Original Work The King's Secret (The Zero Enigma)

Hi, everyone

The Kings Secret is more or less a direct sequel to The Alchemists Secret, which is itself a continuation of the story that began in The Zero Secret and continued with The Family Secret. It stars the main point of view characters of The Kings Man and The Lady Heiress, (confused yet?) As they struggle to cope with the combination of the growing magic crisis and a full-scale invasion of their homeland by the nation’s enemies. I will try to make it as self-contained as possible, but I think you really need to be familiar with the universe to follow it.

You can download the very first book in the universe, The Zero Blessing, from Kindle Unlimited (link below) and I will supply copies of the other books to anyone who is willing to provide comments and feedback to the current project. Just drop me a private message if interested.

Complicating matters, my family and I are going on holiday in two weeks. I will try to keep up with the story as much as possible, but there will be delays. I apologise for any confusion this may cause.

The Zero Blessing - The Chrishanger

The rest of the universe - The Chrishanger

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Prologue (Five Years Before Now)

Hans tried, desperately, to hide his resentment as he made his way to the schoolhouse.

It was a rule that all children had to have at least two days in school per week, at least until they came of age, and no one made any exceptions for peasants, apprentices and others who had no realistic hope of earning the grades they needed to join the civil service or become one of the king’s warlocks. Hans had tried his hardest, but he’d never managed to cast so much as a simple spell, let alone master the basics of reading, writing, and a hundred other skills one needed to rise in the world. He’d been lucky his uncle had agreed to take him on as an apprentice – there was always room for a new apprentice at a blacksmith’s forge – and going to school now felt like a sick joke, a waste of time when he could be learning the trade. But the law was the law. The last family that refused to send their children to school had been taken away and no one had ever laid eyes on them again, driving the lesson home.

The schoolhouse was a towering building of red brick, a waste of resources that could have built a dozen private houses, something the village desperately needed. It was easily large enough to house the hundreds of schoolchildren, from eight to sixteen, shambling towards the gates, their movements making it clear they wanted to be somewhere – anywhere – else. He frowned as he saw the handful of horses outside, their caparisons marked with the king’s livery, then hastily lowered his eyes when he saw the young woman standing behind them, her gaze flickering over the children as they walked past her and into the school. It was rare to see a young woman in a position of authority, which meant she was almost certainly a powerful sorceress as well as being of noble blood. Hans felt an odd little prickle as her eyes passed over his body, a faint sense of unease running through him. He half expected to find himself turning into a frog. But instead, he walked into the school and directly to the assembly hall. It was disturbingly quiet.

Hans felt cold, despite the warm air. It was normally rowdy, despite the best efforts of the headmaster and his teachers: friends chattering away loudly, bullies harassing their victims, swots trying desperately to finish their homework before the teachers collected their jotters and discovered they hadn’t actually finished their assigned work. The headmaster himself normally stood on the podium, dressed in robes Hans couldn’t have afforded if he worked every hour of every day for five years, prattling away about honour, glory, and the duty each and every citizen, from the highest to the lowest, owed to King Frederick VIII of Garstang, their lord and supreme master. Now, he was standing at the corner of the room, speaking to a handful of newcomers in the king’s livery. Hans had no idea who they were, but they had to be important. The headmaster normally expected everyone to bow and scrape to him. Now … he was the one doing the bowing and scraping.

Serves him right, Hans thought. It was impossible to respect the headmaster, no matter his rank. The man didn’t work for a living, he merely bossed around others while lording it over those who actually did. Now he knows how it feels to be ground under.

The lines of students normally kept shifting, as toughs pushed the weaker kids to the front while inching towards the rear. Hans was a past master at getting to the rear himself, relying on his greater strength to ensure he wasn’t close enough to be singled out by the headmaster and branded a disgrace before the entire school, but now the lines were barely moving and he found himself right at the front. A chill ran down his spine as the remaining students hurried into the chamber, including a handful of known troublemakers. They too were forced to the front. Hans would have found it amusing, if he hadn’t been so exposed himself. The headmaster always singled out one student for punishment and he was in the danger zone. And neither his father nor his uncle would be likely to listen to him if he insisted he’d been picked at random …

A newcomer, dressed in noble robes, walked onto the stage and stood in front of the gathered students. Hans heard the rear doors shutting with a bang, a grim reminder they were trapped … and that anyone who was late would wind up in very hot water indeed. The nobleman’s eyes surveyed the room, his gaze managing to convey the impression he’d seen more impressive specimens staggering out of the local alehouse every night, making their way home to a furious wife. Or perhaps lying on the sawdust, sleeping it off.

“Young men,” he said. His voice was quiet yet firm, echoing around the chamber in a manner that owed much to magic. No one spoke, not even the handful of troublemakers at the back. “You are here to be tested for a very special kind of magic. If you possess it, you will be honoured beyond the dreams of this” – his voice took on a hint of disdain – “quiet provincial town. If not, you will return to your quiet provincial lives.”

Hans felt a hot flash of irritation. He’d been tested on his magic, they’d all been tested, and he had little. If any. The handful of students who showed real aptitude for magic had been taken away a long time ago, their families paid the king’s coin and told their children would return as adult magicians, if they returned at all. He had no idea why the nobleman was wasting their time – probably because he could – but it was a waste of time. He had never managed a single spell.

He wanted to say it out loud, to ask why they were wasting his time, but he didn’t dare.

The nobleman drew a spellcaster from his belt. Hans felt a sudden lassitude fall over his mind, a sense that he should remain still – his brain switched off – until he was released from the spell. He stumbled a moment later, the spell letting him go. Raw anger boiled through him as he stared at the nobleman, trying to keep the sheer resentment off his face. It was bad enough that noblemen galloped through the cornfields, trampling the crop underfoot, or insisted the merchants overlooked their debts, but to steal his free will … his blood boiled. It took all the willpower he had not to clench his fists. Showing any kind of hostility to a nobleman, however well deserved, was a flogging offense. Or worse.

“Interesting,” the nobleman said. “Come forward.”

Hans tried to keep his feelings out of his voice and failed. “Why …?”

The nobleman snorted. “Look behind you.”

Hans turned … and stared. The other students were just standing there, their faces as blank as their minds. A chill ran down his spine as he stared at Rodolfo, a boy who never shut up, and Martina, a girl so pretty nearly every young man in town was trying to court her. They were both just … still, as if someone had somehow turned them off. He turned back and stared at the nobleman, who was studying him with a cold expression.

It was hard to speak, harder still to speak clearly. “What … what just happened?”

“The enchantment I used has little effect on those with a certain talent,” the nobleman said, as if Hans should already have known it. “You shrugged it off, which means you have the talent.”

He stepped off the podium and walked to the door. “Come.”

Hans stared after him, eyes flickering around the room in horror. Everyone was still. Even the headmaster was standing there, his face as blank as his students. The rest of the noblemen were gone already …

“I …” Hans swallowed and started again. “What’ll happen to them?”

“The spell will wear off,” the nobleman said, dismissively. “They’ll be fine.”

He reached the door and motioned for Hans to follow. Hans forced his legs into motion and staggered after him, feeling as if the world had just turned upside down. A carriage was already waiting outside, the door gaping open. He stopped as he realised he was being taken away, just like the rest of the magically-powerful students …

“Get in,” the nobleman ordered.

“My family,” Hans said, desperately. “And my master … ah, my uncle …”

“They will be informed, and rewarded for raising you,” the nobleman said. “Get in.”

Hans briefly considered running, but it would do him no good. There was no cover, nothing he could use to hide, and even if he did manage to get away the aristocrats could track him down easily. He’d have to hide within the forest and that would end badly. He barely knew how to take care of himself, and if the nobles posted a reward the bandits and outlaws would probably help track him down.

He scrambled into the carriage, trying not to marvel at the sheer luxury of the interior. He’d never ridden in anything like it before. The nobleman joined him, shutting the door and sitting down as the carriage rattled into life. Hans stared out the window as the vehicle picked up speed, the streets slowly giving way to croplands and grazing fields. He’d never been more than a couple of miles from his hometown. Now, he had the feeling he was never going to see his family again.

“Tell me about yourself,” the nobleman said.

Hans felt his temper flare. The words slipped out before he could stop himself. “Why should I tell anything to a man who hasn’t even introduced himself?”

The nobleman’s face twisted, like the headmaster’s when he found himself confronted with a student he didn’t dare punish. Hans took heart from it, even though he knew taunting a nobleman was asking for trouble. If his talent was so rare they were resorting to testing students in their quiet provincial town, as the nobleman had referred to his hometown, it was unlikely they were going to kill him on the spot.

“I am Court Graf,” the nobleman said, finally. “Mage Commander of the Royal Magic Corps.”

Hans kept his face under tight control, hiding his relief as best he could. He’d heard of the Royal Magic Corps, everyone had. They served the king and the king alone … he wondered, numbly, why they’d come for him? He didn’t have a single spell to his name. The sorcerers and mages of the Royal Magic Corps were supposed to be able to turn entire armies into toads with a wave of their hands, but he couldn’t even summon a tiny flame to light the forge or a gust of wind to cool a newly-forged blade.

He leaned forward. “Why me? I can’t cast any spells.”

Graf smiled, rather coldly. “Believe it or not, young man, that is precisely the point.”

“I don’t understand,” Hans said. It felt like a dream – or a nightmare. “Why me?”

“Don’t worry,” Graf assured him. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

 

Chapter One: Adam

Caithness was burning.

I watched, from what I devoutly hoped was a safe distance, as the advancing army ground towards the city. The darkness hid nothing, not from me. It was a force out of the darkest depths of history, a mechanical nightmare that hadn’t been seen since the days of the Thousand Year Empire, a force – I feared – we might not be able to stop. Small tripods – scouting machines – darted forward, moving with a combination of eerie grace and speed that chilled me to the bone, their mounted spellcasters hurling fireballs and lightning bolts at possible threats or whatever else caught their pilot’s eye. Larger tripods and crawling machines followed at a slower pace, their struts tearing up the road from the border to the city; flyers shot overhead, raining down death and destruction on the dour grey stone. Caithness wasn’t a wooden town, thank the Ancients, but it was only a matter of time until she was utterly devastated. The walls and buildings had never been designed to stand up to such a horde.

“Pinch me,” Caroline muttered, from behind me. “It’s a dream.”

I reached out and pinched her arm, hard enough to hurt. Her face twisted in pain, an instant before she pinched me back. The stab of agony failed to wake me from my slumber … I told myself not to be silly, no matter how easy it would have been to pretend it was nothing more than a nightmare. I had wondered, in my school days, how many of the stories of the Thousand Year Empire had been exaggerated over the centuries, how many of the wonders of that age had been made up of whole cloth. I knew, now, that the stories had been – if anything – understatements. The rolling army approaching the city appeared utterly unstoppable. I swallowed, hard, as I saw balls of light arcing into the air, flying over the walls and coming down within the city itself. They vanished out of sight, giant fireballs rising into the air a second later … I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet, the giant thunder crack reaching my ears and racketing onwards. If I felt bad here, I dreaded to think what it must feel like in the city. The population was caught in a nightmare.

“Stay here … no, go to the campsite,” I muttered. The army was nearing the fortress now and we needed to know what happened when the mechanical nightmare encountered fixed defences. “If I don’t come back, get back to Kirkhaven and send a message south.”

Caroline shot me a sharp look. “They’re more likely to underestimate me.”

“The king might listen to you,” I reminded her. “Let me go.”

Caroline scowled, then conceded the point with a nod. Technically, we were in disgrace. We’d failed to seize the flying city and then we’d fumbled our mission to Kirkhaven Hall. I’d done my best to take all the blame, which might just let Caroline convince him of the sheer magnitude of the impending disaster. The fortress would have dispatched a rider south, I was sure, and if the commander was on his toes he’d have ordered a handful of observers to watch from a safe distance, but the early reports might not be believed. Hell, I wasn’t sure if our reports of the incident at Kirkhaven had been believed either.

I turned away, muttering a handful of obscurification spells to hide myself as I slipped through the night. It wasn’t easy to pick my way through the rough landscape surrounding the town, even with the best night vision spells the sorcerous researchers had been able to devise, but I stayed low and kept walking. The night sky was alarmingly clear and I found myself beseeching the Ancients for rain. The enemy had timed their offensive well, I conceded sourly. It never seemed to stop raining at times, along the border, but tonight was as clear as any invader could wish. I hoped that would change, as I hid myself in the shadows and watched a scout machine striding past. It was hard to tell if the pilot missed me or if he simply didn’t care. A lone man, no matter how dangerous, was no threat to his machine.

I took a risk and leaned forward, studying the tripod as it strode into the distance. I’d thought the entire army was composed of Objects of Power, a remarkable and seemingly impossible feat, yet up close I had my doubts. The flying city I’d seen in the Eternal City had been a single machine, and the meksects that tended to its innards were almost animalistic, but the tripod was crude, as if someone had bolted one piece of machinery to another. I sucked in my breath as it moved inwards, recalling just how difficult it was to make such a device without having it decay into rust and ruin almost at once. The plans for forging war machines hadn’t been lost, but the techniques had.

Caitlyn Aguirre managed to figure it out, I reminded myself, but could she churn out so many war machines so quickly?

I didn’t believe it. Forgery wasn’t my strong suit, but even a team of dedicated Zeros would take weeks to forge a single war machine, let alone a whole army of them. There weren’t that many Zeros! The government had tried to test everyone who showed signs of little or no magic, ever since they’d realised what was missing from the ancient documents, but only two had been discovered, at least within the borders of Tintagel. I couldn’t believe Garstang had found so many, not when our neighbours were so backwards. They barely tolerated female mages and their aristocracy made ours look like saints. It was difficult to believe they’d even found one, let alone that they’d been able to convince the poor bastard to work for them. But they’d clearly succeeded …

The thought haunted me as I slipped down to the closest vantage point. Fortress Caithness towered over the North Wall, a giant structure bristling with heavy spellcasters and other weapons of war. It was a strange combination of magical and mundane devices, capable of dominating the roads and blocking any advance from the north; the walls were hardened, protected by wards so powerful they should have been able to shrug off any assault, ensuring the fortress would remain intact even if the city itself fell to force or treachery. The planners had been certain the fortress would survive, deep in the enemy rear, giving the troops inside a chance to harass their supply lines. I’d seen those plans myself and they’d looked solid. But right now, it was clear they’d been based on false assumptions.

I forced myself to watch as the giant tripods opened fire, their spellcasters unleashing wave after wave of raw magic into the fortress. Wards capable of deflecting almost any threat shuddered under the impact, the charmed walls turning black as the enchantments started to waver and break. The fortress returned fire, their spellcasters lashing out at the enemy vehicles; I felt a flicker of relief as one tripod staggered and fell, only to lose even that as the rest started to dance around. They were hard to hit, I realised numbly, and armoured to the point that even a handful of hits weren’t enough to bring them down. The crawling machines stayed to the rear, half-hidden in hollows, and opened fire, their projectiles rising up and falling on top of the fortress. The noise was unbearable. Even from my distance, I could feel the air prickling with raw discordant magic. It was too much.

Aim for their legs, I thought, as more magic tore through the air. Try and take them out …

A low rumbling battered my ears as the fortress started to crumble, its wards shattering one by one. The charmed walls fell quickly, waves of magical balefire seething through the spellcaster ports and wiping out their crews … normally, balefire was easy to counter if you knew the right spells, but the defenders had too many other things to worry about. Something exploded, blowing out a chunk of the wall and opening a gash in the remaining defences. I cursed as I saw the soldiers advancing from behind the war machines, hurling themselves into the remnants of the fortress. Others were heading into the city itself. I kicked myself for not having seen them earlier. They’d been hidden within the shadows, my eyes drawn to the light.

The defending fire died away. I cursed. The kingdom hadn’t lost a major fortress for hundreds of years. Now … I hoped the defenders had the sense to abandon their posts, flee into the city, and change their military tunics into something a little more civilian. Garstang was bound by treaty to deal honourably with prisoners, but the sheer force they’d unleashed against Caithness showed a frightening lack of concern for civilian casualties. Even if they hadn’t been deliberately targeting civilians, I couldn’t imagine they hadn’t killed hundreds … perhaps thousands. The recent events at Kirkhaven had sent thousands of refugees fleeing in all directions and some had gone to Caithness, only to discover they’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I hoped they’d have the chance to get out before the city was sealed off for good.

I watched for a few moments longer, then turned and hurried away, circumventing the city as I made my way back to the vantage point. Hundreds of people were fleeing, some heading down the king’s road to Templeton. I shuddered at the thought of the coming nightmare, when the enemy force made it down to the city. Templeton was heavily defended, if only because it was the key to roads leading to Shallot and Tintagel City. If the enemy took control, they’d be able to cut off the entire set of northern provinces from the kingdom … or keep advancing, aiming to crush Shallot before we could produce war machines of our own. I cursed again as I saw the refuges, most dressed in nightclothes with a handful of cloaks thrown over their garb. They didn’t look remotely ready for the rain and the cold. Some might find shelter, in nearby towns and hamlets, but others would walk into the bog and drown before they realised they’d killed themselves. There was nothing I could do to help them, not now. I knew my duty.

Damn you, I thought. Caithness had fallen, but the fires were still burning brightly. How many people have you killed?

Something flickered, in the darkness. A faint sheet of light … a ghostly form, barely humanoid. Ice crawled down my spine. I’d hoped the ghosts that had plagued Kirkhaven were gone, their unquiet voices stilled by the release of the soul trapped within the bog, but they were still there … harmless now, we thought, but some of the ghosts we’d seen earlier had been very dangerous indeed. I gave the ghost a wide berth, keeping my eyes on it. The lack of any eyes looking back at me was oddly disconcerting. I made a mental note to add the ghost’s presence to the report, although I had no idea what my superiors would make of it. They had a full-scale invasion to worry about.

The darkness seemed to fall again as I kept walking, picking my way down the rough stony path. Caithness had fallen behind the hills, but a grim orange-red glow lit up the air. The dour city woke with the dawn and went to sleep with the dusk, unlike many others, and there were no streetlights to assist drinkers making their way home or make life difficult for footpads. Now … the city was burning. I shuddered helplessly.

Caroline relaxed, slightly, as she saw me. I filled her in as we packed up and headed to Kirkhaven Hall, wondering if we should split up. There was strength in numbers and it was rare for King’s Men to be sent out on missions alone, without at least some back-up, but there was no way we could stand up to even one tripod. Not until we figured out how to beat them … my heart sank as I recalled just how few primitive nations had managed to slow the Empire’s invaders down for more than a few hours. The Empire had talked about a mission to civilise the natives, and to its credit it had brought the benefits of modern magic, but their invasion would have been utterly world-ending for the locals even if it did work out in the long run. It was hard to imagine the local leadership wouldn’t have been rounded up and slaughtered, the local magicians invited to add their blood to the Empire’s great families, the local merchants shoved aside … Garstang wouldn’t be even that civilised. They’d wanted a gateway to the sea for centuries and if they took ours …

“The fortress will have sent messengers south,” Caroline muttered. “Right?”

I nodded, although I had no way to be sure. The enemy could have sneaked horsemen into the empty lands behind Caithness, with orders to kill any messengers and dispel vapour spells. It was hard to keep word from spreading, but it wouldn’t cost the enemy very much and the rewards would be more than worth it. The longer the gap between the invasion and the king hearing about it, the longer it would be before reinforcements started heading north. Worse, perhaps. The reinforcements would have no idea what they’d be facing, when the invaders regrouped and continued their march south. Templeton might fall as easily as Caithness.

The skies darkened. I breathed a sigh of relief as the rain started to fall, hoping and praying it would quench the fires as well as slow enemy movements. The tripods were massive, but I could imagine their pilots steering them into a bog and discovering – too late – that they’d doomed themselves. If there was any bottom to the bogs, it had never been discovered. The thought of a tripod slowly sinking made me smile, although I feared it wouldn’t happen. The enemy had had years to plan the invasion. It was likely they’d had more than enough time to get their hands on local maps.

I cursed as the rain kept falling, the water drenching our clothes and leaving us looking and feeling like drowned rats. Kirkhaven Town was still half-buried in the mud and sinking fast … I was so tired it took me far too long to realise that the landslide had damned the river, leaving the water lapping at the homes and shops that had once made up a small and yet thriving community. We turned west and made our way up to Kirkhaven Hall. The Mistress of Kirkhaven – Isabella Rubén – might be able to help us. If she was there …

“She’s gone to the city to get help and attend her brother’s wedding,” Sandy told us. She looked like a drowned rat herself, running around trying to attend to the hundreds of refugees who’d been crammed into Kirkhaven Hall. “What’s the hurry?”

I told her. Kirkhaven was off the beaten path, the combination of mountains and sound-quenching bogs ensuring no one would hear the invasion as it swept over Caithness and headed south. It took hours to drive from the village to the city normally – now, the ancients alone knew – and most of the villages preferred to pretend the world outside their borders simply didn’t exist. I had seen it before, over the last couple of years, but it was still difficult to believe. It really shouldn’t have surprised me. I’d grown up in Shallot, gateway to the kingdom – and the world. My childhood had been filled with tales of bold explorers who had sailed the seven seas, learning about the world in the wake of the Empire’s fall; I’d known, from birth, that there was something bigger out there, a chance to become someone powerful and significant. The villagers didn’t have that, not in any real sense. There was no point of dreaming of foreign lands when they would never get to travel, let alone see the world.

