Wolf in the Fold

Schooled in Magic XXVIII

Christopher G. Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net

http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/

http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

Cover by Brad Fraunfelter
www.BFillustration.com

Contents

Prologue II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven

Cover Blurb

In pursuit of its goals, the Hierarchy has experimented with the darkest magics, backed revolts and magical supremacist regimes, and enslaved countless thousands, using them as living batteries and sources of magic then discarding their husks without a second thought. It has taken Emily’s innovations, magical and magitech alike, and turned them into tools serving a greater goal, a goal that is now taking shape in a long-forgotten city deep within the Blighted Lands, a goal that will lead to apotheosis or nemesis 

Racing against time, Emily and her friends set off to reach the city and stop the Hierarchy before it is too late. But the Hierarchy’s goal isn’t what she thinks it is, some of her allies are no longer trustworthy, and the price for saving the world one final time may be beyond even her …

Prologue I

Only one person knew where the Hierarchical Fortress truly existed, the one person who sat at the top of a hierarchy of powerful, ambitious and unscrupulous magicians. Everyone else only gained access to the complex through magic, using the hierarchical soulmark to set the coordinates and teleport to the right location without ever knowing where they were going. It galled Nine, in so many ways, that she didn’t have the slightest idea where she was, even as she prepared herself for the contest of a lifetime. If she won, she’d be the first amongst magicians; if she lost …

No. She refused to consider the possibility. She would not – she could not – have issued the challenge if she hadn’t thought she would win, that she would rise to the top herself or confirm, once again, that the one at the top was worthy of his post. The challenge was in the best interests of herself, but also in the best interests of the Hierarchy. The soulmark demanded no less.

She felt nothing but calm anticipation as she made her way through the maze of corridors. There were no adornments in the Hierarchical Fortress, no decorations to remind the occupants of their power and place, nothing those insecure in their rule might need to prove themselves to sceptical eyes. The Hierarchy needed no proof beyond its power; anyone who trod the halls knew where they belonged, beyond all doubt, and cared little for the judgement of others. The stone walls, magic running through them to ensure that none but the Hierarchy ever set foot within the complex, were utterly unmarked, impossible to navigate without the soulmark. She felt it pulse as she reached the top of the stairs and walked down into the bowels of the world. There were no guards. No checkpoints. No one but the Hierarchy ever walked these stairs.

The arena was miles below the ground, a simple stone chamber protected by the strongest and most subtle of spells. Wards flickered on the stone, barely visible even to a skilled magician … a reminder, once again, that true power lay not in flashy displays but acts that could change the world. Most magicians would overlook the carefully-hidden fortress, she had been assured, if they happened to be searching the area - and the few who might see through the outer layer of deception wouldn’t live long enough to report to their superiors. They wouldn’t be killed or permanently transformed so much as they’d be erased from existence, ensuring that very few remembered they’d existed.

Nine smiled, coldly. If you have enough power, you can do anything. And soon I will have the greatest power of all.

She allowed the smile to linger on her face. The Hierarchy wielded power and influence on a scale few could imagine, keeping its mere existence a secret from most while trading knowledge and power with the few who did know about them in exchange for raw materials or later favours that might be worth two or three times what they’d paid for. The magical families kept the deals, for fear of what would happen if they didn’t; they knew, even as others didn’t believe that the Hierarchy had ever existed, that it had agents scattered across the world, men and women who could extract revenge on anyone who tried to go back on the deal. It was thrilling to realise that she stood at the heart of a locus of power, one that was all the more powerful for being invisible to the average magician, let alone the mundanes. The secret rulers of the world couldn’t be overthrown if no one outside the charmed circle knew they existed, let alone how easily they could pull strings to influence events to their heart’s content.

The soulmark burnt, briefly, as she waited, taking a long breath as the seconds ticked by. It had been nearly forty years since she’d been recruited, thirty since she’d passed the final tests in the school and graduated to take the soulmark and become a true Hierarchist. She had lost track of the classmates she’d killed or sacrificed in a desperate struggle for power, long forgotten any sense of morality she had ever had … she’d even forgotten her name and family, when the soulmark had been bound to her. The memories darted through her mind – a weak girl whose only use had been as a sacrifice, a boy who had been bound to her service – and vanished again. The world was red in tooth and claw, a reality the Hierarchy refused to pretend didn’t exist even as the magical families and monarchies clung to their warped moralities. There was no right or wrong, no objective sense of justice, merely power and the will to seize it, to take the world by the throat and bend it to your will. Today, she would rise to her apotheosis or embrace her nemesis. Either way, the Hierarchy won.

Magic flickered through the air. Zero stood there, watching her with an utterly unreadable expression. He looked completely harmless, a doddering old man far past his prime, but Nine refused to be fooled. Being underestimated was always safer, in the long run, and few survived an encounter with the most powerful magician in the known world. His white hair and wrinkled skin masked true power, his footsteps echoing with surprising purpose even as he leaned on a cane. If he truly needed it, Nine would be astonished. Zero had more than enough raw power to prolong his life for centuries.

She didn’t know his story. She guessed it was very like her own.

Zero straightened, his eyes lingering on her. “You have come to challenge?”

“Yes.” Nine felt her heart begin to race, even as she prepared herself for the greatest fight of her life. The soulmark prevented all underhanded techniques, from poison to blackmail, ensuring she had to play fair and follow the rules. She needed to win through raw power and magical cleverness, not cheating. The restriction made sense. If she wanted to win, she had to deserve it. “I have come to take my place at the top.”

Zero smiled. “And you have not yet reached your limit?”

Nine took a breath. She’d been a Thousand, then a Hundred, and finally climbed up into the Ten. She had had her ups and downs, she couldn’t deny it, but she’d never run into anything that could stop her climb. Her path was marked with dead bodies, the two Hierarchists she’d killed to claim their former places and countless others, people who’d served more as raw materials for her spells than anything meaningful. She cared nothing for them, merely for her climb to the top. The very highest level was beckoning to her. And all she had to do to take it was to kill the man in front of her.

“No.” Nine met his eyes evenly. “I have not.”

“Very good,” Zero said. His tone was sincere. He too was devoted to the goals of the Hierarchy. His soulmark would allow no less. If she was his superior, it was right and proper she should take his place. His death was unfortunate, but she had to gamble everything to win everything. “If that is your choice, step into the ring.”

Nine didn’t hesitate. She could have backed out at any moment, remaining a lowly Thousand, or Hundred, or even a Ten. Or she could have retired, giving up her rank and settling into a comfortable life where her subordinates weren’t trying to kill her. The thought wasn’t remotely tempting, not when the very highest post of all was within her sight. She wanted, she needed, to claim it for herself. She could no more back down than she could cut her own throat.

She stepped forward, feeling magic envelop her the moment she crossed the line. They’d unleash terrible forces in their bid for supremacy, but those forces would be contained within the wards. The fortress itself would remain unharmed, waiting for its new mistress to claim her throne. Anticipation swelled within her as she felt her magic rising to the challenge, a hundred new spells preparing to kill. She had pushed the limits as far as they could go, incorporating lessons from the New Learning and Magitech into her preparations. Zero was not someone to underestimate, of course, but using Magitech concepts would catch him by surprise. Decades, perhaps centuries, of experience couldn’t have prepared him for a new branch of magic that was only a couple of years old.

“It is time,” Zero said. He couldn’t decline the challenge, nor could he surrender. His soulmark made sure of it. “Let us see …”

He stepped across the line. Nine didn’t hesitate. She raised her power and cast the first set of spells in one smooth motion, a combination of lethal and illusionary spells crackling against his wards. She hadn’t expected it to work, as she certainly hadn’t expected to win in the first few moments, but knocking him off balance could only work in her favour. She’d woven cancelation charms into her barrage, hoping to cripple his retaliatory strike. There was no way to take his prepared spells down completely, not without knowing how to break into his protective aura, but …

She blinked as the spellware simply came apart, spell components and incants sparkling in front of her before shattering into nothingness. No … being absorbed, her neatest tricks taken to pieces, studied in the blink of an eye and then added to Zero’s own skills. A flicker of doubt ran through her as she cast a second set of spells, resorting to brute force while preparing something a great deal more subtle. Raw magic crashed around Zero, bouncing off the wards and spiralling through the air … his hands moved in a simple pattern, absorbing or channelling the power she’d thrown at him. It was an impressive demonstration of his abilities, a sight few had seen and fewer still could master. Nine wondered, just for a second, if she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d unleashed enough power to shatter a town and he was playing with it as if it were water.

But she was committed now.

She reached for her magic and crashed forward, using herself as a decoy while trying to inch spells around behind him and slip into his back, tearing his charms apart from the rear. Zero stepped forward, his raw magic slamming into hers, challenging her on multiple levels and pushing her to her breaking point. Nine kept forcing herself forward, knowing there was no other way out, and felt his wards start to shatter. She was breaking through!

She felt a moment of relief, of victory, before his face shifted and started to change. Horror ran through her as she stared at her worst nightmare, at … she realised, too late, that they’d all been fooled, that she’d made a dreadful mistake. The Hierarchy wasn’t what they’d thought it was and now … she was doomed. There was no escape. Multicoloured light flared around her, a final mocking reminder of her failure …

And then the world went away in a final – endless – moment of pure agony.

Prologue II

The knife felt solid, real in his hand.

Resolute stared at the blade for a long moment, willing himself to muster the nerve to stab himself in the chest or cut his own throat or something, anything, other than living the rest of his life a powerless mundane, a helpless beggar on the streets of a town so far from Celeste it had never impinged on his awareness. He didn’t even know the town’s name, when his desperate flight from Zugzwang had taken him down the river and into the larger town, but … he stared at the blade and lowered it, unable to force himself to take that final step. He had fallen as far as a magician could and yet he couldn’t end it. He was a failure, one so complete he couldn’t even kill himself. His existence was over and yet it would never end.

Despairing, he sagged to his knees. He’d never known what it was like to live on the streets, not until he’d been stripped of his power and tossed out to live life as a powerless mundane. His fine clothes had been stolen long ago, the handful of garments he now wore were so disgusting that he could no longer bear his own smell. The good food and drink he’d enjoyed back home was nothing but a memory, forcing him to beg for something – anything – to stay alive. He’d learned harsh lessons in the last week, learnt to spend what little money he had before it was stolen, learnt to keep his food to himself … learnt that no matter what happened, there was always further to fall. Two gangs of beggars had kicked him out, while a third had demanded a price he was unwilling to pay, if he wanted to shelter with them. And yet, part of him knew it was just a matter of time before hunger and cold drove him back to them, to offer anything they wanted in exchange for a few hours of warmth. It was an unbearable thought.

He’d ruled a city. Now, he was a beggar.

Sheer hatred burned through Resolute, mingled with shame. There was no one he could turn to for help. None of his old clients would lift a finger to assist him, if they knew what had happened. He’d preached the gospel of the strong having the right to dominate the weak for so long that he had no doubts about what would happen to him, now that he was one of the weak. His old allies would laugh, then turn away to keep from losing their power themselves. A magician who lost his magic was an object of scorn and pity, a cripple in a world that was very unkind to those with disabilities, and no one dared look too closely for fear it was catching. For all he knew, it might be. He had thought himself the epitome of magical power and yet Emily had stolen his magic, leaving him helpless and alone. 

She hadn’t killed him. He knew it hadn’t been an act of mercy.

The hatred grew stronger, mingled with helplessness. Emily was powerful, personally and politically, and now he had no power at all. He knew the way to her tower, he knew enough tricks to get through the outer layer of defences, and … and then what? She could destroy him with the flick of a finger, or turn him into a slug, or something – anything – he couldn’t hope to stop. Perhaps she would curse him, as so many mundane residents of his city – his former city – had been cursed. It had seemed funny back then, little tricks to put the mundanes in their places and remind them they only lived in the city of sorcerers through sufferance. Now … he knew better. It wasn’t funny at all. But it was far too late.

He clenched his fists, then opened his fingers and moved them in a simple pattern. It was a very simple spell and his movements were perfect, but nothing happened. Of course not. He’d lost his magic, leaving him begging for scraps while Emily took his city for herself. He had no idea what was happening in Celeste, nor did he know how to get back there, but he knew power all too well. Emily would take the city, because she had power and knew how to use it. Resolute had no idea why she’d pretended not to be the inventor of Magitech – the idea of a mundane inventing a whole new branch of magic was just absurd – but it hardly mattered. She would take the city and reshape it in her image, while he lived and died on the streets of a nameless town. He shivered. It was supposed to be summer, so he’d been told, and yet it was cold. He didn’t know if he’d live through the winter.

She has my daughter too, he thought, helplessness gnawing at his mind. He knew what he’d do to the child of a rival, and he knew Emily would do no less. She’ll ruin her life because she can and …

“My,” a calm voice said. “A bit of a come down, isn’t it?”

Resolute flinched. He’d spent most of his life in warded chambers, places where even a powerful magician would have trouble entering without setting off the alarms. He hadn’t grown used to the sheer lack of safety on the streets, even in alleyways. The thugs who’d stolen his clothes and beaten him up had taken him by surprise, and yet … it wouldn’t have mattered if he had had any warning. They would have still thumped him. He was surprised they hadn’t killed him. 

The man behind him was a stranger, he realised numbly. White hair, kindly face … probably a mask hiding a far darker reality. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. It could easily be both.

“What do you want?”

“Such a question.” The man cocked his head. “You ruled a city. You had all the magic you could ever want. And now you’re grubbing in the dirt.”

Resolute flushed, his stomach growling angrily. “What do you want?”

“You could spend the rest of your life here,” the stranger pointed out. “Grubbing in the dirt … you’re not in the best state, you know. You won’t last a year.”

“I know.” Resolute felt despair, once again. He’d been portly a couple of weeks ago. Now … he could feel himself losing weight, his skin starting to sit oddly on his bones. “If you’re here to gloat, get lost.”

