Bookworm III Read online

  Bracing herself, she stepped up to the orb and touched it lightly. Instantly, the magic solidified around her and peered into her mind, leaving her feeling naked as it inspected her on a very intimate level. Long seconds passed before the feeling retreated, allowing her to inspect the innermost workings of the Great Library’s wards. From here, she could make all the changes she wanted and none but the Grand Sorceress could gainsay her. And, with her knowledge of how the wards actually worked, she might well be able to seal the building off from everyone. But it would leave her trapped inside ...

  She pushed the temptation aside and started to work. Vane was already added to the wards, of course, as her deputy. All she really had to do was prime the system, then add Vane once she arrived in the chamber. And then Vane could carry the wards until the Grand Sorceress appointed Elaine’s successor. Vane had thought that Elaine would be back, sooner or later, but Elaine had told her otherwise. Even if they succeeded in finding the Witch-King and destroying him for good, they would still have to worry about Johan’s true nature being revealed. It would be better if they found a place to stay out of the way and hid there, indefinitely.

  And, her thoughts mocked her, would Johan want to stay with you for the rest of his life?

  The wards shimmered, suddenly, as a message was sent through them to her. “My Lady,” the desk attendant said, “there are two Inquisitors here to see you.”

  Elaine sucked in her breath, then glanced at her watch. The Travellers were punctual to the extreme; if they said they would leave in two hours, they meant it. They weren’t parked very far from the Great Library – the Golden City was tiny, hemmed in by the mountains – but the task of handing the wards to Vane would take nearly an hour. She would have to help Vane through the early stages of the transition, after all ...

  ... But she couldn’t refuse to see the Inquisitors.

  “I’m on my way,” she said. “Show them to my office” – she paused, trying to think if she’d left anything incriminating in plain view – “and offer them drinks, if they want it.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the desk attendant said.

  Elaine sighed, then pulled back from the orb. As always, there was a sense of disorientation whenever she let go of the supervisory wards, as if she’d been staring into a bright light that had suddenly blinked out of existence. There were stories of people who built themselves elaborate wards and had then been unable to disengage their minds, as if the wards were so much a part of them that they just couldn’t let go. The Great Library wasn’t that personal – the building was over a thousand years old, far older than Elaine herself – but if it had been, Elaine suspected she would have found it impossible to go. Even now, the thought of permanently separating herself from the library was horrific.

  Muttering curses under her breath, she turned and walked out of the chamber, stepping through the labyrinth as though it wasn’t there. Vane was waiting outside, her pretty face torn between anticipation and fear. If she served well enough as Head Librarian, she might inherit the job permanently, but it would destroy any hopes she had of a career outside the Great Library. But then, as a younger daughter of a lesser house, she couldn’t reasonably expect anything greater.

  And I became Head Librarian, Elaine thought. There was no requirement for aristocratic birth to serve in the Great Library. Compared to Elaine, or her predecessor, Vane looked ideal for the job. I was a no-kin orphan and Miss Prim was a thief.

  “My Lady,” Vane said. “What do you think they want?”

  “The Inquisitors?” Elaine asked. “I have no idea.”

  She shrugged, expressively. Inquisitors were hardly uncommon visitors to the Great Library, either investigating reports of magic being misused or researching precedents for court cases in the Watchtower. And Inquisitor Dread, at least, was a friend, insofar as Inquisitors could have friends. She’d come to rely on him more than she cared to admit.

  “I’ll speak to them, then meet you back here,” she said. Hopefully, she could dismiss the Inquisitors quickly. Otherwise, she would have to send a message asking Johan to come back to the library, leaving them to find some other way to leave the city. “Just wait for me here.”

  “Of course, My Lady,” Vane said.

  Elaine sighed inwardly – Vane was the kind of girl she’d always envied and hated at the Peerless School, even if she was a decent person – and then turned and walked up the corridor, back towards her office. The passageways were empty now, not entirely to her surprise; no one, not even an innocent student, wanted to be anywhere near an Inquisitor. Their black robes brought back memories of crimes long forgotten, crimes that were objectively minor, but subjectively terrible. And if an Inquisitor felt like interrogating someone, he could ...

