Engine of Lies ebook Read online

  On my previous arrival at the aerie, no barriers obstructed the steep drops in front and behind. I had suffered from vertigo until Jean had surrounded us with unwindowed walls. Strange that a sheet of glass should make me feel secure.

  I stepped backwards, away from the window. “Jean, are the walls and windows real, or illusions?”

  “Real? What is the nature of reality? The warm sunlight touches your skin, not the cold mountain air. You cannot deny something blocks the breeze.”

  The solid, heavy sofa blocked my retreat. I swung over the back and onto the seat in a move that would have horrified a deportment teacher. “Right. That something might be magic, you mean. I’m not budging off this sofa.”

  Beorn guffawed. “What’s it matter? You’re not going to notice where you are anyway.”

  “Thanks for that reassurance. Is there any chance I could sleepwalk while I’m in a trance?”

  Jean squeezed my shoulder. “None now, my dear.”

  “Good.” I lay down full length and found a comfortable position. “I’m ready.”

  In a few minutes, I saw only with my mind’s eye. I could have been in a cave underground for all it mattered. To anyone watching, we would have looked like three layabouts, sleeping the day away. Beorn’s snapping, guttering bonfire and my dancing candle flame followed Jean’s steady lighthouse beacon as it dived into the thicket of spells, following the path he had worked out long ago to reach the lock at the centre.

  Even with his aid, it was tedious. Both of us got distracted and lost, but as we approached the centre a growing sense of the original locksmith’s presence made it easier to focus. We reached the lock—that lock that had defeated all Jean’s attempts to read it for decades—and it unscrolled in my mind on the first touch.

  Earth, Air, Fire, and Water agree

  To let the fire within the Locksmith, me,

  Draw on their power that none may find,

  On this Token of Office the spells that bind.

  Whichever power releases the lock, I swear,

  Shall face my hidden terror there.

  If that fool witch hadn’t been dead for a millennium, I would have torched her. Then I asked what it would take to release the lock. A lightning bolt struck a yard from my feet.

  I fell off the couch onto the stone floor, crying and shaking. Jean picked me up and held me, murmuring into my hair. I sobbed into his shoulder, until I calmed enough to talk.

  “That wicked, wicked witch. Did she think she would live forever? Or that the Office was perfect? What was wrong with her?”

  “Hush,” Jean said. “Tell us what you have found.”

  I quoted the spell to them and described the lightning bolt. No one said anything for a while. Beorn, his face white, tugged at his beard. Jean paced with his head down, his hands clasped together behind his back, fingers twitching. After two circuits of the room, he paced on out through the closed window. That settled one question. I no longer cared.

  I said, “I’m getting a bit tired of risking my life in the service of these infernal Offices.”

  Beorn said, “You and me both.”

  “Oh, Beorn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”

  Beorn’s eyes rolled heavenward. “That the bit about the hidden terror might be aimed at the Fire Warlock? Thanks a lot. Your long-ago twin—”

  “Don’t call her that. I despise the woman.”

  “—Seems to have had a mean streak. But that wasn’t what I meant. I don’t like you risking your life, either. I’d rather risk mine than yours. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Jean did not return for some time. We watched in silence as he stood, motionless, on a point of rock, silhouetted against empty sky. When he left his rocky perch and rejoined us, he sported a set jaw and furrowed brow. He sat facing me. Beorn cleared his throat, and Jean shot him a questioning glance.

  Beorn said, “I never heard of anyone drawing on another person’s power to create a lock, much less four of them.”

  Jean said, “As this lock secures Frankland’s defences, requiring all four Officeholders to agree before making changes is a sensible precaution, although I do not understand how it is done either.

  “The last clause, however.” He shook his head. “Perhaps she expected to hold the Office first. Perhaps she intended to make repairs in her own lifetime, rather than leaving the Office untouched for a thousand years, or perhaps she believed she would live forever. No one had yet tested the Earth Guild spells for holding off aging with such power at their disposal. They did not know two hundred years is the limit of human endurance. Even the Earth Mother must retire, usually well before then.

