Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12) Read online

  Frieda didn’t look impressed. Emily didn’t blame her. She’d gone from a mountain village to Mountaintop, then to Whitehall and Zangaria. Beneficence had to look chaotic to her, a melange of people jammed together on a small island. The city was roughly the same size as Manhattan Island, Emily thought, with far too many people crammed into its towering buildings. Indeed, some buildings along the edge of the cliff face had clearly been built on top of other, older buildings. The line of runes carved into the stone probably helped keep them upright. Emily hoped, for the sake of the inhabitants, that the magic never failed. The entire structure might collapse under its own weight.

  You can build a house out of clouds, with enough magic, she thought. Beneficence didn’t seem to have made that mistake, thankfully. The spells were common knowledge – and almost never used. And if the magic fails, you’ll plummet to your death.

  She listened, absently, as Caleb talked about the virtues of a cosmopolitan city. Beneficence drew on ideas from all over the world, ranging from complex spells to new building techniques…even their cooking drew on ideas from far and wide. In addition, Beneficence had become a center of the New Learning, spreading ideas across the world. Emily wondered, as they passed a pair of sailors who eyed Frieda and her with interest, what they’d say if they knew she’d founded the New Learning. Would they believe it was her?

  “You’ll like this,” Caleb said, as they reached the edge of the docks. “You probably designed its grandfather.”

  Emily’s eyes went wide as she saw the funicular. A small car – practically a tiny railway carriage – sat at the bottom of the track, its twin perched at the top. A steam engine puffed to life as the carriages began to move, one heading up the track while the other slid down. She couldn’t help smiling as she realized what a particularly ingenious engineer had built. A funicular might normally be powered by humans – there were plenty of slaves in the city – but this one drew on steam. It was probably nowhere near as efficient as an electric motor, yet it advertised the potentials of steam technology to the entire world.

  Caleb led them to the ticket booth and handed over a couple of coins. Emily followed him into the car, looking around with interest. Someone had pulled out all the stops, furnishing the interior with luxury seats and even a small bar…she shook her head with wry amusement at the sight. The trip would only take five minutes. They wouldn’t be in the car long enough to have a drink. She turned her head to peer up the track and saw a stylized golden ‘V’ carved into the metal framework. Another was clearly displayed on the upper station. Anyone coming into the Caldron could probably see it, if they bothered to look.

  “That’s Vesperian’s symbol,” Caleb said. He stepped up beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “He’s one of the richest men in the city, Emily, and he owes it all to you.”

  “Watch your hand,” Frieda called. “And behave.”

  Emily felt her cheeks heat as Caleb pulled back. “You don’t need to be that careful,” she said, embarrassed. “We’ll behave.”

  Frieda smirked. “Lady Barb made me promise to protect you,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “And I don’t want to disappoint her.”

  “No one wants to disappoint her,” Emily said.

  She felt a pang of sadness. She’d hoped that Lady Barb would accompany her to Beneficence, but Lady Barb had stayed with Sergeant Miles instead. Now that the necromancer was dead, the vast army that had assembled to defend Tarsier was breaking up and making its way home. Emily wasn’t sure why Sergeant Miles had needed to stay in Farrakhan to assist Lord Alcott in disbanding the host, but he apparently hadn’t had a choice. Half the other combat sorcerers had already returned to the White City, where Master Bone was facing an inquest. He might not have known that Gaius was a spy and a traitor, but he still had some pretty sharp questions to answer.

  A low rattle echoed through the car, followed by a series of jerks. She and Caleb sat down hastily as the car started to move, inching its way up the track. Frieda giggled as she looked up, watching the other car heading down towards them. Emily knew – she hoped she knew – that it was perfectly safe, but it still looked ominous as the other car flashed past and headed to the bottom. Their car rattled into the upper station a moment later, the conductor unlatching the doors. Outside, the giant ‘V’ was everywhere.

  “Welcome back.” Caleb’s voice turned regretful. “I wish you’d come under happier circumstances.”

