The Broken Throne
Page 13
“This is the Rabid Wolfhound,” Tobias said, as they approached a pub. “They wanted to meet you here.”
Emily bit down the temptation to point out that the Rabid Wolfhound was about the most disreputable pub she’d seen in her entire life. A handful of men sat inside, drinking heavily; a small cluster of prostitutes stood by the counter, displaying their limited charms to all and sundry. A short, unhappy lifetime had left them looking as if they were on the verge of death. Emily found it impossible to believe that anyone would want to touch them.
This is where prostitutes go to die, she thought, numbly.
A fight broke out. She scrambled backwards, half-drawing her sword before realizing the patrons were ignoring the newcomers and going at each other with hammer and tongs. They weren’t holding back, either; they were smashing away with fists, feet and every improvised weapon that came to hand. The prostitutes whooped and hollered, shouting encouragement to the combatants. Emily honestly couldn’t tell what had started the fight.
Tobias ignored the fracas magnificently and spoke, briefly, to the bartender. “This way,” he said, when he’d finished. “They’re through here.”
Emily followed him, quietly tightening her wards as the sound of fighting grew louder. Jars of beer flew in all directions, smashing into the walls and shattering, pieces of debris crashing to the ground. It was a relief when Tobias led them into a dingy back room that stank of something unpleasant. At least there was no immediate danger.
Well, we know why they picked this place, she thought, as she scanned the darkened room. A lone man was waiting for them, standing by the other door. Hansel couldn’t get soldiers into this place without having to fight the patrons.
Tobias cleared his throat. “I was told we’d be meeting the leaders.”
“You’re meeting me,” the figure said. It had a raspy voice, as if something was wrong with its throat. “The others were unsure about gathering in one place.”
“I see,” Tobias said. “I have brought the Necromancer’s Bane.”
“Ah,” the figure said. “And is there any proof she is the Necromancer’s Bane?”
Emily shaped a spell with her mind and cast it. The room filled with pearly white light, exposing the figure for the first time. He appeared to be about ten years older than Emily, but his face was badly scarred and his throat looked as if someone had tried to cut it many years ago. There hadn’t been a healer, Emily guessed. It appeared to have been left to heal naturally. It was a ghastly sight.
“I have papers from Her Highness,” Emily said, removing her flat cap. Her hair spilled down her back. “And I can do more magic if you like.”
“Maybe later,” the man said. “I am... Gus. I speak for the Levellers.”
“He does,” Tobias said, quietly.
“And so you should listen,” Gus said. Emily had the odd feeling that he was talking to Tobias, not her. “We have no interest in your war. We do not want to support a bratty princess or her tyrant of a father; we do not wish to be ruled by a king’s whore or a foolish aristocrat. We owe nothing to either Princess Alassa or Viscount Hansel. We see no reason to fight for them.”
“You are our subjects,” Tobias protested. He sounded honestly shocked. “We are set above you...”
“By an accident of birth,” Gus said. “There is nothing about you, or your brother, that suggests you have any natural right to rule over us. Your father” – he spat – “was a hard man to love, but he did something for the city. What have you done, boy? You inflicted mercenaries on us!”
Tobias reddened. “We wouldn’t have hired mercenaries if you hadn’t threatened to overthrow us!”
“We wouldn’t be trying to overthrow you if you hadn’t been making it impossible for us to live decent lives,” Gus snapped back. “And your mercenaries are making it worse.”
Emily clapped her hands, sharply. “Can I speak?”
“We would not have agreed to this meeting if you hadn’t been involved,” Gus said. “Time is on our side.”
That, Emily suspected, was true. Tam had been in a weak position, when they’d made contact with him, but Gus was in a very strong position. Indeed, he might not realize just how strong his position actually was. Viscount Hansel couldn’t turn the mercenaries on the Levellers without triggering a general revolution, but – at the same time – he couldn’t keep the mercenaries on his payroll forever. In the short term, the situation had stalemated; in the long-term, Gus and the Levellers might be able to take Eagle’s Rest without a fight. They’d still have to deal with whoever came out on top in the civil war, but they’d be well-placed to convince the winner to deal.
“Alassa issued the Great Charter, back in Swanhaven,” she said, holding out a copy. “It’s her manifesto. It’s her pledge that the entire kingdom will be run like Cockatrice.”
“A tempting pledge,” Gus observed, dryly. “But also one we don’t trust her to honor.”
Cat stiffened. “She swore an oath.”
“Oaths can be broken,” Gus pointed out. “And aristocrats have often given their word to a commoner then taken it back whenever the mood strikes them.”
“Alassa would not break her word, not like that,” Emily said, quietly.
“You say that,” Gus said. “And I’m inclined to believe that you think she won’t break her word. But we have had centuries of aristocratic promises being broken when they became inconvenient. We see no reason to put our lives on the line for any aristocrat.”
