Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic #12)

Emily nodded, casting the spell as they reached the end of the street. The wards remained in place, yet the outer edges were starting to fray. Emily couldn’t tell if the entity had tried to break them or if a more conventional sorcerer had, but either way it was a grim warning that Sorcerers Row couldn’t hold out indefinitely. The sheer difficulty of convincing a dozen sorcerers to work together would make any more active defense impossible.

She took Caleb’s hand, feeling a little odd as she looked up at him. His glamour made him look like a merchant, a man twenty years older than her. She knew it was a glamour, she saw flickers of his real face below the mask, but it still felt as if she were being unfaithful. Perhaps it was just an effect of using a glamour. The spell was more than just an illusion. It convinced anyone looking at it to believe the illusion. Even a person who knew it was a glamour might be fooled…

And it isn’t that different to the spell Justice used, she told herself. It pushes everyone to believe in it.

There was no sign of the City Guard. The streets were patrolled by the Hands of Justice, all wearing red robes and silver runic armor, all carrying swords and whips. She couldn’t help noticing that they also wore the same clenched-fist icon, clearly visible on their shoulders. Their expressions were so identical – so cold and hard – that she wondered if they’d been enchanted…

And yet, they snapped at people, seemingly at random. A young woman was told off for wearing a colorful dress, a young man was reprimanded for showing too much leg…an older woman had her necklace torn away and smashed to the ground, for no reason Emily could see. She braced herself, readying a spell as the fanatics peered at her, but they moved on without comment. Clearly, she was modest enough not to draw their attention.

That young man would have looked modest in King Randor’s Court, she thought. The absurd outfits the king’s young blades wore had always struck her as silly. And what was wrong with the woman’s dress?

She winced as they reached the crossroad at the foot of Temple Row. The entire street was sealed off…a low mummer of…something…ran through the crowd as they saw the piles of scorched rubble where a dozen temples had once stood. Emily felt it too, even though she’d never believed. The temples – and the statues – had been labors of love, pieces of art crafted by those who truly believed. Now, a number of temples were gone, along with all of the statues. She didn’t blame the crowd for being angry…

“We saw them burning,” Caleb whispered. “We just didn’t know what we were seeing.”

Emily nodded, stiffly. The anger grew, murmurs of rage running through the growing crowd, but there was also fear. If Justice was truly real, should he be worshipped exclusively…she shivered at the thought, wondering just how big a shock it would be if they came face to face with a real god. And then she sensed the presence – again – as a middle-aged man floated up into the air. He carried a golden staff in one hand, holding it above his head. The presence grew stronger and stronger until the entire crowd fell silent. Some of them even fell on their knees.

But not many, Emily thought. The ones who were easy to overwhelm have already fallen.

“This is the Time of Judgement,” the man’s said. His voice sounded quiet, but it echoed with overwhelming force. Emily felt the rune on her chest grow warmer, warning her of subtle magic. “This city will become the Throne of Justice Himself! His eyes will see all and judge all!”

There was a long chilling pause. Emily wondered, morbidly, how many people had secrets they would rather stay hidden. A real god, walking the world, would be able to see those secrets easily, wherever they lurked. Everyone had something to feel guilty about, even if it was something as minor as not returning an overdue library book. And even something minor could turn into a far greater sin if the sinner never came to terms with it.

No hiding place down here, she thought.

“This city will be prepared for his assumption,” the speaker continued. “You, his chosen people, will be prepared for his judgement. Us, his brave followers who maintained the spark when all was dark, will serve you as we cleanse you and ready you for your life in a truly just world.”

Emily held Caleb’s hand and listened, wondering when the speaker would get to the point. She’d known quite a few men who’d acted as though they’d fallen in love with their own voices, but the speaker seemed different. He was so consumed with his own certainty that he wanted to share it with everyone. But then, coming face to face with his god must have seemed like proof he’d been right all along. If she’d been a worshipper who’d met her god, she suspected she would have felt vindicated too.

“This city belongs to Justice and Justice alone,” the speaker said. Emily straightened. It felt as though it had taken hours, but they were finally getting to the meat of the matter. “The worship of all other gods is now forbidden--” a rustle ran through the crowd, hastily dimmed by the presence “--and all temples, statues and idols are to be destroyed. Your Household Gods are to be smashed--” another rustle, angrier this time “--and your holy books burnt.”

Bastards, Emily thought. She couldn’t help a hot flicker of anger. Burning books was the closest thing to blasphemy she knew, even though the local religions hadn’t been too keen on the idea of printing presses. And yet, letting everyone read their texts won them more converts.

“Everyone is expected to present themselves for religious instruction at sunrise and sunset,” the speaker continued. “Those who do not receive instruction will be whipped. All shops are to be supervised, with prices fixed to ensure that everyone can afford to eat. Shopkeepers who attempt to evade the rules will be executed. All banks are to be closed, as sources of evil…”

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