  “So do I,” Emily said. She’d found Beneficence to be a fascinating city, the last time she’d visited. “Caleb…”

  Caleb squeezed her hand. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said, softly. “I…”

  The streets were crowded, Emily realized, as they came out of the station. Thousands of people were hurrying from place to place as though their lives depended on them being on time. A long line of sailors headed down the ladders to the docks, choosing not to ride the funicular. It was probably too expensive for them, she reasoned. Indeed, she couldn’t help wondering if it made enough to offset the original investment and running costs. There didn’t seem to be any shortage of coolies carrying goods up the ladders and taking them into the city.

  She took a breath and regretted it, instantly. The omnipresent stench of fish mingled with the scent of a primitive city: shit and piss, sweat and horse dung. Beneficence had slaves who were employed merely to clear the streets – as well as a reasonably modern plumbing system – but it still stank. She hated to think of how many diseases might be breeding in the streets. London had had a nasty outbreak of cholera that had been traced back to a single water pump.

  Caleb pushed his way onwards, into the crowd. Emily gritted her teeth as she followed him, clutching to his hand as through it were a life preserver. She’d never liked crowds. Frieda stayed next to Emily, one hand raised in a casting pose. She probably didn’t like crowds either. It was a relief when the crowds started to thin out…

  “You came in with the morning tide,” Caleb said, once they had some room to themselves. “I think everyone in the city is either going to the docks or leaving them.”

  Emily nodded, feeling sweat trickle down her back. Two-thirds of the city’s economy depended on fishing or trade. No wonder so many people wanted to get down the ladders and onto the docks. And yet…she hoped General Pollack didn’t have any trouble getting the coffin up to the house. She didn’t pretend to understand why the general wanted to take an empty coffin home, but she respected his choice. It meant something to him.

  The streets still thrummed with life. A handful of broadsheet singers shouted at the top of their lungs, inviting potential customers to buy a broadsheet and read the latest set of exclusives. Emily smiled as she saw the broadsheets, spotting a couple of titles she recognized from Cockatrice. The original broadsheet boom had slowed as the market grew saturated – too many printers had tried to go into the newspaper business – but the survivors were turning into reputable establishments. Their reputation for telling the truth was far stronger than any herald’s.

  That will change, she thought, cynically. But people here worship the written word.

  “I picked up a copy,” Frieda said, nodding towards one of the sellers. “There were only a couple of lines about the war.”

  “Too far away for most people to be interested,” Emily pointed out. Beneficence was one of the most cosmopolitan cities on the Nameless World, but Tarsier and Farrakhan were still thousands of miles away. Farrakhan wasn’t even on any of the major trade routes. “They wouldn’t notice the war unless it impinged on them.”

  She frowned as they turned into a street lined with temples. Incense hung in the air, a cloyingly sweet smell that made her head swim. Large crowds were gathered outside the larger buildings, either waiting to join the service or chatting as they hurried down the street; street preachers stood on the pavement, calling to passersby. People glanced nervously at a set of statues, positioned outside one of the largest temples. Emily shuddered as she followed their gaze. The
statues were…grotesque. They looked as though they were screaming in agony. The Nameless World worshipped some pretty odd things – there were cults everywhere – but the statues’ aura chilled her to the bone.

  “Caleb,” she said. “What are they?”

  Caleb frowned. “It depends on who you believe,” he said, as he tugged her on. “I’ve been told they were Judged.”

  “Judged?”

  “By Justice,” Caleb said. “The witnesses claim that they saw the god petrify them.”

  Frieda looked up at him, disturbed. “Those are people?”

  “A number of sorcerers claim they’re just statues.” Caleb’s face darkened. “But if they are statues…what happened to the missing people?”

  Emily shuddered. The Gorgon had petrified her, once. It had been an accident, but Emily knew she’d come far too close to losing herself. If her mind had faded away completely, she would have died. And the only thing left would have been a perfect stone statue. If the victims had been petrified, their souls destroyed…

  “Surely the sorcerers could have done something,” she said.