The stranger laughed. “I’m not here to hurt you, Grand Sorcerer. I’m here to give you an opportunity for revenge. On Emily and everyone else who did hurt you.”

Resolute laughed, bitterly. It was rare for a magician to lose their powers, rarer still for them to regain their magic. He’d only heard of it happening once and … in truth, he wasn’t sure it had happened at all. The rumours about Emily losing her powers had lost steam once everyone saw her casting spells, not making any attempt to hide her power. The Cognoscenti had decided it was just another malicious rumour, one of millions that burst into the light and excited everyone before vanishing as quickly as it came. Resolute saw no reason to doubt it. He’d seen Emily use magic himself.

And yet, he couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Can you give me back my magic?”

The stranger smiled. “In a manner of speaking, Grand Sorcerer, but there will be a price.”

Resolute didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

Chapter One

“You said yes?”

Emily blushed as Alassa leaned closer, smiling so widely her face seemed to glow from within. “You said yes?”

“I did,” Emily said. Caleb had asked her to marry him and … she’d said yes. “I … I’m going to get married!”

Alassa squealed. Emily felt her face grow redder. She hadn’t quite realised just how important her wedding would be, to her friends as well as the happy couple, or just how delighted they’d be to hear she was tying the knot. It was hard to believe it, hard to accept how many people thought they had a right to be involved … she told herself not to be silly. They were her friends and yet … she wondered, suddenly, if they should just elope. It wouldn’t be that hard to arrange a quick wedding in some out of the way place, get it over with before everyone else tried to get involved.

“You and Caleb make a cute couple,” Alassa teased. “I’m glad you finally got around to admitting it.”

Emily looked down. “It took a while.”

“Obviously so,” Alassa said. “I knew I wanted Jade the moment I laid eyes on him.”

“It was different for you,” Emily pointed out. The less said about Alassa’s wedding, the better. “You needed to convince your father as well as Jade.”

She felt a flicker of sympathy. Jade was powerful as well as skilled and yet … his lack of aristocratic blood had both hampered and helped him, when he’d faced King Randor to ask for Alassa’s hand in marriage. The advantages of having a husband who didn’t have awkward relations were matched, perhaps outweighed, by the lack of any real connections to any other kingdoms. Or centres of power. King Randor had agreed, but Emily was sure he’d spent hours weighing the pros and cons before giving his approval. The certain knowledge Alassa was likely to go ahead anyway had weighed on his mind.

“So do you.” Alassa was suddenly serious. “You are a great noblewoman, you know.”

Emily rubbed her forehead. She found it hard to think of herself as someone important, certainly someone born to power and privilege … because, in the end, she hadn’t. She had been a nobody on Earth, a person destined to live and die without making any kind of impact on the world around her. The idea she was now so important that her wedding was a matter of state security, that her marriage needed the approval of her dearest friend … it was absurd. And yet, it was real.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She’d put Alassa in a bad spot and she knew it. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

Alassa poked her in the chest. “It isn’t a problem,” she said, deadpan. “Thankfully, you came to see me first.”

She painted a look of mock outrage on her face. “You did come to see me first, right?”

“Yes.” Emily hadn’t meant to discuss her wedding, not when there were more important problems to address, but it had worked out in her favour. “You’re the first person to know. Except us, of course.”

“Of course.” Alassa met her eyes. “You did think about the political implications, right?”

“They never crossed my mind,” Emily admitted. “I didn’t think of them …”

She sighed, inwardly. They were good friends, but they also had a relationship as subject and monarch. A baroness like Emily needed her monarch’s approval to marry and not asking for approval was more than just a failure to follow the proper etiquette; it was a sign she no longer felt she needed to consult the country’s ruler before taking the plunge. An overmighty aristocrat would become a serious threat to the kingdom’s stability, forcing the monarch into a confrontation that would do immense damage even if the monarch won … or worse, leave the aristocrat alone and confirm for all time that he couldn’t bring a rogue nobleman to heel. If word had gotten out before it was too late …

“There’s no real reason to disapprove.” Alassa ticked off points on her fingers as she spoke. “Caleb’s family are well known and respected, as well as powerful. He’s a magician himself so he’s effectively your social equal regardless of his roots. Being a child of Beneficence may cause problems, but he’ll be your legal consort rather than lord husband so those issues can be smoothed over. At worst, they’ll strip him of his citizenship … not a problem given that he lives in Heart’s Eye now. You don’t get to make alliances with other nobles, and I imagine a few will be pissed you didn’t choose them, but …”

She shrugged. “These issues can be smoothed over.”

Emily snorted. “If they wanted to marry me, or have their sons marry me, you’d think they’d make more diplomatic approaches.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d found the correspondence potential husbands and their families had sent to Void, thousands of letters from the great and the good and those with delusions of grandeur. Some had offered vast sums for her hand in marriage, others had argued or pleaded or even resorted to threats … brave of them, she supposed, when Void had been the most powerful magician in the Allied Lands as well as her legal guardian. Some letters had made her violently angry; others had made her cringe. It was bad enough being courted by men old enough to be her father, who seemed to think she should be flattered by the attention, but far worse to read letters written on behalf of sons, grandsons and nephews. She hoped to hell the writers had at least asked their relatives before trying to arrange their marriages …she doubted it. She’d recognised a couple of the names and one, a former student at Whitehall, preferred men to women. He wouldn’t have kissed a woman even if he were offered a kingdom.

Poor bastard, she thought. Most aristocratic marriages were arranged, but still … it was neither nice nor kind. If he’s married off now …

She put the thought aside. “My neighbours will be pleased.”

“If they can’t have you,” Alassa agreed, “at least their rivals can’t have you either.”

She smiled, then sobered. “That’s a relief.”

“I guess so.” Emily ran her hand though her hair. “Would you have given your blessing to the match if I had?”

Alassa looked back at her. “Would you have listened to me if I had?”

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. If her heart had wanted such a young man, would she have defied her best friend as well as her monarch? Or … or what? “I’m glad it didn’t happen. I don’t want to know.”

“Now, you’ll be wanting a big wedding,” Alassa continued. “Everyone will be invited, of course.”

Emily’s heart sank. She should have expected it. An aristocratic wedding was one hell of a social event and she was high enough to make her wedding the social event of the year. She would need to invite every last nobleman in the kingdom, as well as senior magicians from right across the Allied Lands, and if she missed even one it would be a grave insult. So would failing to attend after receiving an invite. She would have to invite people she didn’t know or want at her wedding, and they would have to attend despite not wanting to … she shook her head in annoyance. The merest hint of exclusion would cause problems that would linger for years, perhaps decades. She knew some family feuds that dated all the way back to a wedding held so long ago that everyone involved had been dead for centuries. 

“We could just elope,” Emily offered. The logistics were going to be a nightmare. “Or hold the wedding somewhere hard to reach …”

Alassa snorted. “There are people who would crawl over broken glass to attend your wedding,” she said. “And it will be my pleasure to arrange it for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Emily said. “If I …”

“There are hundreds of people who know you and love you who will want to attend,” Alassa pointed out. “Me, of course. Imaiqah and Jade and Frieda and … everyone. Even Marah, if she shows her face again. And you can’t invite just your friends, for fear of insulting everyone who isn’t invited. The wedding won’t just be about you and him, but everyone.”

“Charming.” Emily shook her head. “How many deals were made at your wedding?”

“Hundreds, perhaps thousands,” Alassa said. “I couldn’t tell you. So many people, meeting together on neutral ground, bound by the ceremonial rules of weddings … not that some people bothered to keep them. I think … there’s really no way to avoid it. Sorry.”

Emily sighed. The rules were very simple. Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions. No one was supposed to fight, no matter what. Bitter enemies were expected to sit and be reasonably courteous and polite to one another, no matter how much they’d prefer to draw their swords and fight to the death. It provided cover for all sorts of private meetings, backroom wheeling and dealing … even discussions and relationships between people who could never meet in public, certainly not as equals. A wedding could give birth to several more, as young boys and girls were allowed to meet under supervision while their parents discussed the terms of the marriage contract. It wasn’t unknown for diplomats to use the opportunity to talk openly, while maintaining plausible deniability. Everyone knew it happened and everyone turned a blind eye.

“Look on the bright side,” Alassa added. “You’re bound to be given hundreds of gifts.”

Emily looked her in the eye. “How many of your gifts remain untouched?”

Alassa shrugged. She and Jade had been given thousands of gifts, mostly chosen to showcase the giver’s generosity rather than anything practical. A handful were useful or had some degree of sentimental value; the remainder had been placed in storage, kept solely because the giver would be mortally offended if they were passed on or discarded. Emily found it hard to comprehend the mindset of someone who thought a portrait of himself was a suitable gift, but she supposed it could be worse. Probably. A handful of aristos had offered gifts that were little more than white elephants, designed to be impossible to refuse and yet expensive to keep.

“I can pass them on to you, if you like,” Alassa said. “You want a genealogy dating back a few thousand years?”

“Not if I can help it,” Emily said. The aristos claimed they could trace their bloodlines back for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, but she was fairly sure the detailed family trees were little more than nonsense. Reliable history went back five hundred years at most and that was being generous. Anything earlier than that had gone through so many interpretations it was dangerously unreliable. “Was that the most useless gift you were offered?”

“Probably.” Alassa shrugged. “You just have to put up with it.”

“Or I can ask for no one to offer gifts,” Emily said. “They can donate to my charities instead.”

Alassa widened her eyes in mock shock, her tone brimming with fake outrage. “But they’ll be denied the chance to show off their wealth and power!”

Emily had to smile, although it wasn’t funny. “They can show off by donating to the charities I support,” she said. It was about the only traditional role for an aristocratic woman she’d embraced. “And the money can go to a better cause then gold-studded toilets and portraits I don’t want to hang in my halls.”

“I did hang a painting of Lord Fowler in mine,” Alassa said. “Jade uses it for target practice.”

“Better not tell him that,” Emily teased. Lord Fowler was a notorious bore. “What did you tell him?”

Alassa smirked. “I think he’d be happy knowing his portrait is hanging where I can see it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Emily said. “Is it at least a good portrait?”

“I don’t know who sat for it,” Alassa said. “But I’d bet it wasn’t Lord Fowler.”

Emily nodded in agreement. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of portraits of her running around the kingdom and very few looked even remotely like her. Some artists were working from descriptions, while others were using their imagination to the point they got just about everything wrong. Hair colour, skin tone, dress sense and breast size and eye colour ... she wondered, sometimes, if the paintings had been of someone else and simply renamed to suit a new customer. It defied belief that someone could hang a portrait of a woman who looked like Emma Watson right next to a portrait of someone who could pass for Freema Agyeman and insist they were the same person. But they did.

She let out a long breath. “Don’t go hog wild. Please.”

“Hog wild?” Alassa blinked. “Why would I?”

“The wedding, I mean,” Emily said. “I don’t want it to be crazy. Just …”

It wasn’t going to work, she knew, even as she said it. There was no way Alassa could avoid making a big song and dance out of it, no matter what Emily wanted. People would talk if Alassa hosted a small wedding; people would insist it was a subtle punishment for Emily, perhaps even a sign they were no longer friends. And then the people who had assassins and broadsheet writers on the payroll would start thinking they could take advantage of the crisis, even though the crisis existed only in their minds. Alassa would be derelict in her duty if she didn’t put on a wedding that would satisfy the craziest bridezilla.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alassa said. Her lips twisted. “No one will mind if I make it more about the kingdom, and me, than you. Or him.”

Emily suspected she knew a lot of aristocrats who’d be irked at the suggestion their wedding should be about someone or something else, but … she didn’t care.

“Of course, you’re going to have to decide where you want to hold the main ceremony,” Alassa continued. “Here? Cockatrice? Heart’s Eye? Or even Whitehall? The Grandmaster would have to give permission, of course, but I can’t imagine him saying no. You’re the most famous magician in living memory, so …”

“I’ll think about it later,” Emily said, holding up a hand. “Just … remember I’m not marrying myself. There’s someone else involved.”

“Caleb will be fine,” Alassa promised. “I’ll make sure he has something to do.”

“Trying to scare him off, are you?” Emily met her eyes. “Caleb isn’t Jade, you know. He won’t like being put on a pedestal.”

“Jade’s not fond of it either,” Alassa said. “But that suits us both just fine.”

Emily nodded in sympathy. Zangaria had never had a female monarch until Alassa and it wasn’t easy for a young woman to rule alone, as her husband was expected to be the power behind the throne. Alassa was lucky Jade had no inclination to rule, no conviction he was entitled to be in charge because he had a penis. He’d been to Whitehall, where any belief in inherent male superiority would have been squashed by female tutors and students, and besides, he had very little to prove. He didn’t need to dominate his wife … not like Lord Darnley. Mary Queen of Scots had been a poor judge of character, right from the start, but her second husband had been a fatal mistake. The only good thing he’d done had been fathering her child.

Alassa met her eyes. “You do realise you’ll be expected to have children?”

Emily felt a complex mixture of emotions. She wanted children and yet she feared becoming her mother, a drunken sot who’d abandoned her daughter to the tender mercies of her stepfather. Caleb wanted children too … didn’t he? They’d never really talked about it. And … she didn’t like the idea of needing to have kids, even though her barony needed an heir. The closest thing she had to a child was Frieda and they weren’t blood relatives. God alone knew what would happen if she died without issue.

“It has been made clear to me,” she said, sourly. 

She felt her lips twist in annoyance. The Cockatrice Council had petitioned her to get married. Or adopt. Or something – anything – that ensured she’d have a legal successor to continue her work. Her Earthy sensibilities insisted they were out of line for even suggesting she had a duty to have kids, while her awareness of the political realties made her all too aware they had a point. If the barony was handed over to someone new, the council might find its freedoms severely limited, perhaps even crushed. There would be civil war and no matter who won, the land would be devastated. 

“Frieda is still my heir,” she added, after a moment. “You know that.”

Alassa nodded.

