Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling Read online

  Duncan pushed his emotions aside and thought fast. They hadn’t told him, which meant ... what? If they’d tested his blood, they might well have realised that Johan was a Conidian, even if he hadn’t been formally registered. They should have contacted him at once, no matter what had happened, unless ... Lady Light Spinner had ordered otherwise. Just what had happened at the riot? Every magician in the city – and considerably further away – had sensed that pulse.

  And Johan apparently had magic. What did that have to do with the pulse?

  “You said that the Head Librarian was taking care of him,” he said. “Why?”

  “I do not know,” Zacharias admitted. “She is no druid.”

  Duncan nodded. He’d met the Head Librarian at a couple of Privy Council meetings, but she tended to skip them. And she’d never struck him as a formidable personality, rarely speaking up or doing more than casting a vote when the time came. He’d always assumed that Light Spinner had deliberately appointed a non-entity to the post. Off-hand, he couldn’t recall her ever voting against the Grand Sorceress.

  But if she had taken over ... something very odd was happening.

  “Thank you,” he said. Zacharias hadn’t quite betrayed his oaths by coming to him, but it still suggested that the druid was desperate for money and connections. “You will be rewarded.”

  “Thank you, My Lord,” Zacharias said.

  Duncan called for May. “Show the druid to the door, then fetch me my finest robes,” he ordered, when she appeared. He disliked wearing his Privy Councillor robes inside the house, even though they were charmed to be comfortable. Jamal, on the other hand, wore his finest robes everywhere. “And then I want you to tell my driver that I wish to go out.”

  He watched them go, then picked up his wand and badge of office. If his son was in the hospital, he had every right to see him ... even if it would draw attention to Johan. And if Zacharias was wrong ...

  If this is a trick of some kind, he thought, everyone will know I sired a Powerless ...

  His thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous knocking that seemed to resonate through the house. Cursing under his breath, Duncan strode out into the hallway, careful to keep one hand on his wand. He saw Charity appear at the top of the stairs and shot her an angry glare, telling her to remain where she was. He’d grounded her after she’d confessed to letting Johan leave the house without a proper escort. That sort of carelessness required harsh punishment, no matter how Johan had talked her into it.

  “Open that door,” he ordered, silently cursing inwardly when he realised that Zacharias had yet to leave the house. The druid would probably start talking about the newcomers as soon as he got back to the hospital. “Now!”

  May obeyed; three Inquisitors strode in to the house, their faces half-hidden behind grey hoods that hung down over their eyes. Duncan stared, unable to quite hide his dismay; even as a Privy Councillor, he had few dealings with the Inquisition. They reported to the Grand Sorceress and the Grand Sorceress alone.

  “I am Inquisitor Dread,” the leader said. His jaw, what little of it could be seen, suggested that he wasn’t a man who would give up easily. It seemed to be made of solid granite. “I have here a warrant for the arrest of Jamal Conidian. You will present him to us at once.”

  Duncan hesitated – why would they have a warrant for his eldest son? – and then stepped forward, remembering himself. The Inquisition could scare magicians who had no connections, but he was the head of House Conidian, with a patronage network that gave him influence and power beyond their wildest dreams. He was not going to let them intimidate him.

  “I would like to see the warrant,” he said. Only one person could issue such a warrant; the Grand Sorceress herself. “And I would like to know on what charges my son is being investigated.”

  Dread pulled a parchment scroll from his robe and handed it over. Duncan unwrapped it, careful to test the sigil at the bottom to ensure that it actually was signed by Lady Light Spinner. A mere touch revealed that it was genuine. Cursing under his breath, Duncan skimmed through the list of charges. Attacking mundanes, forced transfiguration, use of compulsion spells, accessory to murder (or at least manslaughter) ... it looked as though the Inquisition had dragged up at least twenty different charges in the hopes that one of them would stick. The paragraph at the bottom, placing everything in context, was remarkably illuminative. He hadn’t known that Jamal had been at the riot, let alone that he’d been the ringleader who had triggered it!

