The Conjuring Man, page 12
“I don’t see any room for debate,” Princess Violet said. She’d ridden up to the university as soon as she’d heard the news and insisted on meeting with the senior staff in the open, underneath the giant airship. “We have to move to their aid.”
Adam nodded, curtly. Princess Violet had a point. The university would never be safe as long as King Ephialtes remained in control of Tarsier, and assisting his sister – and the revolutionaries – was the quickest and easiest way to get rid of him. The greater the role the university played in the affair, the greater the influence the university would have over the post-war settlement ... and besides, they had a certain obligation to help townspeople rise against an evil monarch. The revolutionaries needed support. How could the university turn its back?
Mistress Irene didn’t seem amused. “You’re asking us to risk breaking our neutrality once and for all,” she said. “And to help put you on the throne.”
“Your neutrality is already broken,” Princess Violet countered. “My brother will not let you live in peace, not after everything that has already transpired. You will be attacked again, if he retakes Farrakhan. This is the one opportunity you’re likely to have to arrange matters to everyone’s satisfaction.”
Adam nodded, again. Master Caleb had said the same thing. The university would be attacked and attacked again, unless it helped put a new monarch on the throne. The king wanted the university destroyed and Arnold ... Adam shivered. Arnold was still out there, planning something. The quicker the king was defeated, the better.
Master Dagon scowled. “And how can we trust you to keep your word?”
“You can’t,” Princess Violet said. “But you can trust my brother to attack you again as soon as he thinks he can get away with it.”
“The revolutionaries need our help,” Yvonne added. “If we leave them on their own, they’ll resent us even if they win. They’ll know we could have helped them and instead chose to do nothing. If they lose, they’ll be slaughtered ...”
“And the only tool we have is your airship,” Master Dagon said. “Do you really think it’ll make a difference?”
Yvonne smiled. “We were planning to test the bombing racks today,” she said. “Why not test them on a real target?”
“If something goes wrong, you will be far beyond help,” Mistress Irene pointed out. “We cannot send troops to assist you.”
“We understand the risks,” Yvonne countered. “And we are prepared to accept them.”
“We hoped we could come to terms with the king,” Master Dagon grated. “If we support his enemies, coming to terms will be impossible.”
“It’s impossible already,” Adam said. He winced inwardly as Lilith’s father glowered at him. “The king could have tried to come to terms with us at any point, before or even after the siege. He didn’t. He chose to pick a fight with Lady Emily herself, as well as us. There is no way we can trust him to keep any agreements he makes.”
“True,” Mistress Irene said. “Princess Violet, what are you prepared to do to help?”
The princess leaned forward. “I have already mustered my men,” she said. “I will be leading them, personally, to Farrakhan. I’ll be taking my makeshift siege train as well as supplies and everything else I’ll need to arm and train an army raised from the townspeople. I will gamble everything, including my own life and freedom, that I can defeat my brother and take the throne. And when I am crowned, I will swear to honour the agreements my father made with you before he was murdered.”
She paused. “If you choose not to intervene, I will understand,” she said. “But I will not let it stop me from acting to save my people from certain death at my brother’s hands.”
Adam frowned as she turned and strode away. She was ... it was rare, at least as far as he knew, for a queen or a princess to lead her troops into battle. Even ruling Queens were expected to remain behind and let their generals fight in their name. It was a hell of a risk. If she were captured, she wouldn’t be ransomed. Who’d pay? She’d be lucky if her throat was quietly slit and her body dumped in a mass grave. Her brother was unlikely to give her a second chance, now that she’d openly made a bid for the throne. And no one would speak in her defence if he sentenced her to death.
If she wins, she’ll have won powerful and loyal allies, he thought. If she loses, the kingdom won’t be torn apart by civil war.