  “If they were transfigured, the sorcerers should have been able to transfigure them back,” Caleb said. “But they insist that the statues are just…statues.”

  Frieda had a more practical question. “How many?”

  “There are five known statues,” Caleb said. “Rumor says that there are more, many more.”

  Emily glanced around. She wasn’t the most sensitive of people, but even she could sense an…edge in the air. The crowd was nervous. Fear clung to them warning her to be careful. The people on the street knew something was badly wrong. Even the chanting from some of the temples seemed curiously muted.

  A trio of red-robed men appeared from one of the temples and headed down the street. The crowd parted to allow them to pass, their expressions fearful. Emily’s eyes narrowed, remembering the last time she’d seen the men. The Hands of Justice, if she recalled correctly. They were the closest thing she’d seen to religious policemen.

  Caleb hurried her through a maze of streets, coming out near a row of banks. Lines of people waited outside, their faces torn between enthusiasm and a kind of nameless dread they didn’t seem to want to acknowledge. A mid-sized line of people outside the Bank of Silence quietly waited for…something. She promised herself, silently, that she would see Markus as soon as possible. The line of armed guards – and enhanced protective spells – surrounding the banks didn’t reassure her.

  “We’ll have to go to the temple tomorrow,” Caleb said. “And then…”

  He glanced at Emily, then Frieda. “What would you want to do?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Emily said, as they rounded the corner and walked into the magical district. “It depends.”

  She braced herself as she sensed the magic in the air, tingling against her wards. A pair of street magicians were playing with fire, young children clapping and cheering as they swallowed hot coals and breathed out gouts of flame. No one above the age of seven looked interested, she noted. Anyone raised among magicians would know that such tricks were simplicity itself, the spells so basic that anyone with a gram of talent could cast them. Behind them, a suspiciously intelligent horse was showing off its math skills. She studied the creature for a long moment, then rolled her eyes as she realized that the horse was actually a transfigured human. The watching crowd didn’t seem to care.

  “By tradition, there will be five days until the funeral,” Caleb said. His words jerked her awareness back to him. “We’ll have time to explore the city.”

  “I need to visit the bank,” Emily said. “After that…”

  “I’d better come with you,” Frieda said. “Who knows what you’d get up to in the bank?”

  Caleb looked annoyed. Emily didn’t blame him.

  “Mother wants to have a word with you, after dinner,” Caleb said, making a deliberate effort to change the subject. “I suspect it has something to do with the courtship.”

  Emily resisted the urge to groan. “I look forward to it,” she lied. She didn’t think Caleb was fooled. “Caleb…”

  “I understand,” Caleb said. “But it has to be done.”

  True, Emily thought. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  Chapter Three

  CALEB’S HOUSE LOOKED SMALL, ON THE outside. It was a granite building, its dark stone exterior lined with protective runes. It did not appear large enough for a big family. And yet, merely owning the house proved that Caleb and his family were wealthy. Land was hideously expensive in Beneficence. There was a good chance that Caleb and his siblings would never be able to purchase their own homes. They’d have to go elsewhere if they wanted to own their own land.

  She felt her heart start to pound as Caleb let go of her hand and tapped on the door, pressing his palm against a concealed anchorstone. The wards grew stronger, reaching out to brush against Emily’s magic and confirm her identity. She hadn’t expected to be keyed into the wards, but it was still a surprise when they took nearly five minutes to scrutinize her before the door clicked open. Caleb’s mother stood in the opening, her dark eyes peering narrowly at Emily.

  Emily nerved herself to look back as evenly as she could. Mediator Sienna of House Waterfall was a tall woman, a head taller than Emily, her hair a shade or two darker than Emily’s own. She looked, in many ways, like an older version of Caleb…older, perhaps, than she’d been a year ago. It felt longer, far longer, since Emily had last seen her. Emily could barely believe that it had been only nine months since she’d visited Beneficence.

