Void's Tale Read online

  Lord Ashworth made a face. “The principality is really nothing more than a town, some countryside and a handful of mountain passes,” he said. “It would have been swallowed by a bigger kingdom by now, except for a combination of geography and political reality. Her neighbours - she has three - want her, but they don’t want their rivals getting their hands on her either. King Jonathon - he styles himself the just - has managed to play his neighbours against one another, through a mixture of threats and promises. It doesn’t hurt that Yolanda has a sizable magical community. King Jonathon himself may be a mage.”

  I nodded, impatiently.

  “We have been quietly monitoring the situation,” Lord Ashworth told me. “The White Council has been using it as an example of what the council can do, meditating disputes between kingdoms and arranging matters so everyone is reasonably happy. Keeping Yolanda independent, and the trade routes open, is in everyone’s interests.”

  “Of course,” I agreed. “And what does this have to do with me?”

  “A handful of magicians, including a top-rank alchemist, have gone missing,” Lord Ashworth said. “They were in Yolanda, all long-term residents. And we don’t know what’s happened to them.”

  “An alchemist,” I repeated. “Was he one of the ones with ... interesting ... ideas?”

  “She,” Lord Ashworth corrected. “And no, Layla wasn’t known for flights of fancy. There was certainly no suggestion she should take her experiments somewhere unpopulated, where she would be the only person at risk if something went badly wrong. She ran a simple apothecary and generally kept herself to herself. She had no partner, no children, no apprentice. The only reason we know she’s missing is because her former master didn’t get a letter from her.”

  I had no patience for his bullshit. “You mean, she was there to keep an eye on things for you,” I said. “And you lost contact with her.”

  Lord Ashworth didn’t bother to deny it. I wasn’t too surprised. House Ashworth had clients everywhere, as did the rest of the Great Houses. I’d long suspected they were used as a covert intelligence network, particularly the ones with no apparent links to the magical aristocracy. For all I knew, Layla might even be related - indirectly - to Lord Ashworth himself. She would hardly be the first member of magical aristocracy to set off on her own path, trying to forge a life for herself. And as long as she stayed in touch and made herself useful, her family wouldn’t care.

  “We made indirect inquiries,” Lord Ashworth said. “We were told she closed her shop and left. That would be so out of character for her that we know it’s not true. Further inquires revealed a number of other magicians going missing. It isn’t easy to keep track of magicians, and it isn’t uncommon for the more independent-minded to simply vanish after graduation, but somewhere between five and twelve magicians have gone missing.”

  “In Yolanda,” I said.

  “Yes,” Lord Ashworth confirmed. “They were all residents of the city.”

  “And not the sort of people who would simply vanish one day,” I mused. “What have you done about it?”

  “We cannot send an investigation team into the town,” Lord Ashworth said. “The politics are very delicate right now. If the monarch refuses to allow it, we cannot do it. We can’t even ask without risking a political crisis.”

  “That is true.” Hasdrubal looked as disgusted as I felt. “There is nothing, legally, that can be done.”

  “Really.” I met Lord Ashworth’s eyes. He looked away. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go to the town, find out what’s happening and report back to us,” Lord Ashworth said, bluntly. “We’ll decide what to do upon your return.”

  “If that is what you want,” I said, with heavy sarcasm, “it will be my pleasure to serve.”

  “Good,” Lord Ashworth said. He slapped a pair of gold coins on the table for the waitress, then stood. “You know where to find me when you have something to report.”

  He strode away. I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back. It was childish, but ... I’d put up with his sneers since I’d been a child. Even now, when he needed me, he sneered. I was going to make him pay for it, one day.

  “There are odder rumours coming out of the region,” Hasdrubal said. “One of them involves a necromancer.”

  I doubted it. The established necromancers were quite some distance to the south. There might be a newborn necromancer in Yolanda - the rite was terrifyingly easy - but there was no way he could escape notice. Not for long. The tiny kingdom would be knee-deep in bodies by now. The White Council would have all the excuse it needed to intervene. None of the surrounding kingdoms would argue.

  “I’ll sneak into the town, see what I can dig up,” I said. “But it isn’t a necromancer.”

  “No,” Hasdrubal agreed. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t something bad.”

  I couldn’t disagree. Magic could make monsters out of magicians. I knew that far too well.

  Chapter Two

  “Have you ever been here before?” Gabby was a sweet little girl, her magic a promise I hoped would flower in time. “Uncle?”

  I kept my face carefully bland. Gabby and Juliana - her mother - normally travelled alone. It had been child’s play to enchant them, convincing them I was a very distant relative from a cluster of magical bloodlines linked to their own. The secret to permanently enchanting someone was to let their own minds fill in the details, to cover any holes before they were ever consciously realised. It helped that I meant them no harm. Juliana was a travelling magician, with a speciality in charms. Her wards would have tried to rebuff me if I’d wanted to do anything beyond hitching a ride.

  “No,” I said, honestly. It felt strange to be called uncle, although it was the custom for distant relatives in the travelling families. Juliana had convinced herself we were too closely related to be partners, with - I will admit - a little nudge from me. “But it is a beautiful place.”

