Chapter Ten

Where in the name of all of the gods was Johan?

Duncan Conidian tossed the question over and over in his mind, trying to think of a proper answer. There had been tracking spells attached to Johan, but none of them seemed to be working any longer. That was ... worrying. Jamal and Charity had both mastered the art of removing such spells, yet Jamal would hardly do anything for Johan and he’d threatened Charity with an awful fate if she even thought about removing the spells. As humiliating as it was for Johan to know that his father was watching him, it was far safer for him than letting him wander the streets without some protection. After all, he had none of his own.

But it was three days after he’d vanished and there had been nothing, nothing at all. Duncan couldn’t help imagining his body being found as the Inquisitors and City Guardsmen cleaned up after the riot, but surely someone would have notified him? Or perhaps not; Johan’s mere existence was a closely-guarded secret. The family would be shunned if the world knew that they had produced a Powerless. Johan might be dead and no one would ever know.

He’d made very quiet inquiries, but there had been no positive results and he didn’t dare push too hard. Even the people who were completely dependent on his patronage might turn against him if they knew about Johan, or start using the information for blackmail purposes. The family couldn’t take the risk, not when they had a chance to rise to the very highest levels of society. But where was Johan?

Jamal had come home, smirking from one side of his face to the other – and Duncan had interrogated him, wondering if Johan had been transfigured and abandoned somewhere. But Jamal had sworn blind that he’d had nothing to do with Johan’s disappearance and Duncan had been forced to believe him. Asking his eldest son and heir to swear on his magic would have been a grave insult, after all. And besides, whatever cruel tricks Jamal had played in the past, he had never really risked Johan’s life.

Not that you did much to stop it, he told himself, angrily. Once, he’d thought that Jamal’s bullying would bring out the magic he was so sure lurked inside Johan. And then he’d stopped thinking about his second son altogether. It had been easier to turn a blind eye than face the fact that his bloodline had produced a Powerless. Jamal had been right, all those years ago. Johan should have had his memory modified and been sent to an orphanage. Cruel, but kinder than endless taunting from his siblings.

There was a tap on the door.

“Come in,” he snapped. The hesitant sound told him that it was almost certainly one of the maids. “And it had better be important!”

May stepped into the room, her eyes downcast. Jamal had hired her purely because of her looks, Duncan knew – and she was a looker. Duncan didn’t care – his son should learn to be a man in all ways and experimenting with a maid was far less dangerous than flirting with the daughter of another magical family – but Jamal had moved on after a few months of having May in his bed. She’d since tried to seduce Duncan himself, fearful for her position in the household. Duncan’s reaction had taught her never to try that again.

“The Druid Zacharias is at the door,” May whispered. Her voice was barely loud enough to be heard, unsurprisingly. She was absolutely terrified of him. “He wishes to speak with you urgently.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. The druid? He’d called Zacharias three days ago for yet another series of tests on Johan; he certainly hadn’t expected to see him again for another year, where they might run yet more tests. Zacharias was lean and hungry, ready to do anything for gold coins, something that made him more than a little untrustworthy. No one knew better than Duncan just how easily oaths could be subverted by a devious magician.

“Send him in,” he ordered. “And then wait outside.”

May bowed and retreated. Duncan cast a handful of concealing charms over his desk – he didn’t want Zacharias to see anything he didn’t have to – and then waited for May to show the druid back into his office. Zacharias looked ... keen. That bothered Duncan more than he wanted to admit. The druid definitely knew something ... and wanted something else in exchange.

“There have been developments,” Zacharias said. “Are you aware that your son Johan was taken to the hospital?”

Duncan stared at him, his feelings torn between relief and fear. Johan was safe ... but if they’d tested him, they’d know he was Powerless. And if they’d actually identified him ...

“... No,” he said, finally. “But it is a relief to hear that he is safe.”

Zacharias smiled. “He may also have developed magic,” he said.

It took Duncan several seconds to understand what the druid had said. “Magic?”

“Magic,” Zacharias repeated.

Duncan swallowed, feeling hope swelling inside his heart. “If this is a joke, or a hoax,” he said, “I swear to you that you will regret it.”

“He was apparently caught up in the riot three days ago,” Zacharias explained, pretending to ignore the threat. “For some reason, he was out of it for two days, during which time he was cared for by the Head Librarian and an Inquisitor. As he was one of my patients, I managed to take a look at his record. The tests definitely detected magic.”

His smile grew wider. “And they did some experiments when he awoke,” he added. “One of them apparently damaged the wards in the hospital room.”

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. Unsurprisingly, 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.