Bookworm III (7 page)

She staggered as the spell infested her mind, burning through her protections with a chilling casual ease. The spell, only written down in the Black Vault, was powerful,
too
powerful. It didn’t just burn through her thoughts, it sought to twist them permanently. And it had been forbidden, then largely forgotten, because its effects were far too close to permanent. Even if she managed to thrust it out of her mind, it would leave its calling card on her thoughts.

“She’s resisting,” she heard one of the Inquisitors said, in tones of awe. “I thought that was impossible.”

“You were told to take her seriously,” the other Inquisitor said. His grip on her wrists hadn’t slacked, even for a second. “She was a Privy Councillor. The Grand Sorceress wouldn’t have appointed her to the council if she hadn’t been quite remarkable.”

Elaine barely heard them over the roaring in her mind. The spell was howling through her thoughts, forcing her to acknowledge its presence – and every time she admitted to herself it was there, it weakened her defences. No wonder it was so hard to remove, she noted; it didn’t just take over her body and soul, it left them permanently warped, if the spell wasn’t removed in time. Even the Inquisitors only used it as a last-ditch method for compelling obedience, not least because there were hundreds of other spells that didn’t have such ghastly side-effects. But the Emperor – whoever he was – had to be taking her seriously.

It was hard, so hard, to protect the innermost recesses of her mind without looking at the threat, but she had no choice. The tidal waves washing against her defences only had power if she thought about them, yet it was almost impossible to build her barricades without knowing what she was facing. It was like picking her way through a room with her eyes pressed firmly shut, knowing that opening them meant death. If she hadn’t spent months building up new and interesting ways to make the magic she had go further, it would have beaten her.

It’s a draw
, she told herself, as she opened her eyes.
The spell is held at bay, but I can’t force it out of my mind.

“The spell holds her,” the first Inquisitor said. He waved his wand at Elaine’s head, scanning the magic running through her body. “Barely.”

“But enough,” the second Inquisitor said. He let go of Elaine’s wrists, allowing her to stand limp. “Search the room for anything interesting.”

Elaine barely felt anything as her captor checked her pockets, removing the pair of notebooks and pens she kept with her at all times, then ran his hands over her body calmly and professionally. It felt almost as if she was watching it happen to someone else, as if she were detached from her own body, as if it was almost a dream. The Inquisitor removed the ankle chain she wore, then placed it and the notebooks in his robes. Once, she would have been outraged at losing her chain. Now, it was hard to feel anything.

The spell is working its way into my thoughts
, she realised. Stalemated in its first attempt to overwhelm her, the spell was oozing its way around her defences, hunting for weaknesses and gaps it could exploit. She dreaded to think what would happen when the time came to fall asleep. Her defences wouldn’t hold under ceaseless pressure and when she woke up, she would be a slave. Unless they removed the spell first ...

Or I find a way to do it
, she thought. But it was so hard to concentrate without weakening her defences. She cursed the spell’s inventor in her thoughts – she couldn’t imagine what sort of monster would devise and use such a spell – then started to probe though her stockpiles of knowledge.
There’s no other way to escape
.

She tried to reach out, to touch the library’s wards. But the link refused to form.

“You will come with us,” the first Inquisitor said. “You will walk normally, but you will speak to no one as we leave the library and travel to the palace.”

Elaine felt her body twitch, then start to obey. The haze infesting her thoughts made it impossible to resist, even if she had been able to consider it. If she’d put up any sort of fight, she knew all too well, they would have hammered her into the ground and then dragged her to the palace. Besides, the spell was in control of her body, at least to some degree. She was obeying their commands, after all. It was a horrific sensation, all the worse for knowing that the spell was doing permanent damage. She might never truly recover.

She forced herself to concentrate on building additional defences as her body walked through the door and out into the corridor. The Inquisitors followed her, walking as if they were merely accompanying her on her travels, rather than escorting a prisoner. Part of her mind found that absurdly hopeful – she would have been too embarrassed to show her face if she’d been marched through the streets in handcuffs – but the rest of her knew better. It wasn’t as if anyone would come to her rescue, even if they
had
known something was wrong. The Inquisitors weren’t just capable magicians, they were
powerful
. It was what allowed them to uphold the system that underpinned the Empire.