“I’ll see what happens,” Emily said, slowly. The idea of childbirth scared her, even though she could be sure of the very best medical care the world could provide. “Is that acceptable?”

“You’ll find that having kids changes you,” Alassa said. She pressed her hand lightly against her abdomen. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but …”

Emily grinned. “You’re pregnant again?”

“Think so.” Alassa smiled back. “It’s not customary to announce a pregnancy until the first three months have passed …”

“I know.” Emily understood. And it made sense. A royal child, even a second-born, would alter the line of succession, forcing everyone to adjust their plans accordingly. Better not to confirm there was a child on the way until the healers were sure the pregnancy would last. “I hope it goes well for you.”

Alassa sat back. “I suppose,” she said, as the bell rang. “Dinnertime. Jade will be there, to offer his congratulations. And then you can tell us why you really came here.”

Chapter Two

There were four dining rooms within the Royal Suite, a public chamber and three private chambers, two open to close friends and the third reserved for the royal family alone. Emily knew it was a sign of great favour that she was allowed to enter the third chamber, although she also knew that servants were allowed to come and go at will, bringing food before retiring to let the guests eat in peace. It had never struck her as private, but she understood the problem. Monarchs couldn’t be expected to cook and serve their own food.

“It’s very good to hear you’re finally tying the knot,” Imaiqah said. Emily’s oldest friend winked at her from across the table. “I’m just sorry for all the hassle you’re about to face.”

“Not for a while,” Emily said. “We agreed we’d get married in six months, after the current crisis is over.”

“That’s not much time,” Alassa teased. “You do realise everyone is going to have to be informed?”

Emily sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t as simple as it sounded, even with teleporters on standby to bring the guests to the wedding and then take them home again. A great many people would have to clear their schedules for the day, if not the week, and then start making preparations for everything from clothing to wedding presents. It made the whole idea of setting up a wedding registry look sensible, although she’d heard all sorts of horror stories about couples who put expensive gifts on the list and then moaned when they didn’t get them. At least they were asking for something they wanted. For her …

“Six months,” Imaiqah mused. “We should be able to organise a very basic wedding by then.”

“Very basic,” Jade repeated. “Very … basic.”

Emily shared a look with him. “I don’t need a fuss,” she said, trying to convey a message with her eyes. Jade was usually perceptive, but … most men were poor at picking up subtle hints. “I just need a simple ceremony.”

“So a few thousand guests, a ten-course dinner, endless speeches by people who know you or at least want to convince the audience they do …” Imaiqah smiled, rather dryly. “I think we can get everyone together for it.

Jade, thankfully, picked up the hint. “You said you had something else to discuss,” he noted. “I assume it wasn’t anything to do with the wedding?”

“Aw,” Alassa teased.

Emily didn’t try to hide her relief. The wedding discussion was getting out of hand already and it had only been a day since Caleb had popped the question. Perhaps they should have just gotten married on the spot, before telling everyone else. It would be a diplomatic incident in every sense of the word, but at least it would be over soon.

“We went to Celeste,” Emily said, shortly. “The regime has been crippled. The mundanes have been given a chance to leave, and most have. Heart’s Ease will benefit from their presence if they don’t want to go elsewhere. The magicians will have to run their lives without mundanes doing all the grunt work.”

Her lips twisted. She wanted to destroy the magical supremacist regime beyond all hope of revival. It had ruled openly for only a few months and yet it had managed to rack up hundreds of crimes against humanity, from taking magical children away from mundane parents to enslaving or permanently transfiguring mundanes who dared protest. The sheer scale of the atrocities had shocked her, all the more so because they were more … mundane … than the usual crazy plans to rule or destroy the world. The necromancers had wanted to drain the world of power. The supremacists wanted to trap the world in a living death.

And even if you happen to be one of the ruling class, it’s not a very safe place to be, Emily mused. The Handmaid’s Tale was a story of unrelenting horror, for the rulers of Gilead as well as the poor women in their thrall. The regime would have the same problem sooner or later and they still might, even though we got most of their slaves out.

She took a breath. “What we don’t know is what the Hierarchy was doing in the city,” she added, grimly. “They were collecting magic and funnelling it through a portal ….”

“A portal to where?” Jade rubbed his chin. “It could be anywhere.”

“Boswell, the Hierarchy’s agent, said it was in Kuching,” Emily said. “But it’s hard to believe they managed to set up a base under Cat’s nose.”

Imaiqah giggled. “That could prove embarrassing.”

Emily knew she wasn’t taking about the Hierarchy. “I’m sure everyone will handle it professionally,” she said, trying to hide her own concerns. “But yes, I don’t think that’s where they’re truly based.”

“So they were lying,” Jade said. “Or trying to mislead you.”

“Yeah.” Emily shook her head. “We have to check it out anyway, then look for other possible bases.”

She scowled. The world was a big place … and the portal could have gone anywhere, anywhere at all. The idea of searching an entire planet, or even just the northern continent, was absurd. They had to trace the portal and she had a nasty feeling it was impossible, no matter how many charmsmiths were recruited to examine the remains. The whole affair might wind up being nothing more than an exercise in futility.

“Or it’s a trap,” Alassa said, quietly. “They might be waiting for you.”

Emily frowned. Alassa might well be right, but Kuching was hardly an easy place for someone to set up an ambush. Unless that was what the Hierarchy wanted her to think … she shook her head, reminding herself she shouldn’t let herself fall to paranoia. Cat wouldn’t turn on her, nor would his apprentices and settlers … the Hierarchy might have agents near the nexus point under his castle, but actually mounting an offensive … she didn’t think it was possible. Not unless they had something very nasty up their sleeves.

Which they might, she mused. They’re not confined by the old disdain for technology and magitech. They’ve already found ways to improve upon our concepts and even come up with some new ones. Who knows what else they might have waiting for us in the shadows?

“It could be,” she conceded, reluctantly. Cat wouldn’t do her any harm, but he couldn’t vouch for all his settlers. They were a ragtag bunch. “We’ll be careful, of course, but …”

She shrugged. If it was a trap, they might have no choice but to spring it. There were few other ways of tracking down the Hierarchy, not unless she came up with something new herself. Or if Adam did. They might get lucky, but she knew better than to count on it. The Hierarchy was old, older than the Allied Lands. She supposed that added credence to the suggestion the Hierarchy might be based somewhere in the Blighted Lands. They hadn’t been a nightmarish landscape when the Hierarchy had been founded. If the stories were true …

Yeah, her thoughts pointed out. If.

Jade glanced at his wife, silent communication flickering between them, then met her eyes. “What do you need from us?”

Emily felt a twinge of envy. They were so close … she and Caleb were close too, true, but not that close. Perhaps it was a closeness that came with years of marriage. Jade and Alassa had been married for three years now and had a little girl. Emily made a mental note to visit her namesake before she left the castle, just in case. If the whole plan went horrifically wrong …

“I may need troops,” she said, her lips twisting at their sudden surprise. “Can you place a handful of men on standby, to be ready to deploy when I need them?”

Jade blinked. “Who are you, and what have you done with my good friend Emily?”

Emily snorted. She understood his surprise. She might have taken Martial Magic with him and Cat and a bunch of other students, but she’d never been a soldier and most of her battles had been fought alone or with a handful of good friends. Even when facing the necromancers or Void, when troops had been involved as well as magicians, she’d left soldiering to the experts. It was very out of character for her to ask for troops to be put at her disposal. She’d never bothered to raise even the handful of men she was legally allowed to raise to defend Cockatrice. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake. 

“I have a nasty feeling we’re going to need them,” she said. “I don’t know what the Hierarchy is planning, but I think it’s going to be bad.”

Alassa considered it for a long moment. “I can put the troops on standby,” she said. “How do you plan to get them to the target?”

“Teleport, or portals,” Emily said. It was easier to teleport now, thanks to her. And Adam. “I don’t want an army accompanying me, but … I’d like to have them on call, if I need them.”

“I can lead them in person,” Jade said. “Will that be acceptable?”

“It depends on where you’re taking them,” Alassa said, more to Emily than her husband. “You know what’ll happen if they’re sent to Red Rose or even Alluvia.”

Emily felt a flicker of frustration. “You know what could happen if the Hierarchy gets a chance to put its plan into action.”

“Yes,” Alassa said, flatly. “What is it planning to do?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “But they stockpiled a vast amount of raw magic.”

Imaiqah cocked her head. “What could you do, with that amount of magic at your disposal?”

“Assuming I had a way to channel it safely …?” Emily had no idea how the Hierarchy intended to do it. Channelling so much power through a human brain would fry it, while magitech couldn’t handle even a thousandth of the power she thought the Hierarchy had gathered. If they intended to use a nexus point to create wards to channel the power … why would they need to gather and store it in the first place? “I don’t know.”

She stared at her hands for a long moment. Void had told her, more than once, that if you had enough magic you could do anything. She’d seen him conjure small items into existence, shaping them out of raw magic and – somehow – making them permanent … even for him, the trick had been draining, a reminder there were some barriers that were hard to cross. The Hierarchy appeared to have collected enough magic to do anything, and yet … how did they even plan to use it? They’d be safer experimenting with radioactive waste from a poorly designed nuclear power plant. Or messing around in the ruins of Chernobyl. Anything she could imagine required a great deal less power, or containment and control wards she’d always considered theoretically impossible.

Just because I can’t imagine something workable doesn’t mean they can’t, she mused, sourly. They’ve had years to come up with ways to use it.

“Could they be channelling the magic into batteries?” Jade was still thinking about the problem. “A number of smaller spells, instead of one big one?”

“You wouldn’t need to go to such extremes,” Emily pointed out. “You could just assemble a bunch of magicians and make them fill the batteries. You don’t need to take over a whole city and drain it dry.”

“No,” Alassa agreed. “Unless the regime was going to take power anyway and the Hierarchy decided to simply take advantage of it.”

Emily frowned. Boswell had been a secretary, an assistant to the Grand Sorcerer. Not the sort of person to be considered important, the sort of person who might be overlooked by the great and powerful, but … Stalin had been a general secretary. A capable man in such a position could accomplish much, and Boswell had. And it was true tensions had been rising for years …

“I’ll ask them when we find them,” she said, finally. “Right now, whatever they’re doing, we have to stop it.”

“I’ll put the troops on standby,” Alassa said, again. “But they cannot be deployed within the Allied Lands. Not without permission.”

Emily swallowed a flash of irritation. Alassa was right. Zangarian troops entering Red Rose or another kingdom was an act of war, something that could easily set off a wider conflict if the invaded kingdom chose to react with force. The days in which an incursion could go unnoticed long enough for the troops to complete their mission and withdraw were gone, ensuring that they could be chased down and trapped if the kingdom had time to react. Even if they got out … there would be no such thing as plausible deniability. No, she had to be careful. If the Hierarchy was located on the northern continent, they couldn’t deploy troops without permission,

“I understand,” she said. “Put the diplomats on standby too?”

Alassa didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t be happy allowing troops to enter my kingdom, no matter how well they behave,” she said. “The other monarchs will feel the same way.”

“Better hope the Hierarchy is located in Kuching,” Jade said. “Cat’s got enough troops to deal with it.”

Emily nodded, mentally kicking herself for not raising troops. A baroness was allowed a number of bodyguards – called lifeguards, which had always made her smile – and several companies of troops. She knew for a fact that most aristocrats played fast and loose with the rules, exploiting loopholes to keep more household troops than they were legally allowed or developing links with mercenaries to ensure they could call on their men if the shit hit the fan. She had never seen the need … in hindsight, perhaps that had been a mistake. Her reputation didn’t provide as much protection for her barony as she might wish.

And if something happens to me, the people will be exposed, Emily thought. There were plenty of examples of powerful sorcerers protecting local communities, which had thrived until the sorcerer died and the community was suddenly vulnerable. That’s something I should probably deal with, before it’s too late.

She put the thought aside for later contemplation, then leaned forward. “I know it’s a big thing to ask,” she repeated. “But I think we need them.”

“I agree.” Alassa met her eyes. “You wouldn’t be asking unless you thought it important.”

Emily relaxed, slightly, as a wave of relief washed through her. It still surprised her, sometimes, that she had friends, people who would help her and she’d help in return. Eight years on the Nameless World and she still felt a stranger at times, as if Emily the Necromancer’s Bane was someone else, someone who just happened to share a name with her. It was … she shook her head, tiredly. It had been eight years. She really should be more used to it by now.

Jade had a different question. “How long do we have?”

“Caleb went back to Heart’s Eye, to make some preparations there,” Emily said. “I have to pass through Celeste and then meet up with him there. I’d say two or three days before we depart and then … I don’t know. It could happen at any time, or not at all.”

“I’ll get the men ready, then rotate small units in and out of the line,” Jade told her. “A month or two shouldn’t be a problem, but after that … it could prove challenging. You can’t keep men on alert forever.”

“I know.” Emily nodded. “I’ll let you know what’s happening, as I go along. Hopefully …”

She rubbed her forehead. They were taking a leap into the unknown. The Hierarchy could be anywhere, or … it wasn’t a kingdom, with a firm geographic location, but a group that could pull up sticks and move at short notice. For all she knew, it was based in Cockatrice or near Void’s Tower or even under the White City. It was absurd and yet … the Hierarchy was good at hiding or it would have been rooted out and destroyed long ago. They had to track it down and yet … she had no idea where to start looking, beyond the Kuching taunt. She still didn’t know if that was a real hint to lure her into a trap or a lie told to mislead her. It could be either. Or both.

“We’ll see how it goes,” she said, finally.

“Good.” Alassa smiled. “Now that’s settled, we can talk about something else. The wedding, perhaps.”

Emily groaned. “Is it too late to elope?”

“Probably,” Imaiqah said. “Too many noses will be put out of joint.”

“Drat.” Emily met her eyes. “Did you find anyone …?”

“No.” Imaiqah looked downcast. “You know how hard it is to find someone who wants you for you.”

