Emily nodded shortly, wondering which particular Leveller cell was coming to greet the princess. Tam, Imaiqah’s distant cousin, had stayed in Alexis, unless he’d somehow managed to get out of the city in the chaos. She puzzled over it for a moment, then dismissed the thought as she washed her hair before climbing out of the tub and drying herself with magic. There was no point in wondering. She’d find out soon enough. She hurried back into the bedroom, dressed quickly and inspected herself in the mirror. The tall, confident girl looking back at her was almost a stranger. She found it hard to believe, as she tied her hair back into a ponytail, just how much she’d changed over the last six years. The scrawny girl who’d been dragged into the Nameless World was nothing more than a distant memory.
Cat joined her, giving her a quick kiss before dressing rapidly and heading for the warded door. Emily followed him, enjoying the brief moment of domestic life. She suspected she wouldn’t be comfortable sharing her life completely with someone else, but – for the moment – she could enjoy being with him. It wasn’t something she’d been able to do before. Caleb and she had never been able to move in together, no matter how close they’d become.
Not that we have really moved in together, she thought. We’re just sharing a room.
Breakfast had been laid out in the dining room, with a handful of guests picking at their food and drink. Emily wondered, sourly, just how much money had been wasted on the buffet, even though she knew Alassa had to set a good table and the servants would eat the remains. There was no sign of the princess herself, unsurprisingly. Alassa and Jade would eat in private, then join the others in the Throne Room. Emily took a plateful of food and sat next to Cat. It still astonished her just how much she managed to put away every day without getting fat. But then, fat magicians were astonishingly rare.
“It’s time,” Cat said, as a gong echoed through the chamber. “Shall we go?”
Emily nodded, wiped her mouth and led the way down the corridor to the Throne Room. The wards seemed weaker here, as if they were calibrated to provide a certain degree of protection rather than simply keep intruders out. Jade had to be raging about that, Emily thought. There was no way he could keep Alassa completely safe when she had to receive ambassadors and messengers from all over the kingdom. It wouldn’t be long before she started to receive representatives from other kingdoms too. The nations bordering Zangaria would be delighted if a long period of civil war gave them the opportunity to make territorial gains.
She pushed the thought aside as they stepped into the Throne Room. It was nowhere near as grand as King Randor’s – Alassa’s father wouldn’t have allowed his barons to outshine him – and it was smaller, but it was suitable. If nothing else, Emily reflected as she took a place near Alassa, there wasn’t enough room for all the hangers-on who would have crowded the king’s chamber. The handful of people lining the walls had legitimate reasons for being there, rather than merely wanting to see and be seen.
The herald stepped forward as the doors crashed open. “The Honorable Gentlemen, Bradford and Masterly.”
Emily leaned forward as the two Levellers came into view. They looked to be prosperous merchants, rather than farmers or peasants. That wasn’t too surprising. The merchants were rich and able enough to know they deserved more, and smart enough to understand that the entire system needed to be changed, while the farmers and peasants were more concerned with survival than political reform. They’d be happy just to get rid of the taxman and recruiting sergeant.
Cat nudged her. “Do you know these people?”
“No,” Emily muttered back. She studied the two men thoughtfully, noting the clothes they wore. Their outfits were strikingly close to aristocratic, without quite breaking the Sumptuary Laws. “But I’d be surprised if they weren’t from Cockatrice.”
“Your Highness,” the lead man said. He bowed, but did not go down on one knee. “I am Bradford, Speaker for the Levellers of Cockatrice.”
“I greet you,” Alassa said. If she was annoyed by the unsubtle warning that the Levellers were not her servants, no trace of it showed in her face. “And I greet your friend Mr. Masterly.”
Masterly bowed. “Your Highness.”
“We have heard much of your willingness to acknowledge our natural rights,” Bradford said, without bothering with any preamble. Emily suspected that Alassa found it something of a relief. “It is our belief that supporting you would be the best course of action to secure our rights.”
