’t care to study too closely, a vindication that allowed him to overcome any setbacks and keep going. She met his eyes for a second, looking for a red taint, but saw nothing. He wasn’t a necromancer…
I can break out, she thought. It wasn’t easy to escape a spell that froze her entire body, but she’d mastered it. But if he thinks I’m trapped, he might talk too much.
“I have followed your career with great interest,” Janus said. “It’s clear that you too are a believer in Justice. I salute you.”
Oddly, Emily had the feeling that he meant it. There was genuine respect in his voice. And yet…she reminded herself, sharply, that one didn’t have to use subtle magic to sound convincing. One just needed to be an excellent liar. Nothing she’d seen, before or after crossing worlds, had given her any faith in priests or their religions. They were mortal men who sinned as much as their flock.
“I was very pleased when I heard that you were coming.” His lips quirked in a thin smile. “But you could have just announced yourself instead of sneaking into the temple.”
Emily shivered. She’d been betrayed? They’d known she was coming? In hindsight, had her path been carefully cleared? Or was Janus bluffing, trying to force her to reveal something she didn’t want to reveal? She was fairly sure he knew she was part of the resistance.
Unless he thought I fled the city after Justice revealed himself, she thought. He hasn’t seen me since then, has he?
“I doubted my welcome,” she managed, finally. She nodded at the scrolls on the desk, cursing his spell under her breath. The longer it remained in place, the harder it would be to recover after she broke it. “What are you doing?”
Janus cocked his head. “We are building a truly just society. All will pay for their sins, Lady Emily. All will know that there is justice. I would have thought you would support our goals.”
He went on before she could answer. “The court cases you handled personally in Cockatrice showed a genuine interest in justice,” he added. “You were just. You didn’t allow personal feelings or aristocratic connections to sway your judgements. You spoke of all being equal before the law. Why do you not support us?”
Emily indicated the scrolls. “You’re sacrificing hundreds of people to feed your god,” she said, slowly. “How can that be just?”
Janus showed no reaction to her words. “They volunteered. It was clear that summoning Justice back into the mortal world would require a sacrifice. Decent men, god-fearing men, would have to offer themselves to him. And they did – they chose to give their lives so our god could live.”
“You drained their life force and used it to feed your god.” Emily met his eyes, seeing utter certainty looking back. “You’re mad!”
“The world is mad,” Janus said. “There is no justice.”
He paced, moving in and out of Emily’s field of vision as he walked around the room. “I have seen court cases decided by who paid the largest bribe. I have seen crooks allowed to walk free because they were noblemen while their victims were commoners. I have seen magicians hex and curse innocent civilians, yet
were left untouched because of their power. I have seen fathers sell their children into slavery to pay their debts; I have seen mothers fleeing their wifely duties; I have seen children treat their parents with disrespect. I have seen priests turn their temples into rackets and guildmasters turn their guilds into weapons.
“And now, an entire city is brought to its knees because a lone man managed to take all the money!”
His voice rose. “Where is the justice?”
Emily gritted her teeth, testing the spell holding her in place. She could break free, but he’d know in an instant what she’d done. Perhaps if she weakened it gingerly, she’d find it easier to snap when the time came to run. Janus seemed to want to talk, but she had no doubt he’d try to kill her as soon as it became necessary. Or, worse, throw her to his god.
“Your god never came,” Emily said. “And so you built a god.”
Janus rounded on her. “We summoned a god,” he hissed. “The rites and rituals said we had to prove our worth, so we did! We solved the puzzles, made the prayers, offered the sacrifices…and our god appeared!”
Emily looked down at the scrolls. Master Wolfe had created something wondrous and terrible, a series of spells designed to create a powerful entity…without, perhaps, needing powerful and experienced sorcerers to start the ball rolling. Someone from Whitehall would have had more sense, she suspected, than to cast the spells without working out precisely what they did first. Janus and his comrades lacked even a basic magical education.
The warnings aren’t at the back of the scrolls, she thought. There weren’t any warnings at all!
She forced herself to think. “So you summoned a god,” she said. She might as well humor him, for the moment. “And then…what?”
Janus smiled. “Vesperian’s project was doomed,” he said. “It was easy to calculate that he would eventually run out of money. And yet, more and more people were being drawn into the whirlpool. All that imaginary money--” he laughed, briefly “--looked so tempting that people chose to ignore the warning signs. They should have stayed with gold and silver. I did try to warn my guild, you know.”
Emily blinked. “You did?”
“I saw trouble coming,” Janus said. “It was obvious. I didn’t get a chance to look at the books, of course, but I could pick up enough of the wider picture to see disaster looming. It wasn’t really anything new, you see. Only the scale was far larger than anyone would have believed possible, Lady Emily.”
“I know,” Emily said, quietly.
Something clicked in her mind. “Your guild,” she repeated. “You were an accountant, weren’t you?”
“I trusted my guildmaster,” Janus said. “I didn’t realize just how badly he’d exploited his position until we were being spat at in the streets. No one had time to worry about Vesperian when we were fighting for our survival.”
Harman is an accountant, Emily thought, numbly. And he was right next to us when we made our plans.
She gritted her teeth. She’d have to warn General Pollack, once she got out…if, of course, it wasn’t already too late. Sienna’s spells should have revealed any spell-controlled traitors who entered her house, but if Harman had betrayed them willingly…
“You made the disaster worse,” she realized. She’d worry about Harman later, if she had time. The real problem was still Justice. “You encouraged people to buy his notes.”