Emily nodded in grim understanding. Imaiqah was a Queen’s Companion. She had a range of duties that kept her close to the monarch, allowing her to influence decisions … not, Emily suspected, that Imaiqah could change Alassa’s mind if Alassa didn’t want it to change. There were hundreds upon hundreds of young men who’d see Imaiqah in terms of what she could do for them, or had parents who’d urge them to court her to advance their families … she felt a twinge of sympathy. It wasn’t an easy place to be.

“Yes,” she said, finally. “I know.”

Chapter Three

“Auntie! Auntie!”

Emily had to smile as Princess Emily – Millie to her family and their close friends – toddled towards her, nearly tripping twice before falling into Emily’s arms. The governess sucked in her breath as Emily picked up the child, but wisely didn’t say anything as Emily gave the little girl a hug. Millie’s blonde hair shone under the light, her blue dress drawing out her pale skin and making her look cute … Emily realised, with an odd little frisson, that the dress was very much like her own. A deliberate choice, or … she shrugged. Marlena, the Queen Mother, had given Emily that dress, as well as a few hundred others. Perhaps it was her favourite design.

And it is customary to dress kids as miniature adults, she recalled, as she held Millie close. She’s far from the first to wear such clothes.

“Auntie,” Millie said. One hand played with Emily’s hair. “Auntie!”

Alassa stepped into the room. “I think she remembers you.”

Emily nodded, feeling touched. Millie had gone through a prolonged period of stranger danger, objecting strongly to being held by anyone other than her parents or her governess, before returning to being her smiling self again. Being accepted by a little girl shouldn’t have meant this much, but … it did. She held the young girl close for a long moment, then passed Millie to her mother. Alassa took Millie and held her gently. It was rare for a royal mother to show so much affection, but … there was no way Alassa would leave her child alone any longer than strictly necessary. It made Emily wonder if the governess felt slighted in some way. She was supposed to be in charge of the child.

Although Alassa wouldn’t tolerate any mistreatment, she mused. Alassa had been spoilt rotten as a child – and she’d been one of the lucky ones. Emily had heard horror stories about governors who beat, isolated, or otherwise punished their charges. She knew what she’d do to any governess who did that to her child, or any child, and Alassa would do worse. The woman’s authority is very limited.

“She’s such a cute child,” Alassa said. “She takes after her father.”

“She takes more after you,” Emily said. Millie’s hair was actually a shade lighter than her mother’s, odd when her father had darker hair. “But you’re right. She is cute.”

She smiled, feeling oddly maternal. “Make sure she has the very best of education,” she added. “She’s going to need it.”

“Yes,” Alassa said, dryly. “I intend to.”

They shared a look. Princess Millie was the firstborn child – and, after the law had been changed to ensure that the firstborn inherited the throne even if she happened to be a young woman, the heir. It wasn’t going to be easy under any circumstances, but harder for Millie because the kingdom wasn’t used to the idea of a female monarch, particularly one who took the throne ahead of her younger brother. Emily could just imagine the younger kid being pushed into doing something stupid, if he felt cheated out of an inheritance he should have gained simply by being male, and … it could end very badly. She hoped Alassa had the sense to try to keep sibling rivalry from turning lethal, but …

“If you have a son, I want to discuss a betrothal,” Alassa said, seriously. “It may be the only way to keep the pressure off, as Millie grows older.”

Emily was torn between laughter and anger. “I’m not pregnant.”

“I know,” Alassa said. “But if you happen to have a son …”

“I don’t know if I’ll have children yet,” Emily said. She thought she was a healthy young woman, she thought she wouldn’t have problems getting pregnant when the time came, but it was hard to be sure. Some couples never did, no matter how hard they tried. She had a suspicion it owed much to stress, the desperation to have a baby making it harder for them to actually have one. “And if I did … I wouldn’t want to bind their future.”

“Betrothals get made and broken all the time,” Alassa pointed out. “And you wouldn’t make a fuss if the betrothal was cancelled when they reached legal age.”

Emily hesitated. She understood the problem, all too well. Alassa was being bombarded with requests for Millie’s hand in marriage, no matter that Millie was barely two years old and any perspective betrothed little more than three or four years older than her. Even having a betrothal wouldn’t stop the storm, as long as the challengers were higher-ranked than Millie’s betrothed. If they did agree to a betrothal, it would shut everyone else up as long as the betrothal lasted. Emily was a baroness, as high as one could go without being a member of the royal family. The implications would stop everyone else plotting for years.

“I don’t have a child,” she said. “And there’s no guarantee I ever will.”

“I know.” Alassa looked pained. “But …”

She shrugged, expressively. “Would you consider it? If you do …”

“If I do, then yes,” Emily said. “But it has to be under the clear understanding that my son – if I have a son – is free to break the betrothal when he comes of age.”

“Of course,” Alassa said. She held her daughter gently. “And the same for Millie, of course.”

Emily nodded. A betrothal wasn’t a silly little thing, a mock-wedding between children that had no legal validity, but a serious contract between both families. Alassa could easily land her daughter in hot water through making a contract with the wrong person, forcing her to either accept the match – regardless of how she felt – or risk war. Again. She could see the logic, understand where her friend was coming from. But she didn’t like it. She hoped she never would.

“You do realise it might be a while,” Emily said. One rule of betrothals was that the couple couldn’t be that far apart in age, unlike a wedding between two adults. “What happens if my son is eight years younger than Millie?”

“If that happens, we won’t go ahead with it,” Alassa said. “But …”

“I know.” Emily took Millie back for a long moment, feeling her heart melt as she returned the child to her mother. “I do understand. But there’s no guarantee of anything.”

The governess said nothing as Alassa passed Millie back to her. Emily hoped to hell she was discreet. The governess was right next to the royal family, close enough to hear everything and report it to unseen masters. Alassa would murder the woman in cold blood if she betrayed one family secret, let alone all of them, but the damage would be done. It would be too late to put the demon back in the bottle, once word got out.

“We were hoping you’d teach her magic, once she comes into her power,” Alassa said. “I don’t know if she’ll be going to school.”

“She probably should,” Emily said. “You know it was good for you.”

Alassa smiled as she led the way through a maze of semi-hidden corridors. Emily doubted most of the passageways were true secrets, not in any sense of the word, but they were restricted to the royal family and their closest allies … even they, Emily knew, weren’t supposed to enter without permission. She wasn’t sure she could … she shook her head, dismissing the thought. The tunnels below the castle had never been completely explored, raising the spectre of someone using them to get inside and cause havoc. Or worse.

“It had its moments.” Alassa opened a hidden door and stepped into her private study. “I wouldn’t have met Jade if I hadn’t attended Whitehall. Or you and Imaiqah or … anyone.”

Emily looked around with interest. The private study – the really private study, open only to Alassa’s closest friends – looked more like a comfortable living room than a queen’s workspace. Alassa sat on a comfortable armchair rather than a throne, an armchair that wasn't even bigger than the rest of the chairs … Emily’s lips quirked at just how horrified some senior aristos would be if they saw the place. How could they tell where they stood in the pecking order if everyone had the exact same chair? The hell of it was that they had a point. Little things like seat selection were important in court, even if everyone else thought they were being silly. It was just …

“She needs a chance to grow into her own person,” Emily said, quietly. “Your father made that mistake and … look how it turned out.”

Alassa nodded, curtly. “It worked out in the end, but …”

Emily heard the doubt in her voice and winced inwardly. Alassa had wanted the throne, had considered it rightfully hers, but … she hadn’t realised, perhaps, that the throne was also a gilded cage. She was trapped behind her desk, reading papers and signing orders, or sitting on the throne and passing judgement when cases were brought before her; she could never take a proper holiday, never relax for fear someone might try to take the throne from her. And Millie would be condemned to the same fate, without a chance to make something of herself. There was no getting around it.

Be careful what you wish for, Emily told herself. You might get it.

“We’ll see how things go,” Alassa said. “I don’t want to foster her, let alone send her to school.”

“You may not have a choice,” Emily pointed out. “She’ll need to learn what it’s like to live and work in a place that cares nothing for her title.”

“I’d ask you to foster her, except you’re too nice.” Alassa smiled, but there was no humour in her tone. “She’ll need someone strict.”

“Whitehall will take care of that,” Emily pointed out. “She’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Alassa said. “I wish I could come with you.”

Emily nodded. “I wish so too.”

She knew it wouldn’t happen, no matter what she might say. Alassa couldn’t afford to leave the castle, let alone the kingdom. Even a Royal Progression involved months of preparation … Emily felt a twinge of pity for Alassa and her daughter. There was no easy way out for either of them. Alassa knew her duty and she’d embraced it, before she’d quite realised the cost. And now it was too late.

“There’s always trouble along the borders,” Alassa said. Her eyes lingered on the map hanging on the wall. “I should visit in person, see with my own eyes what’s really going on …”

“Be careful,” Emily advised. The border lords enjoyed more independence than most, because they could swap kingdoms in a heartbeat … if they thought they could get away with it. She wasn’t sure what would happen if some of the smaller aristos tried, but win or lose it would be staggeringly expensive. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

Alassa snorted. “You’re about the only regent who’d say that to me.”

“And I don’t want you gone,” Emily said. “Really.”

“Yeah.” Alassa sighed. “I guess that makes you unique amongst the senior councillors.”

Emily sighed, inwardly. Alassa had asked her to be Millie’s godmother and Emily had accepted before realising the implications. It wasn’t just an obligation to take care of the toddler if her parents died, but an obligation to take care of the kingdom itself. A high-ranking aristocrat would have to serve as regent – Imaiqah was far more qualified, but lacked the power base to make her claim stick – and Emily was the best of a set of bad choices. She didn’t want the kingdom for herself. Or even to enhance her power base before Millie took the throne.

“I won’t let you down, but try not to die,” Emily said. “And don’t take Jade with you.”

Alassa grinned. “You know he won’t let me go alone.”

“You know what I meant,” Emily said. Jade outliving his wife would solve a great many problems. As the new queen’s father, his claim to the regency would be unquestionable and his magic would make him difficult to remove. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Emily,” Alassa said. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay longer?”

“I wish I could,” Emily said, although it wasn’t wholly true. She loved her friends and she wanted to spend more time with them, but there were just too many servants in the castle for her to feel comfortable. They saw everything and … she’d always considered them creepy, no matter how loyal they were. If she had children, they were not going to grow up with servants honouring their every whim. It was a minor miracle that most aristocratic children were as well-adjusted as they were, and most were spoilt brats. “The Hierarchy is breathing down my neck.”

Alassa stood and gave her a hug. “Take care of yourself too,” she said. “And don’t hesitate to call if you need help.”

Emily nodded, stiffly. “I’ll see you again,” she said. “I promise.”

“That’s good.” Alassa stuck out her tongue. “We have wedding dresses to design.”

“Oh.” Emily groaned. “Does it ever end?”

“You helped organise my wedding,” Alassa said. “What do you think?”

Emily felt her heart sink. Alassa’s wedding had been fiendishly complex – and that had been before the shooting had started. Her wedding … she dreaded the thought of anything more complex than a simple ceremony. And to think it was too late to elope.

“Surely I can insist on not outshining you,” she said, finally. “Surely …”

“Too late.” Alassa winked. “If we were getting married in the same year, then yes. But Jade and I were married three years ago. Too late.”

She winked, again. “Good luck.”

Emily nodded and turned away, feeling a twinge of unease as she stepped through the two lines of wards and out into the open corridors. A handful of maids hurried out of sight the moment they saw her coming, two junior noblewomen who had been sent to serve as handmaidens to the queen looked as if they wanted to ask her a few questions, but thought better of it before the words slipped out of their mouth. Emily couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for them. Their families had instructed them to get close to their monarch, in hopes of winning influence as well as suitable husbands, but their chances of getting close enough for either were very low. Alassa knew better than to trust them completely and she already had friends and allies the same age as herself. And yet, the poor girls couldn’t go back to their families without risking disgrace.

She kept walking, pretending not to see the maid who hadn’t quite managed to hide herself and was dangerously exposed. The poor woman was trembling … Emily sighed inwardly as she walked down the stairs, through the maze of halls and corridors, and out into the courtyard. It was astonishing just how much was concealed within the castle walls, without the use of magic to make the building bigger on the inside. The guards saluted as she made her way through the gatehouse and onto the Royal Mile, passing a handful of petitioners lining up to face their monarch. They barely noticed her. Emily couldn’t help being oddly amused. They’d clearly been studying the wrong portraits.

The thought mocked her as she passed a row of shops and stalls, the latter offering goods from Cockatrice as well as Heart’s Ease. A small steam locomotive puffed around in a circle; a much larger steam tractor rested beside it, a handful of kids clambering into the wagon for a ride around the block. The designers had clearly ironed out most of the bugs, Emily noted, as the tractor puffed into life. It was just a matter of time before someone mounted a newfangled artillery piece on the vehicle and the very first tank was born. So far, no one had managed to make an internal combustion engine work, which limited the available horsepower, but that would change too. The airship overhead was a reminder of just what was coming down the line …

Everything has changed, she mused, as she reached the edge of the city. And everything will change again.

She took a long moment to look around, noting how much cleaner and happier the city seemed to be. The streets were swept clean of horse manure and excrement – there was an explicit ban on throwing human waste onto the streets now – and the population had benefited. Alassa’s grand urban renewal program was already showing results, the public bathhouses and medical centres ensuring the population was healthier than ever before. The ever-growing network of factories outside the city would provide jobs for everyone, forcing the nobles to treat their workers better or lose them. Everything had changed, and would change again, no matter who wanted to put the clock back. Even if she died tomorrow, she would have the satisfaction of knowing she’d made the world a better place.