  ... And only the Grand Sorceress, his ultimate superior, could say no.

  She sighed, again. Memories that weren’t hers – memories that were really composites from a thousand books – rose up within her mind, mocking her. There were good reasons for the Inquisitors to exist, she knew, reasons that could not be taken lightly. And yet she’d resented her first meeting with Dread, knowing that he could have made it a great deal worse. In truth, she’d managed to escape very lightly.

  And you practically lied to him, her thoughts reminded her. He could have arrested or killed you for that, couldn’t he?

  Someone had stuck a ward on her office door, warning all and sundry to keep out unless they had permission to enter. Elaine braced herself, then pushed against the ward. Unsurprisingly, it yielded at once. Someone had keyed it specifically to allow her to enter the room, without resistance. A quick check revealed that the ward was also keyed to prevent her from leaving the room, at least without an Inquisitor. She was growing to be an expert at dismantling wards, but it would take her several minutes and her wand to remove the ward to the point she could make her escape. By then, the Inquisitors would catch her.

  Bracing herself, feeling a cold trickle of uncertainty prickling down the back of her spine, Elaine walked forward, into her office.

  “Gentlemen,” she said.

  She’d hoped to see Dread or one of the other Inquisitors she knew personally. Instead, both of them were unfamiliar, their faces half-hidden behind glamours. She would have known who they were, if she’d known them personally; instead, their faces were blurred slightly, just enough to make identification impossible. They were both strongly muscular men, wearing black hooded robes and carrying staffs; one of them was standing in front of her desk, while the other was standing against the far wall. It looked faintly absurd to her, but she kept that thought off her face with an effort. This was clearly more serious than she had realised.

  The Grand Sorceress must have sent them, Elaine thought. It was the only explanation that made sense. But why?

  “Gentlemen,” she said. “I’m afraid this will have to be a short conversation.”

  “It will,” one of the Inquisitors said. “Lady Elaine No-Kin?”

  Elaine nodded, although she was only a Lady by courtesy. And, while she knew who her father was now, it wasn’t something she wanted to acknowledge. Technically, there should have been a reference to Johan in her name too, but she hadn’t added it officially. Too many people would have wondered why she bothered when Johan was supposed to be dead.

  “Yes,” she said, clearly. “Might I ask ...”

  The Inquisitor took a step forward, tapping his staff against the floor. “By direct order of His Majesty the Emperor,” he said, “you are under arrest.”

  Elaine stared at him, dimly aware that the other Inquisitor was moving up and around behind her. The Emperor? There was no Emperor – and there hadn’t been an Emperor for over a thousand years. But the Inquisitors seemed perfectly serious – she glanced at their hands, just to check they were wearing the skull-rings of real Inquisitors – and then back up at the leader’s face. There was no hint of humour or amusement in his cold stare. He genuinely believed what he was saying.

  She finally manag
ed to speak. “There is no Emperor.”

  “The Emperor has returned and assumed his Throne,” the second Inquisitor said. His voice was completely flat, revealing nothing of his thoughts or feelings. But if he was telling the truth, Elaine knew, what he felt was immaterial. Inquisitors were sworn to obey the Emperor before all else, even the Grand Sorceress. “And he has ordered your arrest.”

  The Witch-King, Elaine thought, mutely. Rumour had given the last Emperor thousands upon thousands of royal bastards, although – as that had been over a thousand years ago – the tales had probably grown in the telling. Anyone who actually shared the Imperial Bloodline probably wouldn’t know it, unless they sat in the Golden Throne ... and, as the Throne killed anyone who didn’t share the bloodline, there were few people willing to risk their lives on the slight chance of becoming supreme ruler of the world. But the Witch-King, with his genius for plans that stretched over millennia, could have preserved some of the bloodline in a remote part of the world ...