But now the world has come calling, I thought, numbly. It’s only a matter of time before the invaders find Kirkhaven.

I shoved the thought aside. “Callam went with her?”

“Yes,” Sandy said. A confusing flicker of emotions darted across her face, gone before I could quite pin them down. Sandy had been Isabella’s dorm monitor, a post that would have been difficult even if Isabella hadn’t managed to compromise herself so thoroughly, and then she’d been Callam’s teacher. I felt a stab of sympathy. I’d been a dorm monitor myself and it wasn’t easy to keep some of the aristo brats in line. “They were planning to be back shortly, but …”

“If they do come back, tell them to return to Shallot at once,” I ordered. Isabella was just another sorceress, but Callam was a Zero. He could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands. “And we need to borrow your horses.”

Thunder rumbled, in the distance. I hoped it was thunder.

Sandy scowled. “And what should we do, if Garstang attacks the estate?”

I swallowed. It should have been unlikely. Kirkhaven was just another tiny village, so small that calling it a village was an exaggeration. But Isabella had turned the estate into a productive enterprise and Callam, of course, was worth far more than his weight in gold. We might have lucked out, I reflected sourly, that she’d had to go south for the wedding. The enemy had excellent reason to attack Kirkhaven as soon as possible. They’d find it tricky to send more than a small force, but the estate was practically defenceless.

“Keep your heads down, try to avoid attracting attention,” I ordered, finally. It was unlikely the villagers would be harmed. Garstang would need them to feed and supply its forces. “The king will send his army north soon enough.”

But I hoped, as we prepared to ride south, that I was wrong. The world had changed. The invasion was proof nothing would ever be the same …

And if the army wasn’t ready for what it faced, it would be the end.

 

Chapter Two: Lucy

“You ruined my wedding.”

I tried not to flinch at Cat’s words. It was hard not to argue, not to say my piece … even though I knew, despite myself, that it would be pointless. I felt as if I had been hauled up before the headmistress once again, for some terrible crime like stealing her private strawberries or clambering over the walls to sneak to the nearby boys school, only this was worse. Far worse. Cat - Caitlyn Aguirre – had been a friend. She had deserved a proper wedding day, a day of joy and happiness at finally tying the knot with her husband, and I had ruined it. There was no way to avoid the truth. I had fucked up and it had cost us all dearly.

And she isn’t my friend any longer, I thought, numbly. How can she be?

I kept my hands clasped behind my back to keep them from shaking. Cat and Akin made a cute couple – Cat’s dark skin and darker hair contrasting with Akin’s pale skin and blond hair – and yet, they had enough political power between them to break me. The headmistress had been strict, and prone to shouting at her students, but there had been limits to her power. The worst she’d ever been able to do was six of the best. Cat and Akin could blacklist me and my family, such as it was, or ensure my debts were called in early, or generally destroy my life without ever quite crossing the line into outright illegality. It wasn’t as if the Great Houses would go out on a limb for me, after the chaos I’d caused. Too many aristocrats had come very close to dying, two days ago. They wanted someone to blame.

“Why?” Cat’s voice rang with pain. She’d thought me a friend. “Why?”

I stared at her numbly, a churning morass of grief, guilt, and that horrible feeling when you wish something had never – never, never, never – happened. If I could turn back time … I couldn’t. No magic ever invented could send me back in time, let alone undo the effects of my choices. I had had my reasons and yet, in the face of their anger, those reasons seemed as flimsy as the family fortune. I could lose everything but my life. Perhaps even that was at stake. Cat and Akin were nowhere near as vindictive as their siblings, but I’d ruined their wedding. I could hardly blame them if they wanted to take me to the rim of High Shallot – the flying city – and toss me over the edge. It was no less than I deserved.

“Why?”

The question tore at me. Why indeed?

I forced myself to meet her eyes. “Which answer would you like?”

It was hard to keep the sullen tone out of my voice. I had fucked up and yet … I gritted my teeth. My reasons weren’t wholly bad and yet …

“The truth,” Akin said. He’d always been one of the more reasonable of the younger generation, even after he’d been forced to assume leadership of his house – and a leading role in the city – after his father’s early death. We weren’t that different, but … I told myself not to be silly. Akin had been knifed in the back by his own family, repeatedly, yet … he hadn’t had to bring his house back from the very brink of bankruptcy. I had. And it might have cost me everything. “Why?”

I forced myself to look at him. “You remember when I set up the meeting between you, Alana, and Louise?”

Akin winced. Louise hadn’t exactly been a friend – she’d been the leader of the reformists, a champion of everything from secret ballots to unions and rights for the workers – but Akin had respected her. I’d respected her too, when my relationship with Gary had led me and my house into the radical fringe. It hadn’t been that radical, to be honest. They hadn’t wanted to tear down the system, merely reform it. I hadn’t had anything to lose, I told myself. I hadn’t inherited any patronage network, when my father died and I’d been called home to take his place. House Lamplighter had only been a Great House by courtesy. Very few aristocrats had been willing to give me the time of day, and most had sought to exploit me, trading peanuts for my vote in Magus Court. Cat and Akin had been amongst the few who hadn’t, which made my betrayal all the more profound. I had lost two of my friends and probably doomed my house.

“It was clear, at that point, that there was going to be war,” I continued. “The reformists were on the verge of being pushed aside by more radical factions, people who genuinely wanted to tear the system down rather than improve it. Louise’s murder at the hands of a rogue member of your house only ensured there would be war, a war to the knife that would shatter the old order beyond repair. You know as well as I do that the rebels had figured out a way to slip through the wards and destroy entire mansions.”

Akin winced. His mansion had been destroyed, leaving behind a crater seething with tainted magic. It hadn’t been the only one.

“The war had to be ended, as quickly as possible,” I said. “The reformists were losing the battle for influence amongst the rebels, which threatened to ensure whoever won the war would inherit a wasteland. Worse” – I gritted my teeth, recalling just how helpless I’d felt when the senior aristocrats had confronted me – “it was clear the council was going to absorb House Lamplighter, along with the other lesser houses. You were there! You know what happened.”

“I defended you,” Akin said, flatly.

I met his eyes. “Tell me you could have kept them from absorbing my house after the war.”

He said nothing. Akin had always been a honest man.

“We needed to end the war,” I said, echoing my earlier words. “We came up with a plan. We’d smuggle troops onto the flying city and force an end to the war, before the city was destroyed or the radicals took complete control. We thought we could make it happened … and the only chance of getting so many aristocrats in one place was your wedding. It wasn’t personal. It was … desperation.”

Tears prickled in my eyes. I blinked them away, angrily. I had no right to cry.

“I didn’t realise Zadornov had a plan of his own,” I continued. “I didn’t know he was a foreign agent, or that he intended to crash the flying city and destroy Shallot; I didn’t know …”

No, my thoughts pointed out, sarcastically. But perhaps you should have wondered why a man like him was helping the rebels.

“You didn’t know,” Cat repeated. “Seventy dead, on both sides, and over a hundred injured… and you didn’t know.”

I swallowed, then nodded. Act in haste, repent at leisure … it might as well be the family motto. My father had always been a gambler, draining the family fortune on one desperate get-rich-quick scheme after another, and clearly I’d taken after him more than I thought. I’d told myself I was doing the right thing and in one sense I had – the war had ended – but neither Cat nor Akin would agree. Even if they understood why I’d done it, even if they agreed with my thinking, they would never forgive what I’d done to their wedding. It had been no arranged match, no carefully-negotiated alliance between families that included provision for lovers and mistresses and separate lives; it had been a love match, no matter how it had started, and I’d ruined it. They had only me to blame.

“You could have come to me,” Akin said. “We could have worked out a solution.”

I snorted. “And you think the rest of the council, which was happily pouring dragon scales into the cauldron, would have listened?”

Akin had the grace to look embarrassed. The council had wanted to settle matters with the rebels once and for all, not unlike the radical rebels themselves. They’d intended to destroy Water Shallot and rebuild it in their image. Gary and his family would be effectively enslaved, along with the other independent businesses, while the poor would be driven into the water to starve. Or put to work in workhouses. I was a little uncertain of how they’d planned to do it, but they would. The aristocracy had always looked down on commoners who weren’t useful, because they weren’t willing to be used. The chance to put them firmly in their place wasn’t one they could miss.

Cat’s voice was very cold. “What you did was unforgivable.”

“I understand,” I said. I didn’t really blame her. If someone had ruined my wedding to Gary – it occurred to me to wonder if that was still going ahead – I wouldn’t consider them a friend either. How could I? “And I am sorry.”

Akin cleared his throat. I eyed him, warily. I’d been held under de facto house arrest for the last two days, while Akin and Cat celebrated their marriage and negotiated with both their fellow aristocrats and the rebel council. Something else they could lay at my feet, I supposed. They should be on their honeymoon now, heading somewhere where they could relax and indulge themselves and … I forced that thought out of my head. It was just something else I’d ruined for them. If I hadn’t fucked up so badly …

You can’t undo the past, I thought, again. You can only learn from it and move on.

“There have been many discussions about how to bring the war to an end,” Akin said, his tone oddly flat. I suspected the negotiations had been acrimonious. Zadornov might have taken advantage of the crisis to peruse his own agenda, but he hadn’t caused the flashpoint nor fuelled the underlying resentment and hatred that had erupted into outright civil war. “It wasn’t easy to come to any agreements, but one thing we agreed on was a general amnesty for everyone who took part in the war, regardless of their crimes. That includes you. Legally speaking, you will not be held accountable for letting Zadornov and his men get onto High Shallot.”

I relaxed, slightly. It wasn’t wholly good news. There were people on both sides who had committed atrocities, from the aristocratic thugs who’d worked to make war inevitable to the rebels who’d burned entire mansions, and they would all get away with it. There’d be some private revenge, I was sure, and yet … I sighed, inwardly. There were quite a few people who’d want revenge on me and had the resources to take it. I might be legally in the clear, but I wasn’t safe. I would never be safe.

“Regardless, it has also been agreed that you will not be permitted within the city,” Akin continued. “Your conduct was disgraceful, regardless of your motivations, and it will be better for House Lamplighter if you are sent into de facto exile. You will not be stripped of your title, but you will not be permitted to exercise any authority within the city until we feel you have learned your lesson and paid for your crimes.”

I felt a hot flash of anger, mingled with the awareness I deserved much worse. “How do you plan on sending me into exile if I’ve been granted amnesty?”

Akin didn’t smile. “Have you heard the news from Caithness?”

I shook my head. “You kept me locked in a suite, remember?”

“Garstang crossed the border, in force,” Akin said. He shared a glance with his wife. “In force is a bit of an understatement. They attacked with an army of war machines right out of the time of legend, the kind of machines only the Thousand Year Empire could produce. War walkers, scout tripods, even flyers. With the benefit of hindsight” – his eyes narrowed – “Zadornov intended to kill both Cat and Callam, as well as drowning the entire city and destroying our workshops and foundries. If he had succeeded, it would be impossible to put together a viable defence. The war would last precisely as long as it took to get their machines to Tintagel City.”

I felt my head spin. The border conflict between Tintagel and Garstang had never truly been settled, and I’d heard the locals often wound up paying taxes to both sides, but neither kingdom had been able to knock the other out once and for all. If that had changed … I swallowed, hard, as I considered the possibilities. The historical records were a little vague about precisely how fast and powerful War Machines truly were, but they might be able to reach Tintagel City and Shallot within days … perhaps less. A flyer could certainly travel hundreds of miles in hours, outrunning any word of its approach. Zadornov had failed and yet, Garstang might still win the war.

“Crap,” I muttered. It didn’t take much imagination to wonder just how many aristocrats were already planning to betray the kingdom, not when there was a very real possibility the war had already been lost. “If they win …”

“If,” Akin said. “King Rufus has asked for our support. For once, we’re not inclined to argue. We’ll be sending armsmen, and newer and better weapons and devices, to Templeton. Cat will be forging more Objects of Power and sending them forward too. It will be a very interesting honeymoon.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Sorry.”

“The invasion wasn’t your fault,” Akin said. For a moment, he almost sounded like his old self. “The Great Houses have decided to send an emissary to Templeton, officially to ensure our contribution to the war effort is not wasted. That emissary will have our full support, and trust, and everything else she needs to do her job. You will be that emissary.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“You,” Cat confirmed.

I stared at them. If there was any aristocrat the rest of the aristocrats neither liked nor trusted, it was me. I was, at best, the fool who’d let Zadornov take a shot at the entire city. At worst, I was an outright traitor. There would have been voices demanding my hanging, regardless of the risk of restarting the war, or my enslavement or … something, anything, worse than death. And they were sending me to a position of great responsibility …

My heart sank. It was an exile, and it was perfectly legal. No one could suggest it was a punishment, quite the opposite. But I would be away from the city for years, perhaps decades, never to return unless the council chose to invite me home. My children – if I had children – would never have a chance to grow up in Shallot or attend Jude’s, although that might not be a disaster. They’d be known as the traitor’s kids. No one would talk about Isabella Rubén any longer, not after what I’d done. My name would go down in history as an example of someone who’d gotten away with outright treason. Isabella, at least, had the excuse of being twelve. Me? I was old enough to know better.

“You did something stupid,” Akin said. “Something arguably treasonable. You might have been played for a fool, as were many of us, but the consequences of your actions are impossible to overlook. You will have this one chance to redeem yourself, by representing our interests and upholding our relationship with His Majesty even as it is sorely tested by the fires of war. Should you do well, you may be permitted to return to the city.”

“May,” Cat said.

“I understand,” I said. I more than deserved my fate. “And House Lamplighter?”

“You can appoint a custodian,” Akin said. “I suggest you choose carefully. The custodian will be in charge for quite some time.”

I didn’t bother to hide my irritation. House Rubén had hundreds of possible candidates, men who were senior enough to be viable custodians and yet not quite senior enough to threaten the patriarch’s position. House Lamplighter had very few, and many had chosen to marry out and devote themselves completely to their new families. I’d planned to marry Gary, have children and raise them to serve the family … that plan, I supposed, was dead. Hell, the marriage might be dead too. Gary and I were very fond of each other, but his father was probably consulting lawyers, trying to figure out a way to breath the betrothal. My lips twisted painfully. It had been hard enough getting the agreement in the first place.

“I understand,” I said. “And …”

I took a breath, forcing myself to stand tall and meet their eyes. “I never meant to risk the entire city …”

“But you did mean to ruin the wedding,” Cat said. “How could you plan something like that and not think you’d ruin the wedding?”

Her words stung, because they were true. “I knew what I was doing,” I said. “And I am truly sorry.”

“So you should be,” Cat said. Her tone was flat, but I could hear the pain and anger. “You will no longer be welcome on High Shallot. Not ever.”

“You have two days to put your affairs in order,” Akin added. “After that, you will be dispatched to Templeton.”

If we have to put you in chains, my thoughts added, silently. It was customary for exiles to be chained up, marched out of town, and only released once the city was out of sight. That I was being spared that treatment didn’t mean I wasn’t going into exile. If I do a good job …

I kept my face blank. It wasn’t going to happen. We all knew it.

“I won’t let you down,” I said. “I’ll …”

“Really?” Cat’s voice was hard. “You already have.”

 

Chapter Three: Adam

The world felt … wrong.

It was hardly the first time I’d ridden through hostile territory – or territory that could turn hostile very quickly – but it felt … wrong, discordant, as if the world itself had been knocked off its axis. We galloped past towns and hamlets that appeared quiet and peaceful, as if they had no idea they were in the path of the oncoming storm, and yet I felt uneasy, as if unseen eyes were watching me. I couldn’t help glancing back time and time again, towards the distant hills that hid Caithness and the invasion force, yet there were no visible signs of trouble. Even the smoke was gone. And yet, I still felt as if something was right behind us, breathing down our necks. If I hadn’t been so desperate to reach the city, I would have suggested getting off the King’s Road. We were dangerously exposed even through there was no visible threat.

We paused at a messenger post long enough to swap horses and brief the handful of men in charge. They knew something was up – a messenger had fled Caithness, thankfully – but they didn’t believe our warning. I wanted to shout and swear at them, even though I understood. The landscape was peaceful and unchanged, unmarred by advancing machines of war and other impossible threats. They didn’t really believe there was an entire army of war machines advancing towards them. It was just another border skirmish, one that would be settled after a few hundred lives had been lost on both sides. The hell of it was that I wouldn’t have believed the report myself, if I hadn’t seen the army personally. It was just so far outside the scope of their imagination that it was just impossible.

“They’ll see it soon enough,” Caroline said. She looked as rattled as I felt, her eyes constantly flickering upwards. “And when they do …”

I scowled as we mounted the new horses and resumed our gallop. How fast could the army move? The scouts had moved with astonishing – and terrifying – speed, to the point I feared they could easily outrun a horse. Worse, perhaps. The king’s beasts might be engineered to gallop faster and longer than any purebred horse, but there were limits. They could gallop about five miles before they had to slow down and rest … the war machines, by contrast, didn’t need to stop at all. Even if they were slower, they could compensate by just going on, and on, and on … I didn’t want to know. I wasn’t sure anything could stop them. It was going to cost thousands of lives even to try.

“We’ll get there in time,” I said, more to reassure myself than her. There would have been vapour messages dispatched, right? The king and the cities would have some idea of what was coming? No one would make such a report for a joke … I hoped. I’d spent my teenage years in a school where pranking fellow students was seen as a way to sharpen your magic, but there were limits. “If we do …”

The landscape shifted as we continued onwards. Some towns and hamlets seemed unconcerned, if indeed they knew what was coming, while others appeared to be on edge, the locals trying to go about their business while keeping a wary eye on the northern mountains. I guessed the messenger must have stopped to trade horses, warning the locals what was coming before resuming his own gallop. There didn’t appear to be many refugees on the roads, but that would change soon enough. I felt a twinge of guilt as I glanced north myself. How many refugees had I left behind? How many were already dead of exposure – or worse – after being driven from their homes?

I let the thought slip from my mind as Templeton finally came into view. It was an old city, nearly a thousand years old, and it sprawled across the valley in a manner unmatched by either Shallot or Tintagel City. The city had expanded rapidly, swallowing up dozens of smaller towns and hamlets; I gritted my teeth as I realised the walls, and fortresses, were hardly as modern as they needed to be. Templeton was too far from the border, the planners had said, to need extensive fortification. They’d done some work when they realised the secret of making Objects of Power was out, and it was only a matter of time until someone started forging war machines, but it was nowhere near enough. Caithness had been a far tougher target, at least on paper, and Caithness had fallen in hours. There was no getting around it. We were deep shit.

“They either don’t know or they don’t take it seriously,” Caroline muttered, as we neared the north gates. The fortress looming over the city looked tough, but the stone walls might as well have been made of paper. “They’re not manning the walls or sending out scouts.”

“No,” I agreed. “We’ll just to wake them up.”

The sentry eyed us with a bored expression, rather than summoning reinforcements or his superiors. I groaned inwardly. The man should be – needed to be – far more alert. It was just a matter of time before a tidal wave of refugees arrived, probably with enemy agents accompanying them. It was what I would do. It was easy to spot a stranger in a small town where everyone knew everyone else, but harder when the place was drenched in people fleeing the oncoming storm. Hell, they should be preparing to absorb the tide and send them somewhere else. It just didn’t look as if they were ready for anything, let alone everything.

“Stand up,” I snapped, showing him my enchanted tattoo. “Where is the garrison commander?”

The sentry straightened, his eyes frightened. I tried not to enjoy it too much. “Sir … My Lord … I … uh … Major Andrews is with General Bothell … sir, I …”

“There is a war on,” I snarled. The messenger had to have reached the city … hadn’t he? By the ancients, I hoped the vapour messages had reached much further south. “Why are you not on alert?”

“Sir … I … my orders are to …”

I cut him off. “Summon a five-man squad to man the gates,” I snapped. It wasn’t quite exceeding my authority, although that would be a matter for debate. “And then you will escort us to the general.”

Caroline shot me a warning look. I ignored it as the guard led us across the courtyard, into the city itself, and straight towards a towering mansion. I’d expected something akin to Shallot, with the mansions all concentrated in the richest part of the city, but instead they were a little more spread out. I made a mental note to look up the details later. Templeton was nowhere near as independent as Shallot, but the city fathers would still have a great deal of authority and influence. They weren’t supposed to have any control over the garrison, yet … a wise CO would certainly seek to work with them, rather than risk a clash with the locals. I suspected General Bothell was a little too close to the locals. He certainly didn’t seem to be taking the reports very seriously.

My eyes narrowed. There was no sense of urgency in the air, no sense the city might be attacked at any moment … I winced, inwardly, as I saw a line of schoolchildren making their way back to the schoolhouse. They should be in their homes, protected by their parents, or being moved south. A wave of unreality threatened to overcome me as we stopped in front of the mansion. The contrast between Caithness and Templeton was just unreal. It was easy to believe the invasion was just a nightmare. If I hadn’t pinched myself …

“Two King’s Men, here to see General Bothell,” our escort told the butler. The man looked us up and down, his eyes managing to imply he didn’t think we were worth one moment of his master’s time. “Please take them to him at once.”

