Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) Read online

  Emily sensed Imaiqah’s embarrassment as her father bombarded Emily with questions, some of them alarmingly perceptive. He’d built up a business from almost nothing a long time before he’d ever heard of Emily, or realized what she could offer him. Paren was very far from stupid and Emily suspected that the only thing stopping him from pushing any further was concern about Emily deciding to take her ideas elsewhere. If Alassa could deduce that Emily was importing mature concepts rather than inventing stuff for herself, no doubt Paren could draw the same conclusion. And he would have been right.

  She brushed aside another question that came too close to the truth and countered with one of her own. “How did you become a councilor?”

  “It’s really very simple,” Paren said.

  Emily and Imaiqah shared a glance. Professor Thande said the same thing almost every lesson, generally before launching into a complicated explanation that left his students more confused than ever. Emily understood that following theory was important if she wanted to progress further, but it would have been easier if the theory had been broken down into bite-sized chunks. Once the printing presses were a mature technology, she intended to have proper textbooks produced for Whitehall. Even having a second copy of some of the books in the library would have been a great advantage for the students.

  “There are twenty-five districts in the city, twenty inside the walls and five outside,” Paren explained. “Everyone who pays taxes gets a vote. I urged my fellow merchants to vote for me–or, if they lived in other districts, to stand for election. In the end, we won around nine seats. We would have had more if the nobility hadn’t started bribing the voters.”

  “They tried to bribe us too,” Johan said. He seemed torn between staring at Emily and half-shying away from his sister. “You told them that you couldn’t be bribed.”

  Emily had to smile. “And what do you intend to do with it?”

  Paren smiled back. “Well, the five councilors from outside the walls are willing to work with us in exchange for some help,” he said. “So we have a majority on the council, which allows us to push through new laws and–more importantly–cancel some previous legislation. Right now, we’re funding a project to clean up the outer city and spread education as far as possible, as well as building up the City Guard. There were just too many footpads on our streets.”

  He shrugged. “The Great Charter allows the king the right of veto, but so far His Majesty has done nothing,” he added. “We can’t decide if he is supporting us, or simply doesn’t care about stopping us.”

  Emily shrugged. On one hand, the City Council wasn’t actually very powerful, not when compared to King Randor and the aristocracy. But on the other hand, someone with ambition and determination–and money–could turn it into a power base, complete with its own military force. Fighting crime on the streets was a good excuse for building a police force that was stronger than anyone would realize, at least until it was too late. And that force would be loyal to its paymasters, rather than the King.

  She mulled it over as Imaiqah chatted about her life in the city. It seemed her parents didn’t really believe in school holidays; they’d put her back to work the moment she’d stepped out of the portal, either working at the front counter or doing the accounts. By now, Paren owned several shops and had hundreds of people working–directly or indirectly–for him, but he seemed to want to keep his first shop in the family. Emily couldn’t help wondering if it gave him some legal advantage, or if he merely wanted to keep his daughter where he could see her. But then, Imaiqah was the only magician in her family. What would he do if she decided she wanted to live elsewhere?

  The soup was simple–and tasted far better than much of the food she’d eaten on the journey to Zangaria. Sergeant Miles had made snide comments about anyone who developed expensive tastes, but Emily hadn’t really understood; she’d simply never had the money to develop expensive tastes before coming to Whitehall. And now, naturally, most of the expensive foods she’d admired on Earth were beyond her reach. She took another bite of the bread and thought she understood what he’d meant. Expensive tastes sometimes overshadowed good food.

  “I have to show you the workshop,” Imaiqah said, as soon as they were finished. “Father, can I take her?”

  “Of course,” Paren said. “Johan can mind the store for you.”

  There was no sign of Lady Barb as they emerged onto the streets. Emily glanced around, seeing only a handful of pedestrians, before Imaiqah led her off towards the riverside. Most of the citizens didn’t seem to be taking any specific interest in her, although they did seem to be glancing at Imaiqah. But then, her father was wealthy; they probably considered her to be above their station. Or maybe they just knew that she had magic and wouldn’t be safe to court.

  “Johan used to bully me,” Imaiqah admitted, as they walked. “I was the youngest and the only girl, so he picked on me. And when I came home, I turned him into a frog.”

  Emily had to smile. When she’d first met Imaiqah, she’d been picked on daily by Alassa, unwilling to lift a hand against her tormentor. Now, Imaiqah seemed to have picked up more self-confidence as well as magical knowledge. Turning a bullying brother into a frog might have turned her into a bully herself, but she seemed to have avoided that fate. In some ways, Emily had to admit, Imaiqah was more mature than either Alassa or Emily herself.

  The smell of saltwater–and fish–grew stronger as they walked down towards the waterside. Hundreds of boats, most of them small fishing boats, bobbled in the water, avoiding the handful of larger sailing boats with ease. A number of bigger ships were positioned in the middle of the river, with smaller boats transporting their crews to and from the shore. Hundreds of birds flew overhead, sometimes darting down to snatch a fish from the boats or right out of a fisherman’s hands. Emily ducked as one almost brushed through her hair after scooping up a piece of fish from the ground.

