Free Bookworm III by Christopher Nuttall Page B

by some kind of charm. “Hear Ye. By the Grace of the gods – all hail the gods – our Emperor has returned to the city and claimed his Throne. All hail Emperor Vlad of the Golden City!”
    Johan gaped at him. An Emperor? The genealogy tables his father had made him memorise, before he’d been confirmed as completely lacking in magic, had said there were no living members of the Imperial Bloodline in existence. And if they had been in existence, they wouldn’t have lived long enough to claim the Golden Throne. The Grand Sorcerers had been in power long enough to take precautions against any upstarts coming forward to take everything they’d built up over the years. Johan had no doubt, given how he’d been treated by his family, that any genuine descendant of the last Emperor would have spent the rest of his days croaking on a lily pad, if he was lucky. Or he might simply have been killed out of hand.
    “By order of the Emperor, none may leave the city,” the herald continued. “Remain in your homes” – he cast a disdainful look at the carriages – “until his rule is established, then you may do as you see fit. All hail the Emperor!”
    The herald blew his trumpet again, then rolled up the scroll and turned to leave. Johan hesitated, then ran after him. The man turned to face Johan, his face unpleasantly sweaty with fear. Clearly, he’d drawn the short straw when he’d been sent to inform the Travellers – and everyone else in the less pleasant parts of the city. And yet, there had been a time when Johan would have happily traded places with him, even if it had meant facing angry werewolves.
    “You said there is an Emperor,” he said. “How?”
    The herald eyed him, as Johan’s father had done when he had asked a particularly stupid question. “The Emperor took the Golden Throne,” he said, in tones Johan wouldn’t have used to address his youngest sister. But then, his sister had turned him into a doll more than once and played with him. “He has assumed control of the city.”
    Johan swallowed. He didn’t know how anyone could have taken the Throne, but he suspected the worst. Had someone tricked the Golden Throne? Was that even possible? The Golden Throne was ancient, old enough to be impossible to alter without risking one’s complete destruction. Or was there a real Emperor seated on the Throne? What did that mean for the city?
    “Thank you,” he said. He took a breath, then asked the next question. “Who is the Emperor? I mean ... who was he before he assumed power?”
    The herald cleared his throat meaningfully. Johan scowled in sudden understanding, then produced a gold coin from his pocket and dropped it into the herald’s waiting hand. The man smiled, made the coin vanish in a way that had nothing to do with magic, then leant forward.
    “He was Privy Councillor Vlad Deferens,” he said. “And now he is the Emperor.”
    He bowed, then turned and strode off, leaving Johan staring after him in shock. Elaine had told him about Vlad Deferens, but nothing she’d said had been very good. The man had been raised in a fashion that made Johan’s father seem nice and normal ... and he’d made one bid for supreme power before, back when the previous Grand Sorcerer had died. And if Elaine was right, his hatred of women was legendary. The gods knew his homeland saw an exodus of female magicians every year. How had he been able to cope knowing that the supreme ruler of the world was female?
    He must have killed her , he thought. Or imprisoned her. Somehow .
    “Johan?” Daria said. “What did he say?”
    “Vlad Deferens is the new Emperor,” Johan said. He was still too stunned to think straight, but certain things were clear. As a Privy Councillor, Deferens might have known Elaine’s true nature. She would be a valuable prize ... as well as a woman in a position of power. The bastard could kill two birds with one spell by taking her prisoner. “And Elaine has to be his prisoner.”
    He