“Please,” I echoed, holding up my tattoo again. “This is urgent.”

The butler bowed, then led us through a maze of corridors to a giant office. I felt my heart sink. It was possible General Bothell was a wealthy aristocrat, although such men were rarely put in command of fixed defences and fortresses, but it was far more likely he was corrupt … hardly uncommon, but a major headache whenever it was uncovered. It was always difficult to remove a high-ranking and corrupt official, and doing it under pressures of wartime would be a nightmare. I found myself contemplating less legal ways to remove him if push came to shove, as we were shown into his office. The general’s uniform did not inspire confidence. The combination of gold braid and a distinct lack of campaign ribbons was deeply worrying.

“It is always a pleasure to meet one of His Majesty’s special agents,” General Bothell said, standing. He was slightly overweight, another bad sign. The middle aged woman on the nearside of the desk didn’t look much better. “This is Mayor Tanya of Templeton …”

“You should have received a message from Caithness,” I said. I would pay for cutting him off later, I was sure, but there was no time to be polite. “There is a war on.”

“Caithness can be held indefinitely,” General Bothell said. “We were just discussing ways to …”

I cut him off again. “ Caithness has fallen,” I snapped. I supposed that explained the lack of panic. Everyone had assumed Caithness would be able to hold out for weeks, perhaps months, giving us plenty of time to assemble an army and march north. “The city was attacked with war machines. The fortress was destroyed within an hour of the battle beginning.”

General Bothell gave me a suspicious look. “Are you sure?”

“I was there,” I said, flatly. House Lamplighter had come up with a spell for transferring a memory into a memory orb … I could use it to share my memories. It was supposed to be difficult, if not impossible, to fake a memory. “The fortress fell. The city fell shortly afterwards. The enemy will be pressing south as soon as possible, General, and you have to be ready.”

“You can’t be serious,” Mayor Tanya managed.

I tried not to glower at her. She looked like a wealthy merchant, the kind of person who would put her thumb on the scales if you didn’t watch her like a hawk. My father had been a honest merchant and I’d heard him grumble, time and time again, about merchants who thought nothing of cheating their customers. It was never enough to get them in hot water and yet … they gave everyone else a bad name. I wondered, idly, just what she’d been discussing with General Bothell. If it was something I’d have to report to the king …

“The invasion is underway,” I said. The messages should have reached Shallot by now … I hoped. It had taken us nearly three days to reach Templeton and the enemy could be hard on our heels. “We have to get ready to stop them.”

General Bothell scowled. “And you expect us to believe this … cock and bull story?”

“I’ll share my memories,” I said. “But you have to get the city ready as quickly as possible.”

“I see,” General Bothell said. He rang the bell for the butler. “If this is some kind of joke, or exaggeration, I’ll break you.”

I resisted the urge to call him out – or simply knock him down – as the butler stepped into the room. I had been raised to be honest, something my instructors had praised. A King’s Man was not supposed to lie openly, or even say something that was technically true and yet dangerously misleading … not unless there was no other choice. We had to be trustworthy and that meant we had to prove we could be trusted, even if it was to our own detriment. The butler listened to his master, bowed, and retreated in search of a memory orb. There was no time to wait for his return.

“Get the troops on the battlements and start digging earthworks,” I said. “Call up the militia and arm them, then get them digging too. We need pits and other traps”- I glanced at the mayor – “we need to be preparing for refugees too, perhaps a siege. Get guards on the shops and start conserving food and water … start thinking about moving the children out of the city and then …”

“We don’t have any plans for being besieged,” the mayor admitted. “The possibility was never considered.”

I bit down several sharp responses. “They have war machines,” I snapped. “We knew that was a possibility.”

General Bothell snorted. “So many?”

That brought me up short, my earlier thoughts returning to haunt me. It was difficult to forge a single war machine, let alone an entire army of the mechanical monsters. Even if Garstang had somehow gotten a head start, how the hell had they put so many together so quickly without us ever getting a hint of it? They’d need an entire army of magicless craftsmen to make it work and they didn’t have such an army … did they? Zeroes were rare. There couldn’t be more than a handful in Garstang and that was being optimistic, It was far more likely they’d found a shortcut. We liked to pretend we were better magicians than our neighbours, and I wanted to believe it was true, but they weren’t stupid. For all I knew, they’d birthed a true genius.

The butler returned, carrying a pair of memory orbs. I took the one he offered me and pressed it to my forehead, muttering the spell under my breath. The sensation was thoroughly unpleasant – it felt as if my brain were being scrubbed by a wire brush – and I felt flickers of pain as the last of the memories were copied into the orb … I told myself, grimly, that I had no choice. General Bothell took the orb, closed his eyes and pressed it against his own forehead. His eyes sprang open a moment later. I felt a moment of dark satisfaction. That must have hurt.

“Impossible,” General Bothell breathed. He passed the orb to the mayor and then looked at me. “That’s … that’s impossible.”

“It’s happening,” I snapped. “It’s happening right now.”

“But …” Mayor Tanya staggered, then braced herself. “If they can move that quickly …”

“They could be here within the day,” I said, meeting the general’s eyes. “Do you believe me now?”

Caroline leaned forward. “Or do you want my memories too?”

The general’s lips worked silently for a long moment, then he nodded curtly. “I believe you.”

“Good.” I looked from one to the other. “Declare martial law. Call up the troops, call up the militia, start planning and digging like I said. Get the messengers ready … we’ll copy the orb memories and send them south as quickly as possible. Hopefully, word will have reached His Majesty and he’ll already be assembling reinforcements. If we can hold the line long enough, we might be able to come up with our own war machines and other surprises.”

Mayor Tanya looked pale. “And if we can’t …?”

“We will,” I said, firmly. “We have Zeroes of our own. And a flying city. We’ll be able to come up with something.”

I met the general’s eyes. “You allowed the defences of the city to weaken,” I added. “I understand your thinking, but it has proved incredibly dangerous. Technically, I should report your negligence to the king” – or remove you myself, I added silently – “but I will refrain from doing so as long as you do your upmost to prepare the city for war. This is your one chance to correct your mistake. Do I make myself clear?”

General Bothell flinched. “I didn’t know this was coming …”

“It was inevitable,” I snapped. “It became inevitable the moment Caitlyn Aguirre worked out the secret behind forging Objects of Power. The plans for forging machines of war are hardly rare, General. There are copies in every major library. And you did nothing to prepare for the coming storm. I understand your thinking, like I said, but the results are likely to be disastrous. This is your second chance. You will not get another.”

“Understood.” General Bothell lowered his eyes. “I won’t let the kingdom down.”

“Good.” I stood. “Assign us rooms, then give us some writing supplies. We have reports to get out before the storm reaches this city. Our time is very short.”

Mayor Tanya frowned. “How long do we have?”

“Days, at most,” I said. “Assuming nothing happens to slow the army, perhaps not even that.”

The general summoned the butler again, who arrived so quickly he must have been waiting outside the study. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign as he led us to a guest suite, so luxurious I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. The aristos regarded the servants as pretty much invisible, which meant they had plenty of opportunities to listen to supposedly private conversations. A lone spy could do a hell of a lot of damage, their presence unsuspected even if they were standing right in front of the aristocrats. My lips twisted, although it wasn’t really funny. If the enemy didn’t have spies in Templeton, I’d eat my hat.

“Be careful,” Caroline warned, after we checked the suite for magical or mundane surveillance. “The general won’t like being pushed around like that.”

“I know,” I said, as I sat on the bed. It made my blood boil. If the man had done his job, the city would be in far better shape to defend itself. “But we don’t have time to be nice.”

 

Chapter Four: Lucy

Cat hadn’t been messing around, I noted, as I left their office. A giant meksect was waiting for me outside, one metallic and yet oddly organic-looking hand indicating I should walk ahead of it to the teleport gates. My back prickled as the insect-like machine followed me, moving with such eerie silence it was easy to forget it was actually there. I tried not to jump repeatedly as I walked down the corridor, my eyes flickering from side to side. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in trouble, for schoolgirl prank or desperate stunt to rebuild the family fortunes, but it was easily the worst. They’d shown me a cruel mercy, avenging themselves in a manner I could hardly resist. And no one would take my side if I objected.

The sheer size of the flying city awed me, making my heart twist again. A small army of meksects and craftsmen were repairing the damage from the final battle of the war, and centuries of neglect under the eternal city, but … I couldn’t help kicking myself, once again, for what I’d done. They could have left me begging on the streets or hanged me or … perhaps it would have been kinder, if they’d left me unable to appreciate the opportunities I’d chosen to discard. My logic seemed sound, still, but … I shook my head. I couldn’t blame them for wanting rid of me. I had acted poorly and they would never forgive me.

I stopped in the teleport chamber and started to take one last look around the flying city. The meksect reached forward and pushed me into the teleport gate, its blank face seeming to laugh at me before the world blinked … I gritted my teeth at the sudden disorientation, wishing I’d had a moment to close my eyes, then forced myself to look around. The teleport gate outside my mansion looked abandoned, as if Cat was no longer interested in allowing it access to High Shallot. I couldn’t blame her for that either. Who knew who else would try to board the flying city?

The thought mocked me as I turned and stared at Lamplighter Hall. It had been untouched by the fighting, and I’d done a great many repairs over the last few months, but it still managed to look alarmingly decayed, as if the building was on the verge of collapse. It wasn’t too far from the truth. I’d done up a handful of bedrooms and suites, as well as the ballroom and surrounding areas, but far too many rooms and passageways had been sealed off and left to rot, at least until I could get the money to repair them. I supposed that was a problem for my custodian now. I groaned as I walked through the door, feeling emptiness and silence surrounding me. The staff had been given orders to find shelter elsewhere, just in case. I’d have to call them back, if they were still interested in working for me. Or my house.

Something moved, in the shadows. “My Lady?”

I blinked. “Tilly?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Tilly said. She was a maid seven years younger than me, hardly the sort of person who should be left in charge of a hall. I’d always been short-staffed, but … “They told me to remain behind, to greet you when you returned.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a younger girl left to take the blame for some atrocity perpetuated by an older student, but I’d expected better from my staff. “Make me a cup of tea and bring it to my office, then … take a message to Gary. Ask him … ask him to visit me.”

Tilly curtsied and hurried away. I felt a stab of guilt as I made my way up the stairs. The staff might be considered guilty by association, just because they’d worked for me. I hoped that wasn’t true, but … it very likely was. Short-term staff weren’t expected to be loyal; long-term staff, and I had a handful who had been with the family before I’d even been born, were expected to be loyal unto death. They’d be blamed for my failings, as if they’d ever been in a position to put me in my place. The thought was absurd. Even a senior servant lacked the power to discipline an aristocrat. It was just …

I gritted my teeth. Would Gary come? It would serve me right if he didn’t. Our betrothal had been a match of convenience, even if it had become something more. His family would be urging him to ditch me, now my name was less than mud. It was ungrateful – I wouldn’t have become so invested in reformist politics if I hadn’t been engaged to Gary – but it was also common sense. A traitor like me could have no friends or family, for fear they’d be dragged down too. Gary would be fine, if he cut ties immediately. Who could blame him?

My office looked untouched, but I checked automatically as I sat behind the desk and forced myself to think. There weren’t many possible custodians … for a moment, I seriously considered refusing to appoint anyone, leaving the family to fall into dust. Most of my relatives had severed ties or weren’t really worth keeping around, although they didn’t deserve to be cut loose … and nor did the handful of servants, workers and others who depended on me. The business network was hardly traditional and yet … I sighed, again. I would send a message to Uncle Jalil, ask him to serve, and listen to the lecture he was sure to give me without a fuss. He’d never bothered to hide his feelings, when he tried to advise me …

“Your tea, My Lady,” Tilly said. “I … I’ll go to fetch His Lordship.”

My lips twisted – Gary was no lord – as she left, leaving me with no excuse to avoid the paperwork. A small pile of letters waited for me … I opened the first, winced inwardly at the brief statement cutting ties with me, then moved on to the second. They all had the same basic message, to the point I wondered if someone had got them all working together. It probably wasn’t a conspiracy. The wording was fairly standard. It just felt like everyone was ganging up on me.

And can you blame them? I scowled as I read the last letter. Even if they wanted to support you, they wouldn’t risk alienating Cat and Akin by doing so.

I heard someone knock at the door and looked up. Gary was standing there, as ruggedly handsome as he’d been the day I first laid eyes on him. He wasn’t as well-tailored as an aristocrat, nor as perfumed, but there was something about him that was genuinely real. My male counterparts were dressed more like actors playing a role, hiding their own thoughts and feelings behind a mask, while Gary was open and honest in a way few aristos would willingly match. My heart twisted painfully. I had enjoyed a freedom unknown to my peers and yet I’d tossed it away. And I had done it with my eyes wide open.

“Lucy,” Gary said. He looked relieved to see me and yet worried … the fact he had come to see me was probably a good sign, despite everything. If I’d been the supplicant, I’d be expected to visit his father’s workshop instead. “I … are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” I admitted. One thing I had learnt at Grayling’s was not to cry – at least not where anyone could see me. Admitting weakness was asking for trouble. “Are you?”

Gary hesitated, visibly. “Dad’s a little torn, as you know. He’s working with the new council and … well, the war is doing wonders for craftsmen.”

I snorted, humourlessly. We’d just finished one war and now we were having another? It didn’t seem right. And yet … I studied him for a long moment. His simple tunic was tight enough to reveal his muscles, showing off in a way that wasn’t quite showing off … I felt my stomach twist at the thought of losing him, remembering times we’d kissed and fondled in a manner that had come very close to crossing the line. I wanted to hug him again and yet … were we still engaged?

My lips twisted. One other thing I’d learnt was that it was better to know the worst immediately, rather than risk being surprised.

“I need to ask you,” I said. “What did your father say about us?”

Gary said nothing for a long second. I felt my heart turn to ice. Normally, it was the young woman who was supervised, even controlled, by her family … but for us, it was the other way around. Gary had a little more freedom than any male aristocrat, yet if his father changed his mind it would be hard to argue with him. And I had disgraced myself …

“I told him I was going to stay with you,” Gary said, with a weak smile. “If you’ll have me …?”

I took a breath. I wanted him, in all senses of the word. But I didn’t want to ruin him too.

“Gary, I love you” – it was the first time I’d said that – “but is it wise?”

Gary met my eyes. “You wouldn’t have gotten into this mess if we hadn’t encouraged you,” he pointed out. “My father … he should be a little more understanding.”

“Right now, my name is mud,” I said, dryly. “Your father cannot be blamed for wanting to cut ties.”

“My father can be a prat at times,” Gary said. “I told him I wasn’t going to abandon you for doing something he urged you to do, not when it landed you in the shit. We had a long and bitter argument about it.”

My heart clenched. Gary’s father could disown him – or worse. “And …?”

“We agreed I could go to Templeton with you,” Gary said. “My brothers and sisters will grow up and … if it doesn’t work out, my father will quietly cut me out of the direct line of succession. I’m a charmsmith. I can find work anywhere. Dad … well, he says he doesn’t want to cut me out completely, but …”

“He will if he has to,” I finished. I could understand his logic. The family came first. “Are you sure …?”

Gary walked over to sit on my desk. “If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

I had to smile, despite the guilt. “Gary, this could ruin you.”

“I know.” Gary leaned down to kiss me. “But I’ll take the risk.”

We kissed, our lips brushing lightly. I thought suddenly of my bed – the lack of servants meant a lack of prying eyes – and pushed the thought aside, burying it under worry and guilt. I had messed up and … by the ancients, I didn’t deserve him. I stood and wrapped my arms around him, feeling safe as he returned the hug. Gary deserved so much better than me and yet I couldn’t bring myself to kick him out, not if he wanted to stay. I kissed him again and again, wondering if we could change our names and find work somewhere outside the city. It wouldn’t be that hard. Gary was right. A charmsmith could work anywhere.

But I have a duty to the family, I thought, numbly. And to the kingdom.

“We’ll be leaving in two days,” I said. “If you change your mind …”

“I won’t,” Gary said. “It isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be singled out.”

“It’s a deep and personal betrayal,” I said. There was no getting around the simple fact I’d ruined Cat’s wedding. “They have reason to want me dead.”

I sighed, inwardly. The image the aristocracy presented of itself was very far from the truth in so many ways. Too many marriages existed in name only, once the children were born. It wasn’t uncommon for husband and wife to live apart, taking lovers … no one would care as long as they were discrete … and only come together at family gatherings. Everything was fine as long as they committed adultery in the approved manner … no one would really be shocked, I reflected, if Akin and Alana buried knives in each other’s backs. It was nothing personal …

But my betrayal was. And I had known it.

“It isn’t fair,” Gary repeated. “If we had pressed for your freedom …”

“The world isn’t fair,” I said. Grayling’s had taught me that too. “Sometimes, you can only hope it is unfair in your favour.”

And in this case, my thought added mockingly, you’re getting exactly what you deserve.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” I added. “I have accepted my fate.”

Gary shot me a worried look. “There are other options …”

“Not for me,” I said. “They have good reason to hate me. Going to Templeton is the best of a set of bad choices.”

I felt my heart twist. Gary didn’t get it. How could he? He’d been raised in a very different world. He would never have to get married knowing that far more than just his happiness rested on the match. He would never have to wonder if the engagement could be safely dispelled or if it would be better to go through it, when so much depended on the engagement becoming a marriage. He would never have to sire a child with a woman he might not love, let alone … Cat and Akin had overcome so much, in the last six years, and I had risked it all. No matter my motives, I deserved so much worse than exile.

“And I will come with you,” Gary said. “If we can’t return … we can’t return.”

I hugged him, tightly. No aristo would do that. Not for me. Or anyone.

I wanted to ask him to change his mind. But I didn’t. I wanted him too much.

There was a faint intake of breath, so quiet I wouldn’t have heard it if I hadn’t spent too long at Grayling’s. I looked past Gary and saw Tilly, the maid’s face as red as a tomato. She hadn’t quite caught us in a compromising position, but close enough … I giggled, despite myself, at the thought. Joining the reformists, ruining a wedding and being caught canoodling with my fiancé? I was never going to be invited back to High Society with a record like that.

“Yes?” I gently pushed Gary away, then looked at the maid. Poor Tilly was acting as if she’d caught us naked, her eyes flickering around as if she didn’t know where to look. She hadn’t worked for me very long and in any case, she was too young to know the unspoken rules of living and working in a Great House. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah, General Augustus sends his compliments and a detailed briefing letter for you,” Tilly said, stammering slightly over the unfamiliar words. She really shouldn’t have been answering the door. I made a mental note to get the rest of the staff as quickly as possible. “He also requests the pleasure of your company at Castle Lancelot, tomorrow morning. His messenger is waiting downstairs.”

I took the letter and tried not to groan. I wasn’t going to get much time to myself over the next couple of days, clearly. It made me wonder if I was going to be given actual authority or if I was just going to be the city’s agent in name only, while someone else made the real decisions. Probably the latter. It wasn’t uncommon for a big name aristocrat to serve as the official representative, eating and drinking and attending all the right parties while the real work was done by someone who was trained to keep a low profile. The king was reputed to have a small army of private agents, all trained to handle the work without drawing attention to themselves, and so did the Great Houses. House Lamplighter was perhaps the only Great House that didn’t. I couldn’t afford them. And I couldn’t object to having no real authority either. It was just another nail in the coffin of my life.

“I’ll write a note for the messenger to take back,” I said, finally. A verbal message would be considered rude, if there was no particular hurry. “And then … go see the rest of the staff, ask if they want to come home.”

Tilly looked pale. “Yes, My Lady,” she said. “Ah … I …”

I sighed. I knew just what it looked like when someone wanted to ask a question, but didn’t quite dare. “Spit it out.”

Tilly hesitated, visibly. I tried not to groan. I wasn’t in the habit of beating servants or transfiguring them or anything else and yet …

“You can talk freely,” I assured her. “My word on it.”

Tilly spoke so rapidly the words blurred together. “What if they don’t want to come back.”

“Then tell them no hard feelings,” I said. I couldn’t really blame them for wanting to leave the sinking ship. They knew the dangers of leaving and … if they wanted to leave anyway, I would let them go. I wrote out a quick note for the general and held it out. “Go.”

Tilly started to reach for the note, then started to curtsy, then hesitated before reaching for the note again. I tried not to laugh as she backed out of the room. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t turn her back on me. I wasn’t the king!

Gary snorted. “Is she new?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m sure she’ll fit in just fine.”

I allowed myself a smile as I kissed him again, then turned to the envelope. “Will you stay with me?”

“Tonight?” Gary reddened. “ Is that a good idea?”

I flushed, too. “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m finding it hard to care.”

 

Chapter Five: Adam

“We got word from the scouts,” General Bothell said, the following morning. “There’s no sign of an enemy advance, but refugees are already heading south.”