Her eyes lingered on a handful of children heading to school – education was another priority now – before she sighed and started to put the teleport spell together. There was no longer any time to delay, not when she had no idea just how much time she had left. The Hierarchy wasn’t a conventional threat, but something unlike anything she’d ever faced. And no matter how much she worked the problem, she couldn’t imagine any use for so much gathered power. How could they even control it? There was just no way to do it unless you had a nexus point and if you had a nexus point you didn’t need to gather such power. It made no sense. And yet, she knew the enemy had something in mind. Just because she couldn’t think of a way to do it didn’t mean the Hierarchy couldn’t.

Shaking her head, she triggered the spell.

Chapter Four

Celeste had claimed, more than once, to be the most beautiful city in the world. Emily had no idea if it was objectively true, but she had to admit the city had genuinely been striking before the regime had seized power and turned it into a nightmare. Now … she stood on the hillside and stared down at Celeste, noting just how many buildings had collapsed and how many more looked tawdry, as if the magic were gone. It hadn’t been that long since she’d gotten in and out, giving the regime a bloody nose in the process, but … she shook her head. A spark had clearly left the city, along with many of the former slaves. It would be years before it was rebuilt.

She took a breath and forced herself to start walking down the road to the gatehouse. It lay open, the guards she’d seen the last time she’d entered the city gone … gone where? Her skin prickled as she kept moving, empty chambers mocking her as she walked through the complex and out onto the streets. Some shops were still open, their owners trying to sell their wares, but others were closed and shuttered … a handful had even been burnt to the ground. Her lips twisted as she saw a couple of magicians trying to repair the damage to their shop, cleaning up the mess left behind by the fighting. Normally, they would have left such work to the mundanes. Now, there was no one else to do the work.

A shiver ran down her spine as she walked past the school – currently closed, thankfully – and neared the Citadel. It was a pile of rubble now, excavation teams trying to dig up what little they could for transport to Heart’s Eye. A handful of combat sorcerers stood guard, keeping the locals from getting any closer to the once-proud building. Emily suspected it was just a matter of time before the locals got organised and drove them out, but right now everyone was still too shocked to do more than sit on their hands. And try to find a way to cope without the mundane workers. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Sienna stood with her back to Emily, hands clasped behind her back as she watched a piece of magitech being lifted out of the rubble. Emily hesitated, all too aware that Sienna had reason to be annoyed with her … or worse. Caleb’s mother hadn’t been consulted about his proposal, as far as Emily knew … she wasn’t even sure Sienna knew her son had intended to propose. Sienna knew they were back together, but beyond that … Emily forced herself to walk forward, making enough noise to tell Sienna she was coming. Combat sorcerers didn’t enjoy being surprised. They tended to lash out with overwhelming power.

“Emily,” Sienna said, as she turned. “It’s been a while.”

“A couple of days,” Emily said. Sienna’s tone was artfully neutral. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We set up shop over there,” Sienna said. She led the way towards an office block that had been battered by the fighting, but left largely intact. “Do you, perchance, have something to tell me?”

Emily flushed, saying nothing as Sienna led her into a waiting room. It looked to have been looted, half the chairs missing and several portraits gone from the walls, leaving only bare space where they should be. A portrait of Resolute was still there, covered in cuts. Emily guessed it had been used for target practice. There was certainly no other use for it. Resolute was powerless now, doomed to spend the rest of his life as a mundane. She hoped he choked on it. He wasn’t mad, unlike so many others she’d faced, or even someone bent on enthroning himself at the expense of everyone else. He was a fascist in every sense of the word.

“Well?” Sienna sank into a damaged chair. “Do you?”

“Caleb asked me to marry him,” Emily told her. “And I said yes.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sienna said. Emily couldn’t tell if she genuinely meant it. “I hope the two of you have a long and happy life together.”

Emily leaned forward, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “Do you have a problem with it? With me?”

“I think you’ll be good for each other, now you have both grown up a little,” Sienna said, after a moment. “But please excuse me for worrying about my children.”

She gave an odd little smile. “I suppose I should be glad I have so few obligations to my extended family. Or to Beneficence.”

Emily allowed herself a moment of relief. Caleb’s parents were important, but they weren’t aristocrats. They had few obligations that would make the wedding difficult, or cause shifts in the balance of political power … probably. Emily had a nasty feeling that Caleb’s grandparents, the ones who had practically disowned Sienna for marrying a mundane, would try to get close to their daughter once again, in hopes of making use of the family connection. She hoped Sienna would have the sense to ignore them. She was certainly strong enough to tell them to go to hell.

“Yes,” Emily said, finally. “And … I won’t let him down.”

“I certainly hope not, although marriage is very different from being in a relationship,” Sienna said. “My husband and I have had our ups and downs. We had to learn to communicate, to trust each other, to listen to each other … men have it worse in that respect, Emily, because it is so hard for them to unburden themselves for fear of being called weak. You might speak the same language, but … at times, you don’t. You think you said something and he thinks you said something else. And then there’s the … marital duties.”

Emily felt her cheeks turn red. “I know about the birds and the bees.”

“Oh good,” Sienna said. A flicker crossed her face, a hint she was teasing her future daughter-in-law. “You’ll be surprised how many girls don’t.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Emily said. Alassa hadn’t known much … she wasn’t sure about Imaiqah. Hell, she hadn’t known much and she’d come from a world where such things were discussed far more openly. “That’s something that needs to change, isn’t it?”

“Something else for you to worry about,” Sienna teased. She leaned forward. “You’re both old enough to make up your minds without my consent, so … just learn to treat each other with respect and you should be fine. Learn to listen, learn to be patient, learn how to say yes and how to say no … and don’t mess around with his emotions. Don’t let him do it to you either. Being an adult means being adult, not … not a child in an adult’s body.”

“We’ll do our best,” Emily said. “Together.”

Sienna studied her for a long moment, eyes lingering on Emily’s face. Emily tried not to show her nerves. Sienna was a formidable woman and the thought of her turning into a monster-in-law was terrifying, even though she had enough common sense to refrain from picking a fight that could only end badly for everyone involved. Probably. Motherhood had changed Alassa, for better or worse, and Sienna had been a mother for over two decades. Who knew how she’d react when it became clear they really were going to get married? It might not be quite clear to her yet.

Emily cocked her head. “Did he ask you for your blessing?”

“Not … no,” Sienna said. “He’s not a child any longer. He can do these things himself.”

She shrugged. “It is common courtesy to ask for a blessing from your parents, but hardly a legal requirement.”

Emily nodded, relieved.

“I take it you’re not here to tell me the news.” Sienna straightened. “What did you really come for?”

“I need to know how much you’ve pulled out of the wreckage,” Emily said, silently relieved that Sienna had so little patience for polite nothings. “Did you find anything from the portal?”

“No.” Sienna shook her head. “Most of the lower levels have collapsed. What little we have managed to save comes from the upper levels, and much was hammered when the entire building collapsed into rubble. I’ve sent what we’ve been able to recover to Heart’s Eye – Adam can take a look at it, if he’s feeling better – and hopefully we’ll learn something.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But where the portal led? We don’t know. There’s too much raw magic in the air for us to find any residue. It could be anywhere.”

“I know.” Emily wondered if she’d been foolish to come here. “I assume you got Katherine and Lucy out of the city?”

“Yes.” Sienna shot her an approving look. “They’re at Heart’s Eye.”

She paused. “You do realise you might be making a rod for your own back?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Emily confirmed. Katherine was Resolute’s daughter, a young woman who had truly loved her monster of a father. Emily knew enough about history to know there were few true monsters – Hitler had been kind to his secretaries, even though he’d been … well, Hitler – and she couldn’t blame Katherine for wanting to avenge her father. “But she doesn’t deserve to be punished for the crime of being his daughter.”

“I hope it works out for you,” Sienna said. “But I fear the worst.”

“She has Lucy,” Emily said. “And hopefully …”

She sighed. Her father had vanished from her life so quickly she knew practically nothing about him. Her stepfather had been so much of a rectum she was glad there was little prospect of ever having to see him again. Void had been far more of a father figure than either of them and yet … her lips twisted, recalling just how hard it had been to stand against him. Alassa had had the same problem with her father. No, she couldn’t fault Katherine for loving her father. Or mourning his death.

Sienna met her eyes. “Don’t let her brood, if you can help it,” she said. “It’ll end badly.”

“I can try.” Emily suspected she was the last person Katherine wanted to see right now. “And if there’s nothing else here …”

“I had a visitor yesterday,” Sienna said. “Lilith. She came all the way from Heart’s Eye.”

Emily raised her eyebrows. “She came back here?”

“She was asking questions about sharing life with a mundane,” Sienna said. “It was a tricky conversation.”

“I imagine it would be,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure if they should be having the conversation at all. “What did you tell her?”

Sienna looked pained. “If you happen to be stronger than your partner, there is always the temptation to use your strength to put them in their place,” she said. “Beat them up, turn them into toads … it never ends well, no matter what you do. The relationship is ruined if you cross that line, destroyed for good. I told her that and … I think she understood.”

Emily shuddered. “And …?”

“And you need to beware of that too,” Sienna added. “Sure, you and Caleb are both magicians, but you wield power on a far greater scale. You might lose your temper and do real harm – or worse. It could end very badly.”

“I wouldn’t,” Emily said.

“So say they all,” Sienna said. “Beating your wife is perfectly legal in most parts of the world.”

“Not in Cockatrice,” Emily said, flatly. She’d written the laws herself, ensuring that both marital rape and domestic abuse were considered crimes. “Or in Heart’s Eye.”

“I’d be surprised if you stopped it completely,” Sienna said. “Too many girls grow up thinking their husbands have the right to beat them. Or fearing the consequences if they try to leave.”

Her eyes met Emily’s. “Don’t do that to him,” she added. “Really.”

“I won’t,” Emily said. She stared down at her hands, then looked up. “I asked Alassa – ah, Queen Alassa – to lend me some troops. They’ll be assembling in Zangaria shortly and will be teleported to the target, when we locate it. Would you … would you go with them?”

Sienna frowned. “And what will you be doing?”

“Searching for the target,” Emily said, flatly. “If we locate the Hierarchy, we need to bring in the troops – and fast. We’ll have one end of a teleport gem with us … the other will be with the troops. And when we need them, we can bring them in fast.”

“Assuming the Hierarchy hasn’t worked out what you can do,” Sienna pointed out. “It isn’t the first time someone has used portals to move troops from place to place. You’ve done it yourself.”

“Yes, but not teleporting a small army into a hot zone,” Emily countered. “They might not be ready for it.”

Sienna looked doubtful. Emily could understand her concerns. Teleport gems were her invention, true, but they were hardly new. She’d devised the first gem over a year ago. There was no way to be sure the Hierarchy hadn’t duplicated the spellware, or come up with their own way to power a teleport that didn’t rely on a magician’s inherent power reserves. Or … that they hadn’t found a way to block teleports outside regular protective wards. If they had, the army could find itself being teleported to its death.

“And you can’t send the army with you,” Sienna mused. “It would be a diplomatic nightmare.”

“There’d be no way to keep it secret, no,” Emily agreed. A handful of explorers might not be noticed, regardless of where they were going. She had passed through hostile kingdoms without attracting attention before and she could do it again. An entire army would be a very different story. “Better to rely on stealth until we finally locate our target.”

She scowled as she contemplated the map. They needed to find a way to force the Hierarchy to react to them, rather than being forced to wait for the Hierarchy to act, but how? There were no obvious targets, no kingdoms to invade nor castles to storm … she understood, suddenly, why the United States had invaded Iraq before she’d been yanked out of her old world and into the new. They’d had to do something in hopes of reshaping the battlefield in their favour and invading Iraq might have been the best of a bad set of choices. Maybe not the best idea anyone ever had, but … she wondered how it had all worked out. She’d probably never know.

“I may be there,” Sienna said. “No promises. Where are you going now?”

“Back to Heart’s Eye,” Emily said. She stood, brushing down her dress. “Have there been any problems here?”

“Not openly, but they are starting to get restless,” Sienna said. “They may have elected a new council by now, and that council is going to start pushing us out. Fighting will even save them from having to fix the problems caused by the sudden loss of their slaves … they’re not going to be able to recruit more in a hurry. I’d be surprised if anyone chose to sign up after … after everything that happened. How much pay could they offer to make up for the risk?”

“They’ll just have to learn to get along without them,” Emily said. The servant problem in spades. The aristos had to outbid far more competitive employers or treat their servants with respect … or learn to cook and clean for themselves. The regime had once promised every magician a family of mundane servants, slaves in all but name. She wondered how the magical families would cope without them. People who had no trouble brewing potions would object, strongly, to having to cook their own food. “Who would want to come here?”

“No one.” Sienna grinned, although there was little humour in it. “You take care of my son, do you hear me? I don’t want to lose another.”

Emily felt her heart twist painfully. Casper – Caleb’s older brother – had died in front of her. It hadn’t been Emily’s fault, except in a sense it had. She’d been the one to suggest sneaking behind enemy lines to get to the necromancer, she’d been the one who’d underestimated their target and nearly been killed herself … Casper had been an ass, she admitted privately, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Not like that. She wondered if Sienna blamed her for Casper’s death. It would have been hard not to blame her.

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll see you shortly.”

She felt cold, despite the warm summer air, as she stepped out of the building and looked at the remains of the Citadel. The poisoned magic hung in the air, a nerve-jangling reminder the regime had been messing with forces it couldn’t control … and that it had been the pawn, in the end, of a far darker opponent. She shivered helplessly, feeling something unpleasant brushing against her skin. Just being so close to the nightmare made her feel dirty, almost defiled. She had no idea how Sienna coped, or the other sorcerers. Couldn’t they feel it too?

They’re not here any longer, Emily told herself, firmly. Boswell had said as much, in the final moments before the portal closed. The man was hardly trustworthy, but the operation had been exposed and the bad guys would see no reason to stick around. There’s no point in coming back.

