Bookworm II: The Very Ugly Duckling (33 page)

Duncan nodded, believing him. The rumours about Johan might have reached the Rendang by now, but it would still be a gamble to have his daughter mingled up with a former Powerless. It could call the entire family line into question ... unfairly, of course, but what did
fair
have to do with malicious rumours?

“I wish to discuss a marriage contract between your family and mine,” Duncan said. “I believe that Jayne has a great deal to offer my family and I have a great deal to offer you.”

He watched the Rendang’s mask crack, slightly. The Rendang Family was old, but poor. A large influx of cash from Duncan could turn their fortunes around. And he wouldn’t think twice about using his daughter as a tool to get that cash, not when it benefited both sides. Johan, for all of his passion, had never realised that marriages were far more than just joining man and wife; they were a union between two families. On that scale, what did love matter?

But would the Rendang be willing to marry his daughter to Johan?

There
was the question, Duncan knew. The Conidian Family was rich, but very new to the Golden City, no matter what they had been outside it. There would be whispers in High Society about the marriage, nastier than any he’d expected from marrying Jamal to Marina; there would be dark suggestions that it was all about the money. And they’d be right.

“I would certainly be prepared to open discussions,” the Rendang said, finally. “What are you prepared to offer?”

Duncan knew he didn’t dare stint, but at the same time he didn’t want to look
too
eager. “I will offer ten thousand gold as her bride price,” he said. “In addition, I will settle twenty thousand gold on the happy couple, as well as lands and properties outside the Golden City.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the Rendang’s expression. It
was
a magnificent offer, enough to ensure that Johan and Jayne could enter High Society at the very highest levels. People who would have sneered at the Conidian Family would never dare to sneer at Jayne and
her
family, who were among the oldest blood in the city. And he had yet to finish.

“I will also buy out half of your debts,” he added. “How does that sound?”

The Rendang licked his lips. “I have heard rumours that your son is a Powerless,” he said. “He certainly did not attend the Peerless School. Is that true?”

“My son has magic,” Duncan assured him, remembering the smashed table. “It merely developed later than expected.”

“That is good to hear,” the Rendang said. “Do I dare assume that you have a written proposal already drawn up?”

Duncan reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a scroll of paper. “This is the draft agreement,” he said, passing it to the Rendang. “It covers all of the essential points.”

“So it does,” the Rendang agreed. He scanned it quickly. “I will have to consult with my lawyers – and Jayne, of course – but I dare say that it will prove acceptable.”

“Thank you,” Duncan said, as he rose to his feet. “And please assure her that she has my very best wishes.”

He smiled as he was shown out the door, back onto the streets. A wife could not be forced to act against her husband, certainly not under the terms of the contract he intended to have both Jayne and Johan sign. Whatever orders she had from the Head Librarian would be negated by the marriage agreement. And she would have little choice, but to give her consent. She was too young to speak for herself.

And Johan? If his son wanted the girl, he wouldn’t object either.

He was halfway home when a voice hailed him. “Duncan!”

Duncan turned and saw, much to his surprise, Deferens. The Privy Councillor had left his robes behind, instead donning an eye-catching red outfit that showed off his muscles to best advantage. He carried a long staff in one hand, complete with an iron ball on the end, and wore a sword on his belt. There was no sign of his wand, although it could easily have been hidden up his sleeves if necessary.

“Vlad,” he said, crossly. He didn’t really
like
Deferens – and the way he’d proposed the execution of his son chilled him to the bone. “What can I do for you?”

“Join me for a drink,” Deferens said. He led the way into a bar, sat down in a booth and started to cast privacy charms into the air. “I need to talk to you.”

Duncan sat down, cast his own charms, then looked Deferens in the eye. The man’s unkempt hair had always annoyed him, as if he were
too
masculine to be real. He wasn’t blind to the significance of the staff or the sword. But advertising it in public was rare, to say the least; it opened the magician to all kinds of rumours. Few would dare to mention them to his face.

“Well,” he repeated. “What can I do for you?”

