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  “Well,” the Emperor said. He took a step forward, his red cloak spilling out behind him as he struck a dramatic pose. “Kneel.”

  The representatives hesitated, then dropped to their knees. Charity felt another pang of pity, mixed with helpless outrage; they weren’t under any spells and yet they were kneeling in front of the Emperor! But the dragons were a convincing argument in the Emperor’s favour and the representatives had already watched them tear through the city’s puny defences as if there was truly nothing standing in their way. They had to know there was no point in further resistance, not when the city was surrounded. The Emperor could burn their city to ash whenever he chose.

  “So,” the Emperor said, coldly. “Who comes to speak with me?”

  “I am Goodman Chaney,” the leader said. Merchant or not, he couldn’t keep the unease out of his voice. “I speak for the City Fathers.”

  “Good,” the Emperor said. “I want your complete and total surrender.”

  Chaney blinked. “But sire …”

  “You are at my mercy,” the Emperor said. She couldn’t see his face, but Charity was sure he was leering. The Emperor enjoyed watching people squirm. “I have orders for you. If they are not carried out, your city will be burnt to the ground and any survivors sold into the most unpleasant slavery.”

  He allowed a moment for his words to sink in, then leant forward. “Every young man between fifteen and twenty is to report to my camp, where they will be conscripted into my army,” he said. “Every magician in the city, from the lowliest hedge witch to the highest sorcerer, is to report to my magicians for induction. Any magical artefacts within the city are to be handed over, regardless of who owns them. Knawel Haldane itself is to provide everything my army might require, including food, military supplies and billets. Your families, in particular, will be handed over to us so we have hostages for your good behaviour.”

  Charity winced, inwardly. The Emperor wasn’t doing anything to soften the demands, not even offering Chaney a chance to rise in the new order in exchange for doing what he was told. But then, the Emperor probably held a mere merchant in contempt. He was no magician, no warrior … nothing the Emperor might find admirable, even if he could be useful. And Chaney had no cards to play unless he was willing to countenance the destruction of the entire city.

  “It will be done, Your Supremacy,” Chaney said, bowing his head.

  “Good,” the Emperor said. “Send a messenger to your families. I expect your wives and children – and those of the other City Fathers – to be here within half an hour. Should they not be here …”

  He patted the dragon, affectionately. The dragon’s mouth lolled open, revealing his cruel teeth and long tongue. Chaney paled still further, then turned and hurried off, followed by the rest of the representatives.

  “You could have given them more time,” Charity said, before she could stop herself.

  “They would have had time to plan an escape,” the Emperor said. He looked past her to General Vetch. “General. Organise the troops to occupy the city, once the hostages arrive; billet them in prosperous houses. The dragons will provide support, if necessary.”

  Charity followed the Emperor like a stray dog as he moved from group to group, issuing orders, patting the dragons and generally keeping himself on top of what was going on. No one looked at her, not overtly, but she could feel their gazes following her, their eyes mocking her silently. They knew who she’d been, before she’d bent the knee to the Emperor; now, she was little more than a whore and they rejoiced in her fall. No doubt they came up with all sorts of stories about what the Emperor made her do, although he’d never touched her. But how could she blame them? She’d been so far above them that they could only watch her with envy, before the fall.

  “The hostages have arrived, Your Supremacy,” General Vetch reported.

  “Excellent,” the Emperor said. He strode over to where the hostages were waiting eyeing the dragons nervously. Charity followed him, feeling her heart sink. She had a nasty feeling the Emperor had something horrible in mind for the hostages. The little cluster of wives and children standing next to their husbands and fathers almost broke her heart. “Order them to be outfitted with slave collars. We might as well make some use of them.”

  Chaney stared in horror. “Your Supremacy …”

  The Emperor smiled at him. “Are you defying me?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. One of the dragons moved forward with astonishing speed and opened its mouth. Chaney had no time to scream before the dragon swallowed him in a single gulp. A woman fainted – his wife, Charity assumed – while her children started to scream in horror. The Emperor showed nothing but cold amusement as he surveyed the remaining City Fathers. They looked as if they were torn between mounting a suicidal resistance and complete submission.

  “Have them fitted with collars,” the Emperor ordered. He nodded at the woman lying on the ground. “And have her thrown to the men. She’s useless.”

  The City Fathers offered no further resistance, even when the slave collars were fitted and the hostages were marched off to an unknown fate. Charity hoped they’d be treated reasonably well – there was something to be gained from treating them as guests – but she knew the experience would be horrific. A compulsion charm could be fought, even broken, by a person of strong will and determination; a slave collar was almost impossible to resist. And if their husbands and fathers chose to resist later, they could simply be ordered to cut their own throats.

  “Have the magical artefacts brought to my tent,” the Emperor ordered, curtly. “My aide” – he nodded at Charity – “will inspect them.”

