“They’re local gods,” Imaiqah said when Emily asked. “They’re raised up to protect the people who live inside the buildings.”
The carriages rumbled to a halt inside a large courtyard. Mistress Irene shouted for them to climb out.
Emily found herself gagging as she stumbled down to the ground, breathing in something she didn’t even want to identify. The ground was covered in cobblestones that looked clean–probably wiped by servants or slaves - but the smell of horse poop was ever-present. She suddenly remembered reading about the problems New York had with the horse-drawn carriages back in the 1800s and shuddered. Dragon’s Den would likely have the same problems, without even the hope of automobiles to make the problem go away.
“Some of you have been here before,” Mistress Irene said, after the students had gathered around her. “For those of you who haven’t, Dragon’s Den is a free city. Try not to irritate the City Guard too much as the Grandmaster will be very annoyed if he has to smooth out ruffled feathers.”
Her voice hardened. “Keep one hand on your money pouches at all times and don’t ever drop your locking spells. If you do happen to run into trouble, cast a summoning spell and call me at once. Don’t let any shopkeeper push you into buying anything, unless you break it. Bargain at will.
“I’ll expect you all back here by sixteen bells. Anyone who returns too late will not be coming here next month.”
Imaiqah grabbed Emily’s arm as the students started to disperse out of the courtyard, and into the city. “We have plenty of time to explore,” she said. “Where would you like to go first?”
Emily hesitated. The only kind of shopping she really enjoyed was book shopping, but books were hideously expensive in this world. It was remarkable just how many books Whitehall had been able to amass over the years if every book had to be handmade. Maybe the accountants from the Accounting Guilds would become bookmakers once they were put completely out of business, making books a little cheaper. And maybe the ability to read would spread further, enough to widen the market a little. Only a relative handful of people in this world knew how to read.
“Anywhere,” she said finally. She did have gold coins in her money pouch, after all. “I need to buy a chest, don’t I?”
Imaiqah nodded. “So we go find a reputable Enchanter. Let’s go visit the market.”
The smell grew stronger as they walked through the streets, passing blank apartment blocks and shops that sold a mix of fruit and vegetables. Emily saw apples and oranges, as well as several fruits–at least she thought they were fruits–that she didn’t recognize. One stall, well apart from the others, sold something that looked like pineapples, but they stank so terribly that she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to buy them. The trader still seemed to be doing a roaring trade. She paused outside a shop selling musical instruments and had to smile when she recognized a pair of bagpipes. There were violins, trumpets and a harp, but no guitars.
“My father wants my sister to become a player,” Imaiqah said. “A decent harpist can make plenty of money, and the shop can’t support all of us.”
Emily felt cold as the implications sank in. Historically, male children were more useful than female children; they could work harder and didn’t have to leave the household when they got married. And girls needed a dowry that could wreck a poor family’s finances. Having too many children meant that the parents might have to sell their kids or worse just to stay alive. It was a point about the medieval world that her teachers had glossed over when she’d studied it in school.
She opened her mouth, but found herself speechless. What could she say?
They turned a corner onto a crowded street and stopped to allow a black-painted carriage to drive past, the driver whipping the horse to make it walk straight at the crowds blocking its way. Imaiqah identified the carriage as belonging to one of the Great Houses of Dragon’s Den, the families that between them owned much of the city and effectively ran it to suit themselves. They paid the City Guard to keep order and, just incidentally, keep their competitors under control.
“They’re not as bad as some aristocrats,” Imaiqah explained as the carriage vanished into the distance. “They do sometimes listen to the population. And they’re cheaper to bribe.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “What happens when someone makes money independently of the Great Houses?”
“They invite the newcomer to join them,” Imaiqah said, with a quick grin. “My father wants that status for ourselves, even if we have to move into the nearest city-state. The Great Houses respect ability far more than anyone outside the cities.”
Emily nodded, thoughtfully. A revolution in a city-state–even a brief rebellion that was put down quickly–would wreak more havoc than one in a monarchy, where there was a powerful army and a more beaten-down population. The Great Houses might be more inclined to listen to their population than they were prepared to admit, as well as rewarding those who did well by allowing them to join the local power structure. Perhaps, if they believed that wealth–or rather the ability to create wealth–was inheritable, they were strengthening their own bloodlines by bringing newcomers into the family.
She looked over at Imaiqah. “Is it likely that Alassa will ever marry a commoner?”
Imaiqah laughed out loud. “Of course not! Her marriage will be arranged by her parents, probably to a fop who won’t ever threaten their Kingdom. Or to someone they want to keep close to their family.”
Or perhaps to someone who can rule properly, Emily thought, and shivered.
They turned into another street and stopped. Emily stared at a man who was tossing fireballs in the air and swallowing them one by one. Behind him, another man struck poses like a demented martial arts poser, but magic crackled over him every time he snapped his fingers or pointed at the ground. It took Emily a moment to realize that they were looking at street performers, magicians with just enough power to entertain pedestrians. The lead magician caught her eye and waved his hand through the air. A shimmering image of Emily’s face formed from fire and drifted in front of her, just before it dispelled itself into nothingness.
