Someone–Cat, she hoped–knocked again. She didn’t want him to see her like this–she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a terrible state–but he would be preferable to Jade. Or Mouse. God, she hoped Cat hadn’t sent Mouse to see if she was okay. The little servant might be used to seeing her mistresses in the raw–Witt’s memories suggested that she might be used to seeing quite a bit more–but Emily had never been comfortable with servants. The idea of using a person as a living tool was horrific. She glared at the door, trying to muster the power to lock it closed. But her magic refused to work properly.
The door opened. Cat stepped in, his eyes going wide as he saw her kneeling in the middle of the room. Emily looked away, feeling truly naked for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She wasn’t just physically naked, she was mentally naked. Lady Barb had told her, in graphic detail, that anyone who took her captive would probably strip her naked. Emily understood, now, precisely what the older woman had meant. She felt utterly defenseless even though she could still feel her magic. She just couldn’t use it.
Cat knelt down beside her. “It will get better.”
Emily turned to glare at him. “I told you to go away.”
“You don’t have to cope with…with the aftermath alone,” Cat said. “We’ve all been there.”
“If you had the skill to hack into his mind and remove the spell, you would have done so,” Emily said, tartly. It wasn’t entirely fair to blame Cat–it had been Jade’s idea–but he was a convenient target. She was being bitchy and she knew it and she just didn’t care. “What have you done that’s worse?”
“I was sick to my stomach, the first time I killed a man,” Cat said. “Master Storm was surprisingly gentle, under the circumstances. He told me that he’d had much the same reaction.”
“You killed him,” Emily said. She’d killed too, directly and indirectly. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. “I ripped someone’s mind open and mined it for information.”
“I’m sure Witt appreciates the difference,” Cat said. “He’s still alive.”
Emily eyed him, dourly. Jade hadn’t said much about Witt’s eventual fate, but Emily doubted they could take the risk of keeping him prisoner or wiping his mind. It would be far better to slit the bastard’s throat and dump the body in an alleyway, making it look like a robbery gone wrong. Witt’s memories rose up inside her, reminding her that killing him might not be a bad thing. Witt wasn’t the worst monster she’d encountered over the last six years, but he didn’t have the excuse of being insane.
“Fuck it,” she said. Her stomach clenched, reminding her that she’d thrown up everything she’d eaten over the last two days. “I…fuck it.”
She forced herself to stand, shrugging off his helping hand. He was looking at her…how could he bear to look at her? She’d torn a man’s mind open…Cat stood next to her, eying her with concern. Didn’t he know what she’d done?
“I need something to eat,” she said, forcing her unsteady legs to move. “Pass me…pass me something to wear.”
She felt a little better once she’d wrapped a dressing gown around herself, although it was clear that it had been designed for someone a little bigger than her. Cat strode beside her as she inched into the living room, then went to fetch her a sandwich as soon as she’d tottered over to the nearest chair and sat down. Emily’s lips twitched with a moment of dark amusement. She really must look ghastly if Cat was fetching her something to eat. Most men she’d met on the Nameless World thought cooking for their wives was somehow unnatural.
But it’s completely different from cooking for paying customers, she thought, with the wry reflection that she might never truly understand her adopted culture. It wasn’t the first time she’d had that thought. They’re two completely different things that just happen to be the same.
“Thank you,” she said, when Cat passed her the sandwich. It was bland–salt beef, something that might have passed for butter–but it was what she needed. “Did you manage to take a look at his amulet?”
“It’s keyed to him specifically,” Cat said. “I suspect one of the wards is designed to monitor the guards as they pass in and out of the gates. If he appears to be in two places at once…”
Emily nodded as she took another bite. King Randor’s wards didn’t seem to be very smart, not compared to the wards protecting Whitehall or Mountaintop, but–perversely–that was almost a strength. Breaking them down would require more brute force than they could muster, at least from the outside. She wondered, sourly, if Jade would put Witt under permanent compulsion. He could carry the charmed parchment through the wards.
Unless the wards are designed to test for compulsion, she thought. That would put a real crimp in our plans.
Memories rose up in front of her eyes. The amulets themselves were designed to watch for traces of magical tampering. Witt hadn’t known the details–he’d been discouraged from knowing the details–but it was true. Unless he’d been lied to, of course. Witt wouldn’t have any way to test the theory without getting himself accused of treason and thrown in prison himself. No, he’d be executed on the spot. Randor would have no reason to keep him alive and a great many reasons to do away with him at once.
Cat cleared his throat. “Emily?”
Emily shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “Bad memories.”
“I understand,” Cat said. “Do you want to go to bed?”
Emily felt a sudden surge of weepiness that surprised her. She hadn’t wanted to cry so badly since Grandmaster Hasdrubal’s funeral. He still wanted to go to bed with her? Didn’t he know what she’d done? But…she didn’t feel like going to bed with anyone, not now. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.
“I didn’t mean together,” Cat said, gently. “I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” Emily said. Her emotions were a confused blur. She wanted to go to bed with him and she didn’t want to go to bed with him. She wanted to feel wanted and she wanted…she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Witt’s mind was having an impact on hers, even if she hadn’t drained him of every last scrap of knowledge. “I understand.”
She looked up at his open face, then down at the table. How could he possibly respect her after she’d practically collapsed in front of him? How could he…she told herself, firmly, that Cat was mature enough to understand, but…but she wasn’t sure. She’d worked hard to earn respect from the boys. She hated the idea of losing it because of a brief weakness…
“You don’t think we can duplicate the amulet,” she said. She wanted–she needed–to change the subject. “Can we hack it?”
“I doubt it,” Cat said. “An Enchanter might be able to duplicate it, but we’d need to know the precise spellwork for gaining access to the Tower…”
“Yeah,” Emily said. A nasty thought ran though her head. “We can’t do it. And if we could do it, it would be pointless anyway.”
“Not unless we managed to get some information out of the Tower’s Warden,” Cat said. “And if we could do that, we wouldn’t need to bother in the first place.”
Emily opened her mouth to respond, then stopped as she heard the outside door open. Cat glanced at her, then stood. If Jade had been captured–if they’d been followed home–they might be on the verge of getting caught. Emily hoped Jade was alone. She was in no state for a fight.
“Jade,” Cat said, as Jade entered the townhouse. “What happened?”
“He was very informative,” Jade said, curtly. He looked satisfied. “Emily?”
Emily swallowed the impulse to tell him to go to hell. “I’ll recover,” she said, instead. “And Witt?”
“Dead.”
“Good,” Cat said. “He might remember a little too much for our safety.”
“A little,” Emily muttered. She hugged herself, even though it was a sign of weakness. The memories she had were all that remained of a man who’d had great talents, but chosen to waste them in a bad cause. “Clever of him to recognize us.”
Jade sat down and removed his notebook from his bag. “Apparently, there are two separate guard forces assigned to the Tower. Our late friend”–he made a toasting sign with his hand–“was assigned to the outer guard force. He had access to some parts of the complex, including the guardposts and guardhouse, but the upper levels were flatly forbidden to him. Nor did he know who was ultimately in charge, under the king. His immediate superior appears to be the only one of the outer guards who knows.”