A handful of students gaped at the Inquisitors as they walked through the lobby, then hastily scattered. They probably had guilty consciences, Elaine thought sourly; couldn’t they tell that something was very wrong? But the spell controlling her limbs made it impossible for anyone to tell that she wasn’t moving under her own power ... she cursed herself again for recognising the spell’s existence. Every time she noted it was there, it gained an advantage in the struggle to take over her soul.

Cold air slapped her face as they walked outside, reminding her that the spells that kept the Golden City temperate all year had failed. Light Spinner had been working to fix them, she recalled as she shivered helplessly, but the spells were so old and ingrained into the city that even a team of dedicated workers couldn’t fix them. Fashions had changed, Elaine noted, seeing just how many people were wrapped up warmly on the streets. Once, students of both sexes had worn revealing clothes, showing off their bodies. Now, almost everyone was wearing heavy woollen jumpers, charmed to keep the cold away. She had a feeling that there were plenty of students who mourned the change in the weather.

One of the Inquisitors cast a warming spell as the wind started to blow against her face, pushing back her hair. Elaine was almost grateful, even though she knew it was just a courtesy rather than a gesture of apology for arresting her. She gritted her teeth as the spell made her walk onwards, wondering absently why so few people were paying attention to her and her unwanted companions. But then, anyone who paid attention to Inquisitors risked attracting their attention in return.

Everyone is guilty of something
, Dread had once said, cynically.
And so they hide from us whenever they can
.

She wondered, suddenly, what had happened to Dread, before reminding herself she should be grateful for his absence. Dread had sworn the same oaths as her companions, oaths that would bind him to obey the Emperor ... whoever he was. If he’d been with them,
he
would have had to cast the spell ... she would have seen it as a betrayal, even though he would have had no choice. Inquisitors were rarely released from their oaths – it had only happened a handful of times in their thousand-year history – and they were
never
disobedient. The oaths wouldn’t let them disobey.

It’s worse than that,
she reminded herself.
The oaths become part of them to the point they can no longer comprehend why they want to disobey. Or why they should disobey.

She gritted her teeth as she felt the spell surging against her protections. There were horror stories – and true stories that were worse – about what happened when someone was careless in swearing oaths. It was easy, chillingly so, to swear to do something lethal ... or to obey without question, no matter what one was told to do. Or to allow an oath to warp one’s mind beyond repair. One of the stories that had never made it out of the Black Vault had talked about a man who had sworn to marry a particular woman – and when he’d found her again, he’d practically kidnapped and raped her. It hadn’t had a happy ending.

Snow started to drift down from the heavens as they turned the corner and started to walk towards the Imperial Palace. Elaine sucked in her breath, despite the chill, as she felt the magic radiating around the building, even at this distance. The wards had once been solid but largely impersonal, even when the Grand Sorceress had been in residence. Now, they were bound to a single will. Elaine had known there
was
an Emperor from the moment the Inquisitors had mentioned it, but she hadn’t really believed them. But now there was no escaping the truth.

The line of petitioners desperate to see the Grand Sorceress was gone, she noted, and there was blood on the ground. It didn’t take a deductive genius to realise that they’d been chased away, probably by the Inquisitors. She wanted to believe that no one had been really hurt, but the blood suggested otherwise. If Light Spinner had been growing more and more impatient with the petitioners, what would her successor make of them?

It was hard to speak. Her mouth didn’t seem to want to work properly. But she needed to know.

“The people who were here,” she said. “What happened to them?”

“You will be silent,” the first Inquisitor ordered. “Shut your mouth.”