“I thank you,” Alassa said.
“We have many cells, scattered throughout the kingdom,” Bradford said. He looked just a little perturbed by Alassa’s apparent lack of reaction. “Our people work in factories, trade on the rivers, serve in city guards. We have vast influence and power, which we are prepared to put at your disposal.”
“Indeed,” Alassa murmured.
Emily frowned. Bradford didn’t appear to be bluffing, although Emily doubted he really was as influential as he claimed. The Levellers resisted all authority, including their own. It was possible that Bradford didn’t have any real control outside Cockatrice City, let alone Cockatrice Barony. And it was also possible that he wasn’t based in Cockatrice City. He hadn’t paid any attention to Emily, even though a person who lived in Cockatrice would probably have seen her during the Faire. Someone who lived outside the city would probably not recognize her. Emily hadn’t seen a single portrait of herself that looked remotely realistic.
“However, we must make a request in turn,” Bradford said. “The price for our assistance is your adoption of the Cockatrice Charter and your promise to spread it throughout the land.”
Ouch, Emily thought.
She sucked in her breath, sharply. That was going to cause problems. Alassa would turn most of the aristocracy into her instant enemies if she propagated the charter. They wouldn’t want to honor a charter that actually granted rights to the lower orders. And yet, it would also serve as a rallying cry. Alassa would have no trouble recruiting thousands of volunteers for her armies if she was offering them something more than a chance to get killed for their social superiors.
And the nobility has had its day, Emily thought. King Randor will kill anyone who shows the slightest hint of defiance to his rule.
“An interesting request,” Alassa said. She stared at Bradford for a long, chilling moment. “It would certainly have major political ramifications.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Bradford said. “It would convince many of us to back you, instead of sitting on the fence.”
Alassa’s voice hardened. “My father will not let any of you live. He sees you as a challenge to his power. You would be well advised to support me anyway.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Bradford said. “But we have no interest in replacing one tyrant with another. We require a gesture of your sincerity.”
“And I have no way to know if you truly possess the power you claim,” Alassa added. “Are you truly in a position to help me?”
“I believe that some of your councillors smoothed our path to this audience,” Bradford said, calmly. “Is that not enough?”
“Perhaps,” Alassa said. She leaned back on her throne, considering. “I must discuss such a decision with my advisors. Please, wait outside. I will have an answer for you shortly.”
Emily watched, grimly, as the chamber was cleared of everyone but Emily, Imaiqah and Alassa herself. Jade and Alassa had had a muttered conversation, followed by Jade leaving the room to take care of the Levellers. Emily wondered, as she watched him go, if he liked being excluded from the discussion. Alassa couldn’t afford to have people thinking that Jade was the power behind the throne, the one who was really in charge, but Jade had to find it a little irritating. He was a married man, yet most of the rights of a married man were denied to him. Emily had no idea how he felt about that.
But a married man normally has complete power over his wife, she reminded herself. Alassa can hardly be blamed for wanting to make it clear that he has no power
over her.
“Emily,” Alassa said. Now they were alone, her voice sounded a little less stable. “Can they be trusted? Can they... can they be useful?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted.
“I know Bradford,” Imaiqah said. “He’s always straddled the line between Cockatrice and Beneficence. He was one of the people smart enough not to invest in Vesperian’s Folly, back before the bubble burst. And he’s rich and powerful enough to want more. The chances are good that he can give you considerable help.”
“And he’s a Leveller,” Alassa mused. “Is he a true believer?”
“He might well be,” Imaiqah said. “Alassa, he clawed his way up from practically nothing to a position of considerable wealth and power. He has good reason to resent a system that classes him as a social inferior, despite his achievements. My father...”
Felt pretty much the same way, Emily thought. Imaiqah’s father had committed high treason in a desperate bid to force the king to keep his promises. He’d died in the attempt, his double life remaining a secret for nearly two years afterwards. Can we trust them?