  “Summon your son,” Dread said. His voice was toneless, but there was a hint that he was looking forward to some violence. The house was heavily warded, yet they were already inside the main defences and all three of the Inquisitors would be skilled warriors. “Now.”

  Duncan hesitated, then nodded. “JAMAL,” he bellowed. Had he ever been so furious with his eldest son before? There were ways to act that didn’t involve bullying others ... particularly people who couldn’t fight back. In hindsight, letting him pick on Johan so much had been a mistake. “GET DOWN HERE, NOW!”

  Jamal appeared at the top of the stairs, then stopped, staring at the Inquisitors.

  “Jamal of House Conidian,” Dread said, into the silence. “I arrest you on the charges” – he listed them, reciting the entire series of charges from memory – “and whatever else may develop after a careful review of all the evidence. It is my duty to warn you that you have no right to remain silent, having threatened the peace of the realm. Anything you wish to say in your own defence may be presented to the Grand Sorceress and the Privy Council when they judge your case.

  “It is also my duty to inform you that if you refuse to come quietly, we are authorised to use all necessary force to bring you with us to the Watchtower,” he continued. “I spent part of the last three days clearing up the mess you caused and cancelling the spells you inflicted on your victims. Please; resist.”

  Jamal’s hand twitched towards his wand. For a nightmarish moment, Duncan was sure that his impulsive and arrogant elder son would try to fight. But there were three Inquisitors, all experienced ... and Jamal was nowhere near as good as he liked to think. A fight would probably end with House Conidian being depopulated and destroyed. And, if by some dark miracle Jamal won, the Grand Sorceress would have his head even if she had to send a small army after him to get it.

  “Don’t,” Duncan ordered, quietly. He turned to face Dread. “I will, of course, be sending a lawyer to attend to him.”

  “Of course,” Dread agreed. If he was disappointed at the thought of avoiding violence, his voice didn’t show it. “He will be held at the Watchtower until the day of his trial.”

  He looked up at Jamal. “Come here,” he ordered. “Now.”

  Slowly, unwillingly, Jamal advanced down the stairs until he was on the lower floor. Dread waved his wand at Jamal and a handful of items, including Jamal’s wand, sprang out of Jamal’s robes and flew into a bag one of the other Inquisitors held out for them. A moment later, Jamal’s body jerked violently and then started to inch towards the door, as if he wasn’t quite in control of himself. Dread was manipulating him like a puppet, Duncan realised, feeling cold rage push aside his other feelings. How dare the Inquisitor treat his son as a common criminal?

  “You will be permitted to visit his cell by prior arrangement,” Dread informed him, ignoring the simmering rage that had to be visible on Duncan’s face. “However, you will be expected to abide by the prison guidelines. Failure to do so will have unfortunate consequences.”

  He followed Jamal’s body as it moved out of the door, leaving Duncan staring at his retreating back.

  “You will not say a word about this to anyone,” Duncan snapped, rounding on the druid. Zacharias seemed surprised by his intensity, but nodded quickly. A few words from Duncan in the right set of ears and the druid would never work again. “And get out.”

  May closed the door behind the druid as Duncan glared up the stairwell. “Charity, get down here,” he snapped. Unsurprising
ly, his eldest daughter had hidden herself past the top of the stairs, even if she was meant to stay in her room. “I need you!”

  Charity looked nervous as she made her way down the stairs. “Yes, father?”

  “I want you to go to the hospital,” Duncan ordered. “Your brother was admitted there three days ago – and no one told us anything until now. Not that it would have been easy for them to identify him, but never mind ... I want you to go see him, to find out how he is. If they refuse to tell you anything, remember how your mother acts in shops and act like that.”

  Charity’s face twisted. She’d been the target of her mother’s attempts to turn her into a proper young lady, which seemed to include screaming at shopkeepers and dressmakers if their products weren’t exactly what she wanted. Being both a great lady and a magician, her screaming fits were terrifying. Charity had complained often enough about having to go with her to convince Duncan to relent and forbid further unwanted trips.