  “My oldest brother went into fishing,” Imaiqah said. “He used to bring us all fish, back when I was a child. It was all that kept us alive. Now, he has a small fishing fleet under his command and plenty of people following him.”

  Emily nodded. Scraping together the funds to buy a fishing boat would be difficult for a newcomer in the field; most of them would have a boat passed down from their parents, or try to hire on to one of the bigger boats and earn enough money to buy a share. But if someone loaned the fisherman the money to buy a boat, then allowed them to repay it over years…they would have a good investment and a great many friends. And, best of all, it hadn’t been one of Emily’s suggestions. They’d thought of it for themselves.

  “And now he wants to build the world’s largest fishing ship,” Imaiqah added. “But I ran the math and it would be too expensive to build and maintain, particularly if he doesn’t find a buyer. He was talking about something bigger than those boats out there.”

  “And is he going to build it?” Emily asked. “Or…”

  “Father said that he could fund it for himself,” Imaiqah said. She giggled. “That shut him right up.”

  She pointed to a long set of low buildings just behind the docks. “Those warehouses normally belong to traders,” she said. “They use them to store goods for transhipment to the rest of the Allied Lands. Now, however…”

  They walked up to a door and Imaiqah pressed her hand against a panel. There was a click and the door opened, allowing them both to step inside. The sound of screeching metal blasted Emily’s ears before she managed to cast a protective charm to block it out. Imaiqah shrugged, her lips moving soundlessly. It took Emily two tries before she could widen the charm enough to hear her friend’s words.

  “I built the wards,” Imaiqah admitted, once they could hear each other again. “Father thought that if we placed the main factory here, fewer people would come visit. So he told me to construct wards to keep our work hidden.”

  Emily rather doubted that the trick had fooled anyone, which did raise the question of just what Imaiqah’s fathe
r thought he was doing. She pushed the thought to one side and allowed Imaiqah to lead her through a corridor and into a massive room, where several dozen craftsmen worked on a number of projects. Several of them were putting together a new version of the printing press–one that might allow printing in the local language, without using English letters–although it looked incredibly cumbersome compared to the original models. But it might make it easier for the printing press to be adopted by the nobility.

  Most of the craftsmen were men, she noticed, but there were a couple of young girls working at their own tables. One of them was a woodworker, slowly putting together a child-sized abacus; the other seemed to be working beside an older blacksmith who watched her with a gimlet eye. It took Emily a moment to realize that the girl was working charms into the metal, making it safer to use. They hadn’t quite solved all of the problems presented by inferior metals just yet.

  “You’ll want to see this,” Imaiqah said, pulling Emily over to a large machine at the far end of the room. “It was built from your designs.”

  It seemed to be nothing more than a giant metal container hanging over a fire, which was carefully tended by two young men who glanced at the girls whenever they thought they weren’t looking. The container was connected to a smaller set of containers, which released puffs of smoke at regular intervals. She couldn’t help smiling as she realized that it was a working model of a steam engine. Another one was being put together by a team of blacksmiths and craftsmen.

  Imaiqah was wrong, Emily saw, as she studied the half-completed model. Her original design had been badly flawed; the theory had been right, but local science and metalworking was simply not up to the task of turning it into a working model. But she’d given them ideas and some genius had outlined one that was actually within their capabilities. They might still have needed spells on the boiler to ensure that it didn’t burst, but it should be capable of powering a locomotive or steamboat.

  The craftsman waved at Imaiqah. She pulled at Emily’s hand again, tugging her into a small side room. It had a large bathtub of water positioned right in the center of the room. Emily frowned, puzzled, before the craftsman dropped a small boat into the water. A moment later, it began to move of its own accord. The locals would take it for magic, she knew, but instead it was nothing more than science. There was a tiny steam engine inside the boat. If Boy Scouts could build them, why not skilled craftsmen–once they’d gotten the idea?

  “I’ve been showing this off to fishermen and traders,” the craftsman said. His accent was different to Imaiqah’s, suggesting that he came from a different country. “Most of the smaller operators don’t like the idea of abandoning their sails, but the bigger traders think that it will be brilliant, once we manage to build a full-sized steamboat.”

  Emily nodded in agreement. Steamboats would transform the world, making it much easier to build trading networks with the other continents. The necromancers would have real problems stopping them, which suggested that–in the long term–the Allied Lands might be able to build up a position away from their interference. And then, if they built new weapons, they might even be able to cleanse the Blighted Lands.

  But millions of people would still be at risk, she thought. It would be impossible to evacuate the Allied Lands; even her own world, with far higher levels of technology, couldn’t have evacuated a whole continent. Maybe new positions could be built up overseas, eventually producing the reinforcements that would beat the necromancers. Or maybe it was just a pipe dream.

  “Building the rails is proving harder, but we’re working on it,” Imaiqah explained, as they walked back into the main room. “The real problem is obtaining enough iron to make them–most of the mines are owned by the barons and they’re not keen to sell, unless we pay them vast amounts of money. My father has been trying to look for other sources in the mountains, but that will raise its own problems. The nearest kingdoms might object.”