  “But threatening dire consequences to anyone unlocking it was both paranoid and short-sighted, as they gave us no other way to repair the Office. Assuming such a level of perfection is arrogant in the extreme. When we rebuild it, we must make it easier to repair.”

  When. He wasn’t going to let me out of it, was he? Drown the man. And he said he loved me.

  He leaned forward, locking eyes with me. “My dear, I offer you my apology. I failed to anticipate such a hellish lock.”

  “Hellish is right. This is a stronger lock than that abomination on the Water Office, and releasing that one almost killed me. There’s no way I can survive unlocking this one.”

  “There is a way. A path not without its own dangers, but with rewards as well. I have never suggested this to another wizard; to suggest it to a witch appals me, but…”

  “Jean, what are you talking about?”

  “Lucinda, my love, you will learn to tap into Storm King on your own, and call down the lightning.”

  Fire and Frost

  “Call down the lightning,” I bleated. “By myself?”

  Beorn’s colour had come back. He blanched again.

  A ghost of a smile appeared on Jean’s face. “That prospect appears to terrify you as much as the lock does.”

  “It’s the same problem, isn’t it? Dealing with more power than I can handle.”

  “Exactly. You will build up to it, to direct and channel the power without it touching you. When you are able to channel power from the volcano, you will also be able to channel the power needed for this lock. It will take time—years, perhaps a decade—but we have time. We need not panic now.”

  More urgent than Jean realises. I didn’t dare look at Beorn.

  Beorn said, “Didn’t the Great Coven forbid the Guild Council from teaching anybody because it was too dangerous?”

  I dug my nails into the upholstery. “Did you have to say that?”

  Jean said, “It was a recommendation, not a prohibition. They thought we would never need it, since the Token of Office channels the energy for an untrained warlock.”

  Beorn said, “I’d wondered how the old warlocks learned to do it in the first place. Do you know?”

  “I do not know how the first lightning-wielding warlocks came to do so. As far as I can determine, the key ingredient in the chain of warlocks leading up to Fortunatus, and the forging of the Token of Office, was the tutelage of an older, more experienced master. Attempting it alone was then all but suicidal. Even with a master’s guidance, in the five hundred years before Fortunatus, a third of those attempting it died.”

  “A third?” I yelped. “And you want me to do it?”

  He held up a hand, palm out. “Patience, my dear. I would rather you did not need to, but if you must, I am a better teacher, and you a more willing and patient student, than most warlocks. Also, since that time, the warlocks of Thule have developed spells making it somewhat less dangerous.”

  Beorn and I chorused, “Somewhat?”

  Jean’s eyebrows arched. “You should both understand the theory. It is not possible to eliminate risk—not, that is, and still perform any meaningful action.”

  “I guess not,”
I mumbled.

  Beorn said, “So you’re going to Thule on your honeymoon?”

  Jean smiled. “I have longed to visit Thule my entire life—I would go there without such a good reason. We need do nothing more, for now, than the exercises I have subjected Beorn to.”

  “Jean,” I said, “Have any other women learned to call down the lightning?”

  “The records we have from before the forging are fragmentary, at best, but from what we know of the original Locksmith, she must have.”

  I subsided, grumbling only a little. Six months earlier, I would have fainted at the suggestion, but I had since fallen under the lure of powerful magic. Some non-rational part of me I had no control over pricked up its ears and drooled. If that wretched woman could do it, so could I. I might even forgive Jean for demanding it from me.

  Besides, as he said, there was no point in panicking now. There would be plenty of time later to panic.

  “Why did you insist I come? You and Jean can tell the other Officeholders about the lock. You don’t need me.”

  “I’d rather you told them yourself.” Beorn ducked through the door. He banged his head twice in the short tunnel to the Warren, despite walking in a half-crouch. When he stopped swearing, he added, “Besides, when I called the meeting, the Frost Maiden said she wanted you both there.”