  “Emily,” Sienna said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. “I bid you welcome to my house.”

  “I thank you,” Emily managed. She forced herself to fumble through the ritual. “I pledge to hold my hand in your house.”

  Sienna studied her for a long moment, then turned and led the way into the hall. Emily followed, looking around with interest. Someone had hung a surprisingly accurate portrait of Casper on the near wall, surrounded by black ribbon. Casper looked grimly resolute as he faced down a shadowy form. There was no sign of Emily or anyone else. Even the necromancer was just a dark shape. But she had to admit that the portrait conveyed the right message: Casper had laid down his life in defense of the Allied Lands.

  “Remove your cloaks and make your devotions, then join us in the parlor,” Sienna ordered, curtly. “My husband will meet you there.”

  Emily undid her cloak and hung it on the stand, then glanced at the household god. It was a tiny statue, carved to resemble a stern-faced man…probably one of the founders of House Waterfall. A single candle burned in front of the statuette, flickering randomly in all directions. It looked as though the wind was trying to blow it out, but there was no wind. A chill ran down her spine as she bowed to the statue, feeling faintly ridiculous. It was probably just magic. She’d seen no real evidence that the gods truly existed.

  But you have met beings of immense power, she reminded herself, as Frieda knelt in front of the statue. Does that not imply the gods might be real too?

  Caleb reached out and took her hand. “Mother hasn’t taken Casper’s death well,” he whispered.

  Emily nodded. She’d lost Grandmaster Hasdrubal, but he’d been over a hundred years old when he’d died. Sienna was mourning a son who should have outlived her by decades…who would have outlived her, if he hadn’t gone to war. And with all the rumors swirling around, Sienna had to wonder just what had really happened at Heart’s Eye. Emily, Lady Barb and Void were the only ones who knew the full story.

  She looked up at Caleb. She’d planned to tell him about Heart’s Eye, when they had some privacy. Frieda might as well hear about the former school at the same time. The idea of using the building – her building – to create a university was appealing. They’d planned to do it even before the war. Now…now they could make their dream real.

  Caleb bowed to the god, then turned to lead them through the door. Emily followed him into a comfor
table sitting room. Another painting hung over the far wall, showing a young child sitting on a stool. It took her a moment to realize that it was a seven-year-old Casper. The artist had been good, good enough to capture the essence of Casper’s personality. She couldn’t help wondering just how Casper had been bribed to remain still long enough for the artist to complete the preliminary sketches. Emily had been forced to sit for two portraits and she’d hated every second of it.

  The sooner we invent cameras, the better, she thought.

  “Karan, Marian,” Caleb said. “Bid welcome to our guest.”

  Emily forced herself to smile as Karan and Marian rose to their feet. Karan looked very much like her mother, with a face full of character rather than conventionally pretty. Marian was blonde, but the bubbly young girl Emily remembered was gone, replaced by a somber teenager who eyed her through bright blue eyes. Magic flickered and flared around her…she’d be fourteen now, Emily thought. She’d clearly come into her magic earlier than usual. It was rare for anyone to enter Whitehall below fifteen, but Emily suspected an exception would be made for Sienna’s daughter.

  Someone’s clearly been teaching her, Emily thought, as the younger girls embraced her. She might never need to go to school.

  “You are welcome in this house.” Sienna sat in a comfortable armchair, her back ramrod straight. “Please, be seated. Karan will fetch the drinks.”

  Emily sat on the sofa, feeling out of place. Caleb moved to sit next to her, but a sharp look from his mother sent him hurrying to a small armchair. Emily felt her cheeks heat – again – as Frieda sat down, her face expressionless. Emily knew her well enough to realize she was nervous. She was even more out of place in the house than Emily herself.

  She took a glass from Karan – a fruit juice, she thought – and waited. No one seemed inclined to start the conversation, not even Marian. She’d definitely changed. Had Casper’s death affected her that badly? Perhaps it had…Casper had been a bit of a bully to Caleb, but he might have treated his younger sisters better.