  Emily smiled inwardly, wondering if her friend–or anyone else–truly understood what was being born in the converted warehouse. The whole world would be transformed by steam power–and how long would it be, she wondered, before they made the jump to electrical power? She hadn’t been able to work out how it had been done on Earth, but she knew it was possible. Perhaps she should have spent more time studying the latter parts of the industrial revolution. And then there was nuclear power…

  “Your father has good reason to be proud,” Emily said, finally. “How far are these ideas spreading?”

  “Well, the basic technique is already out,” Imaiqah admitted. “We’ve heard rumors that Drake–one of the free cities–is working on producing its own steam engine design. Other kingdoms have been quiet on the matter, but we have had quite a few visitors. If something happens here, the idea will still be out in the world.”

  And someone will use it, Emily thought.

  Imaiqah led her back outside, into the bright sunlight. “I’d prefer not to go back to the shop,” she said. “Would you like to explore the city?”

  “Why not?” Emily asked. She grinned at Imaiqah ‘s expression. “You don’t want to go back to work?”

  “It’s just counting, and minding the store,” Imaiqah said. “Just because I have magic…well, no one dares to steal from us, but it’s tedious. And Johan keeps glancing at me oddly. And sometimes other magicians come in and offer to marry me.”

  Emily started to laugh. “You too?”

  Imaiqah stared at her. “You too?”

  “Yes,” Emily admitted. She hesitated, then plunged on. “Jade offered to marry me.”

  “That was nice of him,” Imaiqah said. “But are the two of you really suited to be together? You come from very different backgrounds.”

  Emily snorted. Her friend didn’t know the half of it. “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you want to marry him?”

  “I could do worse,” Imaiqah said. “If father hadn’t become so rich, I might have been pushed into marrying one of the other magicians. But right now he’s holding out for another match.”

  She grinned up at Emily. “And that is all your fault,” she added. “So…thank you!”

  Emily had to laugh. “There have been quite a few other suitors,” she said, changing the subject. “And poor Alassa has twenty-two princes after her!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  IT FELT WRONG TO ADMIT IT, but there were times when Emily felt more comfortable with Imaiqah than Alassa. The royal princess could be overbearing and thoughtless at times, both character flaws that could never be ascribed to Imaiqah. And besides, Alassa had to act more like a princess when she was at home. Alassa was fun, but Imaiqah was steady.

  They compared notes on marriage proposals as they walked through the streets, exploring the city. Imaiqah, being a new-Blood Magician, had had quite a few offers, all from local magicians interested in using her blood to boost the vigor of his children. Some of the offers had been relatively good ones; she would have no other obligations, apart from bearing children. In a sense, she wouldn’t even be the magician’s wife. As long as she was careful, the magician had assured her, she could take lovers.

  “I was warned that it would only get worse as we grew older,” Imaiqah said. “Second-years can be approached directly, rather than talking to parents and guardians. If someone makes a magical oath…”

  Emily winced. She had made an oath, one that she suspected would return to haunt her in the future. If someone swore to marry someone, or bear his children, they risked the oath rebounding on them if they broke their word. A young girl like Imaiqah would be in particular danger…but then, she had been warned of the possibility. No one had ever told Emily that people might try to marry her, just because of her genes.

  They probably assumed that Void told me, she thought. Or perhaps it was simpler than that, more fundamental. The boys she knew always affected a peculiar deafness when anything approaching women’s matters were mentioned. They’d been too embarrassed to even think about it. But the
n, it was much simpler for the guys.

  She looked over at her quiet friend and shook her head. “Do you want to marry?”

  “I don’t know,” Imaiqah said. “I do want to have children one day…but I haven’t found anyone I would actually like to marry. And father would insist on having a say.”

  “He does seem to boss you around and keep you working,” Emily observed, neutrally. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have you putting up wards everywhere for money.”

  Imaiqah shrugged. “Basic wards that keep out mundanes are easy,” she said. “You ought to know that, after all those lessons in Martial Magic. No one wants to hire me for that. Keeping out another magician, let alone a sorcerer…my wards won’t stand up to them for more than a few seconds. You could break in simply by applying enough force to the ward.

  “But I could be worse off,” she added. “Poor Alassa will have to put up with her husband for the rest of her life, no matter how horrid he is.”

  They walked through the middle of a vast market. No one paid them any attention, apart from a handful of children who ran up and begged for money. Emily felt something twisting inside her heart, but she knew better than to actually give them anything. Mistress Irene had made it clear, on her second visit to Dragon’s Den, that it merely encouraged the beggars–and the children rarely managed to keep their gains. Their older masters would take the coin and give them scraps, if anything, in return. Any objections would result in a beating.

  “Your father should adopt some of these kids,” she muttered, as the beggar children ran on to seek other victims. “Why are they even here?”

  “Richer folk come to the market,” Imaiqah explained. “And some of them are quite happy to give the children coin.”

  She hesitated. “Why would my father want to adopt them?”

  “Buy a large house and turn it into an orphanage and school,” Emily suggested. Some orphanages could be awful, but surely they could find a staff willing to work without treating the kids like monsters. “They’d have enough of an education to be able to repay him when they were adults. And he’d have a small army of loyal servants, willing to support him later on.”