  Charity was almost relieved. Poking magical artefacts ran the risk of being hexed or killed, if the owner had placed security charms on them, but at least she’d be away from the Emperor for a few hours. She didn’t trust his temper – or his sense of humour – and she knew, all too well, just how cruel he could be. He was worse than Jamal … who, at least, had never had her helplessly at his beck and call …

  But he had the maids at his command, she thought, as she made her way towards the royal tent. The soldiers were putting together a large camp outside the city, although a number of the men would be billeted inside the town. She hoped the civilians would keep their heads down and stay out of trouble. What did he do to them?

  She sat down, inside the tent, and waited for the first box of artefacts to arrive. They all looked common, something that didn’t really surprise her. Anything really old or powerful would be hidden, rather than tamely surrendered. She picked her way through a case of old wands, then checked a handful of basic spellbooks. None of them were more complex than anything she’d seen during her first year of schooling, although one of them had a number of scrawled annotations that made her smile. Clearly, whoever had owned the book had been something of a genius. But, if he or she had joined in the battle, they were probably already dead.

  And the dead magicians might be the lucky ones, she thought. She knew what the Emperor had in mind for the magicians of Knawel Haldane, those who weren’t strong enough to be helpful. They’d be sacrificed, their power fed into storage crystals and used to summon more monsters from the other realms. They won’t have to see what the Emperor does to the rest of the world.

  She pushed the thought aside bitterly – she was helpless and enslaved – and turned her attention to the next box. An old Hand of Glory, burnt and useless; a Ring of Power, the gem cracked and broken; a Soul Drainer … she shuddered, remembering how her father had insisted on using one on Johan, hoping to spark his magic; a knife that felt oddly familiar …

  It was familiar! The Conidian Crest was emblazed on the hilt, while magic – family magic – crackled around the blade. She remembered watching, years ago, as her father had presented it to Jamal, on the day he’d turned sixteen. The blade was charmed; it would be lethal, instantly lethal, to anyone it cut, unless they were a close relation. Charity could hold it safely, she knew, and even c
ut herself … but anyone else?

  And if it’s here, she asked herself slowly, how in all the hells did it get here?

  Jamal had carried the blade everywhere, she knew. She was sure it would still work for him, even after he’d lost his magic. The blade was linked to the family’s bloodline, not his magical signature, yet the blade still thought Jamal was its master. And that meant … her older brother was somewhere in the city, alive and well. She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to ask the Emperor for permission to look for him, then rose to her feet. Perhaps he’d give her permission to find him …

  … And if he did, at least she wouldn’t be alone any longer.

  Chapter Two

  “That’s Falcone’s Nest,” Dread said. “Dead ahead.”

  Elaine nodded, cursing her weakness under her breath. Two days of hard riding had left her tired, sore and bruised in places she hadn’t known she had. Horses didn’t like her, as far as she could tell, and they didn’t like the spells she used to make the ride a little easier. She’d been lucky to have avoided falling off more than twice.

  “It’s different,” Johan said. She could sense his admiration through the apprenticeship bond they shared. “Very different.”

  Elaine smiled as she looked down the road towards Falcone’s Nest. It was a mid-sized town – absently, she estimated that the population couldn’t be larger than ten thousand souls – built on the far side of a river. The district of the town facing her was dotted with shipyards and harbours, packed with ocean-going galleons and large barges for the inland canal network, the latter loaded with goods for trade. It looked reassuringly normal, although she could see a handful of armed City Guardsmen watching warily as the riders cantered up to the bridge, backed up by a pair of magicians. They had to know that something was badly wrong.

  They could have had word passed to them from the Golden City, she thought, grimly. The Emperor had taken down the network of linked crystal balls that bound the Empire together, but there wasn’t any shortage of powerful magicians in the Golden City. One of them could easily have sent a message to a friend via magic. Or someone could have ridden ahead of us while we were trying to escape Dread.

  She winced at the memory, looking up at the former Inquisitor. Magicians who lost their magic tended to go mad – or die – very quickly, but so far Dread seemed to be almost unchanged by the experience. His hard face – rugged, scarred after years on active service – showed no hint of emotion, no doubt or fear about the future. She envied him his confidence, even as she mistrusted the soundness of his judgement. Two days ago, he’d been one of the most powerful and capable magicians in the world. Now, he was just another powerless mundane.

  But that doesn’t make him helpless, she reminded herself, sharply. The Levellers proved that when they brought down the Watchtower.

  Johan pulled his horse alongside hers. “You’re being depressed again.”

  Elaine felt herself flush. Johan could sense her emotions as easily as she could sense his; indeed, the mere fact that they were closer in age than most masters and apprentices made them more open with one another. It was embarrassing to feel so naked in front of him, even though she was wearing a shirt, a pair of long trousers and a travelling cloak. But then, he felt the same way too.

  “I just worry,” she said. They hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit since they’d stolen Dread’s magic – as far as he knew, he was the only person sent after them – but she knew that would change. The Witch-King wouldn’t be content to let them vanish into the countryside, not if he suspected what she knew. Deferens would send his entire army after them rather than risk utter disaster. “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t have time to worry,” Johan said, shortly.