Alassa looked at Emily. “What do you think?”
Emily took a moment to organize her thoughts. “The Cockatrice Charter guarantees the rights of people living within the barony,” she said, carefully. She’d based it on a cross between the Magna Carta and the American Constitution. “Most of the rights are relatively simple; a limited form of democracy, trial by jury, freedom of speech and expression, patent rights, rights for women and children... I don’t believe any of them will cause long-term harm. But, on the other hand, if you swear to impose the charter right across the kingdom, you will make a great many enemies.”
“Most of whom would like nothing more than to kill my husband, murder my baby and marry me off to the man of their choice,” Alassa said, sharply. She touched her belly, lightly. “I think they will always be my enemies, even when they are prostrating themselves in front of me.”
“I fear you are right,” Imaiqah said. “But propagating the charter might also turn Lord Summer and his compatriots against you.”
Alassa cocked her head. “Does it matter?”
Emily hesitated. None of the lords were particularly wealthy or powerful. Indeed, the only reason they’d joined Alassa was the hope she’d return lands they’d lost long ago. They certainly lacked the influence of a baron or even the resources of a manor lord. Lords Summer and Wolfe might have some real military experience, but they were hardly irreplaceable. Jade and Cat had more experience than either of the aristocrats.
“Perhaps not,” Emily said, finally. “But they will feel slighted.”
“The more imaginative ones will see ways to turn the Charter to their advantage,” Imaiqah mused. “There are ways a powerful nobleman can profit without squeezing the peasants until they bleed.”
“That’s true,” Emily agreed. “And you can probably find ways to cushion the blow.”
“Except they’ll all be wanting me to cushion the blow,” Alassa said, dryly. “How many noblemen will come running to me when it looks like I am going to win?”
Emily grinned. “Does it matter?”
“It might,” Alassa said, seriously. “It depends on what sort of dowries they bring with them.”
She leaned back in her throne, resting her hands on her knees. “It’s a gamble,” she said. “I’ll be trusting in the new and rejecting the old.”
“The old nearly overthrew your father twice,” Emily pointed out. Three women were debating the matter. That alone was a significant change. “And it seriously weakened your great-grandfather. The new... is more likely to give you a chance to assert your position.”
“Until it decides the kingdom is better off without a monarch,” Alassa mused. “We’re unleashing a whirlwind, Emily. Who knows where it will end?”
Emily shrugged. Britain had evolved into a constitutional monarchy, with real power vested in parliament; France, on the other hand, had suffered a series of bloody revolutions that had torn the old order apart, only to replace it with something similar. She could understand why Alassa was so concerned. She could be making a deal with the devil. But change was already on the way. Emily and the New Learning had seen to that. There was no longer any belief in the divine right of kings. And those who made peaceful change impossible made violent revolution a certainty.
“It represents your best chance to win,” she said, finally. “And even if Bradford is... exaggerating... his power, you will still pick up support from the other Levellers.”
“And trigger uprisings across the kingdom,” Alassa said. “Where will it all end?”
She stood. “I’ll inform them that I will swear to uphold the charter. No” – her lips curved into a smile – “I’ll propagate my own charter. It’ll be exactly the same, only applicable to the entire kingdom.”
“You can erase my name if you like,” Emily said. She wasn’t concerned. Alassa was crossing her own personal Rubicon. “I don’t mind.”
“We’ll make it spectacular,” Alassa said. “A formal ceremony, witnessed by everyone. And I’ll make the oath publicly...”
“Jade will not be happy,” Imaiqah warned. “A large crowd? It will be hard to guarantee your safety.”
“I have to take the risk,” Alassa said. She looked at Imaiqah, then Emily. “Would my father remain behind, in safety, while his men won victories in his name?”
“I think he would take his safety seriously,” Emily said. “If you die...”
“I’ll talk to Jade,” Alassa said. “It won’t be a pleasant conversation, but we’ll have to have it anyway. And then we’ll make the arrangements.”