He wondered, numbly, how true that was. The messenger had been vague on precisely what had happened to trigger the uprising. It was possible Princess Violet’s agents had started the fighting, though equally possible that she’d been as surprised as the rest of them. The uprising might have so little to do with her that her defeat and death would have no impact on the fighting. He could believe it. He knew, too, how many people would be robbed, raped, or murdered if the king regained control. They were never kind to rebellious subjects after the rebellions were crushed.
“I can’t believe you’re even considering this ... intervention,” Master Dagon snapped. He didn’t seem remotely impressed by the princess. “We are in no state to do anything outside our lands. The town is gone, the foundry needs months of work before it can produce anything bigger than a gun and half the staff and students have been roped into the militia ...”
“Which is a pretty good argument for assisting the rebels, if not the princess,” Captain Walter Blademaster said. Adam had been surprised he hadn’t commented earlier. “From a cold-blooded point of view, giving the king problems closer to home will buy us time to rebuild the town, repair our defences and everything else we need to do before we are attacked again.”
“And it will involve us in the kingdom’s affairs,” Master Dagon said. “What will that do to us?”
“The king made the choice, when he attacked us,” Yvonne said. “It takes two to make peace, but only one to start a fight.”
Master Dagon glowered. “We are not meant to get involved with petty disputes,” he snarled. “We do not care who sits on the throne. We do not take sides in political arguments ...”
“We are too weak, right now, to defend ourselves if the king raises another army,” Captain Blademaster said. “The old agreements between the magical community and the monarchs rested on power, on our ability to keep the kingdoms from forcing us to bend the knee to them. That ability has been severely circumscribed, to say the least. We cannot rely on help from the rest of the world, nor can we stand up for ourselves. Taking the offensive now may be our only option.”
“We have a nexus point,” Master Dagon insisted.
“So what?” Captain Blademaster shrugged. “They can just starve us out.”
Adam leaned forward. “Sir ... what is the real problem?”
Master Dagon opened his mouth, then thought better of whatever he wanted to say. “The custom of not interfering in mundane society exists for very good reason,” he said, finally. “It’s easy to take it too far, to decide we know better at all times. And it will destroy us if we try ...”
“The world is changing,” Captain Blademaster said. “We are no longer immune to attack.”
“Arnold nearly destroyed us twice,” Adam reminded them. “Do we really want to wait and let him take a third swing at us?”
Mistress Irene held up a hand for silence. “We’ll compromise,” she said. “The airship can intervene. We’ll help to supply the rebel armies. Students and staff can fight for the princess, or the rebels, on a voluntary basis. But we won’t weaken our defences here any further. Is that acceptable?”
“My opinion is that we should do nothing,” Master Dagon said. “There are already more refugees flowing into Heart’s Ease. That trickle will become a flood in the next few days and weeks, as the fighting grows worse. We can neither feed nor house them – we certainly cannot trust them.”
“Ah,” Adam muttered sarcastically. “All those irritatingly needy people.”
Master Dagon speared him with his gaze. “And was Beneficence so welcoming to refugees from the Zangarian Civil War?”
Adam scowled. Beneficence might have backed Princess Alassa, but that support hadn’t made the city very welcoming to refugees. The townspeople had resented having to feed and house them, while the refugees had been competition for scarce jobs the locals thought should be reserved for them. There’d been angry muttering and outright violence, no matter what the council had tried to do. It had been a relief, he conceded, when the war had ended and the refugees could go home. Only a handful had remained in Beneficence.
“It is easy to say we must do something, when you are not responsible for anything,” Master Dagon said. “But we are responsible for the university’s survival. We cannot let sentiment overwhelm our common sense.”
“No,” Yvonne agreed. “But common sense tells us we cannot compromise with the king.”
“Like I said, we’ll compromise,” Mistress Irene said. “Shall we vote?”
“No need,” Master Dagon said. “I just hope this doesn’t come back to bite us.”