“We didn’t need to,” Janus said. “We just watched and waited.”
“Until the bubble finally started to burst,” Emily said. “And when you knew it was going to happen, you used your god to kill people who were connected with the project.”
“Justice passed judgement on them,” Janus said.
“But he didn’t,” Emily pointed out. “Antony wasn’t his father.”
“Justice passed judgement on Antony,” Janus said. “It was what he deserved.”
And whatever you used to target Emil wasn’t perfect, Emily thought. She wished that she had a few hours to go through the scrolls. Choosing the entity’s target – one man in a large city – wouldn’t be easy. A blood connection? Or something more subtle? You got his son instead.
She gritted her teeth. A mistake? Fathers and sons were definitely linked by ties of blood – Antony wouldn’t be Emil, but he’d be close enough to be affected by blood-bound magic aimed at his father. Or were the Hands of Justice already losing control of their creation?
“He was a young man,” she said. “He didn’t deserve to die.”
Janus laughed. “Clearly, you’ve never been a young man.”
Emily rolled her eyes in annoyance. She’d never been particularly well-endowed, but still…no one would mistake her for a man unless she used a glamour. She opened her mouth to point out that Janus had been a young man himself once, but she knew it would be futile. Janus had convinced himself that the entity was a real god, therefore nothing it did could be wrong by definition. Justice could slaughter children in their cradles and Janus would rationalize it away, somehow. And the other true believers would follow him.
“And then you killed Vesperian,” Emily said. “And when the bubble exploded, you were ready to take over.”
“And build a truly just world,” Janus finished. He leaned forward. “Lady Emily, surely you can see that we should be on the same side.”
Emily shook her head. She could see their point – she’d seen too much of what passed for justice in the Nameless World – but they’d gone too far. Their creation would eventually consume the entire city, even if they didn’t lose control sooner or later. And even if they somehow overcame that problem – a dispelling spell might stop Justice before the entity could do any more damage – they’d still be crushing anyone who disagreed with them. One nightmare would be replaced by another.
The Shah of Iran wasn’t a very nice man, she recalled. But the Mullahs weren’t an improvement.
“You’re not about justice,” she said, quietly. “You’re about power.”
“Power to set things right,” Janus said.
“No,” Emily said. A dozen arguments rose up in her mind, but she knew none of them would make a difference. Janus was a fanatic. He wouldn’t listen to logic and reason. “You might have started out with good intentions, but you’ll wind up twisting them into a nightmare.”
“We have a god,” Janus insisted.
“A creature who is incapable of telling the difference between a man and his father,” Emily said, sharply. Justice, if she’d reasoned the scrolls out correctly, wouldn’t be particularly intelligent. That would come, in time, but for the moment he’d be no smarter than the average dog. “A creature who is incapable of understanding subtle points…”
“There are no subtle points.” Janus darted to his feet, glaring down at her. The affable pose was gone. “There are no excuses.”
“There is a difference between a man who steals because he wants gold and a man who steals because he needs to feed his children,” Emily pointed out. Janus was far too close to her for comfort. “One is a criminal…”
“It makes no difference,” Janus insisted. His eyes bored into hers. Emily could sense, again, something peering at her though his eyes. “Both of them are thieves!”
He stepped back, his face twisting as if he’d smelled something vile. “That’s how it always starts,” he hissed. “Excuses! He needed to steal because he has a family to feed! He beat his wife bloody because she nagged! She killed her husband because he beat her! Excuses, excuses, excuses…they’re nothing more than ways to escape responsibility for their actions! And yet, the goods are stolen or a person is dead…”
Emily winced, inwardly. On one hand, she knew he had a point. An excuse was nothing more than an excuse. But, on the other hand, some excuses were valid. She would have felt sorry for a man who needed to steal to feed his family or for the woman who killed her abusive husband. And yet, that didn’t excuse their crimes…did it? She knew people who would have supported the husband for beating his wife, if t
he woman was a nag. They would have happily accepted the husband’s shitty excuse.
And that’s why we want to believe in an omniscient judge, she thought. God, who sees everything, would be able to weigh the excuses in the balance and come to a perfect judgement.
She closed her eyes for a long moment. She could see Janus’s point. The Nameless World had never been a just place. She’d seen countless people abused because they were peasants, because they lacked magic, because they’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time…
…But she also knew Janus was wrong. His theocracy could no more create a perfect state than anyone else. And the entity he’d created would turn into a monster.
“I understand how you feel,” she said, opening her eyes. It was true. “But this is utter madness.”
“You punished a couple for abusing their servant,” Janus said. He stepped back into view, his eyes quizzical. “How is this different?”
Emily shuddered. A young girl, younger than Frieda, had risked everything in coming to her baroness for justice. Emily knew, all too well, that her predecessor would have kicked the girl out of his castle – if she’d been lucky. But Emily had heard the case and passed judgement in the girl’s favor. And yet, she knew people had muttered that she’d taken matters too far. Paying for the girl’s medical treatment was one thing – and organizing that had been tricky – but turning her former master and mistress into serfs was quite another.
“You can’t judge everyone.” Emily flinched as she heard another scream echoing through the walls. “And you can’t see everything. You cannot determine if an excuse is valid or not…”
Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12) Page 29
