The woman looked as if she’d had to taste something vile, but she reached into her pocket and produced a handful of silver coins. “I thank you for your service,” she said to the maid, as she passed her the coins. “You can clean the room later when my father is at dinner.”
“I won’t have anyone touching my bed!” The old man thundered. “Young women cannot be trusted with my bed!”
“There isn’t a single woman who wants to get into your bed,” the woman muttered. “And I can’t imagine why you would feel differently.”
Emily looked at the maid and jerked her head towards the door. The maid scurried away, gratefully. Emily turned her attention back to the arguing couple and watched as the man stumbled to his feet, muttering under his breath all the while. The woman sagged the moment the man entered the bathroom, looking exhausted.
“I’m all he has,” she said. “And...”
“I understand,” Emily said. “But I can’t have him abusing my people.”
“I’ll speak to him,” the woman promised. “But he’s never listened to anything I’ve told him before, Lady Emily.”
“Just do your best,” Emily said. “If he acts up again, I reserve the right to take more...extreme steps.”
The woman looked downcast, but nodded. Emily left the room, closing the door behind her. The maid stood just outside, looking at the floor. Emily felt another stab of pity, mingled with guilt; she’d frozen Janice, too, when Janice had surprised her. The maids hadn’t signed up to work in a magical household, nor had they realized the dangers when Bryon had hired them. It was something that was going to have to change.
Bryon should have told them, Emily thought. But how could he tell them to ignore a guest’s wishes?
“My lady,” the maid said. “I...”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, sharply. An idea was starting to take shape in her mind. “Go find Bryon and tell him I want to see the staff, all of them, in the Great Hall.”
The maid curtsied and hurried off. Emily took a moment to steady herself before she walked down to the Great Hall. A pair of workmen cleaned the floor, which needed it after the previous night’s dance, while a set of maids were putting the tables back together. Bryon walked in moments later, followed by a confused array of cooks, maids and manservants. Emily had known there were over three hundred servants in the castle, but she’d never really grasped it until she’d seen them all together. And they all worked for her...
“I asked the guards to remain on duty,” Bryon said. “The gates have to be watched at all times. But everyone else is here.”
Let’s hope the food doesn’t burn, Emily thought. It could take hours to prepare the food for even a small gathering, when ”small” could mean hundreds of guests. She honestly didn’t understand how Alassa tolerated it. How could she hope to have a private dinner, perhaps for a handful of friends, when everyone who hadn’t been invited would resent it?
“Thank you,” she said. “I need to speak to you afterwards.”
She cleared her throat as she stepped up to the dais and looked around. Alassa had taught her how to address servants, but she’d privately resolved never to speak to anyone in such a manner. Servants were stripped of their dignity by a language that was cool and utterly impersonal, as if the servants were nothing more than automatons. It explained a lot, Emily felt, that servants were dehumanized. Perhaps their masters and mistresses mistreated them because they didn’t think of them as human.
And if people spoke to the help like that on Earth, she thought, they’d be hit with lawsuits that would put them permanently in the red.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. Alassa would probably say she was showing weakness, but she wasn’t going to be rude to the servants. God knew they had enough problems without her adding to them. “I won’t keep you long.”
She paused, marshaling her thoughts. “There was an incident, just now, when one of the maids was invited to clean a room by one magician, then frozen by another, who happened to be sharing the same room,” she said. “This was the second incident I have seen, personally, involving magic. Have there been others?”
There was no response, but she saw several maids looking uncomfortable. Emily sighed inwardly, feeling cold rage bubbling in her heart. Abusing servants was strictly forbidden at Whitehall, with draconic punishments for any offender, but that was very much the exception rather than the rule. The previous baron had been a nightmare, Emily recalled, even before he’d tried to overthrow the king. She’d heard enough horror stories to last her the rest of her life.
And subtle magic could make things worse, she thought. They will need to sew runes to protect themselves.
“There are rules,” she said. They should know already, but they bore repeating. “Do not enter a room belonging to a magician without permission, not even to light the fires. If they do ask you to enter and clean the room, check what you can and cannot touch. They will probably not want you to touch their trunks, their books or any other magical possessions.”
She paused, long enough for her words to sink in. “Do not enter a room when the magician isn’t there,” she added. “If they don’t respond when you knock, assume they’re absent or they don’t want to see you and leave them alone. Most magicians have a habit of leaving traps around to catch unwary intruders and those traps won’t care if you’re cleaning the room or trying to steal from them. You could wind up trapped — or worse.
“Finally, be polite,” she concluded. “If they ask for something reasonable, give it to them, but I will not tolerate them abusing my employees. If there is a problem, come and tell me about it. I can’t do anything unless I know there’s a problem.”
There was another uneasy rustle, but no one spoke. “I will be in my office until dinner time,” Emily told them. “If you want to speak to me, you are welcome.”
“There are always incidents,” Bryon said, once the remainder of the staff had left the Great Hall. “Do you really want them all reported to you?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “How many have been reported to you?”