He turned and stalked away. Adam watched him go, wondering what was gnawing on his mind. It was easy to think he might be a traitor – Arnold had played on Adam’s dislike of Lilith’s father, using Adam’s preconceptions to blind him to the truth – and yet, Adam was sure it was nothing so simple. Master Dagon was old, old enough to have problems adapting to the changing world. Blademaster was right. The days when magicians could sit in invulnerable fortresses and watch the rest of the world go to hell were over. They had to adapt or die.
And we didn’t even have time to tell him about Lilith’s apprenticeship, he reminded himself, wryly. That’ll put the cat amongst the pigeons ...
“Good luck,” Mistress Irene said. “And be careful.”
Yvonne cleared her throat as the older woman walked back to the university. “We’ll be departing in twenty minutes,” she said. “I want everyone who isn’t an essential part of the crew to remain behind. Is that clear?”
Adam gritted his teeth. “I’m coming,” he said. “There’s no one who can adjust the spell tiles as easily as me.”
“Really,” Yvonne said. “And you’re not needed here?”
“No,” Adam said. It was galling, but it was true. “There’s nothing I can do here that can’t be done by someone else.”
“And he’s an elected Leveller,” Taffy put in. “He needs to be on the airship.”
“Really,” Yvonne repeated. Her eyes slipped to Lilith. “And what is your excuse?”
Lilith smiled. “I’m his bodyguard,” she said brightly, so brightly Adam knew she was deeply worried about something. “He has a body I’d like to guard.”
“If only that was the first time I’d heard that joke,” Yvonne said. She jabbed a finger at the ladder. “Get into the ship, then stay out of the way until we get underway. If you cause trouble, you’ll be thrown out.”
She turned away and started barking orders, directing her craftsmen and ground crews to stock up on bombs, bullets and everything else the airship needed. Adam glanced at Lilith – Taffy had a place on the airship, but he wasn’t sure if Lilith had somewhere to go – then led the way up the ladder. The engines were already roaring to life, a dull throbbing echoing through the gondola as they walked to the engine room. The tiles were glittering with magic as power flowed through them, wrapping the airship in protective shields. Adam felt his legs wobble as he found a place for them to sit, out of the way. If they’d made even a single mistake in their calculations, the airship was doomed. And they’d be doomed with it.
He looked at Lilith. “What’s bothering your father?”
Lilith snorted. “You mean, apart from the usual?”
Adam sighed. “Is it really that hard for him?”
“He wants the world to be a certain way and finds it hard to cope when it isn’t,” Lilith said, reluctantly. “And he feels responsible to the rest of the Old Guard even though their time is over and they need to either concede defeat or find somewhere else to go. And ...”
She shook her head as the engine noises grew louder. “I don’t think he can,” she added, finally. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Adam squeezed her hand. His father had died when Adam had been a child ... what would he have said, he asked himself, when Adam confessed he wanted to be a magician? Would he have been supportive? Or would he have insisted Adam become a fisherman or a craftsman and beaten him if he’d refused? Or ... Adam liked to think he would have left his family, if his father had been so unreasonable, but it was never easy to leave one’s blood relatives behind. The hell of it was that his father would have had a point. There’d been no guarantee he’d ever have made anything of himself by studying magic, while a fisherman would always have something to eat.
In the olden days, Master Dagon would have been right too, he reflected, sourly. He means well, for his daughter. But he’s a long way behind the times.
The airship quivered, a low shudder running through the deck. It felt as if it were rippling ... Adam rested his hand on the metal, unable to shake the impression it was becoming as solid as a cloth sail rippling in the breeze. It felt hard to the touch and yet ... he shivered as he felt another quiver. The world was jerking back and forth, as if they were caught in a maelstrom ...
Yvonne’s voice came out of nowhere. “Secure the ship,” she said. “I say again, secure the ship.”
Lilith pointed to the porthole. “Look!”
Adam stared. The porthole had been dark, pressed against the tower, but it was lightening now. A needle-thin ray of sunlight beamed into the cabin ... he sucked in his breath as the gondola shook again, as though it had been slapped by an angry god, before steadying itself. The sky turned blue ... it took him a moment, despite everything, to realise they were actually flying. He stood, despite the risk, and stumbled over to the porthole, peering down at the university below. The giant spires already looked like children’s toys.