She sighed, then started to walk back out of the city. She’d get clear of the magic and then teleport back to Heart’s Eye for a shower. And then … she was sure Caleb would have some good ideas involving a bed. And after that …

We’re running out of time, Emily thought, grimly. She’d hoped to swing past Whitehall and consult with the tutors – and Frieda, whom she hadn’t seen for far too long – but she had a feeling it wasn’t possible. Just how much time do we have left?

Chapter Five

“You know,” Caleb said, “I’m starting to get the impression someone talked.”

He held out a broadsheet. Emily took it and swore under her breath. The headline ran LADY EMILY TO WED HEADMASTER CALEB OF HEART’S EYE. Someone had definitely talked and yet, she had no idea who. Alassa wouldn’t have told anyone and … she shook her head. The castle was filled with servants, passing unnoticed even though they had eyes and ears and sometimes a willingness to sell themselves to the highest bidder. Being someone’s agent in the castle was a good way to make money, if you lived long enough to retire and enjoy the proceeds, or so she’d been told. Alassa’s father had had a bunch of servants feeding false information to their masters, several different masters, and pocketing the cash without ever giving a hint they were really working for the king.

She looked up. “Headmaster? When did you get promoted?”

Caleb snorted at her teasing. “Mistress Irene isn’t going to be pleased,” he said. “She’s the Administrator.”

“I’m sure she won’t be that mad,” Emily said. “She’s not the sort of person to worry about it.”

“She’s too old and too experienced to care,” Caleb agreed. “But still …”

He shrugged. Emily nodded in agreement. A more insecure administrator, one who didn’t have decades of service and a reputation that would linger longer after their deaths, would throw a fit at the broadsheet promoting a younger man ahead of them. She knew countless lower-tier aristocrats who’d done exactly the same when they’d been accounted at court, playing up their titles because they were the only things they had. They lacked the wealth and power to ensure everyone knew their names … Irene, thankfully, was very different, as were most of the instructors. There were few at the university who’d take the misnaming seriously.

“At least they got your name right,” Emily said, running her eye down the article. “That’s about all they got right.”

She snorted as she returned the broadsheet. The writer had had few details and it showed, because he’d made up a bunch of nonsense that didn’t stand up to the slightest examination. Apparently, Caleb had been courting her daily at Dragon’s Den … never mind the fact neither of them had been to Dragon’s Den for a while, or that they’d both had other problems they needed to tackle. It wouldn’t take much effort to confirm she’d been in Celeste when she was supposed to be sailing down the river of love in Rose Red, although she supposed she had been with Caleb at the time. It hadn’t been her idea of a romantic getaway. They’d have been safer going on holiday to Chernobyl right after the nuclear reactor had blown. 

“And they got mum’s name wrong,” Caleb agreed. “And her relationship with her family.”

“Charming.” Emily forced herself to stand. There was no point in trying to do anything about it. Making a fuss would only draw attention to the article. “It’ll be gone before we know it.”

Caleb snorted. “There’ll be rumours everywhere,” he said. “How many of our friends are going to hear it from the broadsheets?”

“Our friends have enough sense not to believe everything they read,” Emily said. “But I do need to finish sending letters out as quickly as possible.”

She sighed under her breath. Her name had been linked to hundreds of prospective husbands, and not a few wives. She’d been reported engaged to monarchs and magicians, aristocrats who could trace their bloodlines back hundreds of years and commoners who were the firstborn magicians in their families. One article had linked her with Adam, something that had irked her at the time. Lilith didn’t deserve the suggestion her boyfriend was cheating on her … Emily scowled. A broadsheet had insisted Adam was her long-lost brother and another that he was her son, never mind that there were only two years between them. It was about as foolish as insisting William Wallace had fathered the historical Edward III, and even more pointless when Adam and herself were still alive. 

And while Wallace fought for Scotland’s freedom, his supposed son crushed it, Emily reminded herself, as she strode into the shower and closed the door behind her. He might have been one of the better kings in England's history, but still …

The thought made her smile, tiredly. She’d arrived late by local time and gone straight to his rooms … their rooms, she supposed. She had never bothered to designate a handful of chambers for herself and it was biting her now, forcing her to decide between ordering a hundred people to change their rooms or taking a lower-status apartment for herself. It didn’t bother her – she didn’t need a fancy apartment, she knew who she was – but it would make her look weak to everyone who didn’t. She ground her teeth with frustration. Nearly eight years in a world that managed to combine magic with medievalism and she still wasn’t used to it. She was lucky her combination of power and connections had given her a freedom others lacked.

She pushed the thought aside and stepped into the shower, allowing the water to run through her hair. It felt like years since she’d washed properly, although she knew it wasn’t true. Her body was still trying to catch up with the time difference, insisting it was late at night even through it was early in the morning. There were no easy ways to counter teleport lag, she reminded herself sourly, beyond forcing herself to stay awake long enough to go to bed at a reasonable hour and hope it reset her body’s clock. She told herself she didn’t have time to stay in Heart’s Eye for long. She’d have to adjust once again when they teleported to Whitehall.

And tell Frieda the news, Emily thought. Her friend had never quite warmed to Caleb, although they’d grown used to one another. I wonder what she’ll make of it.

She stepped out of the shower and muttered a spell to dry herself, feeling an odd little shiver running through her as the magic rippled through her overlong hair. It was a great deal more convenient than a hairdryer, although … she shook her head mentally, telling herself to stop moaning. She could have cut her hair short if she wished and to hell with the convention that unmarried women should have long hair, but she’d chosen otherwise. Her hair was about the only vanity she had and she didn’t want to give it up. Besides, Caleb liked it.

“You can have the shower,” she said, feeling a twinge of insecurity as she stepped out of the bathroom. She’d never been happy getting naked in front of anyone, no matter how comfortable she was with them. The memories of her stepfather had never faded … she wondered, sometimes, what would happen if she cut those memories out of her mind. She wasn’t fool enough to try. The results of self-imposed mind manipulation were dangerously unpredictable. “I’ll wait for you.”

Caleb smiled and headed for the door. Emily silently blessed her forethought in sending him a handful of her clothes to keep in his chambers, a fresh dress and underwear and everything else she needed to avoid having to wear the same clothes. The dress wasn’t dirty, but … she winced as she opened the cupboard and reached for her outfit, all too aware that regular changes of clothes were a luxury few outside the aristocracy could afford. She’d known peasants who had only a handful of clothes, passed down from grandparents to parents to children time and time again. The outfits had been repaired so often it was hard to tell if they were still the same outfits ...

She dressed quickly, then checked the mailbox. Word had already spread, she noted crossly; there were a handful of letters waiting for her, all polite and formal notes of congratulations mingled with carefully not hidden disappointment that she hadn’t taken up the offer to marry the writer or the writer’s son or … someone, anyone, other than Caleb. She wondered what the rest of her friends would say, when they heard the news. They’d be happy for her, but … she shook her head as she waited for him. She had no need to marry for wealth or power or connections or anything other than love, and that was all that mattered. The complicated equations most aristocrats used to plan their marriages were worthless to her.

“Better that than the alternative,” she muttered. Void had ignored the requests for her hand in marriage, after making sure it was what she wanted, but a less-understanding father figure might have taken a very different view of things. Not that he’d want to be tied down to a kingdom that thought merely having a relationship with his daughter meant he’d come running when the monarch needed him, in any case. Emily certainly didn’t want it for herself. “This is going to work.”

She smiled as Caleb returned and dressed quickly, then winked at her. “Shall we go down to breakfast?”

“It feels like dinner,” Emily said. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to go. One rule she’d been quick to establish in Heart’s Eye was that everyone ate in the same dining hall, except on very special occasions. Did this count as one? It should, but … she shook her head. The quickest way to undermine yourself was to act as a hypocrite, enforcing the rules while refusing to be bound by them yourself. Perhaps they could go down to Heart’s Ease and eat there ... no. it would be the same problem. “But yes, we’d better go down.”

Caleb offered her his arm. She took it and let him lead her out the door and down the stairs to the lower levels. The tutor living sections were supposed to be off-limits to students, despite the old tradition of students trying to break into tutor offices and apartments. Mistress Irene had tried to ban such attempts at Heart’s Eye, but Emily doubted she’d been very successful. Too many magical students had studied in places where the tradition was strong, and the risk of getting caught and caned was part of the thrill. She’d never cared much for it herself.

Here goes nothing, she thought, as they walked into the dining room. It was earlier than it felt, at least for her, but there were still a few dozen students holding down the tables. They were spread out a little, somewhat to her relief … she didn’t see anyone familiar amongst them, although that was meaningless. She knew a handful of students and most of the tutors, but … they all knew her. She felt weirdly naked. She’d never gotten used to being famous.

The row of pots and cauldrons made her smile, a buffet that reminded her of some of the cheap eateries back home … places where you could eat all you wished, for a relatively small price. A large sign on the wall behind the tables reminded students to TAKE WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT EAT WHAT YOU TAKE: she suspected, despite herself, that that wasn’t going to be a problem. Not here. Heart’s Eye’s kitchens might be basic by aristocratic standards, true, but they were so far superior to anything a commoner might enjoy that complaints would be few and far between.

And besides, they can go down to Heart’s Ease if they want something a little fancier, she reminded herself, as she filled her plate with bacon, eggs and fresh-made bread. The town has already recovered from the war.

“I hear you are to wed,” a faintly hissing contralto voice said, from behind her. “Are congratulations in order, or commiserations?”

Emily tried not to jump as she turned. The Gorgon stood there, her lips curved in a mischievous smile. “Congratulations, definitely.”

“Hey,” Caleb said, with mock-offense. “Definitely congratulations.”

The Gorgon’s smile grew wider. “It’s never easy to tell, these days.”

Emily nodded and carried her tray over to the high table. She didn’t know much about Gorgon traditions and customs, but one thing she did know was that their society was highly structured and marriages, as well as nearly everything else, were arranged by the parents well before the children grew old enough to actually tie the knot. She didn’t like the thought herself, and she wasn’t sure what the Gorgon thought about it, yet …she shook her head. The Gorgon was more than strong enough to say no, if she didn’t want to marry her betrothed.

And I will have to chat with Caleb about Alassa’s proposal, Emily mused, even though she knew it might come to nothing. If we do have a child in short order …

She put the thought out of her head as the Gorgon collected her own tray and joined them. “How are the refugees coping?”

“They’ve only had a few days to get used to being in Heart’s Ease,” the Gorgon said. “We had to put up a lot of tents in a hurry, mainly to avoid problems with the townspeople, but … most appear to be glad to be out of Celeste. I think most will stay with us, given time … some have already expressed interest in working in the factories, or helping to develop magitech. The remainder will probably move on sooner rather than later, once they get over the trauma and start thinking about their future.”

“They’ll fit in well,” Caleb agreed. “Given time …”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “Katharine and Lucy?”

“We have them under foster care, for the moment,” the Gorgon said. “Mistress Irene and Lilith are keeping an eye on them, but …” Her snake-hair shifted oddly. “I don’t know what’ll happen, as they grow up. They may not be too pleased with you.”

“So I’ve been told,” Emily said. “Did we manage to trace Lucy’s family?”

“No.” The Gorgon leaned forward. “If they were amongst the refugees, they didn’t come forward when called.”

Emily’s heart twisted in sympathy. She had loathed her stepfather and never been fond of her mother, and she had never wanted to go home even when it became theoretically possible, but others had had very different experiences with their families. Lucy hadn’t deserved to be taken from her parents and her parents hadn’t deserved to lose her … hell, her foster parents hadn’t deserved to be given a child and then have the poor girl taken away again. Emily felt sick thinking about it. The sheer horror of the regime had left scars that would take years to fade. If they ever did.

She leaned forward. “Take care of them, please.”

“We will,” the Gorgon said, “although there have already been some issues. Katharine isn’t very … fond of mundanes.”

Emily winced, inwardly. Katharine had been raised to consider herself superior, hardly an uncommon failing, and … there was just enough proof that magicians were superior to keep her from doubting it. Her father had taught her that mundanes were less than children, perhaps less than animals, and they existed solely for the benefit of the magical community … that she had a perfect right to do whatever she liked to them, that they had no right to complain even if she tore their lives apart on a whim. Or worse. The hell of it was that Katharine had been a surprisingly sweet little girl … Emily’s stomach heaved in utter disgust. It would have been easier to cope with a spoilt brat. But Katharine had been nice …

She will be deprogrammed, Emily thought, although she knew how hard it was to shed ideas from childhood, ideas that one had never thought to question until it was too late. We’ll make it happen. Somehow.

“She also wants to see her father,” the Gorgon added. “Is that a possibility?”

Emily shook her head, ignoring the sudden pang shooting through her. Resolute was powerless now, unless he figured out a way to reverse the curse … which was unlikely, without a very specific set of tools she doubted he had. It had been touch-and-go for her and she’d had help, as well as a great deal of luck. Resolute’s former allies would shun him for losing his magic and his enemies would be lining up around the block to have a go at him, if they ever realised what had happened. Emily hadn’t been very specific, when she’d written her account of the whole affair, and she was fairly sure everyone who didn’t know the truth assumed he was dead. Given what he’d done, few apart from Katharine would shed a tear for him.

“Just keep an eye on her,” Emily said. Perhaps she should arrange for a proper foster family … she didn’t know anyone who could and would take Katharine. She could hardly do it herself … Sienna would be a good choice, if she hadn’t been involved in the whole affair already. “And don’t let her get too …”

The Gorgon snorted. “It’ll take time,” she said, in a tone that suggested it would never happen at all. Her eyes, weirdly snake-like, narrowed. “And she could easily go too far.”

“Her father ruined thousands of lives,” Emily said. She could easily imagine Katharine saying the wrong thing to a mundane and getting slapped, or worse. Or simply breaking the university rules in a manner that would force her to be tossed out, without a penny to her name. It wouldn’t grow any easier when she came into her magic and yet … Katharine was a victim too. “I don’t want him to ruin one more.”

“We shall see.” The Gorgon seemed unimpressed. Emily didn’t blame her. She’d faced enough discrimination as a younger student, although being Mistress Irene’s apprentice and assistant had won her the respect she deserved. “And I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us.”