  Elaine gave him a sharp look. Johan had wanted to drink himself senseless at the first inn they’d reached, which she’d forbidden. They’d argued backwards and forwards until Daria had threatened to bang their heads together, but they’d apologised to each other in the morning. Now, Johan seemed almost as driven as Elaine herself. Discovering that he had a relative who’d died almost as soon as he’d met her – and that his family was enslaved – had changed him.

  “Watch what you say,” Dread warned, as they approached the bridge. “You never know who might be listening.”

  He spurred his horse forward, pulling up just in front of the guardhouse. Elaine watched the magicians eying him sharply, then turning away. She knew they would never have shown such blatant disrespect for an Inquisitor but, as far as they knew, Dread … was just another mundane. In some ways, it was a relief, yet she knew it had to hurt the older man. He’d spent his life building up his magic, only to lose it in a split-second.

  But he would have remained a slave if he’d kept it, she thought, numbly. And if we tried to restore it, who knows what would happen?

  Johan leant his head over to hers. “You think they’re buying the cover story?”

  Elaine shrugged. There were five guardsmen and two magicians; Johan’s odd magic might be enough to take them both out, along with the guards, but it would attract attention. Deferens would hear of it and know precisely where to look for them. And then … she shook her head, tiredly. As humiliating as it was to tell people that she was being married off to a magical family on the other side of the continent, it was a reasonably plausible story that explained her small escort. No bandits in their right mind would attack a magician and her guards.

  And if I try to assert my authority, she reminded herself, they might refuse to accept it.

  She shook her head. Had it really only been seven months since she’d become Head Librarian, as well as a Privy Councillor? She’d had power and position that would have been considered unimaginable to the poor orphan girl she’d been, because she wasn’t a very powerful magician. But the knowledge in her head more than made up for her lack of power, if she had time to cast her spells. She rubbed her forehead, feeling the weight of centuries of accumulated knowledge pressing against her mind. If she fell into Deferens’ hands …

  He has the Great Library now, if he can get through the wards, she thought. She’d locked the wards in place when she’d left, but she knew all too well that any ward could be broken, given enough power and determination. Does he really need me any longer?

  “Come,” Dread called.

  Elaine cursed mentally and spurred the horse onwards, Johan cantering beside her while Daria – in wolf form – brought up the rear. She was no less pleased than Elaine at pretending to be an oversized wolfhound – Elaine was mildly surprised that anyone was fooled – but it did give them an additional wand, if necessary. Besides, horses disliked werewolves far more than they disliked Elaine. Daria wouldn’t have been able to ride a horse without using magic to force it to obey.

  “I used to dream about sailing the seven seas,” Johan said, as they crossed the bridge. “It wouldn’t have been that hard to get a berth on a merchantman, then work my way up the ranks. But father …”

  He shook his head. Elaine sensed his sudden pang of guilt, mixed with a bitterness that had never faded, and winced in sympathy. Johan’s father hadn’t killed Johan outright, as he’d had every right to do when one of his children was born without magic, but he’d kept Johan inside House Conidian and firmly under control. And when Johan’s magic had exploded into life he’d done everything he could to bring Johan back under his thumb. Johan resented his father – and hated him too – yet he still felt guilt for stealing his father’s magic. It had crippled House Conidian when it needed strong leadership.

  She reached out and squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. It wasn’t enough, but she’d never been good at knowing what to say when someone needed comfort or reassurance. “We can go sailing later, if you like.”

  A dull rumble echoed through the air as an iron dragon crossed the closest bridge, heading west towards the Golden City. Elaine wondered if the passengers knew that most of the lines were broken, or if they intended to stop well before they reache
d Knawel Haldane. Or even if they wanted to go to Knawel Haldane itself. Had the city been attacked and taken? She knew little about military strategy, but Knawel Haldane was the major gateway to the Golden City. It was unlikely that Deferens would leave it alone.

  “I’d like that,” Johan said, giving her a shy smile. “Or we could just go riding instead …”

  “Not on your life,” Elaine said. She looked down at the horse’s mane, then shook her head firmly. “The sooner I can stop riding, the better.”

  “You just have to get used to it,” Johan said. “It’s easy once you have the confidence to look the horse in the eye and make it obey.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Elaine said, as they reached the far end of the bridge. The smell of salt water was pushed aside by the aroma of rotting fish. She swallowed hard, then cast a spell to protect their noses from the stench. The thankful look Daria tossed her made the small effort worthwhile. “Maybe you just have to be tougher to make the horse obey you.”

  She sensed Johan’s amusement, although he managed to keep it off his face. “My baby sisters rode horses,” he said. “I …”

  He broke off, a sudden sense of guilt, regret and melancholy echoing through the link. His little sisters had bullied him mercilessly, as soon as they’d come into their powers; he still carried the scars from hundreds of pranks and japes that were only funny if the victim had the magic to undo the spells. He’d hated them and he’d enjoyed scaring them with his new reputation, but Cass’ letter had made him think about just what sort of person he wanted to be. Now, she knew he’d want to see his sisters again, if only to ensure they were safe.