The Royal Sorceress by Christopher Nuttall Page A

money. They needed to pay for their crimes.
    Another pulse of energy shot at him and he ducked, reaching out with his magic to catch the Blazer and hurling him into the air. Even the most capable Blazer would have difficulty hitting anyone while flying – and would die when he hit the ground. The remaining guards seemed to be nothing more than mundane humans, but Jack was careful not to allow his field of magic to drop. One mistake and a bullet would kill him just as effectively as it would kill an ordinary human without a single hint of magic.
    He directed a burst of energy at one of the guards, and then switched to a second target. They had to be good and mad by now, but just to be sure Jack sent a concentrated beam of light at the rosebushes. Lord Burley had been a keen gardener, something Jack found a little hard to reconcile with his bloody-handed reputation for extreme conservatism. Or perhaps he had just liked the thought of growing something exactly as he planned. The bushes caught fire and the flames spread rapidly out of control, threatening to spread to the house and incinerate Lord Burley’s body. Just for a second, he considered jumping back into the house and rescuing the girl – she probably hadn’t wanted to share Lord Burley’s bed, but hadn’t been given any choice – before he realised that it would be a risk too far. The Royal Sorcerers Corps would have been alerted by now. Besides, he had every confidence that the guards could put out the blaze before it was too late. He’d gone to too much effort arranging the body to have it wasted through burning down the house.
    Grinning like a loon, he grabbed at his body with magic and hurled himself into the air with terrific force. As a student, his old master had had to shame him into throwing himself madly around the city, but now he wondered how anyone could bear to walk when they could fly. Gravity reasserted itself and he started to fall, yet all it took was another burst of magic to send his body spinning over the rooftops and away from the house. The fire behind him started to dim as the guards fought it with more courage than they’d shown fighting him, but then none of them had expected to face a magician. And not a Master Magician at that…Jack wondered, as he came down and landed in a darkened street, if he was still officially dead. The forces of reaction would have preferred to believe that, certainly. But his old tutor would never have taken it for granted. Master Magicians were very hard to kill.
    He wrapped his cloak around him and strode off down the street. By the time the Bow Street Runners set up a cordon – if they did – he would be well on his way back to the Rookery. London never really slept, even in the middle-class areas. There were too many whores and criminals out wandering the streets to keep the city quiet. And nothing the Church had tried had managed to slow the spread of prostitution. There were simply too many young women with no other prospects in London. The only way they could earn money was through lying on their backs with their legs open. It disgusted him. So much potential was being lost on the streets.
    Slipping back into the little room he’d hired was easy. Few people asked questions in the Rookery. He stumbled over and collapsed into the hard bed. Using magic so often was very tiring. Jack promised himself a late breakfast in the morning, before he headed to find his next target. There were thousands of aristocrats to kill in London. They would all come to fear his name.

 

    Chapter Nine
    C harm is one of the strangest magical talents,” Doctor Norwell said. The theoretical magician, Gwen had discovered, loved lecturing his audience. And he didn’t seem to hold Gwen’s sex against her, once he’d gotten over the shock. “It is more effective if worked gently, rather than with force. The most dangerous form of Charm comes from a slow infusion of suggestions into the victim’s mind. A strong-willed