  “Jean, I understand. But why me? So she can have another go at disparaging me?”

  “She may not intend to,” Jean said. “The victim of an evil spell, such as the one the Frost Maiden was under, needs time to recover, and I doubt she will ever lose her penchant for sarcasm. She was on her best behaviour when she came to the Fortress, but as her comment to you demonstrates, we cannot expect that to continue. I am not eager for this meeting either.”

  His hard eyes and rigid posture had already conveyed that. None of us believed one encounter could overcome a century’s friction and distrust. I walked into the amber chamber with butterflies dancing a jig in my stomach.

  Mother Celeste’s cheery “Welcome, friends,” calmed my nerves a little, but I had barely begun to answer her questions about our honeymoon plans when she greeted someone else over my shoulder.

  I turned and met a blinding smile. I almost called the woman wearing it Claire; I had never expected to see such radiance or hear such cordial tones from the Frost Maiden. She showed no signs of scorn, acknowledging the Fire Guild contingent with impeccable manners, and introducing me with all honours to the young woman with her. A tall brunette with deep-set eyes and an aquiline nose, Sorceress Eleanor, the Frost Maiden’s apprentice, looked as if she would be more at home in the Air Guild.

  She said, “Did I hear you say you’re leaving Frankland on your honeymoon?”

  “Yes. There are places I want to see, and Jean has a list of people to visit—governors, heads of state, and so on he has already been corresponding with, discussing governance and, uh…” Better not say jurisprudence—they would be offended we were stepping on their toes.

  “That will serve us all,” the Frost Maiden said. “We are hobbled by our lack of experience with other governments. Enchanter Paul is the sole Officeholder who has travelled outside of Frankland.”

  “And I was concerned more with trade than governance,” he said. “I never considered that anything might change here.”

  “I correspond with many of those same men and women,” she said. “They have valuable insights into many subjects. Do not let Warlock Quicksilver neglect the opportunity to discuss jurisprudence.”

  My mouth hung open. “Uh…”

  “What about staff?” Enchanter Paul said. “I can suggest several members of the Air Guild who could be of service.”

  Jean, deep in conversation with Mother Celeste, looked up and frowned, but let me answer.

  “Thank you, but we’ve been bombarded with fire witches and wizards begging to come along as valets and secretaries and maids. If we chose from the Air Guild instead of the Fire Guild we’d never hear the end of it.”

  “You may have a sizable group.” The Frost Maiden’s eyes sparkled. “Let me offer you the services of a water wizard from my personal staff, to effect the safety of your ship.”

  I recoiled. “Dear God, no.”

  She stiffened. Her eyes flashed. “Oh. You prefer a water wizard who still believes our two guilds to be at war?”

  “No, ma’am,” I stammered. “I meant we won’t travel by ship. We’ll jump through the fire.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “As far as the New World? Is that possible, even for one who can call on power from the volcano?”

  “Certainly,” Jean snapped. “Via the Faroes, Thule, and Ultima Thule. The whole world is within my reach.”

  “Oh.” She gave us each a jerky nod of the head. “Then of course you will do so, for no warlock would board a ship unless dragged on in chains. Forgive me my faux pas.” She turned away and sat on the far side of the room.

  The Air Enchanter coughed. “Shall we get down to business then?”

  My cheeks burned and I forced a smile. Somehow, I managed not to bare my teeth. Angry at being rattled, I slumped in a chair in a corner, as far away from the Frost Maiden as possible, with Jean and Beorn between us. Beorn chewed on his moustache and gave her a dark look.

  The Frost Maiden sat, as before, facing away from Jean. “I understand the Fire Warlock called us together to further discuss rebuilding the Fire Office. I have a suggestion to make before we address that question.”