“Show off,” Imaiqah said as they walked past. “This street houses most of the magicians in town.”
Emily nodded as she took in the shops. There were four different stores selling magical ingredients, two that sold various tools for young magicians and a single bookstore, crammed with scrolls and handmade books. A Healer’s shop sat beyond them, the writing on the wall promising a cure for everything from cold to deadly poison. It was followed by a large pet store.
At first, Emily couldn’t understand why a pet store would count as magic, before she remembered what she’d read about familiars. An animal with enough magic would be able to help its owner cast spells, in exchange for food, drink and a mental link. The books she’d read had warned that there was always a price for such magic, with the owners often taking on the characteristics of their pet. It wasn’t practiced at Whitehall until Second Year.
“Some magic students never really develop the potential to study at Whitehall,” Imaiqah said softly. “Most apprentice themselves to local magicians and study under them, brewing basic potions or enchanting artifacts for their customers. They’re skilled, in their own way, but I think they don’t really understand what they’re doing. My father wanted to apprentice me to one before Whitehall’s journeyman convinced him that it would be dangerous for both me and him.”
Emily nodded. Imaiqah’s father seemed like a practical man. He hadn’t asked any questions about where Emily’s ideas came from, although he had to be bursting with curiosity. Emily would have asked long ago, if she’d been in his place, but he was a merchant who wouldn’t want to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs. It wasn’t as if she was selling him something that had a nasty sting in the tail.
“Very dangerous,” a voice said, from behind them. “It would have crippled the poor girl.”
Emily spun around as the world blurred around her,
raising her hands to cast a defensive spell. A man was right behind her, wearing a hood that concealed his features ... how had he come so close without her being aware of his presence? Imaiqah seemed to be frozen, along with the rest of the street, her form slightly blurred ... Then the figure pulled back his hood to reveal his face. Emily relaxed in relief as she recognized Void.
“We don’t have too long to talk,” Void said. Now that she knew much more about magic, she could sense the vast reserves of power surrounding the sorcerer. “The spell that isolates us from the world can’t be maintained for very long.”
Emily glanced at Imaiqah. Her friend was frozen solid, as if time itself had been stopped ...
“You’ve stopped time,” she gasped, in absolute disbelief. She’d once watched a movie based on that premise, but it had been silly and probably unrealistic. “What ... how have you done it?”
“Only in a very small area,” Void said. He was uncomfortably close to her, but as Emily looked around she realized that the spell was barely a meter in radius. “And we can’t actually move outside the bubble without collapsing it. Time doesn’t seem to like people who attempt to defy her rules.”
Emily nodded, gathering herself. “What are you doing here?”
“I merely wanted to see how you were coping with Whitehall,” Void said. “You’ve created quite a stir, you know? There’s an Accounting Guild that wants your head on a platter, preferably not attached to your body.”
Emily swallowed. “I didn’t mean to ruin their lives ...”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Void said. He waved his hand through the air dismissively. “And don’t worry about what you did to that silly brat of a princess either. It’s good to remind the nobility that sorcerers have power from time to time. Keeps them properly respectful.”
“I nearly killed her,” Emily pointed out. “Would you have killed her when you were my age?”
“My magic surfaced a bit earlier than yours,” Void said absently. His eyes sharpened, suddenly. “And I would probably have transformed her into something awful and left her that way long enough to teach her a lesson.”
Emily looked at him. “What’s the story between you and the Grandmaster, anyway?”
Void shrugged. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because the Grandmaster seems to be willing to give me classes that I shouldn’t be able to take for years. Because I practically got away with almost murdering a Royal Princess. Because ... because they seem willing to do exactly what you suggest.”
“Let’s just say,” Void said, after a long moment, “that the Grandmaster and I have many differences of opinion, but we are on the same side.”
“Yes, but you seem to live an independent existence,” Emily pointed out. “How many sorcerers are there like you?”
“That’s a result of power,” Void said. “You may end up in a Tower of your own one day.”
Emily sensed that she wasn’t going to get a straighter answer, so she changed the subject. “Why are they all so stupid?”
Void smiled. “I beg your pardon?”
“The Allied Lands,” Emily said. “They should unite against the necromancers, but they spend half of their time fighting each other.”
“Just like the necromancers,” Void said. He looked down at his pale hands. “Many of the aristocrats who are in power at the moment are descended from those who ruled the First Empire. They made themselves Kings when the Empire was destroyed. Do you think that they want to accept subordination again?”
He snorted. “There are rumors that there once was a missing heir to the Empire’s throne. They killed him, just to make sure the Empire could never rise again.”
“I see,” Emily said. “And there are no blood descendants anywhere?”
“Not as far as anyone knows,” Void admitted. He shook his head. “But you’re right. They are crippling the war effort.”
He looked over at Imaiqah’s frozen form. “Wouldn’t it work so much better if this one was in charge of the war?”
“Probably,” Emily said. “Why don’t you take over the world?”
Void gave her a long, searching look. “There have been magicians who sought vast power over the world. Care to guess what happened to them?”