I scowled. The general had given us a comfortable bed for the night, after we’d written our reports and copied more of our memories, and I couldn’t help feeling we weren’t being allowed to take the invasion seriously. The fancy breakfast – seventeen different dishes, served by maids in revealing outfits – didn’t make me feel any better. I wasn’t fond of field rations, and I had traumatic memories of eating gruel and mush because it was all we could afford, but there were limits. They could have stored the breakfast for the refugees and fed us a simple meal of bacon and eggs. Or even mince mush.

“Make sure you get them heading further south,” I said. Templeton was too close to the front lines to serve as a clearing hub for evacuees, let alone a semi-permanent home. The kingdom would need to set up a reception centre somewhere well clear of the enemy advance … I cursed under my breath as I realised no one had any idea where that might be. Templeton had once been more than far enough from the border to serve as both reception centre and military command post. “And start getting people out of the city too.”

“The mayor is working on it,” General Bothell assured me. He didn’t seem to take any offense to my tone, somewhat to my surprise. King’s Men had wide authority, true, but he had the right to complain to the monarch if I pushed him around too much. I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not. A strong man in his position would be doing a hell of a lot more to prepare for the oncoming storm. “There are problems convincing everyone to move.”

“Get them moving by force, if you have to,” Caroline advised. “The more people in the city when the enemy arrives, the worse it is likely to be.”

I nodded in agreement, although I understood the mayor’s problem. Most citizens couldn’t afford to drop everything and leave the city, not when it would mean leaving their homes and shops unprotected. A merchant like my father could lose everything if he had to flee the city, up to and including the money in the bank. He might prefer to take the risk of being caught behind the lines, than becoming a penniless refugee who would never be able to rebuild even if he wasn’t exploited or victimised by whoever was running the refugee centres. I made a mental note to make sure the centres were closely supervised, just to make sure they were run in an open and transparent manner. It might make the difference between an orderly evacuation and resettlement or a riot.

“We’ll do our best,” General Bothell said. He ate slowly, savouring every bite. The food was good – I mentally congratulated his chef – but time was not on our side. “We’re just a bit unprepared for war.”

I opened my mouth to demand to know who was responsible for that, but Caroline kicked me under the table before I could say a word. I glowered at her, even though I took her point. The world might have been changing, but there had been no reason to expect an invasion out of the time of legends, let alone one that came out of nowhere. Normally, border wars grew out of border skirmishes, giving both sides more than ample warning to prepare for outright conflict. This war was different. There had been no warning signs, as far as I knew, before the enemy had stormed the border and taken Caithness. If there had been, they’d been ignored. I made a mental note to look into that too. There had clearly been a colossal intelligence failure.

“We do need to move,” Caroline said. “How much time do we have before the enemy resumes the advance?”

The general kept eating. I forced myself to think, mentally composing an even longer report to the king and his generals. The kingdom would have to adapt fast and that meant … I suspected they’d need to relieve General Bothell or at least arrange for a superior office to arrive and take command. I briefly considered arranging an accident for the general … it was flatly illegal, without the king’s direct orders, but it was very tempting. Perhaps I could do the deed and cover it up. Several ideas ran through my mind, only to be dismissed. There was no way to do it without making it dangerously obvious.

“We received a vapour message from the capital,” General Bothell said, as he finally pushed his plate aside. “The kingdom is calling up the troops and preparing to send us reinforcements.”

I nodded, hiding my irritation as I mentally considered the map. Vapour messages couldn’t convey more than a handful of paragraphs and they certainly couldn’t convoy memories, which suggested the king and his generals might not truly understand what they were facing. I had composed the messages myself, using all the right codes to indicate the warning was no exaggeration, yet … would they believe me? I felt like the poor reporter trying to write stories about High Shallot, a very real flying city out of the time of legends. There were no superlatives that could both convey the sheer enormity of the flying city and be believed by readers who didn’t see the city with their own eyes. My detailed reports and memories would still be on their way to the capital. It would take several days for them to reach the king.

“Good,” Caroline said. “And now, if you please, we’ll inspect the defences.”

General Bothell looked irked, but called for his cloak instead of arguing. I checked my spellcasters carefully before following Caroline and General Bothell out of the dining room and out into the open air, all too aware enemy spies might have already reached the city … if they hadn’t been there for years, buried under a cover story that made them look like harmless citizens. There was certainly a nasty edge in the air, people glancing northwards with wary eyes as they hurried about their business. I saw a handful of shops that had been closed and boarded up, others seized by the City Guard and turned into makeshift soup kitchens. I hoped someone was keeping good records of everything they’d seized. If the kingdom didn’t pay compensation, the merchants would be a hell of a lot less cooperative in future. And we needed their cooperation.

I felt my lips twist as we neared the fortress. A small gaggle of men stood outside, making their way through drills in a clumsy manner that suggested they hadn’t been called up for refresher training for years, if ever. I tried not to groan at the collection of outdated uniforms and tunics, likely to cause confusion on the battlefield if they weren’t replaced in time. The drill instructors putting them through their paces, thankfully, seemed to know what they were doing. I hoped they’d have long enough to prepare the men before they faced their first – and likely their last – test. If the enemy arrived before we were ready …

The sentry blocked our path as we neared the fortress. “Sirs, I have orders from Major Andrews not to allow any entry without his permission.”

General Bothell bristled. “Do you know who I am, soldier?”

“Yes, sir,” the sentry said. “But I have my orders.”

I hid my amusement with an effort. The poor bastard was trapped between two superior officers, unsure which set of orders he should actually follow. There were precedents for both, if I recalled correctly, and if the affair mushroomed out of control the sentry could find himself facing some very serious charges indeed. I didn’t blame him for being worried. Doing the wrong thing – or even the right thing – could end very badly. Disobeying a superior officer under martial law was a hanging offense.

“I understand,” I said, before General Bothell could muster a response. “Please could you send a message, informing the major that he has visitors?”

The sentry shot me a grateful look as he summoned a messenger boy and dispatched him to find the major. I nodded back, feeling a twinge of relief. The major had the right idea to bar entry, if only to ensure spies found it harder to get into the fortress. General Bothell would probably agree, once he got over his anger at such cheek. I knew the type far too well.

Major Andrews proved to be a tall handsome officer with a reassuring air of competence. I hoped it wasn’t fake as he exchanged salutes with his commanding officer, checked our tattoos and welcomed us into the fortress. The interior was surprisingly empty, although a number of wide passageways had been narrowed by sandbags and other makeshift defences; his office, overlooking the fields outside the fortress, let us see hundreds of men digging pits, preparing traps, and piling earth against the city walls. Normally, it would be a foolish tactic; now, it might give the city a fighting chance. Teams of sorcerers worked in droves to strengthen the wards, roaring and chanting as they put their spells into place. I hoped it would be enough. I feared otherwise.

“We’ve been evacuating the slums and dismantling them,” Major Andrews said. “It’ll make life a little harder for the enemy.”

“Harder for us too,” General Bothell muttered. “Where have you been sending them?”

“The park,” Major Andrews said. “The aristos refused to open their manors.”

“We’re under martial law,” I reminded him. “They can be forced to let the poor sleep in their manors.”

My lips quirked at the thought. I’d grown up poor, my entire family crammed into a shop … the hell of it was that we’d lived in luxury, compared to some of the true unfortunates in Water Shallot. I’d shared a room with my siblings; I knew people who’d had to share with their entire extended families. It had been obscene to visit aristocratic mansions and see just how much living space they had, even the children enjoying entire suites big enough to house an entire poor family. It would do them good to see how the other half lived, I reflected, although I had a private suspicion they were already loading their carriages and fleeing south. It was probably for the best. The people with most to lose were the ones most likely to suggest coming to terms with the enemy, rather than fighting to the last.

“The council wouldn’t approve,” General Bothell pointed out. “The aristocrats pay most of the taxes …”

“We’re under martial law,” I repeated. “Who cares what they think?”

Caroline shot me a sharp look. I sighed and changed the subject. “What other precautions are you taking?”

“We’re calling up the militia as fast as possible” – Major Andrews waved a hand towards the wall, in the general direction of the men I’d seen outside – “and arming them after a brief refresher course. So far, the scouts have reported nothing, but … that will change. I’ve got the alchemists working on brewing exploding potions and other surprises, including some that might damage Objects of Power. Or at least the men using them.”

General Bothell shook his head. “How the hell did they make so many?”

I exchanged glances with Caroline. “Perhaps they ransacked a ruined city and recovered a few dozen machines, ones they could repair.”

The general gave me a sardonic look. I scowled back. He had a point – a broken Object of Power was impossible to repair, as the collapsing spellform tended to turn the entire structure into a fused and charmed ruin – but I couldn’t think of any other explanation. Caitlyn Aguirre had managed to repair a flying city, of all things … perhaps Garstang had managed to repair a bunch of war machines. Or perhaps they’d recovered a working foundry. What else could it be?”

“We did see strange energies around the city near Caithness,” Caroline put in. “If the ancient sites are coming back to life … who knows what can be recovered?”

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Most ancient cities – metallic ruins; some dead and cold, others contaminated by strange magics – had been either searched from top to bottom or cordoned off after too many fortune hunters had gone into the city and never come out again, or come out horribly warped and twisted by the poisoned magics. The Eternal City itself had been a maelstrom of dangerous powers, one contaminated beyond repair … except Cat had managed to salvage a flying city. I hadn’t gone back to the city since then, but I’d heard through the grapevine that thousands upon thousands of scavengers were already making their way there as word spread. Whoever found the next flying city would be in an utterly unassailable position.

“Everything taken out of a dead city is worse than useless,” General Bothell said. “No enchantments. Brittle metals. Curses, in some cases. The enemy must have built their army from scratch.”

I stared out the window, my eyes lingering on the northern hills. Dozens of refugees were clearly visible, the cavalry moving to intercept the refugees and steer them towards the tents we’d set up outside the city walls. They’d be interrogated, in hopes of learning more about enemy movements – and to make sure they weren’t spies – and then ordered to keep moving south. Templeton didn’t have room for them.

“There should be more,” I muttered.

Major Andrews coughed. “Sir?”

“There should be more refugees,” I said, softly, Caithness hadn’t been a particularly big city, as cities went, but she’d had the largest population for hundreds of miles. “Where are the rest of them?”

“Locked up in Caithness,” Major Andrews said. “Or ordered to head north instead?”

I shrugged. On one hand, the enemy would prefer to keep the roads clear of refugees. Their war machines might be able to travel cross-country, striding through forests and across rivers as if they were little more than minor impediments, but the rest of their army would be tied to the road. The infantry could travel cross-country too, in theory; in practice, the rougher the ground they had to cover the longer it would take to actually do it. And yet, on the other hand, clogging up the southern roads with refugees would make life harder for us. The bastards had already shown a frightening lack of concern for civilian casualties. They could smash their war machines through a crowd of refugees and …

My stomach heaved. I’d seen horror in my life, from warlocks practicing dark magic to the grinding mundane horror of being trapped in poverty, but the idea of someone galloping a line of war machines through a crowd of refugees was just appalling beyond words. It was … I swallowed hard, reluctant to show any hint of weakness to the older men. They might not respect me if I threw up in front of them.

“The reinforcements are on the way,” I said, instead. I hoped the king was sending a proper commanding officer too. “Caroline and I will head north, in a bid to discover just what the enemy are doing.”

General Bothell raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to stay and supervise? Or fight?”

There was a challenge in his words. I chose to ignore it.

“We’re not needed for supervision,” I said, instead. By the ancients, I hoped that was true. “You and Major Andrews appear to have it well in hand. As for fighting, we’ll be back before the shit hits the fan.”

I looked north again. There was no smoke against the bright blue sky, nothing to suggest the enemy army was on the march. That bothered me more than I cared to admit. The enemy should be moving south as quickly as possible, scattering or destroying our garrisons and driving millions of refugees out of their homes. Merely taking Templeton would isolate the border provinces, making it harder for us to reinforce or retake occupied land. Hell, the mere act of pushing south would be devastating for our morale. The army was composed of brave men – they had all volunteered, there were no conscripts amongst them – but no one wanted to die fighting an unstoppable force. If the troops came to believe the enemy were unstoppable …

My eyes narrowed. Why had they slowed?

“We do need to know what they’re doing,” I said. “And we’re the best at getting in and out of tight spots.”

General Bothell nodded. “You’ll have all the support we can muster,” he said. “And good luck.”

“Keep preparing for war,” Caroline said. “We need to be ready.”

I exchanged glances with her. I hoped to hell the general wouldn’t let his troops slack off once we were gone … he’d seen the memories, he should know what he was facing, but there was a very real chance some urgency would go out of his efforts once we were gone. I made a mental note to share the memory orbs as widely as possible, just to ensure everyone knew what was coming. It felt wrong to offer my memories so openly, but … better that than the alternative. If half the population came to believe we were lying, or exaggerating, or …

“We won’t let up,” Major Andrews said. His lips quirked. “But the longer they take to come after us, the better.”

I couldn’t disagree. There were limits to how quickly the walls could be strengthened, and the troops prepared for war, and the more time we had the better. And yet, every general worthy of the name knew the last thing you wanted to give the enemy was time. Why were they giving us time? Had they outrun their supply lines already? Or were they up to something?

We didn’t know. But we had to find out. Fast.

 

Chapter Six: Lucy

I felt dangerously exposed the following morning, as I made my way to the garrison on the northern side of Shallot. I’d changed my normal dress into something that might pass unnoticed, a simple tunic that matched the outfits worn by governesses and other mid-ranking female servants, but I couldn’t help feeling I was being watched. The newspapers hadn’t said much about me, and everyone had agreed it was better to put the deeds of the last few months behind us, yet … I was a traitor. No matter what happened, there would always be someone who wouldn’t forgive me. The sooner I was out of the city the better.

My heart clenched as I crossed the bridge – by long custom, the garrison was technically separate from the city – and saw the troops preparing for war. Family armsmen and civil guardsmen, marching up and down while carrying spellcasters, charmed swords, and a hundred other Devices of Power I didn’t recognise. A pair of flyers sat on the ground, looking weirdly out of place against the stone barracks and military offices. Cat must have offered them to the military, something that made my heart clench once again. If I’d found a flying city … I shook my head. There was no point in going over it again and again. And if Gary wanted to come with me …

I sighed. I liked Gary. Last night had been … I wanted him to stay with me and I wanted to tell him to go, for his own good. He could ruin himself by staying with me … my lips twisted in dark amusement. Normally, it was the woman who faced ruin, the Grande Damns muttering darkly and counting backwards on their fingers, then snidely remarking the poor woman’s first child had been conceived out of wedlock. Now … it was Gary who could be dragged down by me. I felt guilty for keeping him – for being selfish – and yet, he was a grown adult. He was old enough to make his own decisions. And I was grateful beyond words he’d chosen to stay.

“Lady Lamplighter.”

I looked up to see General Augustus – I’d met him once before, at a party I’d hosted – and Lord Joaquin Aguirre. Cat’s father. I tried not to wince at his flat expression. I’d ruined his daughter’s wedding and risked his life, and that of nearly all his family. And everyone else in the city. I tried not to look at the handful of tools at his belt, signs of his power, or to show my apprehension. No one would fault him for avenging the insult to his daughter. They might even be quietly relieved. It would have been easier for them if they could have openly sent them into exile.

“General,” I said. I managed a rough curtsey. “Thank you for inviting me.”

The general studied me for a long moment. I forced myself to look back. He was short, with a face that managed to be both remarkably pleasing and yet oddly ugly at the same time, wearing a simple green uniform with a handful of ribbons and medals. His brown hair had been cut close to his scalp, creating an oddly discordant appearance. Beside him, Joaquin Aguirre was tall, dark, and utterly forbidding. No one had looked at me like that since I’d been accused of poaching from the headmistress’s private garden and he had a great many more serious reasons to hate me. I forced myself to look back at him. He didn’t seem inclined to bend, even slightly.

“We will be marching out tomorrow morning,” General Augustus said. “Reports from the front are vague, but it seems clear the enemy have deployed a number of war machines. Our craftsmen” – he shot Joaquin Aguirre a sidelong look – “have crafted a handful of countermeasures and more will be forthcoming, but we are unsure as yet how effective they’ll be against the enemy. If the stories are true, war machines are damn near invincible.”

I shivered, recalling the stories. The Thousand Year Empire had never doubted the rightness of their actions, bringing civilisation to tribes and kingdoms across the twin continents. The stories had been written to push their agenda, I’d noted: their heroes were always strong-jawed men who fought for the right and never back down from a challenge, while their villains were always ignorant fools or villainous cowards who showed their true colours the moment the righteous heroes stood up to them. The real world was rarely so obliging. Or so simple. I’d known far too many bullies and other assholes who hadn’t been cowards. It was never that easy to put them down.

“The original war machines were pointed at enemies who didn’t even know they existed,” Joaquin Aguirre pointed out. “We know better.”

“Yes, My Lord,” General Augustus said. “But we never expected to face them. What few tricks we have worked out, or borrowed from the rebels, have never really been tested in combat.”

“We have known about Objects of Power – the key to making them, I mean – for the last six years,” I reminded him. “Why …?”

General Augustus had the grace to look embarrassed. “We assumed it would be decades before anyone produced real war machines,” he said. “Smaller Objects of Power do not make their user invincible.”

I nodded, slowly. There were hundreds of legendary swords that could cut through anything, or heal their bearer, or … perform dozens of other tricks that were impressive, in combat, but there was no such thing as an unbeatable weapon. Cat could forge a dozen such swords, yet their bearers could be killed by archers or taken down with some other method that sidestepped whatever protective charms were woven into the blade. I could see the logic – no one had realised Cat might be able to repair a flying city – but it had clearly been wrong. A handful of impossible war machines were coming right at us.

“There is no point in worrying about something that cannot be changed,” Joaquin Aguirre rumbled. “We have to deal with the world as we find it.”

General Augustus nodded, then took us on a tour of the garrison. I tried to look attentive as he introduced us to a handful of officers and sergeants, then made us watch the men going through their motions, even though I was not a military officer and never would be. House Lamplighter was too small, and too poor, to have armsmen. Even if we had a small army of our own, I wouldn’t have been allowed to join. The heirs could not be risked so blatantly.

“We should be able to give a good account of ourselves, even against war machines,” General Augustus finished. I hoped he was right. The stories suggested otherwise. “Would you care to join me for lunch?”

“No, but I do need to borrow your office,” Joaquin Aguirre said. “Lady Lamplighter and I have much to discuss.”

General Augustus summoned a messenger, who showed us to his office inside the garrison. The walls were covered with maps, some with lines and arrows drawn on them … my blood ran cold as I saw an updated chart, showing the enemy advancing along a broad front. It was hard to tell just how accurate it was – many of the magicians in the region had gone silent, after sending a handful of vapour messages – but it looked bad. The leading spearheads were crawling remorselessly towards Templeton.

They might already have taken the city, I thought, numbly. There was no date or time stamp on the map. For all we know, they could be halfway here by now.

I swallowed, hard. Zadornov had plotted to destroy the entire city. I dreaded to think what would have happened, if High Shallot fell into the ocean … the tidal waves would have marched inland for miles, washing away the entire city and killing millions of innocent people. My heart twisted again, reminding me of just how close I’d come to utter disaster. I couldn’t imagine the sheer number of innocent victims, I couldn’t wrap my head around the facts and figures, but … everyone I knew would have died. I’d been luckier than I deserved.

“Sit,” Joaquin Aguirre said, bluntly. He sat himself, behind the general’s desk. It was the sort of easy authority I’d wanted for myself … I wouldn’t get it now. Not ever. “We have much to discuss.”

“Yes,” I managed. We were social equals, on paper, although the disparity between us was so great our equality was effectively meaningless. It was hard to so much as look him in the eye. “We do.”

“If it was up to me, you’d be kicked out of the city with nothing but the clothes on your back,” Joaquin Aguirre said. “Fortunately for you, the rebel leadership insisted you be included in the general amnesty. You are, officially, forgiven. Officially. Unofficially, you are being sent into exile and your prospects of returning to the city will wholly depend on how you conduct yourself in the next few months. Or years.”

I forced myself to nod, once. I wasn’t used to dealing with male authority figures. My father had been too much of a wheeler and dealer to be a disciplinarian, while everyone who’d disciplined me at Grayling’s had been female. The sheer power in his words made it hard to do anything but listen. Akin was too young to be taken seriously, for all that he was the head of his house. Joaquin Aguirre was old enough to be taken very seriously indeed.

“Your role will be very simple,” Joaquin Aguirre said. “You will serve as Shallot’s representative to the council of war being assembled at Templeton. Your job will be to represent our interests, ensure our contribution isn’t being wasted, and various other tasks that will be outlined in your formal orders from Magus Court. It requires a diplomat. I do trust you are up to the task.”

I felt a hot flash of anger. “And someone expendable.”

Joaquin Aguirre didn’t bother to disagree. “Quite.”

He went on before I could come up with a response. “I have three daughters, a few months younger than you. They have their strengths and their weaknesses, their skills and their foibles, but none of them ever did anything as foolish as you. Even Isabella had the excuse of being a child, when she was tricked into doing something stupid. You were old enough to know better.”