The waiter came over and bowed to them. Deferens ordered two drinks and sent the man away, then looked back at Duncan. “The Inquisitors have yet to track down the people responsible for the death of young Graham,” he said. “They have arrested and interrogated the leaders of the Leveller movement – those your son didn’t kill – but they were found innocent.”

Duncan started. He hadn’t heard that little titbit. “Innocent?”

“They were interrogated thoroughly,” Deferens assured him. “Truth spells, mental probes, truth potions ... everything was tried. They were found innocent and released.”

He smiled, briefly. It didn’t touch his eyes. “What that means,” he explained, “is that the
real
perpetrators have escaped justice. My source in the Watchtower tells me that there are no leads.”

“I can work that out for myself,” Duncan said. He allowed some of his irritation to slip into his voice. “What do you want from me?”

“This ...
Leveller
movement poses a threat to our way of life,” Deferens said. He sounded as though he genuinely believed what he was saying, although Duncan knew better than to take anything for granted. Deferens was a practiced politician, after all, even if he
was
eccentric by normal standards. “I believe that it should be banned.”

“The Grand Sorceress disagrees,” Duncan pointed out.

“I am building a coalition of opinion that proposes that we ban it,” Deferens said. “If a sufficient majority of the Privy Council agrees, she will fall in line.”

Duncan considered it. The hell of it was that Deferens was right. Light Spinner might be the most powerful magician in the Empire – at least officially – but she wasn’t all-powerful. The last Grand Sorcerer had had years to tighten his grip on the reins of power; Light Spinner had had barely six months. And there were question marks over her rise to power. If the Privy Council as a body voted against her, she would have to back down.

“And you want my support,” he said, silently weighing up the votes. The Head Librarian was a cipher, perhaps Light Spinner’s puppet. That left eleven others ... how many others did Deferens have on his side? “What are you prepared to offer in exchange?”

“Your son is imprisoned,” Deferens said. “I can arrange for him to be released into your custody.”

Duncan felt a flash of hope. If he had Jamal back, he could at least
try
to knock some sense into his eldest son. And maybe he could marry Marina, which would make it harder for the Inquisitors to re-arrest him. There would be other powerful figures speaking in his support.

“I would like proof that you can arrange this,” Duncan said, slowly. The Grand Sorceress had taken a personal interest in the case, which made it harder for things to slip by without being noticed. “What can you offer me?”

Deferens smiled. “Have you even been able to
visit
your son?”

Duncan shook his head, wordlessly. He hadn’t – and nor had the lawyers he’d hired to defend Jamal when the case finally came to trial. As annoyed as he was with his eldest son, he still wanted to see him and make sure that he was safe.

“Here,” Deferens said. He pulled a piece of paper out of his robes and passed it to Duncan. “A visiting permit. You can see him for up to an hour. And then ... you can join me in pressing for a quick trial.”

Clever bastard
, Duncan thought, sourly. He’d underestimated Deferens; the man might look like an overcompensating fool, but there was a sharp mind hiding under the ridiculous beard. Right now, with the magical community furious over Graham’s death, there would be little enthusiasm for convicting Jamal’s band of terrorists. They’d be seen as heroes ...

... Which would encourage the Privy Council not to send them to the headsman.

“Very well,” he said. “If this permit works, you will have my support.”

He stood up, ignoring the waiter, and marched out of the bar, heading up the long road towards the Watchtower. It was a longer walk than normal, but it allowed him time to clear his mind and
think
. Deferens seemed to have a workable plan, yet Duncan wasn’t entirely sure that he trusted the younger man. There was something about the whole affair that bothered him.

The watchtower rose up in front of him and he paused, gasping for breath. Behind him, the Golden City lay within the hollow, surrounded by the Four Peaks. He turned to stare as he fought to calm his heartbeat, marvelling at how far he’d come. It still awed him to see the city’s multitude of buildings, a strange jumble of designs that somehow worked together very well. But then, it
was
the capital of a planet-wide Empire. There were representatives from all over the world gathered in the city’s embrace.