  ... And then brought a distant descendant forward to claim his birthright.

  “I see,” she said, hopelessly stunned. She tried desperately to play for time, utterly unsure of what to do. What had happened to Light Spinner? Surely she would not tamely surrender power to a faux Emperor. “And the Grand Sorceress?”

  “The Grand Sorceress has been removed from power,” the Inquisitor said, firmly. “She is no longer any of your concern.”

  He made a simple gesture with his hand. Elaine’s wand leapt from her belt and into his hand; he glanced down at it for a long moment, then dropped it into a pocket on his robes. She took a step backwards, only to walk right into the Inquisitor behind her. He caught her arms and tugged them behind her back, holding her firmly in place. His protections shimmered against her magic, making it impossible for her to cast any spells. She wanted to struggle, but he was holding her too tightly to escape.

  The first Inquisitor removed a wand from his belt and pointed it at Elaine’s face. It glinted silver, which set off alarm bells in Elaine’s head. There were spells – nasty spells – that could only be cast with a silver wand. Panic shot through her mind as she realised what he intended to do, but she was held too tightly to allow her to break free. There was a sudden flare of magic ...

  ... And a spell crashed right into her mind.

  Chapter Five

  Elaine almost lost the fight within the first five seconds.

  The spell would have beaten her if she’d been a normal magician, the reflective part of her mind noted, even as she fought desperately to ward it away from her soul. Any normal magician, faced with a compulsion and obedience spell, would attempt to push it back, focusing their mind on the intruder until it was forced out of their thoughts. But this spell, known only to Inquisitors – and Elaine – actually took advantage of standard countermeasures. Concentrating on the spell would only make it more powerful and dangerous.

  She staggered as the spell infested her mind, burning through her protections with a chilling casual ease. The spell, only written down in the Black Vault, was powerful, too powerful. It didn’t just burn through her thoughts, it sought to twist them permanently. And it had been forbidden, then largely forgotten, because its effects were far too close to permanent. Even if she managed to thrust it out of her mind, it would leave its calling card on her thoughts.

  “She’s resisting,” she heard one of the Inquisitors said, in tones of awe. “I thought that was impossible.”

  “You were told to take her seriously,” the other Inquisitor said. His grip on her wrists hadn’t slacked, even for a second. “She was a Privy Councillor. The Grand Sorceress wouldn’t have appointed her to the council if she hadn’t been quite remarkable.”

  Elaine barely heard them over the roaring in her mind. The spell was howling through her thoughts, forcing her to acknowledge its presence – and every time she admitted to herself it was there, it weakened her defences. No wonder it was so hard to remove, she noted; it didn’t just take over her body and soul, it left them permanently warped, if the spell wasn’t removed in time. Even the Inquisitors only used it as a last-ditch method for compelling obedience, not least because there were hundreds of other spells that didn’t have such ghastly side-effects. But the Emperor – whoever he was – had to be taking her seriously.

  It was hard, so hard, to protect the innermost recesses of her mind without looking at the threat, but she had no choice. The tidal waves washing against her defences only had power if she thought about them, yet it was almost impossible to build her barricades without knowing what she was facing. It was like picking her way through a room with her eyes pressed firmly shut, knowing that opening them meant death. If she hadn’t spent months building up new and interesting ways to make the magic she had go further, it would have beaten her.

  It’s a draw, she told herself, as she opened her eyes. The spell is held at bay, but I can’t force it out of my mind.

  “The spell holds her,” the first Inquisitor said. He waved his wand at Elaine’s head, scanning the magic running through her body. “Barely.”

  “But enough,” the second Inquisitor said. He let go of Elaine’s wrists, allowing her to stand limp. “Search the room for anything interesting.”