I flushed. “With all due respect …”

Joaquin Aguirre shook his head. “I did my fair share of stupid things, when I was your age, but I never betrayed my entire class.”

“They betrayed me first,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Or do you think …”

“I’m not convinced you think.” His lips twisted, as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Like I said, if it had been up to me, you would have been given the boot. But instead …”

His eyes met mine. “Officially, your duties are outlined in the briefing notes. Your accreditation has been written, stamped, sealed, and included. Unofficially, you have a duty that will not be written down. Ever. If you do so in any way, Magus Court will disown you and declare you outlaw. I trust I do not need to outline the consequences of doing so?”

I flinched. An outlaw could be legally killed on sight – or worse – by anyone.

“You went to Grayling’s,” he added. “You may not be aware, therefore, that the relationship between Shallot and King Rufus is somewhat hazy. We acknowledge him as monarch, but we maintain a degree of independence and autonomy that has not always sat well with the Royal Family. There are some amongst us who believe the last House War was covertly encouraged by the King, and far from plotting his father’s overthrow the prince actually enjoyed his father’s backing. If he had taken control, he would certainly have ended our independence no matter what happened to the rest of the kingdom.”

“I see,” I said, slowly. “I’m not unaware of the political implications.”

“The balance of power shifted the moment Cat realised how to forge Objects of Power,” Joaquin Aguirre said. “The king has reason to fear us. The balance shifted further when Callam was discovered, raising the spectre of both Zeros remaining firmly under the control of two Great Houses, united through the match between Cat and Akin. The prospect of the king actually taking steps to take control of one or both Zeros was very real, even before the King’s Men tried to seize High Shallot. There would have been a major incident if the war – both wars – hadn’t rained on our parade.”

“I see,” I repeated. “And this means?”

“The king may try to sell us out,” Joaquin Aguirre said, bluntly. “Your unofficial job is to watch for signs of betrayal, then warn us before taking whatever steps you deem appropriate.”

I blinked. “He can’t bend the knee to Garstang …”

Joaquin Aguirre indicated the map. “If the reports are true, and the enemy has thousands of war machines, it may be impossible to stop them. If … if that happens, the king will be forced to come to terms with Garstang. I imagine one of those terms will be the surrender of Cat, Callam, and everything they’ve built over the past few years. It’ll all be dressed up neatly, perhaps with the Crown Prince married off to some Garstang girl, but it will be a betrayal. Your task is to watch for it and stop it.”

I hesitated. “I’m not used to high-stakes diplomacy.”

“No, but that gives you an edge,” he told me. “Too many diplomats are reluctant to admit defeat, even when they’ve traded away Objects of Power for beans.”

I made a face. Everyone knew the story about Wise Jack, the idiot who had owned an Object of Power – a working Object of Power – that he’d traded to a conman for beans. Few realised the story had a double meaning: Jack might have given up something beyond price, but he’d been able to plant the beans and feed his family. You could do a great deal with a working Object of Power, if you had a little imagination, yet you couldn’t eat it. The beans might not have been such a low price after all.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, ruefully.

“Good.” Joaquin Aguirre leaned back in his borrowed chair. “You’ll be leaving with the army, of course. Take whoever you wish with you, just remember Templeton might be besieged. If the city runs out of food, you’ll starve.”

I swallowed. “Understood.”

“Understand something else.” His eyes were suddenly very hard, boring into mine. I could feel his magic thrumming on the air. “You put the lives of my wife, my daughters and much of my family in terrible danger. Your reasoning might or might not have been sound, from your point of view, but you came very close to killing them all, along with countless others. You took advantage of my daughter’s good nature and …”

His face hardened. I couldn’t move. I’d been threatened by Malachi Rubén, a blackmailing monster who’d wanted to take a vicious revenge on the aristocracy, but he’d been unable to threaten me with anything more than exposure if I refused to play his game. I’d beaten the bastard and stolen his magic tricks, used them to pay my father’s debts … there was no room for manoeuvre here, not with Joaquin Aguirre. He could shrug off everything I could throw at him and then crush me like an ant. And no one would give a damn.

“Let me be very clear on this.” He didn’t scream or shout. He spoke in a normal calm voice. Somehow, it was more threatening. “If you do anything that risks their lives again, or might just put them in danger, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

My legs buckled. I was lucky I was sitting.

“Yes, sir.”

“If you were my daughter, you would have been sent into exile by now,” he added. “Or disowned.”

“If you were my father,” I muttered, “I wouldn’t have gotten into such a mess in the first place.”

He shot me a stern look. “Your father was a fool, prone to gambling and betting everything on one roll of the die. He was always talking about his next great deal, coming up with idea after idea for making money … and if he’d put the energy he put into promoting himself into doing something more useful instead, such as developing his common sense, he would have saved himself a long time before his untimely death. He could never think beyond the next deal, never consider the long-term consequences of his actions. I would say, in all honesty, that he never grew up. His immaturity was so great I am astonished he married and had a child.

“You appear to be very much his daughter, a young girl who has the same problem with not thinking ahead. You did well to save your family, and it looked as if you were making something of yourself, but then you threw it all away. Thankfully, this time, there is no child involved.”

He never raised his voice. I still felt as if I’d been flayed alive. It would probably have been kinder.

“If it had been up to me, like I said, you would have been kicked out and that would be that,” he finished. “You put my entire family in danger – and some were your friends. As it is, I advise you not to waste this second chance. There will not be a third. Do I make myself clear?”

I swallowed, hard. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good,” he said. He didn’t smile. “I wish you the very best of luck, but … hopefully, we will never see each other again.”

 

Chapter Seven: Adam

“You look about as threatening as any other wandering farmer,” Caroline teased. “Do you think we’d be better off dressing as workers?”

I shook my head. It was the season for wandering labourers to make their way from farm to farm, offering their labour in exchange for food, drink and a place to rest their weary heads. I had no idea if we would fool anyone, but there weren’t many other cover stories for dark-skinned people like us. Most of the locals were pale, which suggested we were from further south ... I wondered, idly, if anyone from Garstang would actually notice, then decided it was best not to take chances. If they realised we were trained magicians, they’d probably take us into custody. Or worse.

“If we stand out, we’ll be dead,” I said. “Did you finish your report?”

“Such as it is,” Caroline confirmed. “Yourself?”

“Yeah.” I scowled inwardly. There hadn’t been any real update since our arrival. I wasn’t fool enough to write out a detailed description of our defences, no matter what charms I put on the parchment. Garstang had her own sorcerers and if one managed to unravel the charms my secrets would fall into their hands. I had no idea if there were enemy raiders operating to the south, but it was what I would do if I was in their shoes. “We should probably send out a bunch of silly messages, just to force their code breakers to waste their time.”

“We don’t have time,” Caroline said, dryly. “Do we?”

I looked her up and down, tying not to marvel at how well she wore the loose trousers and shirt. It made her look like a countrywoman, a peasant girl old enough to wed and yet … she looked back at me, making sure there was nothing about my outfit that would draw the eye. Leaving our spellcasters behind was a risk, to say nothing of the other tools, but I had no illusions about our chances of escape if the enemy caught us. Going covertly was our only hope.

“You look too attractive,” I teased. “You’d better put some shit on your face.”

Caroline gave me the finger, although I wasn’t entirely joking. Soldiers weren’t known for restraint, if they were confronted with something young, female and apparently defenceless, and they tended to have protections that negated the more common anti-rape spells. Caroline knew more powerful charms, of course, but using them would prove she was more than just another wandering labourer. I shuddered at the thought. The enemy had occupied an entire city, as well as hundreds of towns and hamlets. They could be doing anything to the helpless civilians trapped behind the lines.

There was a sharp knock on the door. I raised my voice. “Come!”

Major Andrews stepped into the chamber, his nose wrinkling as he saw us. “You look perfect.”

“Thanks,” I said, dryly. “We’re ready to go.”

I braced myself, mentally, as he led us to the main gate and showed us out of the city. Night was falling rapidly, the northern hills vanishing into darkness as the sun dropped below the horizon. I muttered a night vision spell and gritted my teeth as a strange shimmering light washed across the landscape, a faint glow that existed only in my own head. Caroline muttered the same spell from behind me, her voice low. Major Andrews didn’t bother to wish us good luck. He just closed the door behind us. Bastard.

“This way,” I muttered.

I started to walk, heading up the road towards the mountain pass. There were fewer people on the road now, most hurrying to the city in hopes of getting inside before the gates were closed for the night. Others were trying to find shelter along the roadside, gathering wood for fires and searching the nearest trees for berries and other edible wildlife. I hoped they knew what they were doing. A farmer or a survival expert could scrounge up a feast, or at least enough to keep themselves alive, from a forest, but someone who didn’t know what was safe to eat – and didn’t know the spells to check – was likely to poison himself. It could end very badly indeed. Even something as minor as stomach cramps could be lethal so far from any druid.

Caroline fell into step behind me, following in my shadow in a manner we’d mastered during basic training. She’d had a chance to hide herself if we ran into trouble, to put herself out of the enemy’s sight … I hoped it would be enough to give her the freedom to act, as I took the first blows. It would be disastrous even if it did … we’d discussed a handful of contingency plans, but if we were caught she’d have to run while I held them off. Better that than us both getting caught. Someone would have to take word back to the city.

“It’s too quiet,” she muttered, her words so low I barely heard them. “Watch yourself.”

I nodded. There should have been some lights on the hillside, where shepherds watched their flocks of sheep, but I couldn’t see a single lightspell, let alone a fire. The air was cold and yet silent, the wind shifting oddly … I tensed as I kept walking, half-expecting to encounter an enemy camp. There were no more refugees now, no one trying to get out of the occupied zone. I prayed they’d gone east or west, perhaps even north. The border was a solid barrier, as far as the kings were concerned, but to everyone else it was just a line on the map. Maybe not even that. The farmers on our side had no qualms about trading with folks on the other and vice versa. I wondered, numbly, if any had seen evidence of the army moving into place. If they had, it hadn’t been reported.

They don’t care who rules, as long as they’re left alone, I thought. And why should they?

The mountain pass looked an ideal place to slow an enemy army, although appearances were deceptive. The mountains weren’t high enough to prevent the infantry from swarming over the peaks and taking the defenders in the rear, if they didn’t have enough firepower to blow their way right through the fortress. I was mildly surprised no one had bothered to set up even something as small as a checkpoint, although perhaps I shouldn’t have been. The locals could get around it as easily as an enemy army.

I gritted my teeth as we passed through the valley and peered north. It wasn’t that late. Caithness should have been a glowing haze in the distance, a promise of civilisation and shelter deceptively close to the pass. The city was much further away than it looked, but … I scowled as I stared into the darkness. The glow was gone. Caithness was a dour city and yet … it should have been lit up. But there was only darkness.

Caroline stepped up beside me. “They couldn’t have destroyed the whole city, could they?”

I had no idea. It seemed impossible. I couldn’t recall the Thousand Year Empire ever destroying a whole city, not in its long history. I supposed it wouldn’t have been impossible to tear it down with the spellcasters I’d seen, but it would take days and kill hundreds of thousands of people … I didn’t want to think about it. What was the point of taking a city just to raze it to the ground and slaughter the inhabitants? You couldn’t lord it over a conquered people if you killed them all. It would be a crime on a scale unmatched for thousands of years.

My eyes narrowed as I peered into the darkness. The terrain was rough and treacherous, but there were towns and hamlets within the gloom … now, I couldn’t see a single light. It felt as if we were alone, the only humans for hundreds of miles … perhaps the only living things. The night skies should have been alive with owls and other nocturnal birds, but they appeared to be in hiding. If they were gone …

We resumed our walk. The landscape grew rougher, the moraine threatening to slow us down if we kept off the roads. There were hollows that appeared small until we walked into them and ridges that let us see for miles, before we strode onwards into the next hollow. The river I recalled crossing had burst its banks, the water spilling into the hollows … I swallowed, hard, as we neared the bridge. It was gone, leaving only a shattered ruin that chilled me to the bone. If the enemy had destroyed it ... it wasn’t going to be easy to get an army to the border. The river was too fast and too deep to swim.

“Hush,” Caroline whispered. “Look!”

I followed her gaze. The river was flowing onwards, wider than I recalled … it took me a moment to see what she’d seen. A trio of war machines were inching through the river, slowly crawling out of the water and up onto the riverbank … I felt a twinge of fear, despite everything, as they seemed to crawl towards us. They looked like giant locusts, their legs twitching oddly as they advanced. Ice ran down my spine as I heard the sound. It reminded me of a squeaky bicycle, only worse. Much worse.

“They don’t look as if they can move very fast,” Caroline said. She’d always been a cool customer, no matter the situation. “I don’t think they can move much faster.”

I frowned. The locusts were moving slowly … she might be right. I certainly hoped she was right. But there was something inevitable about their movements that chilled me to the bone. They were slow, compared to the fast-moving machines I’d seen earlier, and yet … I sucked in my breath. I’d never been scared of insects – despite my mother’s best efforts, they’d been a near-constant presence in our home – but just looking at them made me feel a twinge of unease, as if I was looking at something fundamentally wrong. They should not exist.

“We need to get closer,” I muttered. “I’ll do the scouting. You watch from a distance.”

“Not this time,” Caroline said. “We’ll go together.”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to move. The locusts were inching forward … I’d wondered if they’d caught a sniff of our presence, somehow, but it looked as if they were following the river. They splashed though pools and puddles that would have posed a serious challenge to a man on horseback, pulled their way through mud that would have trapped an unwary man … I wondered, suddenly, if they could get out of the bogs near Kirkhaven. The traps we were digging might not be as effective as we’d hoped. Major Andrews had come up with plans to divert the river … I knew, now, it wouldn’t be enough. The locusts were too heavy to be swept away by anything less than a tidal wave.

Up close, the noise managed to be quiet and deafening at the same time. It felt more like an aversion ward than anything else, a charm designed to warn someone off without doing something humiliating or permanent to them. I risked a tiny spell, checking for a ward, but sensed nothing. The sound was real in a way most wards weren’t … I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep looking. The locust looked a little like a meksect, I noted, yet there was something oddly crude about it. The meksects had been put together by artists. The locusts looked as if they’d been thrown together in a hurry, by someone who didn’t quite know what they were doing. Their armour plates looked more like dragon scales than smooth metal.

Which doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous, I told myself. Dragons were dumb beasts, but they were very hard to kill. It was hard for anything less than a large band of sorcerers to bring one down and not all survived the experience. The locusts were crawling on the ground instead of flying through the skies, but … up close, they were larger than anything I’d ever seen come out of a workshop. Even the king’s private coach, large enough to pass for a small house, was tiny compared to the locusts. How did they manage to build so many without us getting a clue? How did they even build them at all?

The locusts came closer. I was suddenly very aware of waves of mud moving like water, displayed by the sheer mass of metal moving along the riverbank. It looked as if giant eyes were peering down at me … for a horrific moment, I honestly thought I’d been shrunk before I realised the truth. The locusts were just that large. I held myself as still as I dared, watching helplessly, as they crawled onwards. The mud rippled against me, threatening to drag me under. It was all I could do to inch backwards myself, once they were a few metres away. I wished they moved faster. I felt as if I were naked, exposed to their fire. Did they miss me? Or had they decided to let me do?

“Incredible,” Caroline breathed.

Her voice shook as we scrambled for cover. I caught her hand and squeezed it. We’d both seen the flying city, but that had been built long ago. The locusts were new. I couldn’t help thinking of just how long it took to build a clipper ship, a vessel made of wood, and wondering how long it would take to build even one locust. Just assembling the metal would take time …

“Yeah,” I managed. I hadn’t been so scared in my entire life. “Did they take the armour plates from ancient cities?”

My mind ran in circles, oddly disconcerted. Objects of Power wasn’t so much things of metal and wood as they were spellforms given physical form … or were they? I wished, suddenly, I’d spent more time with Caitlyn Aguirre, before her true nature had been revealed … I knew her, vaguely, but we’d hardly been friends even before she left the school. I’d looked up the theory she’d described, when she’d finally been allowed to publish a paper on how the trick was actually done, yet it had been mostly well above my head. I wasn’t even sure why she’d been allowed to write it. Perhaps her father had hoped it would keep enemies from thinking she was the only one who could make Objects of Power …

But a spellform the size of a flying city is mind-boggling, I thought. The wards surrounding Magus Court and the Great Houses were immense, but they were hundreds – if not thousands – of spells designed to work together. Is that true or ... did they do something else?

“They might have,” Caroline mused. I had to think to recall what I’d said. I was too stunned to think clearly. “They bolted the armour plates together. They’re not smooth.”

“Odd,” I muttered. I heard a sound coming close and sucked in my breath. “We have to move.”

We forced ourselves to run south, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. It wasn’t the first time I’d been hunted – our training had included exercises in which we were meant to stay ahead of the hunters as long as possible – but it was certainly the worst, if only because I wasn’t sure if we were being hunted. The locusts hadn’t tried to kill us … was that because they hadn’t seen us or because they’d called for others? I didn’t know. I flinched from things moving in the darkness – wildlife or enemies, I didn’t know – as we kept going, sweat pouring down my back. I didn’t feel even remotely safe until we reached the pass once again and even then …

No. I didn’t feel safe at all.

Caroline sagged and perched on a piece of rock. “There could be anything beyond that river,” she muttered. “Anything at all.”

I nodded, tartly. The bridge was gone … the next bridge was five miles downriver, if I recalled correctly, and it might have been knocked down too. There was little hope of getting across without a bridge, unless we built a boat, and that would take time I didn’t think we had. The waters were too fast-flowing to risk a fish transfiguration either … probably. I tossed ideas around to make it work, then gave up. It wasn’t going to happen.

“I guess we know why there are so few refugees now,” I said. The locals knew the dangers of fast-flowing waters. They’d be wary about trying to cross unless they had no other choice. “The ones we passed must have crossed the bridge before it was taken down.”

“Yeah,” Caroline said. “I …”

She broke off. “Crap!”

I followed her gaze. There was something there, a towering shape half-hidden in the darkness … I swallowed hard, realising there was a war machine far too close for comfort. It had moved so silently … I was sure it hadn’t been there earlier. And yet … the bloody things were difficult to see, simply because they were so different … as if they belonged to a whole other world. The newspapers insisted there were people who simply didn’t believe in the flying city, who refused to believe it existed even through it was casting a long shadow over Shallot. I knew how they felt now.

“They could have overwhelmed Templeton by now,” I said, as calmly as I could. I could feel eyes watching me, hidden in the darkness. I hoped to hell I was imagining it. “Why haven’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said. She stood, brushing down her dress. “But I don’t think we’ll like the answer when we find out.”

 

Chapter Eight: Lucy

“Look on the bright side,” Gary advised. “At least they’re not making us walk.”

I snorted as I scrambled into the carriage. Magus Court had ordered the troops to march through the city, to reassure the population that the country was ready for war and to remind the troops what they were fighting for, but I had been told I wouldn’t be welcome and, in fact, my carriage was expected to depart with the advance guard. I wouldn’t have been that upset normally – I didn’t like the idea of holding a parade, certainly not after how the last one had ended – but it was just another reminder that I wouldn’t be welcome in the city either, not for a very long time. Uncle Jalil would take care of my interests and, to all intents and purposes, he would be House Lamplighter. Until that changed …

Gary sat facing me, our legs brushing. “You alright?”

“It could have gone better,” I said. The talk with Uncle Jalil hadn’t involved any shouting, screaming, or any pointed I-told-you-so reminders. It had somehow made things worse, as he’d listened to my explanation, given a long-suffering sigh, and agreed to return to the hall for the next few years. I would almost have preferred the shouting. The gentle reproof had been unbearable. But then, there was no point in yelling and screaming. There was no way to fix the mess. “I disappointed my uncle. Again.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you, in time,” Gary said. “You thought you were doing the right thing.”

“It doesn’t help,” I said. It was easy to avoid mistakes driven by greed, envy, or hatred, because it was all too clear those emotions were bad. Someone could perform a sanity check before matters got too far out of hand. My tutors had told me to think carefully about why I was doing something, before I actually did it. But here … I had thought and I’d come to the conclusion I was doing the right thing and I’d been wrong and … I shook my head. “I should be glad he even agreed to return.”

The door opened. Tilly scrambled into the carriage. I opened my mouth to tell her to ride in the next carriage, then closed it before I could say a word. She didn’t deserve to spend the next two days cooped up with a bunch of diplomatic and military aides, not when she could ride with us instead. It wasn’t a problem for the other Great Houses – they normally travelled in convoy, with enough carriages to enforce strict social stratification – but for me … I exchanged a pained look with Gary. We could have spent the trip in each other’s arms, if Tilly hadn’t joined us.

“I hope you brought a book,” I said, instead. Tilly had never left the city. She didn’t understand what a five-hour trip actually meant, let alone one a great deal longer. “If you didn’t, go get one now.”

“More than one,” Gary put in. “You’ll need it.”

Tilly flushed, then held up her bag. A handful of books were clearly visible, printed on cheap paper. I nodded and turned my attention to the window, casting a handful of obscurification spells as the carriage finally rattled into life. Half the people loved me, according to the newspapers, but the other half hated my guts. There was no point in giving them a chance to hurl mud – or worse – at me. Better to hide behind the spell and watch the city slip away for the last time.