  Beorn tugged at his beard, but shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  “I took little part in the earlier meeting when Warlock Quicksilver proposed to disassemble and repair the Fire Office. I reasoned I needed time to consider what he had said before offering an opinion. In truth, the blight on my Office kept me at odds with everything the Fire Warlock said simply because he was the Fire Warlock. Now that abomination of a lock is gone, and I am free to say I concur with the need to fix his Office, and we should proceed with dispatch, but without haste.”

  Jean’s eyebrows rose. Enchanter Paul frowned. Beorn settled back in his chair with a deep sigh. I watched the flashing lights of her ring and steamed. We ought to fix the Water Office first, but she would never admit it was broken.

  “However,” she said, “I do not agree with the plans he laid out for making repairs. The Fire Office is the most complex of the four. It is too dangerous to start there.”

  Jean’s face was an unreadable mask. He and Beorn both started to respond, but she held up a hand. “Please let me finish. I plead with you, nay, beg you, to start by reforging the Office of the Northern Waters.”

  My jaw dropped. Beorn’s eyes blazed. Mother Celeste looked thoughtful, and nodded, as if the idea was not new to her.

  The Frost Maiden said, “None of you will argue with my assessment my Office is the most flawed of the four.”

  Beorn muttered, “Hell, no.”

  She shot him a cold glare, then turned away. “If my Office is repaired, the urgency to repair the Fire Office shall abate. Is that not so?”

  Yes. Oh, yes. But I would have to unlock the Water Office. I didn’t straighten out of my slump.

  Beorn said, “Yeah, I’d think so. I like your idea. We don’t know what will happen when we unlock the Fire Office, or what we’ll find under the lock. It would be safer to start with one of the other Offices. We can’t survive without the Fire Office. Even if we took the Water Office apart and couldn’t put it together again, Frankland would survive without it.”

  Mother Celeste said what I didn’t dare voice. “And be, perhaps, in better shape for it. Certainly no worse.”

  The Frost Maiden turned her icy stare on Mother Celeste. “And I will be the first to rejoice when the nobility takes over the administration of justice, and show the common people a bias they have not so far dreamt of.”

  Mother Celeste winced. “Now dea
r, you yourself said it was broken.”

  “That does not mean I thank anyone else saying so.”

  Jean paced the length of the room, frowning. “Several aspects of this suggestion concern me. One is the time needed to analyse the spells constituting the Office. Deciphering the spells in the Fire Office took me decades. How many years will it take to probe the Water Office?”

  “A thousand, give or take a few.”

  Jean’s head snapped around. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The analysis is already done.” Her smile showed flawless teeth. “My predecessors never considered absolute secrecy as important as yours did, and with far fewer of us, and orderly transitions, nothing has been lost. The first Water Sorceress recorded the spells, and each of us has studied them and suggested revisions. I have been awaiting an opportunity for most of my tenure, and am as capable of rebuilding the Water Office as she was of creating it.”

  Jean’s voice was courteous, but his eyes smouldered. “I do not doubt that. However, I am not so sure we can afford to fix the Water Office without also fixing the Fire Office, and fixing the Fire Office first will give us more options for dealing with the trouble that will arise.”

  Beorn said, “You sure about that? I’m worried about commoners rebelling. If the Office claiming to dispense justice really did—” The Frost Maiden shot him another icy glare and he checked for a moment. “That ought to calm things down.”

  “It would shift the pressure elsewhere. It would appease the commoners, but the nobles would fight with every means at their disposal to retain the power and privileges they now enjoy. Without help from the king, I see no way out of this tangle not involving bloodshed.”

  The silence stretched out as Jean continued his measured pacing. At length Beorn growled, “It’s a damn shame the king’s favouritism for the nobility is so barefaced.”

  The Frost Maiden’s nostrils flared. “We cannot pressure him into taking the Great Oath. The sole action we can take against the royal family is to murder one of them—and we cannot warn them to change their ways.” She glared at Jean. “The injustices the Offices maintain are not entirely against the commoners.”