Emily nodded. “Me too,” she said. “Me too.”

Chapter Six

Emily couldn’t help smiling as she stepped into Adam’s laboratory, which appeared to have grown larger in the months since she’d last visited. The walls between the lab and the neighbouring chambers had been taken down, providing plenty of room for tables piled high with captured magitech from Celeste. An ever-growing team of researchers, both magical and mundane, poked and prodded at the magical devices, trying to plot out how mana flowed through them and work out exactly what they’d been designed to do. It wasn’t an easy task, Emily knew all too well. The damaged devices left few clues as to their true nature, while the shattered pieces were beyond repair. Emily suspected the pieces were jumbled together so badly it was impossible to tell where anything went.

Adam waved to her from a desk in a far corner, where he was examining a piece of half-destroyed magitech. Emily walked over to him, wondering where Lilith was. She was supposed to be heading for the lab too, although she might have been distracted by one of many issues that needed addressing. She wasn’t a tutor, but as a senior apprentice she had some authority … as long as she didn’t step too far over the line. It would be an interesting problem if she did. Emily had no idea how Mistress Irene would handle it, but she doubted it would be pleasant.

“Emily,” Adam said. They’d been through enough together in the last few weeks for him to drop the honorific. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you,” Emily said. People had been congratulating her all morning, mostly people she didn’t know. She hadn’t been surprised to discover the mailman had placed more letters in her mailbox. “How much did you learn from their gear?”

“A few things,” Adam said. He indicated the remains of an iron giant, a roughly humanoid metal creature that had been remotely controlled from a safe distance. “We think we can duplicate their control systems, but so far we haven’t been able to crack how they fed power to the spellware that kept the machine operating. The normal power link doesn’t seem to work.”

He grimaced. “How much of this is my fault?”

Emily met his eyes. “You’re not to blame for how people pervert your inventions,” she said, firmly. They’d had the discussion before. It hadn’t been his fault, any more than it had been hers. She’d invented many of the tricks the regime had used too. “And don’t tell yourself otherwise.”

“I spent time with the refugees,” Adam said. “Would they feel the same way?”

“Celeste was going the way it did already,” Emily pointed out. “A problem that started decades ago, well before you and I were born, is hardly your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

She studied the remnants of the device thoughtfully. “Can you disrupt the control link?”

“Not yet, not without destroying the device itself,” Adam said. “I’m not sure how they managed to channel so much power into their devices without destroying them in any case – the power link seems too weak to channel enough power. They may have been using some magic to create wards to contain the rest of the power, but if that is the case it would have been incredibly inefficient. None of my ideas for testing the process seem to work.”

He paused. “I’m not sure how they managed to channel power through the staffs too. It should be impossible. Unless they know something we don’t.”

“Keep poking away at it,” Emily urged. She picked up the notebook and studied the outline. It was clearly incomplete, but she couldn’t figure out how to fill in the blanks. She didn’t have time to sit down and work the problem herself, not when she was heading south in a couple of days. “If you can solve the problem, you can let me know through the chat parchment.”

Adam hesitated. “Do you want us to come with you?”

“No,” Emily said. She hadn’t been convinced of the wisdom of taking Adam to Celeste and that had been within the Allied Lands. The Blighted Lands were even less friendly to travellers and Adam had few, if any, defences. “You and Lilith need to stay here.”

She watched a complicated series of emotions wash across his face. Relief and shame, understanding and incomprehension … she understood, better than she cared to admit. There was little to be gained by taking Adam, but she knew he wouldn’t be happy at being told to stay in the rear. Lilith would be understanding, at least; others would wonder if he hadn’t been asked to go, or if he’d refused when asked. She snorted in amused dismay. There weren’t many advantages to being a woman on the Nameless World, unless you had magic, but not being called a coward for refusing a challenge was a very definite plus.

“As you wish,” Adam said, finally. “I do have some tricks for you. Including a very special surprise …”

He turned and led the way through a door, into a smaller workroom. A bench lay in front of them, covered with pieces of metal and wood. Emily’s eyes narrowed as she spotted the metal broomstick, looking more like a phallic parody than an actual device to sweep the floors. There was an orb of metal at one end and a handful of smaller devices at the other, while a saddle rested on the middle as if it were a rocking horse. She couldn’t help thinking it looked more than a little absurd, a framework rather than something practical. But then, the first version of just about everything looked absurd until it was sorted out, the plans finalised, and the final version put into mass production.

“You remember the broomsticks we saw in Celeste?” Adam closed the door behind her with an audible thud, magitech wards slipping back into place a second later. “They shouldn’t have been able to fly, not when we were hurling cancelation charms at them, but they did. They were flying and …”

He paused. “It shouldn’t have been possible.”

“I know.” Emily had flown broomsticks herself. They worked fine until someone cast a cancellation charm, causing the broomstick and flyer to fall out of the air. It wasn’t possible to shield the broomstick from such spells without accidentally destroying the charms that kept it aloft, but Celeste had managed it. Somehow. She’d seen their broomsticks fly into waves of cancellation charms and keep going. “Do you know how they did it?”

“I’m not sure if I came up with the same idea,” Adam said, “but I did manage to come up with a working broomstick.”

He tapped the clockwork orb at the front of the device. “This may actually be better than theirs,” he added. “A mundane can fly this thing.”

Emily sucked in her breath. “How so?”

“There’s actually two charms woven into the orb,” Adam said. “The first basically levitates the broomstick into the air, I’ve configured the charm to react to how the flyer moves on the saddle so you can fly by shifting your bodyweight. If you lean forward, for example, the broomstick will pick up speed. The magitech device is actually designed to shape the levitation charm into a needle, or a bullet, which should ensure it gets some extra speed. It might be faster than their broomsticks.”

“Clever.” Emily considered it for a long moment. In theory, a broomstick could keep accelerating until the flyer ran out of magic; in practice, the normal flight charm was a bubble and wind resistance slowed flight considerably. If the flight charm could be modified … she felt a flicker of admiration. She had no idea if Adam had come up with something new or not, but … either way, he'd done well. “And the other charm?”

Adam smiled. “It’s a smaller version of the charms protecting the airships,” he said. “In flight, the broomstick projects a protective bubble that cancels cancellation charms before they reach their target. It seems to work, by and large, although ballistic projectiles will pass through unmolested and hit the broomstick … if the flyer doesn’t dodge. I’ve tried messing around with protective wards, but the stronger they are the more they impede the broomstick in flight.”

He paused. “The downside is that you can’t fly in close formation. If one flyer gets too close to another, they’ll take each other down.”

“I see your problem,” Emily said, slowly. “Is there no way to restart the orb?”

“Not in a hurry,” Adam said. “A magician might be able to save himself, if he did start to plummet, but … it would be tricky. A mundane wouldn’t be able to do it at all, so …”

He turned and picked up a knapsack. “Meet the very first parachute. It should work.”

Emily blinked. She’d outlined the concept years ago, when the university had started working towards the first airship, but she had no idea if it had ever been put into practice. She’d certainly never done more with it herself, trusting the university staff to push the project forward until they came up with a workable design. Up close, she wasn’t sure they’d succeeded. The parachute looked as if it was too tightly compressed to be deployed in a hurry.

She looked up. “Has this been tested?”

“We dropped one out of an airship,” Adam said. “But so far we haven’t risked letting anyone try it in person.”

Emily shivered. “How does it work?”

“You keep it strapped to your back,” Adam said. “If you start to fall, you pull the string” – he pointed to a piece of wire, sticking out of the knapsack – “and the parachute bursts out. In theory. There’s no magic in the design, so it should be unaffected by any cancellation charms. But it’s hard to be sure.”

He paused. “Do you want to fly?”

Emily saw hesitation in his eyes and understood. “Lilith would probably be a better choice, for the first flight,” she said. Lilith had learnt to fly at Laughter, which meant she was certainly a great deal more experienced than Emily. “But make sure she has some way to protect herself if the broomstick fails in midflight.”

“I have one other trick,” Adam said. “A freeze charm, worked into a ring. It’s designed to suck in mana and freeze the wearer, even if the first charge is wiped out by an incoming charm, but … it’s not likely to work if someone falls from only a short height. It depends on just what makes the broomstick fall out of the air.”

“If you have a spare, I’ll take it,” Emily said. “It might come in handy.”

“It might.” Adam smiled, as if she’d made a joke. “I don’t have any more parachutes, not until we get more silk. They’re not easy to make.”

Emily nodded in understanding. Silk was incredibly expensive, and using it for a parachute would give the average accountant the willies. There were supposed to be ways to make silk cheaper, and Heart’s Eye had researchers trying to find a way to  do it, but so far they’d found nothing. A cheap substitute would be wonderful … she sighed inwardly, wishing – not for the first time – that she had a way to snatch books from her old world. A copy of The Way Things Work would be worth fifty times its weight in gold. Perhaps more.

But we’re building up our knowledge capital, she reminded herself, firmly. The more researchers who developed the scientific mindset, the more breakthroughs would be made … each leading to further breakthroughs as later researchers built on the work of their early peers. She’d deliberately let a great deal of information slip out, in hopes of speeding up research and development. They may think me stupid for giving away so much information, but little can be kept secret for long and letting them have it is a small price for a very high reward.

“I look forward to hearing the results,” Emily said. “Just make sure you have someone ready to catch her if it goes wrong.”

Adam looked pained. Emily winced, inwardly. She would never forgive herself if someone got hurt because of a device she’d built, a device that she’d trusted too much to believe the experiment could go wrong. If Adam had been too wrapped up in his own invention to realise the dangers …

“I will.” Adam turned away and headed to the other table. “I built a few more things for you.”

He held out a compass-like device. “This should point to the greatest concentration of magic in the region,” he told her. “It isn’t as accurate as a magician’s magical senses, by and large, but it does have the advantage of being difficult to track. This amulet is a modified portable obscurification charm, making it difficult for anyone to scry you from a distance. It doesn’t prevent anyone seeing you with the naked eye, but … it has a use. And this amulet gives a limited amount of protection from incoming spells.”

He smiled. “I think I finally worked out the bugs that made it unusable for magicians,” he added, after a moment. “But the wards don’t last long.”

Emily took the device and turned it over and over in her hand. It was a very simple set of protections, perhaps a little too simple for her peace of mind. A skilled magician could find a way to hack it, shaping spells and charms to break through the protections … if they didn’t resort to simply picking up a rock and using a locomotive spell to slam it into the target with terrifying force. But it might be useful …

“There’s a set of charged wands and staffs,” Adam continued. “One has an experimental recharging device, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take to recharge from scratch. My experiments suggest it should be possible to use magic to generate more magic, yet … I haven’t found a way to do it. What we have is … I’m not sure if there is a power boost or not. It’s hard to be sure.”

He passed Emily a set of notes. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his designs. It looked alarmingly like an unshielded nuclear reactor, with magic particles broken to release more magic particles. She wasn’t sure how it would work in practice, but … she didn’t like the implications. Ice ran down her spine. She’d spent a lot of time and effort carefully not discussing what’d happen if someone managed to split atoms, but Adam seemed to have stumbled across something very much like it. What would happen if you split magic? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“And we have another magiwriter,” Adam finished, unaware of her thoughts. “I modified this one based on my experiments with the last one, which should let you cast complex spells without help. There’s enough magic within the battery to cast a level five incant – a piece of ritual magic – as long as you set up the charms properly. Be careful when you do … it could go horrifically wrong.”

“I know.” Emily was still distracted. She wasn’t sure what to do about the situation either. “Can I ask a favour?”

Adam blinked. “Yes. Of course.”

“Don’t do any experiments with splitting magic until I return,” Emily said, seriously. She cursed under her breath. Caleb was coming with her and she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss the concept with Mistress Irene. Or anyone, really. The Gorgon would listen to her, she was sure, but her first loyalty would be to her mistress. “Leave them for the moment. I will return and we’ll look at them together.”

She saw a shadow of irritation cross his face. Adam might not have magic but he shared the same ambition as every other researcher, the desire to push the limits as far as they could go. Emily knew she’d come close to disaster through messing with forces she didn’t understand and she was all too aware Adam couldn’t even sense the magic he was messing with. Lilith could, of course, but would she be able to stop Adam if all hell broke loose? Would she even try? She felt the same way as Adam did.

“If that is what you want,” Adam said, finally. “But …”

“I understand.” Emily spoke gently, but firmly. “We will look at it together. But after I return.”

There was a tap at the door. Adam hurried to open it, leaving Emily to read his notes. They were impressive for someone who couldn’t sense magic, using logic and calculation to predict how magic would flow through the spellware to power the spells. A more traditional magician would see them as unbearably crude, she knew, but Adam couldn’t help it. Emily suspected it didn’t matter. There was no way any regular magician could hope to channel so much power. They wouldn’t melt their brains so much as they’d vaporise their bodies … and much of the surrounding area. The researchers would need to use a magiwriter to keep the power surge under control.

Her eyes narrowed. We still don’t know why the Hierarchy needs so much magic, she reminded herself, but if they have found a way to control it … perhaps through their own magiwriter …

Lilith stepped into the room and dropped a curtsey. “My respects from me to you,” she said, formally. “And my congratulations on your match.”

“Thank you,” Emily said. The formal words made her smile. “And I hope you will both attend the wedding.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lilith said.

“We’re going to try out the broomstick now,” Adam said, seriously. “Are you ready?”

“Of course.” Lilith picked up the parachute and pulled it onto her back. “If worse comes to worst, I can simply fly away.”

“We’ll be ready to catch you anyway,” Emily said, firmly. “Just in case.”