My heart clenched. Gary and Tilly didn’t understand what it was like to be sent away from home, not really. I should have gone to Jude’s, but my father had sent me to Grayling’s instead … I hadn’t understood why at the time, and I’d begged and pleaded to attend the school favoured by the aristocracy, yet … it hadn’t worked. I got it now – he hadn’t wanted to risk exposing just how deeply the family was mired in debt – but it still hurt. I wished I’d had a chance to speak with him again, although the ancients alone knew what I would have said. Hugged him? Cursed him? He’d meant well, but he’d left me with an awful mess. And I had done the same myself …

The streets were surprisingly empty, as we drove through North Shallot and across the bridge into South Shallot. A handful of burned-out buildings mocked us, a grim reminder of the war that had swept over the city, but otherwise life seemed to be returning to normal. I caught sight of a handful of faces I vaguely knew, brief glimpse of a life I had never quite been allowed to enter, and felt my lips twist as we moved onwards, leaving them behind. The city walls mocked me, a reminder that I would never be allowed to return. I reached out and took Gary’s hand as we reached the gates, a handful of uniformed men strutting around as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. I hoped that was unlikely. The reports from the war front were confused and contradictory, but so far the enemy hadn’t advanced past the northern provinces. It bothered me, although I wasn’t sure why.

“If you want to hop out now,” I said, hating myself for even saying the words, “you can.”

Gary managed to look incredibly reproving without changing his expression in any way. “I made my choice, Lucy,” he said. “I’ll stay with you.”

He winked. “Unless you want to toss me out now …”

The hell of it, I reflected, was that I should. Gary was a fine young man. I shouldn’t drag him down, not the way I was … and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to kick him out. I was too selfish … I wanted something for myself, even if it meant blighting his life. He deserved much better and yet … I shook my head, unable to come up with the words I needed to thank him. Or to swear at him. It felt as if I were doing the wrong thing.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure he could hear. “But I just worry …”

Gary squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

I blinked away tears as the carriage passed through the gate and into the open countryside. The army was drilling outside, men marching up and down with spellcasters while others pushed heavy weapons – Devices of Power – around the field or dug trenches while piling earth against the city walls. I caught sight of a bunch of aristocrats – they had the right bearing – laughing and joking as they swung their weapons around, as if the oncoming storm was one big game. I felt cold, despite the last of the balmy summer air. If things had been different, those young men would have been courting me and every other young woman two or three years in either direction. Now … they were going to the war. I couldn’t help wondering how many were going to come back.

Gary’s going to the war, I thought, numbly. A charmsmith of his power didn’t have to leave the city, but … he had. What if he doesn’t come back?

The defences gave way to the handful of farms surrounding Shallot, then the barren lands that marked the edge of the city’s jurisdiction. There were long-standing agreements about settlements in the area, between the king and the city’s council … I wondered, suddenly, how many of those agreements were quietly ignored. The whole region was a legal grey area … I pushed the thought aside as the carriage headed up the hill, the road twisting to give travellers a good look at the city before they headed onwards into what the city’s population called the barbaric wildness. It wasn’t remotely fair, but … my lips twisted. It was often said that the only good thing to come out of Tintagel was the road to Shallot.

As if we’re not quite part of the kingdom, I mused. And in a sense we’re not.

Tilly let out a breath as she saw the true immensity of the city. I kept my face under right control, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic. My eyes swept over North and South Shallot – Water Shallot was hidden behind the richer districts – and lingered on High Shallot, floating over the shimmering blue waters. There was a pool of darkness under the flying city … I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy for the fishermen below. I wouldn’t like sailing under such an immense bulk, certainly if I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t come crashing down without a hint of warning. The original flying cities had all fallen out of the sky, when the Thousand-Year Empire died. No one quite knew why.

“It’s big,” Tilly said. She pointed a finger. “Is that where we were?”

I swallowed the urge to make a sarcastic response. She was off by several miles. But … I had been a senior at Grayling’s and seniors were supposed to take care of the juniors, particularly the ones who were properly respectful. And Tilly was …

“The Hall is over there,” I pointed. Something moved, far too close to the carriage. My eyes narrowed. An obscurification charm? Or something else? I kept a wary eye on it and kept talking. “And we came up the road there.”

The road shifted. The carriage drove onwards, leaving the city behind. A wave of abandonment washed over me, an awareness I might never return. I knew I deserved it – and worse – but it still gnawed at me, still left me feeling as though I was being punished beyond all reason. And I’d dragged Gary down with me … Tilly, at least, should be reasonably safe. No one would punish her for being my maid. She was only following orders. And besides, it wasn’t as it she had much agency in her life. She had very little say in what happened to her.

And that won’t change, even as she becomes an adult, I thought. In many ways, Tilly was lucky. She’s a poor girl from a poor family with poor prospects.

I pushed the thought out of my mind as I opened my bag and removed the latest set of briefing notes. The messages from the front were a combination of outdated information, wild rumours, and unconfirmed reports, so I put them aside and dug into the historical and biographical information packs instead. I’d never been to Templeton, and it was nothing like Shallot, but … I’d have to get as familiar with the city as possible before it was too late. Who knew what would happen, once the two armies clashed?

The trip went on and on, the carriages racing down the king’s road. We passed hamlets of farmers who eyed us warily, then drove through towns that appeared to have better things to do than pay attention to us. Every so often, we drove past bands of soldiers marching north and small groups of refugees heading south. I didn’t like the implications. The enemy was still hundreds of miles to the north. Did that mean, I asked myself, that word of their advance was spreading … or were they actually much closer than we thought? Might we be driving right into a trap?

Tilly looked tired, and bored. I hid my amusement with an effort. She was too young to school her emotions properly, or hide them from her superiors. I knew a dozen Grande Dames who’d scold her for not sitting pretty, her hands in her lap, instead of doing something – anything – to keep the boredom from eating her alive. Instead, I told her to get some sleep. It wasn’t as if we needed her …

“We should have brought a pack of cards,” Gary said, wryly. “Or something.”

I snorted. “I think I’ve gone off gambling,” I said. My father’s gambling debts had been something to behold. It had been easy to roll my eyes until I’d realised I’d inherited his worst traits. I’d thrilled to living on the edge until I’d fallen off and discovered, too late, that there was no soft landing. “Perhaps we should play chess instead.”

The carriage reached the King’s Rest, a stagecoach inn reserved for the aristocracy, and rattled to a halt. I scrambled out, gritting my teeth at the aches and pains running through my body. None of the travel guides talked about just how big a toll spending hours in a carriage took on your body, no matter how many soothing charms were woven into the passenger compartment. Gary didn’t look much better, as he staggered out and then helped Tilly to get to the ground. She seemed shocked he so much as offered to help her. I knew plenty of aristocrats who wouldn’t have lifted a finger, considering it beneath them. But Gary was no aristocrat.

“My Lady,” the manager said. He bowed low … clearly, word of my disgrace hadn’t reached the inn. “We don’t have enough rooms for you all …”

“We’ll double up,” I said, shortly. There was nothing to be gained by an argument over precedence, then forcing half the guests to swap rooms without warning. It was the kind of petty spite that gave the aristocracy a bad name. “My bodyguard and my servant will share with me. The rest of the party will double up, as they see fit.”

The manager bowed again, then hurried off. I suspected he didn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind. I was in charge of the party, and if I didn’t make a fuss no one else could either, but someone might try to convince me to demand the handful of rooms be reallocated regardless. A young girl Tilly’s age appeared, curtseyed, and invited us to follow her to our room. I left the rest of the party behind and let us lead her up the stairs, into a suite that was easily big enough for six or seven people. I’d feared we’d have to order blankets for Tilly so she could sleep on the floor. Instead, the sofa was big enough for two grown adults.

Tilly fiddled with her hands. “My Lady …”

“Consider this a day off,” I said. Tilly had already been shocked I’d made my own bed over the last few days – I’d mastered that at Grayling’s, if only because bullying a firstie into doing it for you was asking for trouble – as well as preparing my own breakfast. It wasn’t that difficult. “Have a shower, get some rest or go downstairs and get something to eat …”

I answered the call of nature, splashed water on my face, then Gary and I walked downstairs to dinner. A handful of guests were already there, from a couple of aristocrats to a small group of merchants who shouldn’t have been there at all. I pretended not to notice as we sat and ordered food, hiding my amusement with an effort. The manager probably made additional profits by renting out rooms to passing merchants, all the while hoping and praying no aristocrats would turn up to demand the suites that were theirs by right. He’d been luckier than he deserved. It would have been an interesting disaster if we had kicked them out of their rooms.

An aristocrat wandered over to me. “My Lady, might I trouble you for a word?”

“You may,” I said, reminding myself I had a job to do. “But I will ask you for something in return.”

He bowed. “Would my sword be of use to the army, in these troubling times?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “I’m not in command of the defences,” I said, instead. Did he know me? Word of the reinforcements marching from Shallot to Templeton would have spread well ahead of our departure, no matter how quickly the whole force was thrown together. He probably didn’t, if he was asking me for patronage. Normally, a senior aristocrat would be able to influence the general. I wasn’t sure I could. “You’d do better to take your sword to General Augustus.”

“But you could put in a word for me,” he argued. “And I would owe you a favour …”

I hesitated, torn between a grim awareness that I understood his problem all too well and an equally grim understanding I probably couldn’t do him any favours. He was desperate, if he was approaching me in such a manner, and yet … he’d be better off without me. Really, he would.

“The general makes all such decisions,” I said. I doubted a lone sword – and whatever magic he possessed – would make much difference, not against an army of mechanical monsters. “I suggest you offer your sword to him.”

I met his eyes. He really was desperate. I wondered, idly, just what his story was … kicked out of his home, perhaps? There was no shortage of remittance men who were sent money by their families, on the condition they never returned home. Was he just another who had been told to leave? Or …

It wasn’t my problem. “I agreed with the general that all military decisions would be in his hands,” I said, bluntly. “Now, what do you know about the enemy?”

“That they’ve invaded the border marches,” he said. “And they’re probing south.”

I frowned. “And war machines?”

“The stories cannot be true,” he said. The doubt in his voice would have surprised me, if I hadn’t been aware I would have doubted the reports myself. If they hadn’t come straight from the army … I might not have believed a word. “They’re just illusions.”

“No,” I said. I had considered the possibility, but no illusions could actually tear through stone walls as if they were paper. “They’re all too real.”

 

Chapter Nine: Adam

The War Room looked a strange combination of extremely practical and yet dangerously – and disturbingly – luxurious. The walls were lined with maps of the surrounding countryside, and sketches of enemy war machines, and the tables were covered with everything from messages from the scouts to a map that was being updated as more and more reports flowed into the city, but the officers were dressed in their finest dress uniforms and served by maids whose dresses were held on by charms and the eyes of every red-blooded man in the chamber. It looked about as professional as a hunting party and I couldn’t help feeling it boded ill for the future. The older officers seemed more interested in exploring their host’s larder and wine cellar than they were in doing their jobs. I hoped they weren’t exploring the maids too.

General Bothell had set up his office right next to the War Room, in a chamber that could have been used as anything from a map office to a briefing room for junior officers ... something, anything, more than a duplicate office for a general who seemed unwilling to give up even an iota of luxury. It was hard to hide my disapproval as his aide showed us into the chamber, after we’d returned from our mission, or to keep from scowling at the very expensive wine he offered us. I was no fan of alcohol and the idea of wasting time blabbering about the quality of the grapes, or the brewing method, or anything else that made no sense to me was just absurd. I cared nothing for such details at the best of times and right now there was a war on. Caroline had told me the importance of small talk in breaking the ice, but still …

“The scouts have been unable to cross the river,” General Bothell said. “The enemy appears to be holding position on the far side.”

“We saw a handful of war machines on the nearside,” I said, slumping into a chair without waiting for permission. We’d slept in an abandoned house on the nearside of the mountains, rather than risk trying to get into the city in the middle of the night, and right now I was regretting it. In hindsight, we should have packed some bedding as well as a bunch of other supplies. “They’re trying to ensure we can’t get across the river.”

“Which suggests they’re not intent on crossing the river themselves,” General Bothell pointed out, smoothly. “They wouldn’t be taking out the bridges if they wanted to use them.”

He waved a hand at the map. I followed his gaze. There were nine bridges within the province, all wrecked beyond easy repair. The others further up or down the river were several miles out of our way, but I made a mental bet with myself that they’d been taken down too. The enemy wouldn’t have missed such a trick and they could hardly rely on the flooding to do the job for them. The locals were used to the river breaking its banks every month or so. They’d designed their bridges to stand up to the worst the heavy rainfall further north could produce.

I wasn’t convinced. “They don’t need the bridges,” I pointed out. “Their war machines can just wade across the riverbed.”

“And get swept away by the running waters,” General Bothell countered. “I don’t think they’d risk their machines on such a gamble.”

“We saw their locusts crossing the river,” Caroline said, flatly. “There’s no reason to think they can’t get the rest of their army across.”

“And even if they do, what then?” General Bothell tapped the map. “They’re not going to be able to get their infantry across.”

“They could fit a bunch of men into their war machines,” I snapped. I reached for the sketch I’d drawn earlier and eyed it, trying to figure out how many men could be crammed into a single locust. Assuming the interior was completely hollow, which struck me as improbable, they’d be able to cram twenty to thirty infantrymen into the machines. My heart sank as I considered the math. Given a few days, they’d be able to get thousands of men across the river. “They don’t have to worry about such little problems as a river bursting its banks.”

The general scowled. “Do you realise what sort of risk they’d be taking?”

“Not much of one,” I said. “There’s very little up here that can stop them.”

“The army knows what its facing,” General Bothell said, firmly. “The advantage of surprise is lost. Our reinforcements are already on the way, bringing Objects of Power of our own. I doubt they will attempt to push any further north. They’d do better to use the river as a natural barrier, and open negotiations to force us to recognise their territorial gains. They won’t want to repeat the disaster of their war with Haines.”

I exchanged glances with Caroline. The Garstang-Haines War had begun well for Garstang, perhaps too well. They’d overrun the border relatively easily, then developed victory disease and continued their march into the enemy’s heartland … only to get cut off, trapped, and eventually forced to surrender all their early gains. The war had cost thousands of lives and they hadn’t even won enough ground to bury their dead. I could see the general’s logic – a frontal assault across a river would be extremely costly, even if war machines weren’t involved – and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Garstang’s edge wouldn’t last long. Cat and Callam were already forging countermeasures. They needed to take as much as they could before they ran out of time.

“They can’t give us time either,” I said, trying to hide my frustration. “Their edge won’t last forever.”

General Bothell met my eyes. “What would you have me do?”

I gritted my teeth. The general didn’t have the manpower to go on the offensive. Not really, not against war machines. He couldn’t even mount cavalry raids into occupied territory. The river was a near-impassable barrier, at least until the torrents of water started to reduce, and the enemy was patrolling it constantly. I couldn’t imagine a way to get across that wasn’t practically suicide, no matter what we did. Perhaps that would change, when we had our own flying machines … I’d seen the tiny flyers Cat had recovered. If she sent some up here, it would change the balance of power again.

“We are building our defences,” the general continued. “Our reinforcements are on the way. Once they are in place, once we are ready, we will push forward to the river and hold the line there. And then we can open talks from there.”

I glared. “And you are prepared to surrender the northern provinces?”

Caroline put a hand on my arm. I controlled myself with an effort. I’d met the people of Kirkhaven, now behind enemy lines, and I’d spent time in Caithness … dour city it might be, and hopefully still was, but it didn’t deserve to be occupied permanently by enemy troops. It was rare for such large tracts of land to swap hands … what would happen, I asked myself, if it did? The torrent of refugees had dwindled rapidly over the last two days. I hoped it was because the river was now impassable. It was the best of a bad set of possibilities.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” General Bothell said, sharply. “What matters is what we have the ability to do, and right now we cannot afford to challenge the enemy in the open field. We may have to concede the provinces to buy time.”

“Which they won’t let us have,” I countered. “They’ll demand we surrender our Zeros too.”

I scowled. I’d met Cat and Callam and neither deserved to be handed over to Garstang. I wondered, suddenly, if Cat’s recovery of the flying city had prompted the invasion. The enemy might have been happier spending more time building up their forces, as long as they thought they had an edge, but now … I shook my head. There was no point in worrying about it. We’d figure out the details after the war.

“If you have any real suggestions, you are welcome to advise me,” General Bothell said, coldly. It was an unmistakable dismissal. I pretended not to notice. “Until then …”

“We need to know how they make their war machines,” I said. “There are some … oddities … about the design.”

The general looked irked. “What do you mean?”

“I saw flyers and meksects in the Eternal City,” I said. “They looked … smooth, as if they were practically living things. The enemy war machines look a great deal more like machines … they look more like Devices of Power than Objects of Power.”

A flicker of hope ran through me. “They might have found a way to make Devices of Power work in tandem, rather than actually forging Objects of Power.”

“Generations of forgers have failed to make it work,” General Bothell snapped. “Are you sure?”

“No.” I shook my head. “But if it could be done …”

I let the words echo in the air. Devices of Power started decaying the moment you put them together. That was a fact of magical life. Put a handful close together and try to get them to work in unison and they’d decay so rapidly there’d be no time to take advantage of the effect before it was gone. Even something as relatively simple as a slider car required constant maintenance to keep it operating and even then, they had a nasty tendency to fail at the worst possible times. If Garstang had cracked that problem instead … perversely, it would be worse than finding a small army of Zeros. They’d be able to churn out vast numbers of war machines in relatively short order.

“If,” General Bothell said.

“Yeah.” I met his eyes. “I want to capture a war machine and see what makes it tick.”

“And if your attack provokes them to attack us?” General Bothell looked unconvinced. “If they decide to come over the river in force …”

“They already took a city,” I said, more sharply than I intended. I understood his concern, but … the only thing bullies understood was a punch in the face. “This isn’t a little border skirmish. This is all-out war.”

General Bothell gave me a sharp look. “Are you prepared to capture a war machine?”

“I have half a plan,” I said. “Do I have your permission to engage?”

The general hesitated, visibly. I scowled. There was no point in holding back, not now. The enemy had crossed the border in force. I wasn’t sure why they hadn’t kept plunging south, driving through Templeton before the city could be reinforced, but it was just a matter of time until they did. The general had been in a peacetime billet for too long. I hoped the newcomers would include someone who could take command, then dismissed the paper-pushers and promote real warriors ..

My eyes narrowed as I looked at the map. Was that the point? The kingdom didn’t maintain a large standing army – the aristocracy and commoners had never been keen on putting that much power into the king’s hands – and it would take time to raise new regiments to replace the units heading north. Was the enemy deliberately giving us time to reinforce to ensure they’d have a chance to smash much of our army, wiping out the trained and experienced soldiers who would normally serve as training cadre for the conscripts when they were summoned to the colours …? It struck me as too clever by half – my instructors had told me there was an inverse correlation between the cleverness of any given plan and its chances of success – but the world had changed, when their army had crossed the border. If that was true … we might not be as clever as we’d thought.

“Wait for the reinforcements,” the general said. “Then you can act.”

“We may want to order the reinforcements to hold off,” I said. “If they’re trying to put us in a trap …”

I outlined my reasoning, but I could tell the general didn’t believe me. “Do you know how hard it is to storm fixed defences?”

“I watched the enemy tear through a fortress at Caithness,” I reminded him. “Our defences might not be as tough as we think.”

“We do have some tricks from the … unrest … back in Shallot,” the general said. “Given time …”

“Given time,” I repeated. “Why are they giving us time?”

“Because they’d be crazy to try to take the entire kingdom,” General Bothell pointed out, sharply. “That would unite everyone against them!”

“They might not need to worry,” I countered. “They have war machines.”

“Which will be duplicated,” General Bothell said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have an important meeting to attend.”

Caroline stood. I sighed and followed her out of the chamber, trying not to scowl at the handful of officers standing around the table. Their fancy uniforms were expensive enough, I was sure, to outfit a small company of soldiers. The infantry had never been particularly well paid, even though they had lodging and food provided as part of their compensation, and … I sighed again and kept walking, allowing Caroline to lead me back to our rooms. I was fairly sure the general thought we were sleeping together. Bastard.

“Don’t push him too hard,” Caroline advised, once the door was shut and we’d checked the wards protecting us from prying eyes. We’d spent hours crawling over the walls, looking for peepholes and other surprises that didn’t involve even a flicker of magic. It was astonishing, my instructors had told me, just how many magicians forgot there were ways to do things without magic. “He’s not in a good place right now.”

“Him, and the whole damned city,” I snapped. I knew we were playing it carefully, ensuring I had a reputation for pushing while Caroline tried to keep me from going too far, but it was still a pain in the rear. “Do you think the enemy is letting us build up our forces?”

“It’s a possibility,” Caroline agreed. “Chancy, but doable.”

