Love's Labor's Won (39 page)

And there are few fat magicians
, Emily thought, puzzled.
Is he unable to burn fat while performing magic or...is he building up reserves for a battle
?

“You’re a Lone Power,” she said, out loud. “Aren’t you?”

“Something of the sort,” Fatty said. “I could never quite grasp the importance of being
alone
, you see, but yes, I am powerful enough to be counted as one.”

He shrugged. “I enjoy magical society too much to exclude myself from it,” he added. “But your father prefers his own company.”

“I know,” Emily said.

“But I came to talk to you,” Fatty said. “I wanted to thank you.”

Emily blinked. “Thank me? For what?”

“For keeping the Ashworths and Ashfalls busy,” Fatty said. “It was a surprise to have them both attend the Faire, but you’ve kept them under firm control. I thank you.”

He lifted his hat, revealing that he was going bald on top.

“You’re welcome,” Emily said, although she couldn’t help being surprised. “Have you been making good use of the time?”

Fatty nodded. “The usual deal—making is going on in various tents,” he said. “Of course” — he winked at her — “having to keep the problem children under control prevents you from attending the meetings. I don’t blame you for wanting to skip them. Your father would not be pleased if you accidentally made the wrong deal.”

And if I had planned it that way
, Emily thought,
it might have been brilliant
.

“I thank you,” she said, keeping her face straight. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask any question you like, as long as it’s a sensible question,” Fatty said. “Or one that lets me show off how brilliant I am.”

Emily sighed inwardly. “The feud,” she said. If Fatty was as old as Void, he’d been around long enough to witness the separation between the two families. “How did it start?”

“A very good question,” Fatty said. “But I could not give you a definite answer. Fulvia is, I think, the only survivor from those years. Far too many people on both sides have been killed before they could have children or even pick their own path in life. All I could tell you are rumors.”

“Oh,” Emily said. “Does
anyone
know?”

“Ask Fulvia,” Fatty advised. “But you might want to do it from a safe distance. She might not be a Lone Power, but anyone who’s lived so long as Matriarch will be hellishly powerful.”

“Her family seems to be scared of her,” Emily observed.

“She’s had plenty of time to learn the tricks of the trade,” Fatty pointed out. “I dare say she’ll outlive them all.”

He rose to his feet with ponderous grace. “I would like to advise you to attend a meeting tonight, but your father would be unhappy,” he added. “Next time, perhaps, you will be able to attend with him. It would be nice to see him again.”

“I’ll pass on your words,” Emily said. “And thank you.”

“Thank
you
,” Fatty said.

He lumbered off, steering his way through the tables with deceptive ease. Emily shook her head in droll amusement, wondering why he chose to remain so bulky, then rose and walked out of the tent. Outside, night was starting to fall over Cockatrice, but the Faire was still illuminated by glowing balls of light, casting an eerie radiance over the scene. Emily smiled as a gang of young children ran past, pausing as she heard the sound of someone singing in the distance. It was sweet enough to almost bring a tear to her eye, but there was no time to listen. She needed to find Yodel before he closed his stall for the night.

She had never been very sensitive to emotions, but even she could sense the tension in the air as she walked through the Faire. People exchanged glances with one another, while magicians were wrapping even more protective wards around their stalls, as if they feared another fight. They might have a point, Emily suspected; Gaius and Markus had both been reluctant to back down, even when their superiors had arrived. The next time, she might not be there to stop them before they started hurling curses at each other.

“Lady Emily,” one of the apprentices called, as she approached. “You’re just in time.”

Emily nodded to him, pushed aside the flap, and stepped into the workroom. Yodel stood in front of a table, using a wand to fiddle with the interior of a trunk. Emily waited patiently for him to finish, her eyes sweeping the tables for objects of interest. But the only thing that caught her eye was a wooden frame, one that looked like it had been designed to hold a painting. A spell she didn’t recognize glowed around it, working its way in and out of the wood.