No wonder the best and brightest come here to learn
, he told himself.
By the time they go home, they think of themselves as citizens of the Empire
.

There was no guard on the Watchtower’s exterior door, but he felt the powerful wards as soon as he stepped inside. Any use of magic would draw an immediate response, he realised, as he walked slowly towards the desk. A bored-looking young man in grey robes sat there, dealing with a handful of people who were trying to file complaints. Normally, an Inquisitor would have taken the desk, but with the Inquisition so short-staffed they’d been forced to hire outsiders. They were nowhere near as honest as the full-fledged Inquisitors.

“I have a permit,” he said, passing it to the young man. How had Deferens obtained it? “Where do I go?”

The receptionist waved to another man in grey robes, who took the permit, inspected it, then beckoned for Duncan to follow him through a solid stone door. It led to a stairwell that plunged down into the depths of the mountain, surrounded by dangerous flickers of magic. If someone tried to escape, Duncan realised, they might bring down the ceiling on top of them. After Hawthorne’s escape, the Inquisitors were clearly not taking any chances. And Jamal was nowhere near as powerful – or insane – as the Dark Wizard.

They entered a darkened corridor and reached a series of doors, set into the rock. “You may speak to him for one hour,” his escort said. “I must inform you that the interior of the room is constantly monitored. Should you attempt to draw your wand or any other weapon, you will face arrest and possible detention. If you are taken hostage, your life will not be considered a priority.”

Duncan stared at the man, whose face was half-hidden in the gloom. “He’s my son!”

“Everyone else in these cells is also someone’s son,” his escort said. “That does not make them
nice
. Or safe.”

The door clicked open. Duncan braced himself, then stepped inside. The cell was tiny, illuminated only by a flickering lamp hanging from the ceiling. Jamal sat on a bunk, his hands chained together and one leg chained to the bed. Duncan saw the faint shape of a chamber pot under the bed and shuddered. His eldest son shouldn’t have to live in a place like this.

“Father,” Jamal said. His voice was a whisper, although Duncan couldn’t tell if it was through disuse or through a reluctance to speak too loudly for fear it would be overhead. “You came.”

“Finally,” Duncan admitted. “How ... how are you?”

Jamal laughed, harshly. “I have been interrogated, at length,” he said. “I told them I could tell them nothing and they
still
interrogated me ...”

Duncan felt his temper snap. “What in the name of all the gods were you
thinking
?”

He could understand the other idiots who had joined Jamal’s gang. None of them could have expected to inherit much, beyond their family names and a sense of entitlement. But Jamal ... Jamal had been the Prime Heir. He would have inherited everything Duncan and his ancestors had built up over the years. And he’d risked everything just to lash out at the Levellers. How
could
he have been so stupid?

“It needed to be done, father,” Jamal said. “
Someone
had to take the lead.”

“And you fancied yourself a leader,” Duncan finished.

He wanted to scream at his son. But memories intruded. He remembered the day when Jamal, barely three years old, had produced his first spark of magic. It had been fantastic to look at it and know that his eldest son would be powerful indeed. And he’d seen the exam results from the Peerless School ... whatever Johan might believe, Jamal had proved himself academically as well. Duncan was proud of him, even when he was angry. It had led him to be softer with his eldest son than, perhaps, he should have been.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. There would be time enough to convince Jamal to behave himself in future. For now, all that mattered was securing his release. He should have pushed harder, he told himself. The family’s influence would have been enough to get Jamal moved to a better cell, at the very least. “I’ll get you out of here. Whatever it takes, I’ll get you out of here.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Is there anything better,” Johan asked himself, “than messing around in boats?”

It had taken him several days to learn how to row properly, but once he had picked it up he’d discovered that it was surprisingly relaxing. The lake bordered a cliff that actually hid a handful of little caves and passageways, some of which he had even tried to explore, while the lake itself held dozens of fish which eyed the boat curiously. Sooner or later, Johan suspected, they would have to actually learn to
fish
, but until then he was content to merely watch them swimming under the water.