“We’re flying,” he breathed. “We’re actually flying.”
Lilith chuckled. “This, from the person who flew a hot air balloon over enemy lines?”
“That’s different,” Adam said. The balloon had been pushed by the wind. Their landing site had been a matter of luck, not good judgement. “We’re actually powering our way through the sky!”
He frowned as the airship climbed higher. The patch of blackened ground near the university was bigger than he’d realised. It was impossible to take in the sheer immensity of the devastation from the ground. But from the air ... he let out a breath as the airship glided onwards, passing over Heart’s Ease. The ruined town was another scar on the ground. He thought he saw people below, peering up at the airship. It was hard to be sure. They were so tiny they could have passed for ants.
Lilith joined him, hugging herself uneasily. Adam was surprised. Lilith knew how to fly. If something went wrong and the airship fell out of the sky, she might be the only one to survive. He hoped she would have the sense to jump, if they did. He didn’t want her to die.
“It feels rougher than a pitchfork,” she said, softly. The engine noise – and vibrations – were so loud it was hard to hear her. “And no more reliable.”
“The airship can’t be knocked down so easily,” Adam assured her. He knew how she felt. He could swim very well, like nearly all the children of Beneficence, but he would still feel uneasy if he were caught in rough waters. He’d known a handful of sailors who’d delighted in sailing close to storms, claiming it was where they caught the best fish. They’d been macho fools, not practical men. Some had never come home. “And we don’t need to drain our magic to stay airborne.”
Lilith gave him a faint smile. “How long?”
“I’m not sure,” Adam said. Taffy had insisted the airship could travel surprisingly quickly, given her size, but if they were flying into the wind they’d make relatively little headway. “It could be hours.”
“Joy.” Lilith looked green. Adam glanced around, hoping to spot a basin before it was too late. They should have anticipated the possibility. There were sailors and shipwrights amongst the engineering crews on the ground. “Next time, you ride on a broomstick with me.”
“I will,” Adam promised. He saw a bucket, scooped it up and passed it to her, then looked away to grant her what privacy he could. She wouldn’t thank him for staring if she really did throw up. “It sounds like fun.”
“It can be, if you’re brave,” Lilith said. She swallowed hard, then put the bucket on the deck. “It was how we used to separate the men from the boys at Laughter. If they weren’t brave enough to put their lives in our hands ...”
Taffy stepped into the compartment. “We’re underway,” she said, her tone suggesting they should already know it. “And Yvonne would like you two to join her on the bridge.”
Adam nodded. The airship seemed to be moving very slowly, although appearances could be deceptive. For all he knew, they were flying faster than a bird. “We’re on our way.”
Chapter Thirteen
Adam felt oddly lightheaded as Taffy led them through the long corridor and onto the bridge, the bulkheads seeming to quiver as gusts of wind battered the gondola repeatedly. It was a huge compartment, the bulkheads little more than giant glass portholes that allowed the crew to see where they were going almost effortlessly. Yvonne stood at a steering wheel that wouldn’t have been out of place on a sailing ship, although the collection of levers and wires beside the helm suggested it controlled something a little more complex than a wooden rudder. It was crude and yet ... Adam couldn’t help thinking the scene needed to be immortalised by a painter, by someone who could represent how everything had changed to the rest of the world. Yvonne had always impressed him, but now she looked like the queen of the skies.
“It feels like a glass cauldron,” Lilith commented, as she followed him onto the bridge and looked around. “How strong is the glass?”
“We used runes to keep it from breaking,” Yvonne said. If she was annoyed at having her design questioned, she didn’t show it. “Our first designs had the gondola open to the elements, but we discovered the wind made it harder to control the ship. It just got in our eyes. We’re working on goggles to provide some protection, but it’s better to keep the wind out as much as possible.”