“Someone wants to have an updating portrait,” Yodel commented, as he looked up. “She wants everyone to know what she looks like at all times.”

Emily frowned. “Does that include when she’s in the bath?”

“It could,” Yodel said. “She wants it fixed on her face, just in case.”

“As long as she isn’t pouring her darker feelings into the portrait,” Emily said. How long had it been since she’d read
The Picture of Dorian Grey
? “Everyone can make a fool of themselves if they wish.”

“You are too tolerant, Lady Emily,” Yodel said. “People who make fools of themselves tend to lash out when they realize how stupid they’ve been.”

He put the wand down and stepped away from the trunk. “This is your commission,” he said, as he walked towards a table. “I actually designed two: the first one matches your request, while the second should be considerably more efficient. However, I do not advise you to use either of them as a wand. The magic would become dispersed before it entered the wood.”

Emily picked up the first device and peered at it. It was smaller than she’d expected, little larger than a pencil, but tipped with enough wood to serve as a very basic wand. There was no way to guide the magic, save by pointing it at the target, yet she knew it shouldn’t be a problem. If she was right.... She touched the wood, embedding a spell in the material, and smiled to herself as it took root and waited. Wandcraft was hardly her forte — she’d been taught never to use a wand unless it was absolutely necessary — but she knew enough to make it work.

Nanette taught me more, by accident
, she thought, as she inspected the second valve.
And so did Shadye
.

“I trust they are suitable?” Yodel asked. “I was really quite intrigued by the task.”

“They should be,” Emily said.

“But I don’t understand them,” Yodel protested. “Even a Lone Power would have difficulty using them without wasting magic. Or do you plan to try to power them from a nexus point?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Emily said.

“Please let me know when you work it out,” Yodel said. “I would be curious to see just what you have in mind.”

Emily nodded — it was clear he was
frantic
to know what she was doing, just from the way he kept looking at the valve — but kept her thoughts to herself. He was right, in a sense; no single magician could channel enough power to make the devices — she would have to come up with a proper name — workable. But combined with her batteries, it would give her the ability to cast a single spell with terrifying power. Unless it exploded in her pocket, of course...

Or someone hexes you, and the battery comes apart
, she thought, grimly.
What would happen if so much raw magic poured into the world
?

“I thank you,” she said. She placed both of the devices into her pocket, casting a handful of anti-theft spells over them. “I may ask you to make others, in the future.”

“I always look forward to your commissions,” Yodel said. “And I thank you for the challenge.”

Emily nodded and stepped out of the wigwam. Night had fallen completely, leaving the city shrouded in darkness; even the castle, the heart of the barony, was only illuminated by a handful of distant lights. She couldn’t help feeling a shiver as she looked at her castle, then back at the Faire around her. It was clear that they belonged in very different worlds.

She heard the singing again and turned to walk towards it. A young girl, around thirteen, stood in front of a caravan, singing sweetly to an assembled crowd. She was young, with pale skin and dark oval eyes, a strange mixture of white and oriental features.

Jasmine
, Emily remembered. She’d met the girl last year, at the first Faire.
What’s she doing here
?

She dismissed the question a moment later, silently cursing herself for forgetting Jasmine and her family. The girl had lost her parents at an early age and wound up living with her uncles and aunts. Emily had offered to pay her fees when — if — she wanted to go to Whitehall. But it had never crossed her mind that Jasmine would attend the next Faire.

It should have
, she told herself.

“Lady Emily,” a quiet voice said. “I was wondering if I could have a word.”

Emily groaned inwardly — what now? — and turned to see the speaker. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, with long dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. His face seemed somehow ageless, yet lined enough to make it clear he was no longer young; his dark eyes seemed to glimmer as he peered at Emily. There was something about his stare that was more than a little unnerving.

“Yes, we can,” she said, finally. The dark robes marked the newcomer as a sorcerer, but there was nothing to identify his speciality. “What would you like to be called?”