  Elaine barely felt anything as her captor checked her pockets, removing the pair of notebooks and pens she kept with her at all times, then ran his hands over her body calmly and professionally. It felt almost as if she was watching it happen to someone else, as if she were detached from her own body, as if it was almost a dream. The Inquisitor removed the ankle chain she wore, then placed it and the notebooks in his robes. Once, she would have been outraged at losing her chain. Now, it was hard to feel anything.

  The spell is working its way into my thoughts, she realised. Stalemated in its first attempt to overwhelm her, the spell was oozing its way around her defences, hunting for weaknesses and gaps it could exploit. She dreaded to think what would happen when the time came to fall asleep. Her defences wouldn’t hold under ceaseless pressure and when she woke up, she would be a slave. Unless they removed the spell first ...

  Or I find a way to do it, she thought. But it was so hard to concentrate without weakening her defences. She cursed the spell’s inventor in her thoughts – she couldn’t imagine what sort of monster would devise and use such a spell – then started to probe though her stockpiles of knowledge. There’s no other way to escape.

  She tried to reach out, to touch the library’s wards. But the link refused to form.

  “You will come with us,” the first Inquisitor said. “You will walk normally, but you will speak to no one as we leave the library and travel to the palace.”

  Elaine felt her body twitch, then start to obey. The haze infesting her thoughts made it impossible to resist, even if she had been able to consider it. If she’d put up any sort of fight, she knew all too well, they would have hammered her into the ground and then dragged her to the palace. Besides, the spell was in control of her body, at least to some degree. She was obeying their commands, after all. It was a horrific sensation, all the worse for knowing that the spell was doing permanent damage. She might never truly recover.

  She forced herself to concentrate on building additional defences as her body walked through the door and out into the corridor. The Inquisitors followed her, walking as if they were merely accompanying her on her travels, rather than escorting a prisoner. Part of her mind found that absurdly hopeful – she would have been too embarrassed to show her face if she’d been marched through the streets in handcuffs – but the rest of her knew better. It wasn’t as if anyone would come to her rescue, even if they had known something was wrong. The Inquisitors weren’t just capable magicians, they were powerful. It was what allowed them to uphold the system that underpinned the Empire.

  A handful of students gaped at the Inquisitors as they walked through the lobby, then hastily scattered. They probably had guilty consciences, Elaine thought sourly; couldn’t they tell that
something was very wrong? But the spell controlling her limbs made it impossible for anyone to tell that she wasn’t moving under her own power ... she cursed herself again for recognising the spell’s existence. Every time she noted it was there, it gained an advantage in the struggle to take over her soul.

  Cold air slapped her face as they walked outside, reminding her that the spells that kept the Golden City temperate all year had failed. Light Spinner had been working to fix them, she recalled as she shivered helplessly, but the spells were so old and ingrained into the city that even a team of dedicated workers couldn’t fix them. Fashions had changed, Elaine noted, seeing just how many people were wrapped up warmly on the streets. Once, students of both sexes had worn revealing clothes, showing off their bodies. Now, almost everyone was wearing heavy woollen jumpers, charmed to keep the cold away. She had a feeling that there were plenty of students who mourned the change in the weather.

  One of the Inquisitors cast a warming spell as the wind started to blow against her face, pushing back her hair. Elaine was almost grateful, even though she knew it was just a courtesy rather than a gesture of apology for arresting her. She gritted her teeth as the spell made her walk onwards, wondering absently why so few people were paying attention to her and her unwanted companions. But then, anyone who paid attention to Inquisitors risked attracting their attention in return.

  Everyone is guilty of something, Dread had once said, cynically. And so they hide from us whenever they can.

  She wondered, suddenly, what had happened to Dread, before reminding herself she should be grateful for his absence. Dread had sworn the same oaths as her companions, oaths that would bind him to obey the Emperor ... whoever he was. If he’d been with them, he would have had to cast the spell ... she would have seen it as a betrayal, even though he would have had no choice. Inquisitors were rarely released from their oaths – it had only happened a handful of times in their thousand-year history – and they were never disobedient. The oaths wouldn’t let them disobey.