Schooled in Magic (38 page)

A
S IT HAPPENED, THE CITY FATHERS
weren’t the only ones who wanted to see them.

Mistress Irene had been staying at City Hall and, by the looks of things had been wearing out the carpet by pacing back and forth while waiting for news of her missing charges. Judging from the comments Emily had overheard as they were escorted into the building, Mistress Irene been an unwelcome guest, probably because she took her responsibilities seriously. God help anyone who got in Mistress Irene’s way.

City Hall itself was a massive building that reminded Emily of the Roman Senate. Dozens of young men ran around the building, carrying letters and packets from one room to another, while a cluster of older men supervised their every move. There were no women at all, apart from Mistress Irene–and, given the looks that the two girls received as they entered the building, Emily suspected that women were generally barred from entering City Hall. Like so much else about the strange new world she’d discovered, it seemed surprisingly primitive–and barbaric.

“May all the Gods be praised,” Mistress Irene said when Emily and Alassa were escorted into the small antechamber. “I feared that the worst had happened when your friend told me that you were gone.”

Emily and Alassa exchanged glances.

“I had to send the others back to Whitehall under escort,” Mistress Irene said. “Now tell me, what happened to you?” Her eyes darkened. “And if this was some kind of practical joke ...”

“No,” Alassa said in a very small voice. She sounded as if she were going into shock, now that the immediate danger was over. “Mistress, we were abducted.”

Mistress Irene looked towards the open door and glared at one of the young men. “Fetch some Kava and be quick about it, or I will turn you into the pig you are,” she snarled. She turned back to Alassa as the boy fled for his life. “Start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Emily took a moment to gather herself as Alassa ran through the entire story, from the moment they’d been stunned to when they’d run into the City Guard. In hindsight, she couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been guarded more carefully, or simply left drugged until the time came to move them to a more permanent prison. Alassa was worth her weight in gold, literally, and Emily ... Who
wouldn’t
want to get their hands on a Child of Destiny?

Void had told her that the status might come in handy. He
hadn’t
told her that it might also be a magnet for thugs, kidnappers and murderers.

Her lips twitched. Void had probably felt it went without saying.

“I see,” Mistress Irene said, after Alassa had finished speaking. “Emily, do you have something you want to add?”

The young man returned with a jug of Kava and three golden goblets. Slowly, he started to pour out the Kava, obviously hoping to hear more of the story before anyone else. Mistress Irene growled at him as soon as he had finished filling the goblets and waved him out of the room impatiently. He retreated with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Not really,” Emily said. The Kava tasted strange, oddly fouled by the bad taste in her mouth. “Alassa knocked out a bandit with a club of wood.”

“Good for you,” Mistress Irene said to Alassa. The Royal Princess had glossed over that part of the story. “Now, I’m afraid that the City Fathers wish to see you -”

Alassa caught her arm. “My parents? Do they know - ?”

“I’m afraid the City Fathers sent them an urgent message,” Mistress Irene said. Her brown eyes held a hint of sympathy. “They were quick to try to duck blame for whatever had happened to you.”

“And so they should,” Alassa said, her eyes flaring. “I was told that Dragon’s Den was
safe
!”

“The kidnappers should have known that Whitehall would never have let you simply vanish,” Mistress Irene said. “We could have put a hundred combat sorcerers into the city and searched it from end to end. I can’t imagine how they intended to get you out without being noticed.”

Emily frowned. “A portal? Or teleportation?”

“Perhaps, but the city’s wards would have made that difficult,” Mistress Irene said. “Setting up an unregistered portal is a crime almost everywhere - and it could hardly have gone undetected. The simplest way would be to take you out on a cart, but the City Guard sealed the gates and have been searching everything.”

The tutor shook her head. “Perhaps they were just very stupid bandits. But stupid magicians don’t tend to live very long.”

Mistress Irene headed for the door, giving another young man a brief message as she walked outside.

Emily thought hard. They’d
definitely
escaped too easily, which meant ... what? That their kidnappers had thought stripping them of magic would be enough to prevent them from escaping? Or that they’d somehow been
meant
to escape? Perhaps the whole episode had been intended as a warning to Alassa’s parents that their daughter was vulnerable, that she could be threatened. But all it would do would cause them to raise their guard.

Her head spun again as she tried to figure out all the angles. If what Alassa had told her was true, there were times in the Royal Court where you didn’t dare scratch your nose for fear that someone would take it as a sign to start something violent.

“Follow me,” Mistress Irene said. “And keep your hands to yourselves. It was hard enough to convince them to let you enter the building.”

They walked up a long flight of stone stairs and into a corridor that led towards a pair of marble doors, guarded by men wearing shining silver armor and carrying short swords. One of them insisted on taking the sword Emily had been carrying ever since she took it off the bandit, the other took the dagger and ran a wand over the two girls.

A detector of some kind, Emily guessed, as the guard nodded to his comrade to open the door. They’d been classed and rated as harmless.

Inside, the nine City Fathers of Dragon’s Den looked down upon them with varying levels of disapproval. Unsurprisingly, they were all men, all old enough to be Emily’s grandfather. Appearances could be deceptive in this world, she reminded herself; hard-working people could look seventy when they were actually thirty, and someone wealthy enough to buy rejuvenation spells could easily be over a hundred. They wore black shirts and trousers, along with golden medallions hanging from their necks. It was impossible to escape the sense that they were well aware of their own importance.