Emily took a moment to consider her next step. The hell of it was that she understood his point, even though she didn’t agree with it. If Alassa had stayed the bratty princess Emily had met in Whitehall, if the only way Emily had to judge Alassa was through rumors and innuendo, she might have been careful about pledging her word too. And Viscount Hansel didn’t help. She had no doubt that stories of his evening feast had already started to pervade a city on the edge of starvation. The locals would not be happy.
“I am not a diplomat,” she said, drawing herself upright. “So I will be blunt.
“There is a war on. It will not be long before Her Highness – or Lord Burrows – sends an army through his region. There may even be two armies heading through this region and clashing at Eagle’s Rest. You know how important the city is to anyone who wants to march men east to Alexis. There is no way you can stay out of the war. You have an interest in helping one side secure the region as quickly as possible.”
She paused to allow her words to sink in. “If Lord Burrows wins, King Randor wins. And the king has no interest in allowing you to survive. Don’t underestimate the sheer weight of firepower he can bring to bear against the city. The defenses won’t stand up to massed cannon fire. You and your fellows, everyone who believes in the Leveller ideology, will be hunted down and killed, along with your families. Randor intends to remove every last trace of the New Learning.
“Alassa has offered you a chance to get everything you want – certainly, everything you need – on a silver platter. If you help her win, you’ll no longer have to worry about having a tyrant put in place to rule over you; if you have an army of your own, with modern weapons, you’ll have bargaining power to ensure she keeps her word. But if you want to win, if you want to survive, you need to help us.”
“And trust you,” Gus said. “The city will be ours soon. Perhaps we can wait and then bargain with the princess.”
“It will never be yours,” Tobias snapped. “You are...”
Emily cut him off. “You’re forgetting Lord Burrows,” she said. “If you take the city, you will have an army breathing down your neck sooner rather than later. And Alassa will see no advantage in helping you if you’re unwilling to help her. You’ll be pinning down troops that would otherwise block her advance. She’ll be quite happy to let you wear them down while she prepares her forces for the final engagement.”
“An interesting argument, Lady Emily,” Gus said. He touched his scarred neck. “Can we trust the princess?”
“Who was ennobled,” Gus reminded her. “As you yourself were ennobled.”
“But she was born a commoner,” Emily said. There was no point in talking about her own genealogy. King Randor hadn’t told the world she wasn’t Void’s daughter, for reasons of his own, but Emily had no intention of discussing Earth with anyone she didn’t trust. “And she will be Alassa’s closest advisor when the war is over.”
Gus let out a heavy sigh. “You make a convincing case, Lady Emily, although many of us are reluctant to fight for Hansel and...”
“Viscount Hansel,” Tobias snapped.
“I will discuss the matter with my peers,” Gus said. “And you will have an answer by close of day.”
“Very good,” Emily said. She would have been surprised – and suspicious – if Gus had given her an immediate answer. “If you see here” – she produced another scroll from her bag – “we can offer everything from weapons to military training. Now that the river is open, they can be floated down the waters on barges.”
“I see.” Gus sounded a little surprised. “You seriously intend to give us weapons?”
“Yes,” Emily said, curtly. She passed him the rest of the paperwork, saving only her credentials. The letters of introduction from Cockatrice and Swanhaven would definitely catch his eye, when he had time to go through them. “How else would you be able to fight?”
She wondered, absently, if he’d noticed the underlying message. The river was now open, as long as the banks on both sides remained in friendly hands. She wouldn’t care to sail a barge through a hail of arrows. Whoever controlled Eagle’s Rest would be in a very powerful position, when the war was finally over. The Levellers needed that control.
“You will be contacted,” Gus said. He held out his hand, and Emily shook it, firmly. “Be seeing you.”
He turned and strode out the door. Emily caught a glimpse of a dingy alleyway – and a whiff of human waste – before the door rattled closed again. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Gus might join them, he might not... she shook her head as they turned to walk back into the pub. Civil wars were always complicated. There were factions within factions and age-old hatreds and people with their own agendas...
We’ll just have to cope with it, she told herself, firmly. And hope for the best.
Chapter Thirteen
TOBIAS DESERTED THEM AS SOON AS they emerged from the network of alleyways, claiming he had to return to the manor. Emily was pretty sure he intended to report back to his brother at once, but that was no surprise. Viscount Hansel had every reason to want to supervise, even if he couldn’t control, links between Alassa and the Levellers. She wondered what he’d make of them. Whatever happened, whatever the outcome, he would lose most of his power. But if Alassa won, at least he’d keep his head.
“Sergeant,” Cat said, casting a privacy ward to ensure their words were unheard. “What did you make of him?”
“More desperate to deal than he wanted to admit, My Lord,” Sergeant Rotherham said, crisply. “He knows his city will be caught in the middle of a war.”
“Let us hope so,” Emily said.
She frowned. There was nothing wrong with her assessment, as far as she could tell. The Levellers didn’t have to do anything but wait. The city would fall into their hands when Hansel ran out of money. But... Hansel might do something desperate first, if he thought he was doomed. He might use his mercenaries in a bid to root out the opposition once and for all. Why not? He had nothing to lose.