  I leaned back as the travelling convoy made its way towards Yolanda City, capital of the Principality of Yolanda. Lord Ashworth had been right to insist the city was really nothing more than a large town, not much bigger than Dragon’s Den. The Principality of Yolanda itself was small, located within a handful of mountain valleys that could be traversed within a day. And yet, it was the mountains that made the tiny kingdom so important. As long as it controlled the passes, it was effectively invulnerable. I’d read the reports as I’d made my way to the traveller camp. The king was definitely working a delicate balancing act with the surrounding countries.

  The view was gorgeous, I conceded. Towering mountains, their peaks hidden in the clouds; deep valleys, hidden within the rocks, filled with forests and lakes and wild animals. The roads were in good condition, better than many. A kingdom that depended on trade for its wealth couldn’t afford to make life hard for traders. It was a surprising show of common sense, coming from a monarch. My experience had taught me that most kings and princes were self-centred assholes. Earl Bitterhop, who’d suffered a tragic accident not too long ago, had put tariffs on traders to boost his revenues and then wondered where the traders - and his revenues - had gone.

  The convoy kept moving up the road, heading to the gates. Yolanda City seemed to be built into a mountain, the narrowing valley walls sealing off the city on two sides and forcing anyone who wanted to visit to come from one of two directions. The walls looked almost organic, as if they’d grown out of the mountain. I was fairly sure someone had used stonecarving magic to build the city, although it was hard to be sure. It was astonishing what one could find in tiny isolated kingdoms. A man could spend his entire life travelling, researching techniques unknown in more populated regions. My brothers and I had talked about it, back when we’d been young and foolish. There was a part of me that still wanted that life for myself.

  My eyes narrowed as I spied a giant statue just outside the gates. It was carved in the traditional style, making the subject look so muscular he’d probably fall over backwards or c
ollapse under his own weight. The subject was a young man, with a face so handsome I knew the carver had been given strict orders to blot out all imperfections. His stone hand rested on a stone sword as he struck a vigilant pose, ready to defend his kingdom against all comers. I rolled my eyes in disdain. Anyone who tried to hold that pose for more than a few seconds would be in no state to fight by the time the enemy came into view. And yet, there were some curious spells woven into the statue ...

  Gabby sighed. “He’s so handsome.”

  “He doesn’t look anything like as handsome in real life,” I told her. King or prince, I didn’t know. Either way, the statue told a lie. “Don’t let him trick you into thinking he’s a good guy.”

  “No,” Juliana agreed, as she clambered out of the rear of the caravan and took the reins. “Put not your trust in cityfolk.”

  I hid my amusement and settled back to wait. The travellers were almost brutally honest with one another. They might drive hard bargains - they haggled amongst themselves as savagely as they haggled with outsiders - but they never pretended to be anything other than what they were. They kept their word, even when it would be more advantageous to break it; they never lied, not even diplomatic lies. It often put them at odds with cityfolk. They often had to lie, cheat and steal to get ahead. It was no way to live.

  “Are you going to be staying here?” Juliana looked at me. “Or will you be coming with us further along the road?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. There were limits to how long I could stay. Juliana might be convinced I was a distant relative, and she was probably glad of an extra pair of skilled hands, but she wouldn’t want me to stay forever. I understood. The custom of always welcoming relatives had a few disadvantages. “It depends on what I find here.”

  I closed my mouth as the convoy shuddered to a halt in front of the gates. There shouldn’t have been more than a couple of guardsmen on duty in peacetime, but I counted seven guards standing by the gatehouse and five more on the battlements overhead. I was sure there’d be others waiting in the barracks, weapons at hand. They looked tough and professional, a far cry from the indolent city guardsmen I’d seen elsewhere. It looked as though the kingdom was preparing for war. I watched the convoy father - the elected leader of the convoy - talking to the guards, wondering if I’d have to abandon the caravan and sneak into the city. It wouldn’t be hard. I could levitate over the walls if necessary.

  The guards checked papers, then eyed the caravans as if they were considering searching them before allowing us into the city. It was surprising. Most guards knew better than to risk poking through magical convoys. The risk of being hexed - or worse - was just too high. And yet ... the gates opened, allowing us to make our way into the city. I frowned as we passed through the gatehouse. They’d readied boiling oil to greet unwelcome guests. It really did look as though they were preparing for war.

  Gabby had been chattering happily, but she fell silent as soon as we passed through the gate. Fear hung in the air. The streets were largely deserted. I saw a handful of men - no women - hurrying along the pavement, eyes lowered to the cobblestones. My eyes flickered from side to side, taking in the scene. The homes were built of gray stone, their doors firmly closed. Statues were everywhere, all showing the same aristocrat in a number of different poses, from brave warrior and leader of men to stern father and master of his country. It was hard to hide my contempt. Anyone who felt the need to promote himself so blatantly clearly suffered from more than a few insecurities. Perhaps that explained the soldiers on the gatehouse, too.