“I am Master Gordian,” the newcomer said. He gave her a tight bow, as if he wasn’t quite sure just how much respect she was due. “And I merely wished to see if you lived up to your legend.”

“Very few people do,” Emily said, as she curtseyed in return. She tried and failed to keep the tiredness out of her voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, at the moment,” Master Gordian said. “I thank you for consenting to speak with me.”

He bowed, deeper this time, and strode off. Emily stared after him, wondering just what he’d been playing at. Hastily, she checked her pockets and discovered that the battery, the devices and her money pouch were all still in place. She opened her mouth to shout after him, but thought better of it. Instead, she turned and started the long walk back up to the castle, using the night-vision spell to find her way in the dark. By the time she reached the gates, guarded by a pair of her men, she felt so tired that all she wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep.

“My lady,” one of them said. “I welcome you to your home.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, absently. She turned and looked back at the Faire, wrapped in a blaze of light, then back at the guards. Their armor was now marked with runes to protect them from subtle magic. “I...”

She shook her head. She didn’t belong here, playing lady of the castle. She didn’t have the training, let alone the attitude, to govern hundreds of thousands of people. And yet, King Randor had tricked her, giving her the title and the lands without ever telling her what was involved. She should leave, she knew, and yet she was reluctant to give it up. She’d made so many changes she couldn’t leave, without risking everything falling apart.

Or so you keep telling yourself
, she thought, as she walked through the inner doors and into the castle proper.
Are you just trying to convince yourself that you want to stay, even though you don’t want to stay? Or are you being greedy
?

She cursed herself under her breath. In Zangaria, land meant power...and Randor had given her enough land to make her very powerful indeed. He’d given her the resources to be a serious threat to him, if she’d wanted to make herself a threat. No one, absolutely no one, would turn down the offer of lands and a title. No wonder Alicia had been so desperate to have her title confirmed before the king married her off or organized her barony to suit himself. But Emily...Emily didn’t
want
the barony.

Then give it up
, her own thoughts mocked her.
Or are you just going to procrastinate until the shit hits the fan?

“My lady,” Bryon said, stepping out of a side room. “I have organized a simple dinner, without the formalities, for the guests.”

“Very good,” Emily said. She had a feeling that most of the guests would demand room service, or go down to the Faire to eat, but some would definitely want to be fed in the Great Hall. “Have there been any problems up here?”

“A few dirty looks from one family to the other, but no real problems,” Bryon said. “I heard there was nearly a fight down in the Faire.”

“There was,” Emily confirmed. She had to fight down the impulse to start shaking, now that it was all over. She’d plunged right into the middle of the two groups...her wards were as strong as she could make them, but if she’d been attacked by both sides they wouldn’t have lasted long enough for her to escape. She could have died there and then. “But I think it’s over, for the moment.”

“That is good, my lady,” Bryon said.

Emily rubbed her forehead. She felt hungry, but there was too much else that needed to be done.

“Please send a message to Melissa Ashworth,” she said. “Inform her that I request the honor of her company for breakfast tomorrow, in the blue room, at nine bells.”

“I will see to it at once,” Bryon said.

“We will also be joined by Markus,” Emily added, “so please give him the same message.
Don’t
mention it to either of them.”

Bryon frowned, but nodded.

“I will have the maids deliver breakfast for the three of you, once you are ready to eat,” Bryon said. “Will you be wanting anything in particular?”

“We’ll order food tomorrow,” Emily said, after a moment. Melissa and Markus would both want to choose their own breakfasts, while Emily had no idea what
she
would want at the time. Maybe something less fatty than bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes. “Are there any other concerns right now?”

“Lady Frieda is waiting for you in her rooms,” Bryon said. “I promised her I would inform you as soon as you arrived.”

“I’ll see to her myself,” Emily said. God alone knew what Master Grey had said to her, before he’d sent her off to the castle. He’d probably frightened her to death. “Let me know if there are any other problems before I go to bed.”