The Threads of Magic by Alison Croggon (best ereader for pdf and epub .txt) 📕

away? How was that possible? Should he pressure Axel to reveal what he was hiding? It annoyed Oswald that he was forced to dance around the petty deceptions of this primitive kingdom.

He was still pacing up and down in his sunny guest chamber pondering his options when the cardinal was announced to his presence. Oswald noted with amusement that he had an impressive black eye.

Without asking permission, Lamir dismissed Oswald’s servants. When the door closed on their heels, the cardinal lifted his hand, speaking a word in a forgotten language. The chamber vanished: now both men stood in a dim, columned hall that seemed to stretch for infinite distances on every side.

“Do we really need these theatrics, old friend?” asked Oswald coldly.

“I do not wish to be overheard.”

“There are more subtle measures. It’s still too early for such open power.”

“Is it, Rudolph, my oldest of allies?” Lamir approached him, as if even now he feared being overheard, and spoke close to Oswald’s ear. “Is it really? Me, I fear if we don’t move soon, it will be too late. The witches are rising.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was openly attacked last night in my own dungeon.” Lamir lifted a finger, and an image appeared in the air between them: the dungeon chair where the witch had been held, the manacles twisted and broken.

“And you permitted this to happen?”

“It wasn’t permitted,” hissed the cardinal. “There is more. My chief translator of witch script has disappeared. And this morning it has been reported that Princess Georgette has also vanished. All in the space of one night. Now the commoners are rioting. It’s a conspiracy, without doubt.”

“Ah.” So the princess had absconded. “Perhaps the princess simply ran away, given the very lax standards of security that exist in this palace. I’m sure she can be easily found.”

“I have already asked the Void where the princess is. It couldn’t tell me. That should give you pause.”

There was a short silence. “You assured me that there was no witch problem in Clarel.”

“I told you that because I believed it to be true.”

“I passed on to you all my knowledge of the signs.” Oswald inspected his left hand and noted with irritation that his manservant had overlooked a tiny hangnail. “If you paid no proper heed, you are a bigger fool than I realized.”

The cardinal’s lips tightened. “Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the witches are rising precisely at the same time that you have entered Clarel,” he said.

“What are you insinuating? That I brought the witches with me?”

Lamir said nothing for a few moments, as if he were striving with himself. “No,” he said at last. “Although I wonder how serious you are about our alliance.”

“I am very serious, believe me.” You will find out how serious I am, Oswald thought, when I return as Emperor Rudolph and absorb your pathetic essence into my own power . . .

The cardinal stiffened, as if he had picked up the edge of Oswald’s thought. He forced himself to relax. Of course he didn’t trust this man. But for the moment, he needed Oswald, just as Oswald needed him. In return for promoting the alliance between Clarel and Awemt, Oswald had promised to unseat King Axel, putting the cardinal on the throne in his stead.

The two men studied each other, each hiding their dislike.

“If we don’t reach for power now, it will be too late.”

“I think your fears overcome you. The existence of witches is no reason for panic. They remain weak. But the princess must be found, as a matter of urgency. Of course no one in the palace has seen fit to tell me of her absence. But I will set my own investigations in train.”

“I think that would be wise.”

“We’re suffering a few potholes on our journey, but it strikes me as nothing worse. It is only to be expected.”

“I hope you’re correct.”

“I usually am.” Oswald snapped his fingers, and his chamber returned to its former state, the morning sunshine streaming through the window. “Thank you for your visit.”

The cardinal bowed unsmilingly. “My pleasure, Your Grace.” He turned and left.

Oswald stared after him thoughtfully, wondering how much of a threat the cardinal really was. He was hiding something. Lamir was an ambitious leftover from the court of Odo V, and as a Specter he had some ability. But it didn’t compare to Oswald’s own. Nobody’s did. He was the first and the greatest of them all.

He had no doubt, however, that Lamir was a treacherous snake. It would do to watch him.

Oswald thought idly of visiting the king and telling him that he knew that the princess had run away, dealing him a mortal insult. It might be amusing. With any luck, Axel would burst a vein and drop dead on the spot. That would be extraordinarily convenient.

Then he frowned. Lamir was correct on one point. Oswald was wary of haste, yet one could be too cautious and miss the tide in its flood.

Maybe now was the time to take power.

PIP WAS FEELING MORE AND MORE UNCOMFORTABLE.

He was sitting in the Witches’ Council tent. El was next to him with her bewildered look, picking her nails. Oni was opposite, next to her mother. He couldn’t tell what Oni was thinking, and she was unusually quiet. Meanwhile, about half a dozen people he didn’t know and whose names he mostly couldn’t remember were all in a deep discussion about whether there were any spells that could help to deal with the Heart.

One of the council members was invisible. A tiny book was suspended in midair on one side of the table. Every now and then a page was flipped over and the invisible person read something out about spells in a squeaky voice.

“It’s only Bottomly,” Oni said, when she saw that El, who was staring hard at the floating book, was getting anxious. “He’s a ratterbag — they don’t like day people looking at them.”

“Day people?” said El.

“People like you, who don’t know about