Emily winced as the realization struck her. “They became necromancers. Why ... why did they become so corrupt?”
“They wanted power and power tends to corrupt,” Void observed. He paused, as if he was trying to decide if he should tell her something. “There are ... accidents, sometimes, when a magician gains vastly boosted powers. They are always terrifying to the rest of the world because the magician might be driven mad, or plunge headlong into necromancy. And then there are the idiots who think they can handle necromancy and use its power for good.”
He shook his head. “There was a King who believed he could keep control of himself if he asked for volunteers to be sacrificed. It seemed to work fine, at first, until his mind became so twisted that he deluded himself that his entire Kingdom had volunteered to be sacrificed. He would have killed them all if his son hadn’t stuck a knife in his back.”
Emily nodded, thoughtfully. If Berserker was addictive, necromancy had to be even more dangerous. Void seemed to be suggesting that no one managed to avoid addiction, which inevitably led to disaster.
“But never mind that for the moment,” Void said. He looked down into her eyes. “You are aware that you have been noticed, aren’t you?”
“You sent me to Whitehall on a Dragon,” Emily pointed out. “And you told everyone that I was a Child of Destiny.”
“You are a Child of Destiny,” Void said. “I never told them a lie.”
“Yes, but ...” Emily found herself groping for words and failing. “I’m not a Child of Destiny in the sense that they mean.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Void asked, honestly puzzled. “The world may not revolve around you, but you became very important the moment our friend from the dark side plucked you out of your world and brought you here. And you have already crippled a Guild that was known for being corrupt, greedy, bloated and stupid. And you have given a royal brat a lesson she needs for the future. And your stirrups may change the way we fight wars.”
He grinned, mischievously. “Child of Destiny or not, you are changing the world,” he reminded her. “I’d suggest you never tell them the truth. If they think that you are a Child of Destiny, they’re likely to be careful about tangling with you. Your very nature might cause their plots to fail spectacularly.”
“But they won’t,” Emily insisted, feeling as if she’d been thrown to the lions. “I’m not what they think I am!”
“But perhaps you’re what they need,” Void said seriously. He shrugged. “If nothing else, remember that the necromancers are still out there. Anything you can do to help the Allied Lands defeat them for good would be very much appreciated.”
He lifted one hand and frowned. “The spell is about to collapse. I suggest that you don’t mention this discussion to anyone.”
“Wait,” Emily said. “Is there a reliable Enchanter in this city?”
Void smiled. “Try Yodel,” he advised. “He can produce almost anything if you give him enough time. I’ve known sorcerers who weren’t too proud to go to him and ask for help.”
He pulled his invisibility spell around himself and vanished, just as time started to return to normal.
Chapter Twenty-Five
IMAIQAH DIDN’T SEEM TO HAVE NOTICED that anything had happened, which was something of a relief. Emily’s thoughts were churning as they walked onwards, and Imaiqah’s chatter helped distract her from her worries. Just what had she started by introducing a concept as simple as Arabic numerals, or even bras? Or stirrups?
“This is an Enchanter’s store,” Imaiqah said, as they paused outside a stone building marked YODEL. She hesitated. “They normally allow only one person to enter the shop at a time, so I’ll go visit the clothes store while you purchase a che
st.”
Emily nodded. “Very well. I’ll see you after I’m done.”
Imaiqah had been rewarded by her father for discovering Emily; he’d sent her enough money to buy a formal dress for the next public event in Whitehall. Alassa had made fun of Imaiqah’s clothes, among other things, and Emily could understand why Imaiqah would want a change.
The door opened as she approached, allowing her to step into a darkened room smelling faintly of wood. It was crammed with dozens of artifacts, some apparently recognizable and others completely beyond her understanding. One table held a human hand with the fingers removed and replaced by candles; another held a skull with glowing rubies in place of eyes. Emily studied the hand for a long moment, sensing powerful magic flickering around it, but she couldn’t even begin to determine its purpose. Instead, she looked at a candlestick and frowned. It seemed perfectly normal, one she could have bought back home. As far as she could tell, it didn’t seem to have any magic at all.
“You’d discover that it only works when lit,” a voice said, from behind her. She spun around to see a little old man, wearing a workshop robe and dark glasses. “Should you light it, you will be the only one able to see the light. It is a simple charm, but very effective.”
“Clever,” Emily said.
“Yep,” Yodel agreed. He pointed to the skull. “Long ago, there was a great magician who copied his mind into his friend’s skull so that future generations would have access to his wisdom. The spell was duplicated and there are now countless copies of long-gone mages floating throughout the world. Do you wish advice from a past master of the art?”
Emily hesitated, and then shook her head.
“A wise decision,” Yodel said. “I find that their screaming tends to outweigh the prospect of learning advanced magical knowledge from them. Besides, the real masters never try to duplicate their smarts.”
He turned and led her further into the store, pointing at various objects. “I could give you a crystal spelled to alert you when your enemies are near. Or you could have a glass that always provides fresh water. Or even a metal wand for charging ward-spells.”
Schooled in Magic Page 24