“And then the die will be cast,” Emily commented.
“Quite,” Alassa agreed. She smiled, looking more like her old self. “Let the dice fly high!”
Chapter Five
ANYONE WHO DIDN’T KNOW THEM WOULD have missed it, Emily thought, but it was clear – as Jade and Alassa entered the makeshift temple –they’d had a row. Jade would not have been keen on Alassa exposing herself to danger, while Alassa – just as pigheaded and stubborn – would have resisted the suggestion she remain behind while sending a double to the ceremony. Emily was silently glad she hadn’t been anywhere near the couple when Alassa told Jade what she had in mind. It wouldn’t have been pleasant to watch.
She shifted uncomfortably in the long white dress, feeling exposed. The material was not translucent, and it was loose enough to hide her curves, but she couldn’t escape the impression that one drop of rain would turn the dress transparent. It was, apparently, traditional. Everyone in the small group by the altar wore white, the men as well as the women. Alassa looked like a bride on her way to the reception instead of a supplicant begging the favor of the gods. Beside her, Jade and Cat looked like avenging angels.
Emily forced herself to look around the temple, although she was uneasily aware of being watched. Alassa’s councillors stood by the doors, the aristocrats looking as if they’d sooner be somewhere – anywhere – else while the commoners looked pleased; the Levellers stood near the altar, watching as Alassa offered her respects to the gods. They looked pleased too, although their hard eyes suggested they didn’t entirely trust their princess to keep her word. An oath sworn before the gods was hardly a magically-binding oath. There would be no repercussions for breaking an oath in the mortal world.
And no one is sure the gods really exist, Emily thought. It was hard, sometimes, to take the gods seriously. She’d had her doubts about the local customs even before the fake god had arisen in Beneficence. Who knows if there truly is an afterlife?
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the group. A young girl stood behind Bradford and Masterly, looking so much like Melissa that Emily thought, just for a second, she was Melissa. But there was no sense of magic around her, no sense that she was the head of a magical family. The real Melissa was on the other side of the Nameless World. A chill ran down Emily’s spine, as if someone had walked
over her grave. The young woman’s mere presence nagged at her. It meant something. But what?
Keep an eye on her, Emily told herself, firmly. And watch to see if she does anything suspicious.
She looked away, surveying the temple. The walls were lined with statues, from the patron deity of Swanhaven to the Crone Goddess herself. A handful of bowls sat beneath some of the statues, waiting for donations of food and money. In theory, they were given to the poor; in practice, Emily suspected the priests took the donations for themselves. It was easy to be cynical when the priests seemed just as mired in the mundane world as everyone else. The temples were some of the greatest landholders in the kingdom. She had no trouble seeing why Randor and his ancestors had worked hard to balance the competing religious factions. United, they would pose a formidable threat to the crown.
Alassa cleared her throat, loudly. “I am Alassa, Princess Regnant of Zangaria, Daughter of Randor, Granddaughter of Alexis.” Her voice echoed through the temple, despite the lack of an amplification spell. “I call upon you call to bear witness, in the sight of the gods, to my words.”
There was a long pause. No one moved. “I swear, before the Crone Herself, that I will uphold the provisions of the Great Charter. I swear that I will use the Charter as the basis for my rule; I swear that I will treat it as the words of the gods themselves. I swear, before the Crone and all of the gods, that the Great Charter will become the law of the land itself.”
Emily heard a sharp intake of breath behind her. She didn’t look around to see who’d betrayed their surprise so openly. Alassa was playing with fire, if one believed in the Crone Goddess. She was a vengeful deity, always ready to pour trials and tribulations on any of her followers who failed to live up to her ideals. Emily had no idea how seriously Alassa took the rites and rituals of the Crone – she’d always had the impression that Alassa followed the religion as a form of teenage rebellion rather than true conviction – but Alassa had effectively nailed her colors to the wall. The Crone might not punish her for breaking her word. Her people would.
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