I scowled as I sat on the bed. My instructors hadn’t trained me to be a commanding officer, or even a logistics expert, but I had studied wars and I knew that letting the enemy have time to get ready was asking for trouble. Garstang had war machines capable of outrunning a horse, I knew, and if they’d kept moving south they would have overrun Templeton by now. The general might be right to think they’d be reluctant to over-commit themselves, but … the risk wasn’t that high. They could sweep through the central regions and lay waste to vast swathes of the countryside, then withdraw before we could even begin to stop them. Or head directly for Shallot to destroy High Shallot before it was too late.

They’re doing what we want them to do, I thought. And that is incredibly suspicious.

“We need to let His Majesty know,” I said. “After that …”

I ran my hand through my hair. Normally, General Bothell might have a point. Border skirmishes, even wars, weren’t uncommon. But this was different. The enemy had launched an attack that should have been pressed south, until it hit something hard enough to stop it … and yet, they’d just stopped. It made no sense.

Caroline cleared her throat. “The matter is out of our hands,” she said, firmly. “We’d better get on with our duty. Unless you plan to go back downstairs and get drunk.”

“Hah.” I snorted, rudely. “You know me better than that.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed. “You’ll be chasing the maids instead.”

“Please,” I said. My annoyance wasn’t entirely feigned. She knew me better than that. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

The thought made me smile, although I took her point. There was nothing to be gained from wallowing in my own annoyance, or going out and losing myself in wine and women – if not song – instead of addressing the problems I could actually tackle. I wouldn’t chase the maids anyway, not in any case. They weren’t exactly in a position where they could say no. There was little difference, to me, between using brute force to make a woman to open her legs and threatening – openly or not – to have her fired if she refused to comply. I’d heard all the bragging back in the dorms, the aristo brats laughing and joking about the maids allowing themselves to be seduced … as if they’d had any choice. The chat up lines they swore worked like a charm only worked on women who couldn’t say no …

And I was getting away from the point.

“We’ll send a message,” I said. Perhaps Caroline could speak to the general alone, playing the part of the reasonable negotiator to the hilt. “You want to encourage him to do more?”

Caroline shrugged. “What else can he do? And be reasonable.”

I snorted and turned away to stare out the window. The bright sunlight, streaming into the bedroom, made the world seem a better place and the war machines little more than a figment of my imagination. It was easy to understand why so many didn’t quite believe what was coming and yet … no matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t convince myself we were already past the worst. General Bothell believed otherwise, I reflected, because he wanted to believe it. I understood, all too well. But I couldn’t allow myself the luxury.

“We’ll come up with a plan,” I said, finally. Caroline shot me a knowing look. I could feel it even though I couldn’t see it. “And once the reinforcements arrive, we’ll put it into action.”

 

Only two chapters today, owing to health. Comments?

 

Owing to illness, I can't do any more today.

I'll try and do more on Monday before we go on holiday.

Chris

 

Chapter Ten: Lucy

“Wow,” Tilly breathed. “It’s even bigger than Shallot!”

I smiled as the small convoy of carriages crested the hill and drove towards Templeton. Tilly was right. Shallot was contained, but Templeton appeared to be sprawling across the valley, steadily expanding in all directions. Ancient buildings that looked to date back to the early days of Tintagel, after the Fall of the Thousand Year Empire, contrasted oddly with apartment blocks, foundries and even small mansions that were clearly a great deal newer. The walls were stronger than I had expected, and I could see a small army of men working hard to expand them as much as possible, but large parts of the city were on the wrong side. I shuddered to think what would happen if the enemy attacked without warning. Thousands of people would be caught trying to flee into the city and mercilessly butchered. It was going to be a nightmare.

“Yeah,” Gary agreed. “And look at all the people who’re leaving.”

I followed his gaze and frowned. Hundreds of carriages, wagons and even horses were leaving the city, heading south. Some looked piled high with goods and supplies, others were carrying so many people I feared they’d be unable to climb the hill or simply topple over the moment they hit a pothole. I hid my irritation as we drove past a cart with a crest of arms I vaguely recognised, belonging to a cadet branch of one of the oldest families in the kingdom. The aristocracy was supposed to set a good example, not flee the moment danger threatened from the north. But then, if half the reports were true, the army wouldn’t be able to do more than slow the enemy. The aristocrats probably believed they would die for nothing if they remained in their city.

My mood darkened as I saw the other refugees. Some were clearly wealthy merchants, able to afford to leave for a few weeks; others were poor and desperate, their eyes flickering towards the northern mountains as they walked on into the unknown. I dreaded to think what would happen when they reached the next city, if they ever did. The king’s roads were lined with inns and carriage houses, but they’d never been designed for so many people trying to make it south at the same time. The refugees didn’t look to have much in the way of money either. I hoped the innkeepers would have the sense to either give them what little they had or shut up their establishments and get the hell out before it was too late. The hungry and desperate knew no laws. I’d learnt that the hard way.

“Make a note,” I said quietly. “We need to set up refugee camps further north.”

Tilly glanced at me. “Won’t people take them in?”

I shrugged, then shook my head. It was one thing to take in a few dozen refugees, but hundreds? Thousands? Templeton was a huge city and if even a small percentage of the population headed south it would be a disaster, with southern cities barring their gates to keep the refugees from eating them out of house and home. Any thoughts of kindness would die like rats in a trap when the locals realised just what would happen, if they started to let the refugees in. I shuddered in disgust. Even if the enemy didn’t advance any further, they’d already wounded the kingdom beyond easy repair.

The northern mountains seemed to mock me. They seemed impassable barriers and yet I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were all too passable. A faint wisp of smoke rose in the north … refugees, desperately trying to warm themselves, or the enemy systematically destroying every town and hamlet between Templeton and Caithness? I doubted the latter – there was no point in conquering a kingdom without a population – but it was impossible to be sure. Garstang might have invasion and settlement in mind, instead of raw conquest, and if that was the case …

Tilly caught my arm and pointed. Something flickered by the roadside, barely visible in the bright sunlight. A ghost … ice ran down my spine. It felt like a bad omen, although I couldn’t have said for sure why. There had been more ghosts reported in Shallot … in places few would expect to see them. I blinked and it was gone. Somehow, I couldn’t convince myself we’d been seeing things.

The carriage seemed to pick up speed as we rattled into the city, towards the city gates … I groaned inwardly as I realised just how much cover the homes and shops would offer to anyone bent on attack, if they circled around Templeton and attacked from the south. A handful of homes were being dismantled, clearing room for the defenders, but the remainder looked untouched. I suspected the owners had too much political clout to have their houses destroyed without a clear and present danger. My lips twisted in irritation. Aristocratic selfishness was a universal constant.

Yeah, my thoughts mocked. And you’re not exactly selfless yourself.

I shoved the thought out of my mind as we passed through the gates, the guards doffing their hats to us, and came to a halt in the midst of a parade ground. A band started to play a moment later, the sound causing me to violently cringe. There was a war on, for crying out loud. Why were they wasting so much energy to welcome me when they should be focusing on the war? I knew some aristocrats would throw a fit if they weren’t greeted in a manner befitting their station, but still …

“Stay here,” I muttered, as the hatch opened. “We’ll get you to the embassy soon enough.”

I hopped out of the carriage and looked around. Mayor Tanya of Templeton – I recognised her from the files - stood in front of me, her face so blank I knew she was agitated. Her city needed help from Shallot to survive and Shallot had sent me, a technically-disgraced noblewoman, as ambassador and general representative. I had no idea how much she knew of events within Shallot, but the odds were good she had a rough idea of the role I’d played in them. High Society was normally very good at passing the word about disgraced aristocrats from city to city, warning their peers not to have too much to do with them, and I doubted a little thing like a war would keep the Grande Dames from doing their duty. I felt a twinge of envy as I met the mayor’s eyes, just for a second. She had more power and support than I’d had in my entire life.

“In the name of my people, I bid you to Templeton,” Mayor Tanya said, once the band stopped playing. She spoke quietly, but used a charm to ensure the audience could hear her every word. “Representatives from Shallot are always welcome here.”

“In the name of Shallot, I thank you,” I replied with equal formality. “It is always a pleasure to strengthen our ties with Templeton.”

The mayor’s lips twisted, just for a second. I suspected she found the ceremony slightly absurd even if she didn’t know why I had been chosen as the representative. She kept the thought off her face as she introduced me to a handful of city councillors and military officers – I noted the army, the militia and the guard appeared to have blurred into one – while directing her deputy to lead the carriages to the embassy. I tried to keep my own feelings hidden as I shook hands, exchanged curtsies, and tried to commit as many names and faces to memory as possible. It felt like a colossal waste of time.

“We need to talk,” a dark-skinned young man said. He wore a blank tunic that suggested he was very important indeed, if only because anyone lower would make sure to have their rank badges and other insignia visible at all times. His accent was pure Shallot. “I have an idea I wish to run past you.”

“There will be time for that later,” the mayor said. “We have taken the liberty of arranging a formal welcoming dinner for this evening, when you have settled into the embassy.”

And taken a shower, I added, silently. I’d been cooped up in a carriage for hours. The odds were good I stank, despite using magic to clean myself as much as possible. Luckily, it would be a severe breach of etiquette to point it out. That’ll be a relief if nothing else …

“We were expecting more,” General Bothell said. I saw the mayor flinch at his tone. “You brought a handful of men and nothing more?”

The mayor sent him a look that said, very clearly, shut up. I didn’t really blame her. Shallot had always had an uncertain relationship with the rest of the kingdom, both King Rufus and Magus Court being unwilling to risk a major incident by trying to formalise vague agreements and commitments into something solid, and the mayor would be neglecting her duties if she didn’t fear there were people back home who didn’t want to send anything to the defence of Templeton. I didn’t blame the general either. I’d only brought a handful of carriages and a tiny escort with me, too few to make any real difference if the city was attacked. The general might think I was wasting his time.

“We brought a teleport gate,” I said, trying to ignore the sudden flicker of guilt. “We’ll set it up somewhere within the city, then we can start moving men and supplies out here practically instantaneously.”

“That’ll change the face of war,” General Bothell said. “Are you sure …?”

“Yes,” I said. I’d used the gates myself … I fought down another pang of guilt. If Cat hadn’t put a gate outside my mansion, I wouldn’t have been able to ruin her wedding. “It should work.”

The mayor gave me a slightly odd smile. “Would you like to inspect the militia, My Lady, or would you like to freshen up?”

“Freshen up,” I said, quickly. “There is a war on.”

“I’ll show you to the embassy,” the dark-skinned young man said. “We need to talk.”

I recognised the urgency in his tone and allowed him to lead me away. The mayor and the general didn’t object. I suspected they were quietly relieved they wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the ceremony. I made a mental note to reassure them later, as we walked down the long road. The houses – clearly for wealthy merchants – steadily gave way to a handful of mid-sized mansions. Some had been turned into makeshift refugee camps, I noted; others were so heavily warded it was clear refugees were extremely unwelcome. My earlier thoughts came back to haunt me. Even with a war on, the aristos were unwilling to play their part.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” the young man said. “My name is Adam. Adam Mortimer.”

“I don’t believe I’d had the pleasure,” I said. He looked to be about the same age as myself and he was clearly a powerful magician, but … at a guess, he’d gone to Jude’s. He was probably a commoner too. I would have heard of him if he’d been an aristo, even a natural-born son. “But it is good to meet you.”

Adam smiled, as if I’d said something amusing. “I’m a King’s Man,” he said, shortly. “And I have an idea I want to run past you.”

He glanced around, casting a privacy charm with practiced ease. “We don’t know how Garstang produced so many war machines,” he added. “It should be impossible. Even one would be tricky and they launched a whole army at Caithness.”

I frowned. I wasn’t a skilled forger, but I knew the basics. Everything had to be put together piece by piece and mass producing even the smallest of components was tricky … and then, Devices of Power tended to start decaying the moment they were completed. Adam was right to find it odd. Either Garstang had trained a small army of Zeros or they’d found a way to reduce, perhaps even cancel, the decay. No matter the answer, it wasn’t good news.

“There are people here” – Adam nodded towards the parade ground – “who believe the enemy army has already decayed into ruin, that the threat is already over. They want to believe it, very much. I don’t believe so. The enemy is choosing not to advance. Not yet.”

“I take your point,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“Capture a war machine,” Adam said. “If we could get a good look at it …”

“If,” I said. Trying to steal an Object of Power was a serious crime … I told myself not to be silly. We were at war. “Do you think you can do it successfully?”

“I believe so, with a little help,” Adam said. “Will you authorise the mission?”

I gave him a sharp look. My official papers were vague on just how much authority I actually had. Reading between the lines, I suspected I wasn’t meant to do much more than pat heads, kiss babies and generally make it clear that Shallot supported Templeton to the hilt, even if it didn’t. I wasn’t even sure I could stretch my orders to authorise his mission …

“We need some supplies from Shallot,” Adam added. “If you can authorise them for us …?”

“I will,” I said. This had the potential to end really badly. “Once the gate is set up, we can put in requests for specific supplies.”

I met his eyes. “How is the city coping?”

Adam’s brow furrowed. “It’s … a mixed bag. Some are taking the threat seriously and staining every sinew to reinforce the defences and prepare for the coming attack, others don’t seem to believe the situation is dire or take refuge in thinking the enemy won’t cross the mountains. Still others … they’re eating, drinking and dancing, as if they know – deep inside – that their time is running out. And some have been smart enough to send their relatives out of the city.”

“I saw the refugees,” I said, tiredly. “Why don’t they believe …?”

“I was there, when Cat raised the flying city from the ruins of the Eternal City,” Adam said, after a moment. “The sight was so unexpected it was hard to wrap my head around what actually happened, let alone consider the implications. The people out here … they don’t believe in the flying city, not really, and they don’t really comprehend what’s coming at them either. It’s so far outside their experience that they just … blank out.”

“Yeah,” I said. There had always been rumours of flying cities that had somehow survived the Fall, and con artists did a brisk trade in maps that purported to point to working teleport gates, but none of those rumours had ever been substantiated. It was rare, vanishingly so, for scavengers to find anything more than charred rubble, in the ruins of ancient cities, and even the few working Objects of Power they did recover were tiny. A flying city was just so much bigger there was really no comparison. “But they saw your memories?”

“They don’t quite get it,” Adam said. “They don’t want to believe.”

I nodded, then said nothing as we reached the embassy. It was a mansion large enough for a small army of diplomats, military officers and their servants, in far better shape – I noted with a twinge of discontent – than Lamplighter Hall. The windows weren’t broken, the walls weren’t faded … I could feel the wards pulsing against me as we walked through the gate and into the garden. My guardsmen were already taking their places, while the craftsmen we’d brought with us were setting up the teleport gate.

“You might want to put that somewhere out of sight,” Adam advised. “They’ll certainly consider the possibility.”

I nodded, curtly. Adam was more right than he knew. Zadornov had seen the teleport gates in action. I had no idea where the bastard was now, after he’d escaped High Shallot in an impossible flyer, but he’d probably made a full report to his superiors. Perhaps it was the arrival of the flying city that had prompted the invasion. Garstang would have seen her advantage slipping away and attacked first, in hopes of ensuring a quick victory …

My eyes lingered on the distant mountains. If that was so, why had the enemy not attacked further?

“I have a theory they’re waiting,” Adam said, when I asked him. “If they are sure they can smash our defences, even after we move in reinforcements, they might be letting us build up so they can deal us a single decisive blow.”

I shot him a sharp look. “Is that true?”

“The general doesn’t believe it,” Adam said. “And in the old days, he’d be right. But now …”

I shuddered as his voice trailed off. The world had changed, the moment we had unlocked the secret of Objects of Power. And we weren’t ready.

Adam paused as we reached the main doors. “Can I go ahead?”

“If my authority stretches that far,” I said dryly, “you can. And if it works, I dare say they’ll overlook any irregularities in your authorisation.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Adam said, “I’ll be too dead to worry about it.”

I nodded, then headed into the mansion while he returned to his base. The interior was fresh and clean, suggesting the servants had spent the last few days cleaning from top to bottom. It was never an easy task to prepare a mansion for occupation and I couldn’t help fearing it was a bad sign. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d just prepared a handful of bedrooms and workshops. The effort could have been put to better use elsewhere.

And we’re running out of time, I thought. How long do we have, before the enemy attacks?

 

Chapter Eleven: Adam

You know, I told myself as the horse galloped through the mountain pass, this may not have been such a bright idea after all.

My lips twisted. I knew for a fact I was no coward. I’d grown up in a place where you had to answer any challenge with your fists, and then attended a school where you had to hex first or be hexed yourself – not to mention my career after I’d graduated – but I still felt uneasy as I pulled on the reins. We had arranged everything as carefully as possible, and drawn on a handful of supplies from Shallot, yet … I knew I might not come home. Caroline and I had written a handful of final letters, to our families and friends, and yet …

The horse slowed to a halt as I pressed the spyglass to my eyes, sweeping my gaze over the beautiful and yet desolate landscape. Rolling hills and treacherous drops that marked the passage of long-gone glaciers, patches of thick trees that stood tall, resembling nothing so much as islands amidst a sea of green. I felt a twinge of grief as I spied the remnants of a tiny hamlet, devastated by the enemy to force the population to run, and pushed it aside as best I could. It had taken three days of careful observation, planning and preparation to ensure the mission had the best possible chances of success, and yet it all depended on me. And my horse.

My eyes narrowed as I studied the distant river. The enemy had made no attempt to rebuild the bridge, something that contributed to the general’s belief they had no intention of advancing further south. The waters didn’t seem to have reduced either, after breaking their banks so dramatically. I could see pools of water in unnatural places, threatening to make life difficult for the locals. They might well be used to it – the bridge had been designed to stand up to anything short of a full-scale tidal wave – but …

I froze, just for a second, as I spotted the war machine. It was a tiny scout, yet … tiny was relative. The command pod rested on top of a tripod that was larger than the average house, allowing the pilot – or pilots – to survey the landscape and bring their spellcasters to bear on potential targets. There didn’t appear to be any others within range, although I knew better than to take that for granted. For giant impossible machines without any visible camouflage, they were oddly difficult to see.

Perhaps it’s a simple obscurification spell, I mused. Or perhaps it’s just that they’re so alien to us …

The house twitched oddly as I dug in my heels, ordering the beast to start trotting towards the riverbank. It was hard to tell if the war machine could see me or not – I picked a route that should have kept us under the rolling moraine or behind patches of trees – and I found myself muttering an obscurification spell of my own again and again. The skies were darkening rapidly, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain … we’d timed it well. Probably. It wasn't clear how much the rain would interfere with the enemy. For all I knew, a war machine would be completely untroubled by rain.

I sensed more than felt the war machine, as we got close. A faint sense of something utterly wrong ran through me, my hair prickling unpleasantly as I slowed the horse to a trot. The war machine was striding onwards, its mere presence an offense against everything I knew to be good and right. It seemed impossible that such a thing could even exist … I recalled the chill I’d felt, years ago, when I’d seen a spider for the first time. Up close, I could see metal struts bending in unnatural directions, as if there was something odd about the magic holding it together. It pranced forward in a manner that bothered me at a deep and primal level. It was just unnatural.

And the general argues their force is decaying under its own magic, I thought, as I reached for the glass bottle at my belt. He’s a bloody fool.

I lifted the bottle and hurled it with all my strength, imparting a momentum spell to make sure it hit its target. The contents shouldn’t have been that dangerous to a war machine – unless we had grossly underestimated their armour – but they’d know they’d been hit. A flash of light darted through the ait as the bottle struck home and shattered, the spark triggering an explosion. The war machine seemed to jump into the air in shock, like a young magician who had been turned into a frog for the very first time. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious. As it was …

The war machine swung around with terrifying speed … no, the cab had rotated on the tripod. I swallowed hard and dug my spurs into the horse’s flanks, wheeling the beast around and ordering him into a gallop. A beam of light blasted over my head a second later, my skin prickling as I felt the sheer power of the spell. Spellcasters were an old trick and yet … the enemy had clearly taken the original concept and improved upon them. The horse darted to one side at my command, just in time to dodge another blast. It slammed into the ground, the shockwave nearly throwing me off the horse. I cursed under my breath, directing the horse into a hollow for a few seconds of cover before we popped up again. The ground started to shake, time and time again. I risked a glance back and shivered. The war machine was coming after me. It had been part of the plan and yet, right now, it didn’t feel like a very good plan.

I urged the horse to gallop faster, as the thumping behind me got closer. The air prickled again as another blast of raw magic shot over my head, so close I could feel my scalp burning. There was nothing elegant in the spell, but there didn’t need to be. It was raw power on a scale we couldn’t match. A fourth blast shot past me, the blaze showing hints of humanoid forms within the moraine before sweeping onwards to slash through a corpse of trees. They were torn down so rapidly it was hard to wrap my head around the sight. It really hadn’t been a great plan.

The war machine fired again, the blast slamming into my protective charms. I’d done everything in my power to reinforce them, even borrowing an amulet forged by Caitlyn Aguirre, and yet they almost crumbled into nothingness. The horse whinnied in discontent as a wave of heat passed through the protections, so hot I feared for an awful moment it would be enough to set the horse’s coat on fire. I yanked a spellcaster from my belt, pointed it over my shoulder, and discharged the magic in a single blast. The thumping behind me didn’t pause for a second. Either I’d missed or the armour had taken the blast, deflecting it harmlessly. I didn’t want to know.