  “You’re his elder sister,” he reassured her. The lines of blood responsibility made her superior to Johan, although Johan’s nature didn’t make him superior to his younger siblings. “You have every right to know how he is.”

  He took a breath. “Once you get into his room, ask him ... ask him if the story is true,” he added. “He’ll know what I mean, if it is actually true. And if he’s not injured, have him discharged and brought home. You should have the authority to make that happen.”

  Charity’s eyes narrowed. “If what story is true?”

  “Wait and see,” he snapped. “Go there, now.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be grounded,” Charity pointed out, snidely. “You told me that I wasn’t to leave ...”

  “I will send you there with a painful bottom if you don’t go now,” Duncan snapped. He couldn’t blame his daughter for feeling irked, but there was no time to waste. “I have to go to the Palace and see the Grand Sorceress.”

  He scowled. It was not going to be a pleasant interview. If Jamal was responsible for the riot, it would be hard to convince the Grand Sorceress to mitigate his punishment. The gods knew that House Conidian had plenty of enemies, including several on the Privy Council. He could easily see them trying to convince Light Spinner not to let Jamal off lightly. Mundane deaths were less important than magical deaths, but they wouldn’t care.

  The thought made him scowl. At worst, Jamal would be executed ... which would leave him without a proper Heir. Charity had been groomed for marriage, not leadership of the house; Johan, naturally, had been incapable of handling the family magic. Unless, of course, the rumour was actually true ...

  But if it wasn’t, House Conidian would be badly weakened until Jay or Jolie grew into young men. And that would take years.

  Charity picked up her coat and pulled it on, covering her robes, then headed out of the door. Duncan watched her go, then followed her down to where his driver was waiting with the carriage. Using a carriage in the Golden City was a sign of wealth and power – and he would need both in the days to come.

  Oh, Jamal, he thought, what were you thinking?

  He would ask, of course, when he visited his son in the Watchtower. It would be interesting to see what Jamal had to say for himself.

  But he had an awful feeling that he already knew the real answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m going to cast a spell,” Elaine said. “I want you to cancel it.”

  Johan nodded. Elaine had taught him several cancelling spells, each one more complex than the last, and he was looking forward to trying them. If his magic couldn’t be cancelled as easily as a normal magician’s magic, he might be in some trouble when it came to actually using his gift. As it was, he seemed almost ridiculously powerful. But would that be any good if he couldn’t be an effective magician?

  Elaine waved her wand in the air, creating a glowing ball of light that cast an eerie radiance over the compartment. Johan watched her precision with some envy; he hadn’t dared try the light spell again after the first result, but Elaine was clearly a skilled and practiced magician – and probably very powerful. She would have to be to serve on the Privy Council, he knew, either in magical or political terms. His father had once noted that the whole system was designed to ensure that sorcerers who might try to unseat the Grand Sorceress were given a stake in the system.

  “I meant to ask,” he said. “Why do you use a wand?”

  “I need it for precise spellwork,” Elaine said, a hint of embarrassment in her tone. “And much of my spellwork depends on precision.”

  Johan frowned. “And would you be helpless if you lost your wand?”

  Elaine shook her head. “I’d just have problems casting the more complex spells,” she admitted. “But then, as anything can be used as a wand as long as there is no iron in it, I can always use something as a replacement.”

  She smirked. “Magicians who talk about the wands all the time are clearly overcompensating for something,” she added, then nodded towards the glowing ball of light. “Cancel it.”

  Johan had to smirk too, remembering Jamal’s boasts – and then he cast the spell. The ball of light blinked out ... and Elaine stumbled backwards, staggering slightly. Johan stared in alarm, wondering what had happened ... and trying to decide what to do. Surely, he told himself, he couldn’t have hurt her. Could he?

  “Sorry,” Elaine mumbled. “That was a bit of a shock.”

  “I didn’t mean to do anything,” Johan said, frantically. Panic threatened to bubble up inside his mind, overpowering common sense. Elaine’s condition reminded him all too strongly of how he’d felt after his first unwanted transfiguration. “What did I do?”