“None,” Bryon said, “but I have eyes and ears. A couple of maids were paid to spend last night in the arms of a magician. It happens.”
“And as long as it is consensual, I don’t mind,” Emily said. “But if it isn’t, I will need to do something about it.”
“Few of them would dare accuse a magician,” Bryon said. “They’d fear being taken for liars.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. She’d seen enough of what passed for justice in Zangaria to know she wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of it. A high-ranking man was automatically believed over his juniors, if he happened to speak in court. It didn’t matter who or what he was, or how much proof there happened to be; his rank protected him from the consequences of his actions. She couldn’t help wondering why so few aristocrats didn’t end up murdered by their staff. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have an excellent set of motives.
“Then tell them I won’t consider them liars,” she assured him. “There are spells to find out if someone is telling the truth, after all.”
Bryon met her eyes. It was so forward that Emily sat up, surprised.
“And what,” he asked, “will you do about it if you learn the truth?”
“Whatever I need to do,” Emily said.
“It is my duty to offer you advice,” Bryon said, after a moment. “If you...if you evict a magician, no matter how unpleasant, from the castle, you will risk your relations with the rest of the magical community. The same can be said of anyone from the aristocracy. They will close ranks around him...and against you.”
Yet another reason to walk away, Emily thought, coldly. Leave...and don’t look back.
“I understand what you’re saying,” she said, instead. Bryon was giving her good advice, from his point of view. “But I will not stand by and let my people be abused.”
She walked back to her office and sat down, then started to go through a huge pile o
f paperwork that required her signature. It was nearly an hour before the first visitor arrived, a junior maid who refused to look Emily in the eye as she told her how one of the guests had groped her breast when she’d cleaned his room. Emily cast a covert truth spell and winced, inwardly, as she realized the maid was telling the truth. Two more followed in quick succession, both telling similar stories. A fourth told of entering a room upon invitation, only to be ordered out seconds later. Emily puzzled over that, then put it aside. The magician might have realized, after inviting the maid to enter, that he’d left something exposed and wanted to cover it up. By the time Lady Barb returned from the Faire, Emily was tired, cranky and feeling murderous.
“Some minor incidents, but nothing worth mentioning,” Lady Barb said, as she entered. “The Faire is winding down now for the day.”
“Good,” Emily said, absently. She’d wanted to tell Lady Barb about the battery, which still felt warm in her pocket. But instead she needed to talk about other problems. “There were some...incidents with the maids.”
Lady Barb listened, carefully, as Emily ran through what she’d heard. “I think the old man must have been Douglas, of House Douglas,” she said. “He was a very strong magician in his day, before he started to go senile. There was a problem with the rejuvenation spells, or so I heard. Too many wives in his life.”
Emily blinked. “Too many wives?”
“He had seven, if I recall correctly,” Lady Barb said. “And at least twenty children.”
She shrugged. “But that isn’t the issue at hand, is it?”
“No,” Emily said. “I need to deal with these...these molesters.”
“Well,” Lady Barb said. “Do you know who they are?”
“No,” Emily admitted. She shuddered, remembering Hodge’s hands on her...and the moment she’d knocked him down, then hit him with a spell. “I could get them identified, couldn’t I?”
“Not easily,” Lady Barb said. She frowned. “And most of their families wouldn’t give a damn.”
“I care,” Emily said. She thought, frantically. “If the maid was asked to clean a room, logically the groper was someone staying in the room...”
“Logically,” Lady Barb agreed. “But you would still have to convince their families that what they did was wrong.”
“Because they don’t see servants as human,” Emily agreed, bitterly.
“No,” Lady Barb said.
Emily looked down at her hands, feeling helpless. “So...what do I do about it?”
Lady Barb reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you asking me for advice?”
“Yes,” Emily said.
“Speak to them all this evening,” Lady Barb said. “Tell them that you won’t tolerate your servants getting hurt, molested or treated badly. Or bespelled. Do not show any signs of weakness as you speak. Make sure they know it isn’t a request, but a demand, and don’t give them any wiggle room at all.”
Emily winced. Lady Barb could quirk her eyebrows and people would fall into line. Emily didn’t have the same presence, and doubted she ever would.
“I don’t know how to do it,” she admitted.
“Talk bluntly and firmly,” Lady Barb said. “Don’t show your power, because they won’t be impressed; show them that you will not be pushed on this issue. You do not want to leave any room for doubt.”
“I’ll do my best,” Emily said. She shook her head. “But...”
Lady Barb cast a privacy ward into the air. “Was this a problem where you came from?”
“Sometimes,” Emily said. There was no magic on Earth, but there was still power...and people willing to abuse it. “But most people would agree it was wrong.”
“Changing something like that will take a lifetime,” Lady Barb said, softly. “Don’t expect results immediately.”
Emily rested her head in her hands. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Lady Barb said, flatly.
“Damn,” Emily said.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll speak to them,” she said. “And now, can we talk about something different?”
Lady Barb’s lips quirked. “If you wish,” she said, “we can talk about anything.”