On the far side of the room, she saw the guardsman who had met them as soon as they escaped the sorcerer’s house. She studied him, trying to decide if it had been a coincidence that he’d been right outside, or if someone had set up the whole encounter. But none of her theories as to why anyone would bother to waste time with such an absurd plot made sense.

Maybe someone had just wanted to embarrass the City Fathers. It seemed as good a theory as any.

“Make your report,” one of the City Fathers said to the guardsman. “We must know what happened.”

“We searched the building where the Princess was held,” the guardsman said. He didn’t mention Emily, for which she was both grateful and a little insulted. Didn’t she count in a world that included aristocrats and monarchies? “We found the bodies of Bruno and Ambrose, a father and son team of conmen, thugs, kidnappers and cutthroats. They were both killed by magic.”

Mistress Irene stepped forward. “How do you know they were killed by magic?”

“You have no right to ask questions in this chamber,” one of the City Fathers said quickly. “You may submit your questions through us and ...”

“Don’t be silly,” another City Father interrupted. “She speaks for Whitehall.”

“And the Heir of Zangaria was kidnapped in our city,” an elderly City Father quavered. “We do not wish to seem obstructive.”

“We do not kiss the buttocks of royals,” the objecting City Father said. “We value our independence.”

“Which may not last if this leads to war,” Mistress Irene said, her cold voice cutting through the chatter. “Guardsman, how do you know the bandits were killed by magic?”

“Their hearts had exploded inside their chests,” the guardsman said. “We were fortunate enough to get a forensic sorcerer to the building before the vibrations had faded away and he confirmed that it was the work of a Dark Wizard. The only one whose current location cannot be confirmed is the Sorcerer Malefic.”

The City Fathers exchanged glances. “He would not stoop so low,” one of them said. “I believe him to be a true son of the city.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” the guardsman said, “but it is my observation that Malefic would do anything for gold.”

Emily nudged Mistress Irene. “Who is Malefic?”

“A practicing magician who claims to be a full-fledged sorcerer whenever he can get away with it,” Mistress Irene said. “I’ve seen his work before; husbands hexed by their wives, wives spelled to be obedient, workers convinced to work for nothing ... Like the guardsman said, he would do anything for a gold coin. But he should have had more sense than to challenge the Grandmaster, let alone
your
patron.”

“And my family,” Alassa added. “They will send men after Malefic.”

“They’d do better to send combat sorcerers,” Mistress Irene said tightly. “Even a low-level magic user has to be taken seriously. You make sure they know that before they send a small army to be slaughtered.”

“We are continuing to hunt for Malefic,” the guardsman continued, ignoring the interruption. “However, we have no idea where he might be hiding.”

“He may have left the city,” one of the City Fathers said. He looked around the table, finally looking directly at Mistress Irene. “I think we can declare the matter closed, can’t we?”

“No,” Mistress Irene said. “Two of my students were kidnapped–however briefly–while in your city. One of them is a Royal Princess that could have started a war between Dragon’s Den and Zangaria–and Zangaria would have the support of Whitehall. We expect your
thorough
cooperation in tracking down the miscreants and handing them over for punishment.”

“The citizens of a free city cannot be handed over to anyone,” a City Father objected. “It goes against our most basic principles.”

“Then I suggest you decide if your principles mean more to you than fighting a hopeless war,” Mistress Irene said sharply. “Do you
really
wish to push this any further?”

There was a long uncomfortable silence. “We will try them when we catch them,” one of the City Fathers said after several minutes. “And if they are proved to be guilty, we will hand them over to you. However, we cannot surrender anyone until their guilt has been confirmed. We have no proof that it was
really
Malefic who provided the magic and potion for their capture and confinement.”

“There
was
someone behind the two thugs,” the guardsman said. “Neither Bruno nor Ambrose were known for high intelligence. Someone–either Malefic or another sorcerer–was pulling their strings.”

He hesitated. “There is a limit to how far we can pressure the sorcerers in this city,” he added. “Perhaps Whitehall could offer to provide support if necessary.”

Emily hesitated, then spoke out into the chamber. “You said you have magicians working for you. Can’t you ... can’t you do something like summoning their ghosts and interrogating them?”

There was immediate uproar. Mistress Irene’s face darkened, one hand lifted as if she were about to slap Emily across the face before thinking better of it. The City Fathers were all talking rapidly, as if she’d just suggested something horrifying, perhaps even on the verge of necromancy itself ... Even Alassa looked shocked, although she also looked amused.

Emily’s mistake had been so basic that she hadn’t even realized it
was
a mistake until it was too late.

“You
dare
bring someone like
her
into this chamber?” One of the City Fathers said. “Take her out; take her for punishment and...”

“That will do,” Mistress Irene overrode him, in a tone that brooked no dissent. “The young sorceress is from a faraway country and knows not of what she speaks. It will be dealt with when we return to Whitehall.”

Her gaze swept the room. “We will expect to receive regular reports on your progress,” she said, addressing the senior City Father. “Should you require any support from us, you only have to ask. I will see that you receive it directly.”

She nodded, once. “Emily, Alassa; come. We have to return to Whitehall.”

They recovered their weapons, then descended the steps and headed for the main door. The young men outside stared at them again as they passed. Oddly, Emily found that their attention no longer bothered her.

Mistress Irene sniffed as she took a look at Emily’s sword, before suggesting that she show it to the Sergeants and ask for their opinion on carrying it. The sword’s former owner was dead and there was no point in leaving it in the city, where just
anyone
could use it. She said nothing else until they were in the carriage and rattling out of the gates, back onto the road to Whitehall.