  Elaine pulled herself together with an effort. “Your spell was, as always, too powerful,” she said. “You not only cancelled my light spell, you also cancelled most of the protections I cast on myself.”

  Johan stared at her. He was the first to admit that he knew little about such spells – Charity had never taught him anything about them – but surely they couldn’t be that easy to defeat.

  “They can’t be,” Elaine said. “Under normal circumstances, you would have to break them down or overpower them ... which, I suppose, is what you did. But a normal cancelling spell shouldn’t have done anything to my protections. I wrote countermeasures into them just to ensure that no one could do that.”

  Johan nodded, unsure what to think. Protections would be useless, he assumed, if a simple cancelling spell could destroy them. So would the wards his father controlled, the ones that protected the house. Breaking them down, according to his father, would require both power and skill. But if his spell could just burn through them ...

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. He liked Elaine. She was the first person he’d met who had never talked down to him. “I don’t know what I did.”

  “I’m not sure either,” Elaine admitted. She knelt down, composing herself, then looked up at Johan. “How are you feeling? Any tiredness?”

  “No,” Johan said. He felt as if he could go on for hours. “Is that normal?”

  “... No,” Elaine said. She stood up right, frowning. “The level of power you use even in a single spell should have exhausted you. You’re very new to magic, yet you seem to have vast reserves of power. I’m not quite sure what that will do to you.”

  She smiled, rather wanly. Johan realised, with a flash of bitter guilt, that having her protections stripped away had hurt, even if she seemed normal now. He hadn’t meant to hurt her ... he considered, briefly, abandoning magic altogether, before dismissing the thought. This was his one chance to prove himself in a world that sneered at those without magic. He couldn’t abandon it, no matter the danger.

  “I want to try something else,” Elaine said. She picked up the notepad and wrote down the details of another spell, then passed it to Johan. “How does that sound?”

  Johan glanced at it. “It looks simple enough,” he said, slowly. “What does it do?”

  “Levit
ates objects,” Elaine said. She walked over to the workbench and removed the cauldron, placing it and its useless contents on the floor. The books floated up into the air and headed out of the room, presumably to somewhere where the other librarians would pick them up and return them to the shelves. “I want you to try to make the table float into the air.”

  She walked back to stand behind Johan as he stared at it. The workbench was heavy, made of solid wood; it seemed impossible for a single man to lift, even with magic. But he’d seen Jamal levitating heavier things – and Johan himself, more than once. Maybe if he tried ...

  He said the words, his tongue stumbling slightly over the longer ones, and made the gestures. The workbench shivered, then launched itself into the air and smashed against the ceiling with terrifying force. It shattered, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere; Elaine raised her wand and hastily cast a protective ward in front of them. Johan watched in horror as the remains of the table glanced off the ward and crashed down on the floor. Splinters, sawdust and even pieces of stone drifted through the air, slowly settling down.

  Johan looked up. The ceiling was cracked and broken, tiny lines radiating outwards from where the table had struck the stone. A sudden horrified image of doing that to a person ran through his mind; they’d be smashed into a bloody pulp, rendered utterly unidentifiable. If Jamal had been able to put him in danger with lighter spells, the gods only knew what Johan could do now.

  “I ...” His voice sounded shaky, even to himself. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Elaine commented. She took the notepad, ripped out the page she’d written on and stuffed the paper into her robes. “You see, that spell was a fake. A normal magician could cast it all day and the workbench wouldn’t even have moved a millimetre. But you made it work.”

  Johan scowled. “I thought it was illegal to write down fake spells,” he said. “Or isn’t that a rule that applies to Privy Councillors?”

  Elaine didn’t seem to take his jibe personally. “That law has never been honoured,” she answered, instead. “Every sorcerer who comes up with his own spells does something to them to make it difficult for others to work out how to cast them. Quite a few fledging magicians have run into trouble trying to cast such altered spells, particularly ones designed to rebound on the caster if the spell isn’t fixed first. But this ...”