“Emily.” Sergeant Miles gestured. The door closed behind them. “Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “I pledge to hold my hand in your house.”
The sergeant nodded, his eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down. “What happened to you?”
“Betrayal,” Emily said. She hated to presume, but she knew the sergeant would understand. Probably. He would have understood, a year ago. “I need a strengthening potion and some food and...”
“I’d say you need more than that,” Sergeant Miles said, as he stepped off the stairs and led the way into a sitting room. “Let me take a look at you.”
Emily tried not to wince as he poked and prodded at her. Sergeant Miles was a trained chirurgeon, and knew plenty of healing spells that weren’t covered by powerful oaths, but he wasn’t a proper healer. Her body ached as he inspected the damage, then muttered a pair of spells she knew wouldn’t last forever. She needed a proper healer and a chance for some rest, not... she accepted a nutrient potion, followed by a warm mug of tea. Aiden sat on a sofa, looking around nervously. She had to be feeling a little out of place.
“That should do, for the moment,” Sergeant Miles said, finally. “What happened?”
“I have to get to Whitehall,” Emily said. She rushed through a hasty explanation. “And I need to leave Aiden here, with you.”
“I should come with you,” Sergeant Miles said. “You’ll need help...”
Emily said nothing for a long moment. Eighteen months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Sergeant Miles was a trained combat sorcerer, with plenty of experience in sneaking through wards and fighting bigger and nastier foes than himself. But now... his magic felt skewed, his mind no longer what it had been. Emily cursed herself for dragging Lady Barb away from her lover, even though it had been Void’s choice. Had he wanted Lady Barb away from Whitehall? If there was anyone in the Allied Lands who would’ve suspected he was up to something, it was Lady Barb.
She’s up there now, she thought, numbly. And she doesn’t know something’s about to go terribly wrong.
“I need you to stay here,” she said. The old sergeant would have understood. But then, she would have taken the old sergeant with her. “If I don’t succeed, you’ll have to alert the White Council.”
“The White Council is up there,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “Pretty much everyone who thinks they’re important is up there, save for a handful of holdouts.”
He let out a breath. “Take me with you.”
“I need you to stay here,” Emily repeated. She hoped - prayed - he wouldn’t push it. She was in no state for another fight. “Please.”
The sergeant eyed her for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well,” he said. “And I’ll see to your boyfriend, too.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound like the sergeant she’d known. He might have teased her, once upon a time. There wouldn’t have been a hint of cold anger and disdain in his voice. Come to think of it, he might even have seen through the disguise. He’d always been more perceptive than he’d let his students believe.
“I could come, too,” Aiden said. She sounded nervous, rather than eager. “If you need me...”
“Nanette didn’t have any trouble dealing with you,” Emily reminded her. “You don’t want to enter an entire school of magicians.”
She winced, inwardly, as she brushed down the remnants of her dress. Aiden seemed surprisingly composed, but being transfigured so easily was going to catch up with her sooner or later. Emily had gone into shock herself, the first time it had happened, even though she was a magician. Aiden didn’t even have that consolation. There was no time to worry about it, not now. She’d have to help her friend through it later, if she survived.
“Barb left some of her clothes behind,” Sergeant Miles said, clearly following her train of thought. “I don’t think she’d mind if you borrowed them. Go upstairs and get changed while I saddle the horse.”
Emily nodded her thanks, listened to the directions and hurried upstairs. Lady Barb was taller and bustier than her, but she could use a handful of spells to ensure the clothes fitted properly. She scooped up a shirt, a tunic, a pair of heavy trousers and some underwear, then hurried into the bathroom, splashed water on her face and changed into the borrowed clothes. The dress was probably past recovery, but she removed the blood and bagged it up anyway. Perhaps some of the material could be salvaged by a dressmaker...
She tied her hair back and headed downstairs. Aiden looked tired and worn as she leaned back in the sofa. Emily hoped she’d have a good night’s sleep. She should be safe, for the moment. Very few thieves would dare to rob a magician’s house. And Dragon’s Den was nearly a hundred miles from Freedom City.
And who knows who’ll win the battle? Emily shuddered. Althorn had predicted victory, but... each of the opposing sides in any war always predicted victory. Dater might have won already, or he might be lying dead in a ditch.
The thought mocked her as she walked to the rear of the house and stepped into the tiny stable. Sergeant Miles had been the patron of the horse-riding club at Whitehall - Alassa had been an enthusiastic member - and it shouldn’t have surprised her that he owned a horse, although she suspected someone else had been looking after the poor beast for the last few months. He hadn’t taken the old charger to war. The beast eyed her warily, perhaps aware she was an indifferent rider.