  They could be invaded at any moment, I thought. The town wouldn’t be easy to take, without magic, but an invading army wouldn’t need to storm the walls to bring the kingdom to heel. I doubted they’d stored enough food to feed the entire population long enough for help to arrive. They might be making a show of strength to disguise their weaknesses.

  I snorted, inwardly. That wasn’t going to work. Anyone conversant with power would pick out the insecurities and take advantage of them. There were hard limits on how many men the country could prepare for war, let alone put in the field. Yolanda’s real defence lay in its location, and its magic. And yet ... I didn't like the fear hanging in the air. It felt as if the entire town was holding its breath, waiting for something awful to happen.

  The silence seemed to grow worse as we made our way to the magical quarter. There were guards and soldiers on every corner, stamping up and down as though they owned the place. They looked depressingly alert, sharp eyes flickering over us ... they didn’t even linger on Juliana and the other women, even though traveller women had a reputation for being loose. That was odd, worrying even. What were they so afraid of? They wouldn’t have let us through the gatehouse if there’d been an invading army outside the walls, even if the army had been on the other side of the town.

  “It should be busier,” Juliana said, quietly.

  I nodded in agreement as we drove into the marketplace and found a spot. The magical quarter was livelier than the rest of the town - there were more cityfolk and less guardsmen on the streets - but it should have been busier. It should have been a lot more lively. I spotted a handful of shops, boarded up and heavily warded. Abandoned? It took a lot to convince magical shopkeepers to cut and run. The mobs knew better than to risk challenging the wards. Even invading armies would hesitate.

  I didn’t like the look of it at all.

  Lord Ashworth should have sent more spies, I thought. I jumped to the ground, then helped Gabby to scramble down. He clearly didn’t realise how bad things have become.

  Juliana opened the rear of the caravan, then started to pass down boxes of trade goods. I helped her with a will, payment for my passage. The travellers might feel obligations towards their relatives, but those relatives had obligations to them. too. If they wanted to travel with their fellows, they had to help out. I didn’t mind. Magical society operated on similar rules. And besides, it would help keep the charm in place.

  “Gabby will show you where to put everything,” Juliana said, as she cast a pair of spells to shelter the makeshift stall from the weather. “I have to talk to Toby.”

  I watched her go, then quietly tested her spells and reinforced them. Juliana wasn’t inept, not by any reasonable definition of the word, but she lacked raw power. She’d certainly never had the chance to go to Whitehall. Her charms wouldn’t hold up forever. Gabby darted around, dragging some boxes into the light while pushing others under the caravan. I gave her a hand, listening with some amusement as she ordered me around like a servant. She was a good kid, I decided. I hoped she’d have the chance to go to school.

  “That’s it, Uncle,” Gabby said. “Well done.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I straightened, making a show of rubbing my back as I looked around. Juliana was talking to the convoy father and a handful of others, their voices too low for me to hear without using magic. I kept looking around, my eyes lingering on the statues. They looked brave and noble and true, and yet there was something about them that made me uneasy. Golems? Homunculi? It was possible. A small army of stone warriors would be enough to stop invaders in their tracks.

  But there are spells they could use to shatter the statues, I thought. No one would risk relying on stone warriors to defend the kingdom indefinitely.

  Gabby caught my hand. “Can you teach me some magic? Mummy says I’m too young, but I can do it and ...”

  “You are too young,” I said. My father had pushed the limits of experimentation as far as they would go - and even he had hesitated to risk developing a child’s magic before they were old enough to handle it. Gabby’s magic would bubble out of control if she came into it too early, turning her into a deadly threat to everyone ... including herself. “Your mother is quite right.”

  “About what?” Juliana came up behind us, looking grim. “What am I right about?”

  “Nothing,” Gabby said, quickly.

  “Really.” Juliana shook her head. She s
ounded more resigned than angry. “She’s been pestering everyone to teach her magic.”

  I nodded. I’d wanted to learn magic at a young age, too. “It will come, in time.”

  “Yes,” Juliana agreed. “Can you go fetch our supplies? Gabby can go with you. She knows what to get.”

  “Of course,” I said. It was my duty - and besides, it would give me a chance to see the town properly. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Gabby seemed oddly nervous, the moment we stepped outside the marketplace. The fear struck us like a physical blow. It permeated the air, even on the magical streets. She clutched my hand and I let her, as my eyes scanned for threats. There were none. I couldn’t even see any footpads or pickpockets lurking in the alleyways. The handful of people on the streets shot us sidelong looks as we passed, but did nothing. It was astonishing. I’d never known a vibrant magical community to be so ... quenched.

  We kept walking, passing a handful of shops. Some were boarded up. One, I noted, belonged to Mistress Layla. She - or someone - had put up strong wards, in hopes of keeping out intruders. I tested them gently, then made a mental note to go back after dark to properly search the shop. The wards didn’t feel very individualistic. There was something so ... formal ... about their construction that suggested they’d been put together from a textbook. It was odd. An alchemist would normally tune their wards to meet their needs.