Elaine’s mouth shut with a snap as the spell did its work. She wanted to glare at the Inquisitor, but it wouldn’t allow her even that piece of freedom. Instead, all she could do was follow them through the gates – the wards washing over them as they entered – and walk up to the doors. Inside, the walls were lined with soldiers, wearing dark-grey tunics she didn’t recognise. They looked tough, incredibly disciplined. And they were clearly prepared for trouble, as they were carrying swords, clubs and shields. Not enough to stand against magic, she knew, but enough to keep the mundane population in check.

But who
were
they? And where had they come from?

The thought nagged at her mind as she was escorted down a long flight of stairs. The Grand Sorcerers had never built up large armies, nor had they permitted any of their subject rulers to muster more troops than was strictly necessary. They’d never
needed
armies, after all, not since the Necromantic Wars. And military power in the hands of subject rulers could cause trouble, even lead some of them to consider revolt. But whoever had become Emperor had clearly prepared for trouble. He’d brought a small army with him when he’d conquered the city.

She tried to recall what little she’d been taught about the Imperial Family, before it had been declared extinct, but there was nothing useful, apart from a list of names. So far back, it was hard to separate truth from legends – or disinformation, spread by later enemies. The Emperor was supposed to have thousands of bastard children, but none of them had come forward to claim the Throne. Now, it was quite possible that none of his descendants – assuming they knew what they were –
could
claim the Throne. How close did someone have to be to the Imperial Bloodline for the Throne to accept them? The spells on the Throne might not accept someone who was a tenth-generation descendant of one of the Emperors.

That would be a recipe for Civil War
, she thought, recalling one of the disputes between kingdoms that the Privy Council had had to settle. There had been two heirs, each from cadet branches of the royal family, each with a decent claim to power. In the end, they’d effectively picked one at random.
If just anyone could claim the Throne, provided they had a trace of the bloodline, there would be no way to separate out who had the best claim.

A door opened, drawing her thoughts back to reality.

“You will wait in this room,” the first Inquisitor ordered. “You will not attempt to leave until we come back for you.”

He pushed Elaine inside, gently. It was a luxurious chamber, but she wasn’t fooled; it was, to all intents and purposes, a holding cell. The Grand Sorcerers – and Emperors, she assumed – had used them to house prisoners with enough status to merit careful treatment, even if they were guilty as sin. She stepped inside, her body obedient to their commands, and looked around, admiring just how carefully the room had been crafted for its purpose. There were comfortable seats, a drinks cabinet, a small set of books and two additional doors, which she assumed led to the bathroom and the bedroom. But there was nothing she could use to break out of the chamber, even if she had had full control of her body. The door was firmly closed and guarded by a powerful set of wards.

She managed to walk over to the sofa and sit down, her entire body trembling as though it were drunk – or drugged. The spell seemed to have receded into the back of her mind, but it was still there, still trying to infest her thoughts. Cursing it under her breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her defences. She had expected the spell to have made some headway, but she was shocked when she realised just how many of her defences it had broken down. Hastily, she started to repair the wards as best she could, while solidifying the protections around her mind.

Good thing I don’t have a proper link to Johan
, she thought, bitterly.
The spell would probably have infested him too ...

The thought was horrific. Johan had almost no mental defences, compared to her. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if someone cast the same spell on him, unless his odd magic somehow repelled it. But where was he? Daria had taken him to the camp and then ... she cursed under her breath. What would happen when Elaine failed to show up as planned? Would they take Johan and leave, or abandon him in the Golden City? And what would Daria do? She could ask at the Great Library ... and then ... what would she be told? It wasn’t as if anyone knew Elaine was under arrest.

They saw me leave with two Inquisitors,
she reminded herself.
And I must have looked awful
.

She pushed the thought away. It would be better, much better, if Johan and Daria stayed well away from the Imperial Palace. Everyone thought Johan was dead, after all; the Emperor would be less than pleased to discover that he was still alive. Or did he already know? He had command of the Palace’s wards, after all, and they would have recorded everything that took place within the building. Had he thought to review everything Light Spinner had done during her time in office?
Could
he review everything or ... or would the wards force him to scan everything in real time? If the latter, reviewing everything would be an impossible task ...