Chapter Seven

The first time Emily had visited Heart’s Eye, when it had been the home of a necromancer, the air had tasted of spoiled magic, something almost and yet not quite like pollution from Earth. The air had improved a little in the years since, the tainted magic sucked into windmills and repurposed while the desert itself was slowly retreating, revealing ruined fields, farmhouses and the occasional nasty surprise that had been buried under layers of sand. It would be decades, perhaps centuries, before the exposed land became farms once again, but the university was already setting up greenhouses and irrigation programs that would hopefully speed the process up. The war had done a great deal of damage, Emily noted sourly, but most had already been fixed. It was a great deal worse down in Heart’s Ease.

“You do realise this could go horrifically wrong?” Caleb said, as they made their way to the arena. It had once been a sports field, but the university had converted it into a testing ground for various inventions. There had been little point in trying to repair the former stadium, they’d thought at the time. Any sports facilities would be better placed in Heart’s Ease, where everyone could use them. “If it does …”

“I checked the equations,” Emily said, slowly. “It should work.”

She felt a twinge of guilt as they rounded the corner and stepped into the testing ground. A handful of tutors and students, including Mistress Irene and the Gorgon, stood at the edge of what had once been a field, watching as Adam performed the last checks on the mechanical broomstick. Several looked amused, as they studied the device. Emily hoped and prayed it worked as advertised. Adam had done more than enough to ensure he wouldn’t lose his place at the university, or even his reputation, but it would still be embarrassing if the device didn’t work. And if Lilith were hurt …

“We have people ready to catch her,” Caleb said. “But still …”

Adam stepped back from the broomstick, as Lilith swung her leg over it and pretended to sit on the saddle. Emily felt a flicker of dark amusement. She’d once watched a documentary about people who pretended to play Quidditch, people who had looked absolutely ridiculous as they hopped around the field; she couldn’t help thinking Lilith looked just like them. If the magitech worked, it would be possible to play Quidditch for real … not that she would, of course. The rules had never made much sense. But then, that was true of all such rules.

“Here we go,” Adam said. He sounded like a man who wanted to say more, perhaps a speech worthy of a carnival barker, but didn’t have the nerve. “Please watch as we put our new invention to the test …”

Lilith winked at Emily, then kicked herself off the ground and shot up like a rocket. Emily sucked in her breath as she muttered a spell to sharpen her eyesight, wondering if Lilith was going to fly so high she literally ran out of oxygen or flew right into orbit. Neither possibility had occurred to Adam, she was sure; he knew the world was a ball, everyone did, but airships didn’t fly high enough to make braking difficult. She kicked herself mentally for not having thought of it herself. If Lilith had just killed herself … it was too much.

Lilith stopped dead, hundreds of metres above them. The broomstick hovered for a second, then started to move again, twisting and turning like the flyers she’d seen in Celeste. Lilith had seen them too … Emily suspected she’d been the one to urge Adam to figure out how the trick was done. Laughter taught witches how to fly, true, but there were limits to how far they could go without being knocked out of the sky. The freedom to fly where they pleased was worth almost anything to Lilith and her classmates. Emily knew how they felt. If she’d had a broomstick when she’d been a student, she would have gone flying every weekend and explored.

“It works,” Adam cheered. “It works!”

Emily heard someone curse behind her as Lilith swooped down, flying low over their heads before looping the loop and climbing back into the air. The mechanical broomstick looked a little more cumbersome than the pitchforks she recalled from Laughter, but hopefully the shielding charms and added speed made up for the minor problems. It would for her. It crossed her mind to wonder if it would have been wiser to leave the first test flight to someone who hadn’t flown before, and thus had less to unlearn, but it was too late. Lilith was whooping as she flew through the air, the sound barely audible …

“The cancellation charms don’t seem to work,” Mistress Irene noted. She was the only one who was supposed to cast them, to ensure everything went perfectly. “The shield seems to hold.”

Adam glanced at her. “Are you sure you’re hitting the target?”

Mistress Irene looked irked. “Yes,” she said, flatly. Emily couldn’t help a shiver. Mistress Irene didn’t suffer fools gladly. “The charms hit the field and came apart at the seams.”

“Shit!”

Emily looked up, just in time to see the broomstick come apart. Lilith fell … she raised her hand to cast a spell, even as Lilith fumbled desperately with the parachute. It exploded outwards a moment later, her body jerking rapidly as it unfolded to break her fall. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, although the fall was still too fast for her peace of mind. She’d read somewhere about NATO and Warsaw Pact airmen trading parachutes, the former falling too quickly and the latter descending dangerously slow, but … Lilith had never parachuted before, no one had. Not here.

“Don’t move,” Mistress Irene said. “Don’t …”

Lilith descended the last few metres and touched down, the parachute falling on top of her. Adam ran forward, lifting the fabric up and pulling it away to reveal her shining face. Emily flushed as they kissed, understanding better than she cared to admit. Lilith wanted to celebrate being alive, and who could blame her? Emily certainly wouldn’t. If she had fallen out of the air like that and survived, she would want to celebrate too.

“Get a room,” someone muttered.

“Good idea,” Mistress Irene said. “You can bid farewell to our adventurers later.”

Adam looked as red as Lilith’s hair as they hurried away, leaving the rest of the group behind. Emily smiled after them, then looked at Caleb. “I just need a word with the Gorgon,” she said. “Can you get the rest of the supplies together and meet me in the hall?”

“Yeah, sure,” Caleb said. He sounded pensive. “I wonder why the broomstick broke up so suddenly. Too much power or too little?”

Emily shrugged, wishing they had more time to work on it. The broomstick had been reasonably solid, and there was no obvious reason for it to come apart so rapidly … perhaps there was something they’d missed, something that would only become apparent later on. Or after the debriefing … her lips quirked. Adam and Lilith were getting debriefed right now. She had to be tired if she found that funny.

“We’ll see,” she said. The Gorgon was already heading away. “Be back soon.”

She hurried after the Gorgon, falling into step beside her as they made their way through a maze of corridors, classrooms, research labs and a bunch of other facilities that seemed to spring up like weeds every time she looked away. Heart’s Eye University was still very new, compared to the other magical schools, but it was growing rapidly, offering classes and courses in everything from magic to farming, sailing, and a hundred other mundane disciplines. She liked to think of the university as a melting pot, where ideas could be taken apart and put back together again, or combined in a number of different ways. There was no shortage of magical researchers experimenting with newer and better ways to cast spells, but most worked alone or in very small groups. Heart’s Eye was different. Here, nothing would be discovered, forgotten, and then discovered again. And again.

“Emily,” the Gorgon said, once they were in her office. She indicated a chair and sat down facing Emily. “What can I do for you?”

Emily sat on the proffered chair. “How are you liking Heart’s Eye?”

“It’s an interesting place,” the Gorgon said. “Most people who come here are good people, willing and eager to learn or to teach. Mostly. We had a cheating scandal a year or so ago … not a big one, compared to some, but bad enough for a new university. I don’t know if Caleb told you.”

“He did.” Emily had to smile. Caleb had written several letters about the whole affair, welcome diversions from her apprenticeship under Void. “You did well to uncover it.”

The Gorgon shrugged. “I just noted the pattern,” she said. “Anyone could have …”

“But you did,” Emily said. “If you hadn’t, there’s no guarantee someone else would have.”

“True.” The Gorgon leaned back in her chair, the movement drawing attention to her oddly slanted face. “I assume this isn’t a social call?”

“Not exactly.” Emily felt her cheeks heat. The Gorgon was too smart to be distracted for long. “I need a favour.”

The Gorgon cocked her head. “If you need a Maid of Honour, I should point out you’ll mortally offend half your friends if you don’t choose them.”

Emily rubbed her forehead. That was a new wrinkle. Alassa was too high-ranked to be a bridesmaid, thankfully, let alone a Maid of Honour, but the rest of her female friends needed to be asked … she groaned inwardly, all too aware it was a big ask. “We should have eloped, shouldn’t we?”

“I wouldn’t know.” The Gorgon gave her a droll smile. “Is that really what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “I need a different favour.”

She paused, oddly unsure she was doing the right thing. “How do you get on with Adam and Lilith?”

“Adam is a decent guy, now that he’s made a name for himself,” the Gorgon said. “He had a chip on his shoulder when he arrived, but … he certainly never gave me a hard time. Lilith … it took a while for her to calm down, after her father forced her to come here … she grew up a lot. I like her. Why …?”

“I need you to keep an eye on them,” Emily said. “Adam is messing around with some really dangerous stuff and” – she held up a hand before the Gorgon could ask for details – “I don’t want him to experiment alone. Or with Lilith. I … when I get back, we’ll experiment together.”

It was hard to read the Gorgon’s face, even after knowing her for seven years, but she seemed torn between amusement and annoyance. “Do you think he won’t wait?”

“I fear so.” Emily met her eyes evenly. “There’s a very real risk in letting him mess with such stuff without proper supervision. I need you to keep an eye on them.”

“You don’t trust him?”

Emily felt her cheeks burn. It was a severe breach of etiquette to admit she didn’t trust someone … certainly not someone who hadn’t done anything to earn it. She was pushing against a very hard line by recruiting the Gorgon, all the more so because she knew it was more than a little hypocritical. It was hard not to feel shame at how she’d ditched her friends, years ago, to conduct private research, or …her heart twisted painfully. If she’d done it herself, what was the guarantee Adam wouldn’t do the same? She couldn’t think of one. Lilith was just as much an experimenter as her boyfriend.

“I know what it feels like to have an idea and want to test it out right away,” Emily said, finally. “I’ve been there. And … I messed up. It could have cost me a great deal. And …”

“Yes.” The Gorgon’s voice was artfully flat. “I remember.”

Emily felt like a louse. She had messed up. Badly.

“Void allowed me to experiment,” she said, flatly. “I nearly killed myself a few times. And this could be much more serious.”

“I see.” The Gorgon said nothing for a long moment. “Very well, I’ll keep an eye on them. But hurry back. You can’t blame them for doing something you did yourself.”

Emily nodded. “I know.”

“And congratulations, again,” the Gorgon added. “I hope you and Caleb will be very happy together.”

“I hope you’ll attend the wedding,” Emily said. “As a guest of honour, I might add.”

The Gorgon’s lips twitched. “How many guests do you have to invite?”

Emily sagged in her chair. “Too many,” she said. She would have to send invitations to every aristocrat in Zangaria and they’d have to come, for fear of giving offense. That was … hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people she didn’t know. And then there were senior figures within the magical community, her former tutors from three different magic schools … would there even be room for her friends? “It’s going to be a nightmare.”

“Get someone to organise it for you – and no, not me,” the Gorgon said. “You’ll probably find someone if you care to look.”

Emily didn’t doubt it. “Thank you for your help,” she said. “And I’ll see you when I get back.”

The Gorgon held up a hand. “Be careful, please,” she said. “You don’t know just where you’re going.”

“I know,” Emily said. “Kuching first, and then …?”

She stood. “I’ll see you soon,” she said. “Have fun.”

The Gorgon laughed, then turned back to her paperwork as Emily left the room and walked down to the hall. The corridors were busier now, students making their way from classrooms to the dining hall and back again, some nodding to Emily as she passed. A handful even offered congratulations. Emily nodded back, wondering just how the news had gotten out. If she started digging …

It could have been anyone, she thought. And if I find them … what’ll I do?

Caleb looked up as she stepped into the main entry hall. “I’ve got the supplies,” he said, pointing to the two rucksacks. “You think we should be taking the other broomstick? The last one …”

Emily nodded. “It won’t be that much of a weight,” she said. The rucksacks were charmed to be lighter, making it easier for her to carry everything she thought she needed. They’d be picking up more supplies at Kuching if they needed to go further. “And if something goes wrong, we can always levitate ourselves.”

“Depends on what goes wrong,” Caleb pointed out. He picked up the rucksack easily and held it out to her. “Just don’t use it until we’ve ironed out the bugs.”

Emily heard something in his voice and looked up. “Why …?”

“I thought Lilith was going to die,” Caleb said. “I promised her father as he lay dying that I’d take care of her.”

“I’m surprised he asked you,” Emily said. The rucksack felt ridiculously light even though she could feel it was crammed to bursting. “Why not Mistress Irene? Or someone more than a couple of years older than her?”

“I’m not her guardian,” Caleb corrected. “He just asked me to take care of her.”

Emily made a face. “He put you in a tough spot,” she said. “But …”

She shook her head. “I know the risks. We’ll do it if there’s no other choice.”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “But …”

Emily pulled the rucksack on and tested the charms carefully, making sure they weren’t likely to break without warning. It would send her flying backwards at best, perhaps even break her back. Nothing could be taken for granted in the Blighted Lands. Not even a teleport spell.

“To Whitehall first,” she said. “And then onwards to Kuching.”

Caleb frowned as he donned his own rucksack. “Did you tell Cat we were coming?”

“Not yet.” Emily hadn’t been sure if she should. If the Hierarchy really was based in Kuching, it was a sure bet they’d have an agent or two in the castle – or the town below. There was a very real risk that sending a message would tell the Hierarchy when they were coming, although … they already knew she was coming. Boswell’s taunt might well be designed to lure her into a trap. “It might be better to keep mum until we get there.”

Caleb nodded. “Got it.”

Emily turned and led the way outside. The road leading down to Heart’s Ease had been paved over the last year, after the war, although a sense of decay hung in the air. The town looked strange, a mixture of hastily built apartment blocks and shops surrounded by tents and other makeshift accommodations. Thousands of workers were struggling to rebuild, to put together enough homes to accommodate everyone, but it would be a long time before the town recovered.  If it ever did. She ground her teeth in frustration. Two years of rebuilding, destroyed by a bitter king trying to cling to a past that had faded long ago. 

At least most of the people survived, she told herself. They’d hidden in the university, protected by the wards. And they’d refused to give up. That’s all that matters.

The thought haunted her as she turned to take one last look at the university, the fairy-tale castle gleaming oddly in the sunlight. Magic shimmered around it, a reminder of the nexus point underneath … she sucked in a breath as she readied the spell, bracing herself for the shock. It was her university, a place she had devised … a place she had shared with her lover and her friends and …

Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling she'd never see it again.