Emily drew the ring out of her pocket. “One battery,” she said. “It works.”
“Good,” Lady Barb said. She touched the ring lightly, then frowned. “I could draw on this, too.”
“I think so,” Emily said. “If rituals allow us to combine magic, surely a battery could allow one magician to draw on the power of several.”
“You’d still run the risks of channeling it through your mind,” Lady Barb said. “Or do you have a solution in mind?”
“I have half of one,” Emily said. “But I don’t know how well it will work.”
Lady Barb smiled. “You can discuss it with Caleb, if you like,” she said. “I think you and he were getting on.”
Emily blushed. “Why is it that...that everyone seems to think we’ll start dating?”
“Probably because they’re your friends, and they like teasing you,” Lady Barb said. “And probably because they want you to be happy.”
“Oh,” Emily said. She cringed. “But I barely know him!”
Lady Barb made a rude noise. “You don’t have to jump into bed with him,” she said, sharply. “And, no matter what anyone else may happen to say, you don’t have to do anything with him. I would actually advise you to finish the project first, then consider going out with him, if you wish. The last thing you want is to fall out with him before the project is completed.”
“Because repeating Third Year would be horrible,” Emily said.
“It will be worse if you’re two years older than everyone else in the year,” Lady Barb pointed out, dryly. “You will be a mature student, considered old enough to be treated as an adult, yet you will still be subject to childish penalties and punishments. The humiliation will be unbearable.”
She shrugged, turning the ring over and over in her hand. “But he’s a decent man and you’re...better than you were, certainly. Just be careful.”
“I will,” Emily promised.
“And if you happen to need advice on protection and suchlike, go to the healers,” Lady Barb added. “They will not be happy if I start dispensing advice.”
“You are a healer,” Emily said. She hated the idea of asking anyone for help with protective charms, even her closest friends. “Can’t you teach me?”
“Not unless I want to get into trouble,” Lady Barb said. “Healers can be quite sharp about tutors dispensing advice. They prefer to make sure students get it directly from them.”
She glanced at her watch. “It isn’t long until dinner,” she said. “You might as well start planning your speech. And try not to make it a long one.”
Emily nodded. She hated long speeches, too.
Chapter Nineteen
EMILY WAITED UNTIL EVERYONE WAS IN the Great Hall and seated before she rose to her feet and used a very minor spell to catch their attention. Aurelius had taught it to her, claiming that strong magicians always used magic to make speeches. He’d used it himself when he’d welcomed the students back to Mountaintop, although she hadn’t pushed so much power into the spell. There was no point in encouraging them to fight back.
“Before we eat,” she said, “there is a matter I must address.”
She allowed her gaze to sweep the hall. Markus and Melissa, sitting with their respective siblings, both looked bored. Alassa and Jade were sitting together, watching her attentively, while Frieda and Imaiqah were both frowning. There was no sign of Caleb at all. He’d probably decided to skip the dinner and eat in private, or down at the Faire.
“It has come to my attention that magic has been used, twice, against my servants,” she said, bluntly. “My servants, in my house. Furthermore, some of my servants have been abused by my guests. I consider this to be an offense against my person.”
There was a long pause. Lady Barb had advised her to frame th
e incidents as offences against her personally, rather than against individual maids. It was something they’d understand, she’d explained; they’d respect Emily’s right to be angry, even if they didn’t quite grasp why she was angry. Emily’s home was, quite literally, her castle.
“I do not have time to come running to attend to each and every incident,” she continued, “so I will say this now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, abuses my servants, they will be evicted from the castle and banned from the Faire. You may ask them to clean rooms, or to provide food, or to assist you in carrying your supplies, but nothing else. I will not tolerate such activities in my home.”
After giving them one final glance, she sat down. They’d have to be mad to start a fight, Lady Barb had commented, but some magicians were more than a little unstable. Or proud; they would go out of their way, Emily knew, to show they weren’t scared by the Necromancer’s Bane. And yet...the others would have to stop them, or risk seeing the sacred laws of hospitality torn asunder. Emily just hoped it would be enough to keep them from doing anything stupid.
And to make you decide, a voice whispered at the back of her head, if you’re bluffing or not.
“A pretty speech,” Fulvia said, as the servants started to bring in giant tureens of soup. “But I’m sure my family will behave themselves.”
“I’m sure,” Emily said, dryly. Gaius had been invited as part of the Ashworth party, she knew, and he had turned a maid into a frog. “But it needed to be said.”
“It comes of young magicians having no respect for their elders,” Fulvia said. She peered past Emily, at Marcellus. “I believe you helped your father die before his time.”
“My father died through one of his experiments,” Marcellus said, pleasantly. “But tell me, Lady Fulvia, just how your grandson died.”
“He drank an overdose of painkilling potion and poisoned himself,” Fulvia said, tightly. “It was most unfortunate.”
“Particularly as it left a malleable toddler as your heir,” Marcellus observed. It took Emily a moment to work out that he meant Melissa. “How...coincidental.”
Love's Labor's Won Page 18