“I want you and the other lads to wander the city, get some idea of the ground truth and then report back to me,” Cat said, once the discussion was over. “Let’s see what things are really like in Eagle’s Rest.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Sergeant Rotherham said. “My Lady?”
Emily concealed her amusement with an effort. “Please,” she said. “You can go places we can’t.”
The sergeant nodded – he knew better than to salute when they were in mufti – and strode off into the distance. Emily hoped he’d be okay, although she couldn’t show too much concern. He’d probably be fine. He would have no trouble blending into a crowd of half-drunk locals and listening, silently, as they grumbled about their problems and what they intended to do about them. They’d talk freely in front of him.
“So we have some time to ourselves,” Cat said. “Shall we go exploring?”
Emily had to smile. “Why not?”
It didn’t take long for her to realize that the situation was far worse than she’d thought. The handful of food stores were nearly empty, with little more on the shelves and trays than potatoes and carrots. There was hardly any meat, save for fish; it looked as though nearly every young boy in the city was standing by the riverside, trying desperately to catch something he could take home for his family to eat. Emily wondered, morbidly, if they’d fish the river dry. She had no idea what the fishing was like along the river, but having so many fish taken out could not be good for the local population. It was all too clear that Eagle’s Rest was in deep trouble.
And the vast quantities of food we ate last night can’t possibly be helping, Emily thought, grimly. Feudal lords had a claim to a percentage of food produced by their peasants, but she didn’t think that was true of Hansel. Where had the food come from? His people would be angry if he’d had it shipped up the river to his table. No wonder the population is angry.
The mercenaries seemed to be keeping things relatively quiet along the main roads, but she could see small groups meeting – and exchanging papers – on the side streets. They checked out a tiny, and half-hidden, printer’s store and picked up a handful of pamphlets and broadsheets. Emily was amused to find that a copy of the Great Charter had reached Eagle’s Rest before them, although the printing wasn’t good and a number of words had blurred together. She hoped Gus would take the copy she’d given him and ensure a better print run. It might help to get the message across.
“This could be bad news,” Cat said. “Castle Blackstone has been saved.”
He passed her the broadsheet without comment. There was no name on the top, merely an immediate launch into text. King Randor’s forces had won a victory against the Noblest, saving one of the king’s largest castles from an inglorious surrender. The reporter wrote in a terse style that gave his words a striking degree of credence, particularly as he made no attempt to exaggerate the numbers of men killed or captured during the fighting. There was certainly nothing she could point to as an obvious lie.
“That’s good and bad news,” she said. “On one hand, Randor has managed to open the route further south; on the other, he’s going further south.”
“Unless the Noblest offer a craven surrender,” Cat said. “He might let them keep their heads.”
“Perhaps,” Emily said. “Shall we go?”
She took copies of the other broadsheets, then started the walk back to the manor. The air was still warm, but the streets felt colder. She shivered as one of the mercenaries looked at her, half-expecting to have to break cover to save herself from unwanted attentions, then relaxed as he looked away. Their officers were probably trying to keep their men under control. A single nasty incident could plunge the entire city into war.
Saran was standing by the door as they walked through the gates and up to the manor. “My Lady,” he said. “His Lordship wishes your immediate presence.”
Emily glanced at Cat, then shrugged. “As he wishes,” she said, dryly. “Cat, I’ll see you later?”
She followed Saran up the stairs and into an outer office. A man sat at a desk, parsing a large leather-bound book; it took her a moment to realize that he was Han
sel’s secretary. Her lips twitched, even though it wasn’t really funny. Hansel would probably have preferred a young and female assistant, but his world didn’t allow them. No one would take her seriously. It probably had never occurred to him that that might be an advantage.
“His Lordship will see you shortly,” the secretary said. His voice held a nasal arrogance that put Emily’s teeth on edge. “Please wait and he...”
“No,” Emily said, sharply. There was no way Hansel had known they’d be returning to the manor at that exact moment. He’d made Saran, an elderly man, wait for hours in the open air. “He’ll see me now.”
She walked towards the door, readying an unlocking spell in case she needed it. The secretary half-rose from his chair, saw the nasty glint in her eye and sat down again, looking nervous. He’d probably be blamed for Emily simply walking into his master’s office. The thought almost stopped her, but she was damned if she was showing weakness now. She pushed the door open and stepped into the next room. Hansel was sitting at his desk, reading a paper. He looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, as she entered.
Emily summoned all the fake politeness she could muster. “You wanted to see me?”
Hansel’s face twisted through a complex series of emotions, settling on a mix of righteous anger and fear. He wanted to tell her to get out, to wait until she was summoned, but he didn’t quite dare. Emily was well above him, socially. She could have kicked down the door and claimed his seat for herself and he knew it. The irony almost made Emily smile. Hansel worshipped a system that let her look down on him. She wondered if it was enough to convince him to give meritocracy a chance.
“My Lady,” Hansel said, finally. “I... ah... please, take a seat. Do you want something to drink?”