“Keep going,” I muttered, urging the horse onwards. “We’re nearly there.”

I pointed my hand behind me and muttered a handful of tripping spells. A human would have fallen flat on his face. The war machine seemed unbothered. Let them think I was panicking, I told myself, as I added a fireball to the mix. The sound behind me grew louder, a blast of light flaring over my head and striking the ground hard enough to throw debris into my face. I felt a flicker of triumph – they wanted me alive, or they would have killed me by now – and yet I could feel breathing behind me, wafting against the back of my neck. I thought I was imagining it and yet, it felt terrifyingly real.

The horse shifted as we neared our destination, a harmless-looking patch of flat land that would allow the war machine to finally catch me. I steered the horse carefully, aiming for the one safe path through the morass. I’d stolen the idea from Kirkhaven and yet … the horse cantered onwards, foaming at the mouth, right down the safe path. The war machine followed and …

There was a terrible crashing noise. I risked a look back and saw the war machine tilting forward, one of her legs snapped and broken. The pilot was trying desperately to steady his machine, but it was far too late. The cab hit the ground violently enough to do real damage, raising the spectre of the whole mission being worse than useless. I pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop, and scrambled to the ground. The safe path didn’t seem so safe now, but I ignored my doubts as I ran back to the ruined war machine. It was larger than I’d thought, I realised numbly. The cab was bigger than the average carriage. I peered through the shattered canopy and saw a young man, no older than myself, hanging in what looked like a spider’s web. His eyes went wide when he saw me, then his hand came up. I didn’t give him a chance to cast any spells. I stunned him with all the power I could muster. His body went limp, dangling like a puppet on strings.

I glanced south, wondering if the enemy knew what I’d done. The skies were growing darker – rain couldn’t be that far away – but they wouldn’t let even a heavy rainfall stop them if they knew a war machine had been destroyed. I’d read through all the old records, everything saved from Thousand Year Empire, yet it had been hard to tell if their war machines had any way to communicate with their masters. I hadn’t seen a vapour message, and I had been watching for it, but it might be meaningless. For all I knew, the rest of the enemy army was already on their way.

So’s Caroline, I told myself. And the rest of the band.

I forced myself to look into the cab, despite the crawling sensation in the back of my mind that insisted I was in immense danger. The tales of big game hunters always included the team taking shelter in caves, only to discover – too late – that they housed dragons, trolls, or something else with a taste for human flesh … my lips twisted sourly, in memory of how stupid the tales made them seem. One might as well split up and go exploring individually … I shook my head, putting the thought aside. The interior reminded me of a flyer, except … there were few visible controls. Was it so simple they didn’t need any more or … my eyes lingered on the webbing. Was the entire war machine nothing more than a glorified coat of armour? It seemed absurd and yet … some of the tales suggested so.

The rattling sound outside made me jump. I scrambled up and out, breathing a sigh of relief as I saw Caroline and the volunteers. They looked uneasy to be so close to a dead war machine and yet …

“Get the supports into place,” I snapped. We’d brought lifting charms with us … I hoped to hell they’d be enough. “Hurry!”

I cut the pilot out of the webbing, feeling a twinge of something I didn’t want to look at too closely. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken someone captive, but the others had all been criminals or warlocks. This man wasn’t a personal enemy or a practitioner of dark magic, just someone who happened to be on the wrong side of the war. The general had argued the enemy had put themselves outside the protections of the laws of war, because they’d killed hundreds of civilians in Caithness, but … I hefted the pilot up and carried him out of the cab, making sure to bind his hands before throwing him over the horse. It was hard to tell how long he’d stay stunned, not when he could have all kinds of subtle protections, and there was no point in taking chances. Better to limit his options as much as possible.

“Shit,” Caroline muttered.

I followed her gaze. The entire underside of the war machine had not only been separated from the cab, it was also too heavily buried in the ground to be removed in a hurry. The cab itself was floating into the air, steered by two of the recovery team, but the rest of the device would have to be abandoned. Thunder rumbled in the distance … I hoped to hell it was thunder. The enemy might have dispatched the rest of its army to recover the destroyed machine and kill us.

“Get the potions in place,” I ordered. “Hurry!”

The cab was levitated away, the crew herding the device towards the hidden tunnel leading under the mountains. I watched as the potions were poured into place, then looked away as Caroline ignited them with a snap of her fingers. The wave of heat made us take a step backward, the fire so hot the remnants of the war machine would be melted into a puddle. General Bothell would be annoyed when he realised what we’d done – he’d hoped to keep the potions a secret as long as possible – but there was no choice. If we could convince the enemy the war machine had been completely destroyed, and the pilot killed, we might just manage to surprise them.

“You did well,” Caroline said. “I thought …”

I understood. We’d been partners for nearly a year. The idea of going out alone was just wrong and yet … I shook my head. If we’d both gone, the odds of being killed would have been higher. Probably.

“We need to move,” I said, clambering back into the saddle. “There isn’t much time left.”

I spurred the horse into a gallop and headed for the pass, while the cab was steered rapidly towards the tunnel. Caroline would make sure the machine was under cover when it reached the far side, before it was moved down to the city. Thunder rumbled again, the first splashes of rain soaking my hair. I glanced backwards and saw the remnants of the fire, slowly dying away. If we were lucky, the enemy would never know what we’d done.

Get the device to the city, let the craftsmen take it apart, I mused. There was at least a possibility we’d fused the components beyond repair, but … I told myself we’d learn something from the wreckage, even if it was nothing more than just how strong their armour actually was. And who knows, maybe we can start building them ourselves.

I reached the pass and slowed the horse again, then turned to stare north. The rain was coming down heavily now, visibility falling sharply ... I put the spyglass to my eye once again, muttering a spell that should have let me spot any moving objects. There were things moving in the semi-darkness … war machines? I couldn’t tell. The rain swallowed everything. There could be an entire army bearing down on us and I wouldn’t be able to see it.

The horse turned at my command and cantered down the hill. I muttered a charm to shield us from the rain, then kept glancing backwards as we came out onto the plain and galloped down the road to the city. The earthworks looked impressive and yet … I recalled the giant war machines and shivered helplessly, all too aware they could easily be worse than useless if the enemy attacked in force. Frontal assaults were normally costly mistakes, but that too might have changed.

Major Andrews was waiting as I galloped into the garrison and came to a halt. “It worked?”

“Yeah,” I said. I dropped to the ground, handed the reins to a guard, and dragged the prisoner off the house. “One prisoner, and the rest of the machine is on the way.”

A pair of guards appeared. “Take him to the glasshouse,” I ordered. “Treat him gently, bit firmly. If there’s any funny business, I’ll skin you alive.”

Major Andrews looked displeased. “My men know their duties,” he said, once the prisoner was carted off. “They won’t abuse him.”

“I hope so,” I said, curtly. Prisoner abuse was more common than anyone cared to admit. I wouldn’t shed any tears for a child molester or warlock who managed to stab himself in the back several times, but an enemy soldier was a very different story. “Make certain of it yourself.”

“As you wish,” the major said, in tones that suggested I was pushing my luck. My authority was a little vague in places: on one hand, I was a servant of the king; on the other, I wasn’t supposed to tread on toes if it could be avoided. There were limits to how far you could push someone around before they started pushing back, even if it cost them everything. “We do need to interrogate him, though.”

And probably get him through the gate into Shallot, I mused. I had no idea how Garstang organised her army, but if our captive had been operating a war machine he was clearly no mere conscript. He was probably a volunteer, perhaps even an aristocrat. We might have to push the limits to breaking point just to get some clear answers out of him.

I allowed myself a smile as I turned away and headed further into the city to make my report. The enemy might be powerful, but their war machines weren’t unstoppable. Given time, we could adapt, react, and overcome. And build our own war machines.

I just hoped we could do it in time.

 

Chapter Twelve: Lucy

I found myself grabbing Gary’s hand as I stared at the remnants of the war machine.

I’d seen the memories, of course, and I’d read the reports, but there had always been a faint sense of impossibility surrounding the war machines, no matter the immediacy of the memories. It was easy to understand why the reports weren’t taken quite seriously … I shuddered, inwardly, as I forced myself to look at the war machine. It had been hard enough to wrap my head around High Shallot, a flying city right out of the time of legends, but the war machine was worse. Far worse. It was profoundly wrong in a manner I couldn’t put into words.

Ice ran down my spine as I forced myself to study the machine carefully. The cab looked like an insect’s head, the metal warped and broken and the windows smashed beyond repair. It wasn’t the largest piece of metalwork I’d ever seen, but it was at least an order of magnitude more complex than any of them … saving perhaps the flyers. A handful of craftsmen poked and prodded at the device, calling out observations for their apprentices to scribble in their notebooks. I winced inwardly as Cat clambered out of the cab, her eyes hardening – just for a second – as she saw me. Her father had been reluctant to let her leave the city … I wondered, absently, how their relationship had changed since Cat had married and moved out. I’d been told it was never easy for a father to accept that his daughter was now a young woman, and Cat and her father had always been close. It didn’t help that she was powerless without her Objects of Power. If someone captured her, it wouldn’t be hard to keep her under control.

“It’s a very interesting piece of work,” Cat said, neutrally. Her eyes flickered over Gary and then returned to me. “And quite an interesting solution to the problem.”

I felt a conflicting mixture of emotions, guilt and shame mingling with irritation and a hint of desperation. We’d spent the last few days marching troops and supplies through the teleport gate, including a number of Objects of Power, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time before our defences were put to the test. A third of the city’s upper class appeared to be bent on partying day and night, while another third were working frantically to get as much of their families and their wealth out of the city as possible. The remaining third veered between grim determination and a hint of defeatism, driven by the awareness Caithness had been heavily defended and yet the city had still been lost in a day. Templeton was nowhere near prepared for war, despite everything. I wondered, bitterly, if we’d ever be.

“Details?” I tried and failed to keep the edge out of my tone. Cat had every right to be mad at me, but … “What have they done?”

Cat led the way into the next room. Adam and Caroline were waiting – I saw Cat tense when she saw them – along with Generals Bothell and Augustus. The two men looked as grim as I felt, after laying eyes on the war machine. It was hard to comprehend and yet its mere presence banished all doubt. We were in the path of a storm that could sweep over the city at any moment.

“The enemy have combined Objects and Devices of Power in a manner undeniably brilliant,” Cat said, without preamble. She was no coward and yet I had the feeling she wanted to run. “The lone Object of Power” – she took a sheet of paper from her jacket and unfolded it on the table, revealing a sketch of the war machine’s interior- “provides both raw power and counteracts the decay that would otherwise ruin the war machine very quickly. The Devices of Power handle the rest of the work, from walking in tune with the pilot’s instructions to blasting raw magic towards its targets. The good news is that any major break will almost certainly damage the machine beyond immediate repair, the bad news is that the machine can be repaired.”

General Bothell leaned forward. “Can you repair the captured machine?”

“Not without a great deal of effort,” Cat said. “I’d have to forge the entire lower section from scratch and I suspect it was linked magically to the upper section. It would be quicker to forge a whole new machine. If nothing else, the experience will teach us a great deal about how the machines actually function.”

“Clever,” Adam said, sourly. “What does this tell us?”

“They have at least one Zero, perhaps more than one,” Cat said, bluntly. “The Zero forges the Object of Power – the motivator. Regular craftsmen do the rest of the work, which means we grossly underestimated how long it took them to build their army.”

I scowled. “It never occurred to you?”

“No.” Cat sounded more annoyed at herself than me, but I still winced. “I was so enraptured with the idea of forging Objects of Power that it never occurred to me to try to find ways to make them work with Devices of Power.”

I felt a stab of sympathy, even understanding. Cat had been powerless … until she’d proven she could do something no one could match. The idea of being the sole supplier of Objects of Power … no, I didn’t blame her for not thinking about ways to compensate for the weaknesses of Devices of Power. And yet, someone else was clearly thinking along those lines. Whoever the enemy Zero was, he was no slouch.

General Bothell sounded as if he had been knocked down repeatedly and was wondering if it was worth getting up again. “Can you duplicate their trick?”

Cat hesitated. “I think so. It would take some careful experimentation before I could finalise the design. I’m a little reluctant to take the sample we have apart any further, for fear of accidentally destroying it beyond repair. There are tools in my workshop that might allow me to plot out the energy streams, work out how it does what it does. Now we have the idea, we should be able to duplicate it.”

The general didn’t sound reassured. “And forging war machines of our own?”

“Months, at least,” Cat said. “There’s no great mystery about the rest of the war machine – I can guess what books they were consulting, when they were finalising their designs – but it will take time to retool our workshops, if only because none of our craftsmen are used to forging anything so large. I suspect we’ll have to build a whole new array of foundries from scratch. The ones we have are just too small.”

“We can build the pieces separately, then put them together one by one,” Gary offered. “Or perhaps even put the armour plating together separately, instead of forging a whole cab …”

“It may work,” Cat said. “But the truth is, we’re going to have to race to catch up.”

General Augustus smiled. “We’ll try our best to buy you some time,” he said. “Is there any good news?”

“Yeah.” Cat studied her hands. “The potion the dissidents used to destroy a Meksect should work on a war machine, if you can get it through the protective wards. A direct hit – a physical hit – should do real damage, perhaps by jarring something loose inside.”

“It won’t be much fun for the pilot either,” Caroline observed.

I nodded, studying her thoughtfully. She was as dark as Cat and … there were quite a few other similarities between them. Faint hints of similar cheek structures … her file, at least the one I’d read, had been vague on her family background, implying she was a natural-born child without ever quite coming out and saying it. Were they half-sisters? The thought caused me a flicker of dark amusement as I recalled the lecture Cat’s father had given me. Did he have a secret of his own? Or was I overthinking it. Cat’s father was hardly the only aristocrat who could have fathered her. I could name a dozen possible suspects.

“No,” Cat agreed. “I don’t think they could use any suspension spells inside the cab. They’d interfere with the rest of the charms.”

She paused. “I could be wrong,” she added. “There’s just no way to be sure.”

“Thank you,” I said, quietly. “At least we have a key now …”

“If we have time to use it,” General Bothell said. “How long do we have?”

“I have scouts on the mountains,” Adam said. “If they start to advance, we’ll know it.”

“Unless they have some other trick up their sleeves,” General Bothell said. “Can they build tunnelling machines?”

I grimaced. I’d heard the stories – we all had. Many seemed exaggerated, others seemed utterly unbelievable … until now. Flying cities and giant war machines were the least of them. The Thousand Year Empire had had machines that could tunnel under walls and explode into the target city, or toss explosive charms hundreds of miles to target enemy forces that wouldn’t even know they were under attack until it was too late. My heart sank as I considered the possibilities. What if they were digging under the mountains even now?

“There are a lot of mining shafts and tunnels in the mountains,” Adam said, warily. His thoughts had clearly been running in the same direction. “We’d hear their approach.”

He didn’t sound as if he believed himself. I didn’t either. There were just too many unknowns.

Cat stood, brushing down her outfit. I felt a twinge of amusement at her garb, very close to being trousers without quite crossing the line into something that would draw sarcastic remarks from the Grande Dames. There were quite a few young women wearing trousers now, to the delight of their male counterparts and the horror of the older women, but Cat didn’t seem interested in making it clear she couldn’t be compelled to do anything she didn’t want to do. I hoped that was true. She was vulnerable in ways it was difficult to counter.

“I’ll take the remnants of the war machine back with me,” she said, simply. “The craftsmen will be able to parse out the rest of the details, then we can get to work on duplicating the machines as quickly as possible.”

“Focus on something that can hurt them,” General Augustus said. “We’re going to need it.”

Cat nodded, then left the chamber. I felt a flicker of bitter regret. If things had been different …

“The prisoner was reluctant to talk,” Adam said, into the silence. “Under the circumstances, we used truth spells and compulsion charms. He wasn’t able to tell us that much about their future plans, which suggests his commanders were worried about their troops falling into our hands, but he was clear the enemy has no intention of waiting for us to build up the forces to counterattack. They intend to go on the offensive as soon as possible.”

I shivered. If they moved south, could we stop them?

General Augustus looked worried. “So what are they waiting for?”

“You know my theory,” Adam said, quietly.

“We’re setting up defence lines further south, and raising more troops,” General Augustus said. “Templeton is important, true, but losing her won’t end the war.”

Unless they have something else up their sleeves, I mused. They’re thinking outside the box. So must we.

I studied the map thoughtfully as the generals discussed the possibilities. Garstang was directly north of Templeton and they wouldn’t want to leave us in their rear … would they? I rubbed my forehead, wishing I’d spent more time studying military strategy. It hadn’t been a mandatory class at Grayling’s and it had never occurred to me I should request it as an optional extra. I’d studied accounting and lordship and a bunch of other fields I’d thought would come in handy, but never anything to do with war. Not beyond basic history, at least …

“Could they outflank us and head south?” The idea would be absurd normally, but now … I didn’t know. “Perhaps their real target is Shallot.”

“They’d have to pass through a dozen cities and large towns,” Adam said, in a tone that suggested he wished I’d never raised the possibility. “We’d see them coming …”

“They’d never be able to keep such a force supplied,” General Bothell added. “They’d be cut off from home …”

“Not if they use a teleport gate,” I said. “They could keep themselves supplied.”

“The gate can’t be used when it’s in motion,” Caroline said.

I shrugged and studied the map. Were we being conned? Had Garstang somehow managed to gain access to the sea? I didn’t think so … but I hadn’t thought war machines were possible either. They could have shown their power to their neighbours and then demanded safe passage – or else. How long did it take to build a metal ship? I didn’t have the slightest idea. If they planned to attack Shallot from the south … we would never see it coming.

“We will keep making preparations,” General Bothell said. “Until then …”

It was a dismissal. I nodded and stood, Gary following me as we headed out of the chamber and back onto the streets. The war machine was already gone, hurried to the teleport gate before it was too late. I hoped Cat had had the sense to conceal the machine as it was carried through the streets. The general public had no idea what we’d done and I wanted it to stay that way as long as possible. If the enemy didn’t have any spies in the city, I would be astonished.

“You were very quiet,” I said, mischievously. “What happened?”

“Lady Caitlyn took one look at the innards and figured out something we hadn’t been able to figure out for ourselves,” Gary said, crossly. “It’s just another reminder I have a very long way to go.”

“You’re a charmsmith,” I said. “Not a forger.”

“I know the basic skills,” Gary corrected me. “I should, at least. But Cat is so far ahead of me …”

His voice trailed off. I understood, better than I cared to admit. Cat had been trained in forgery – and dozens of other skills – from the moment she could speak. She had had access to the very best of teachers, learning all sorts of tricks that were normally denied even to people of her exalted birth. She was cross-trained in a manner few could match, outside the Great Houses, and her lack of magic was an asset … mostly. I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy, even though I knew better. It was bad enough learning to defend yourself at a place like Grayling’s, where you might go to sleep a human and wake up a frog, but at least I’d had magic. Cat wouldn’t have been able to defend herself. No matter her background, her life could never have been easy.

And yet, she is both a major player in Shallot and married to the most eligible man in the city, I mused. It’s hard to believe we should feel sorry for her.

“You’ll pick it up,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“I hope so,” Gary said. He made a show of looking around, to be sure we weren’t being observed. “Tell me, is partying all the aristos do?”

I shook my head, although I took his meaning. Partying on the verge of a major battle struck me as absurd, no matter how many times the mayor insisted it was good for morale. Perhaps it was, for the partygoers, but everyone else would question the point of wasting so much food and drink on a simple party. It was just another way to pretend, I supposed, that nothing had really changed. Idiots.

Tilly greeted us as we entered the mansion. “My Lady, I have a letter from Lord Donegal.”

I groaned. I’d been having thoughts about luring Gary to my bedroom, not dealing with a certified letter from a certified whiner. Lord Donegal had sent me five letters so far, all complaining about issues anyone with a whit of common sense wouldn’t take seriously. It was just …

“Pass it over,” I ordered, instead. “And then make us both some tea.”

Tilly passed me the letter, then curtsied and hurried away. I tried not to scowl as I unravelled the charm on the seal, ensuring only the rightful recipient could open the message. The interior was as pointless as I’d expected. Lord Donegal was whining about the guards not being willing to take his collection of expensive alcohol through the teleport gate before it was too late. Apparently, it was an insult to his lordly dignity. I tried not to roll my eyes. It wasn’t as if we didn’t have more serious problems to worry about …

“I’m sure his booze is expensive,” Gary said, when I showed him the letter. “Tell him to drink it before it’s too late.”

I snorted. I’d never been much of a drinker. The average aristocrat was educated in the finer points of fancy – and expensive – wine by their parents, but my father had never found the time to give me the lessons. I’d seen them as pointless, to be honest, if not outright classist. It was just another way of separating the aristos from the commoners.

“I’ll tell him to do something with it.” I could see his point – his collection would be expensive – but there were too many important matters to address. He probably just wanted the satisfaction of making me hop to his tune … if he wanted that, he could try turning me into a frog. “I’ll worry about it later. Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure,” Gary said. “What do you want?”

“Get ready to move the teleport gate,” I said. It could be dismantled, thankfully. “I have the nasty feeling we’re running out of time.”