The Broken Throne

by Christopher Nuttall

  It was nearly three hours before the second delegation was shown into the tent. Lord Burrows looked just as Emily remembered, a tall, muscular man wearing clothes designed to show off his figure to best advantage. He had always taken refuge in an exaggerated masculinity, from what Emily had heard. His eyes were very cold, but Emily thought she detected a hint of desperation in his expression. He’d fought a good fight, yet he’d lost and he knew it. Behind him, the four city-born noblemen clearly had no intention of continuing the fight. They reminded Emily of Hansel, willing and able to sell out their liege lord if it meant keeping their wealth and power.

  “Your Highness,” Lord Burrows said, bowing low. The noblemen bowed too. Emily was fairly sure they didn’t mean it. “I...”

  “My terms are very simple,” Alassa said, cutting him off. “You will open the gates and hand over all defensive positions, including the castle, to my men. Your troops are to be disarmed, unless they wish to join my armies. Any mercenaries within the city are to be ordered to leave the kingdom, on pain of death. The treasury is to be handed over to my personal guard, intact, along with any stockpiles of food, drink and war materials. Any factories and suchlike that can be turned to producing war materials are to be turned over to us, along with their workers. The exact position of the city’s noblemen” – she gave the men behind Lord Burrows a sharp look – “will be determined later, based on how they serve my cause over the next few years. If they choose to side with my enemies, they will no longer have their lands or titles.”

  One of the noblemen let out a gasp. Another started forward, only to be restrained by his friend. Emily tensed, wondering if the fool would actually attack Alassa. She understood their thinking all too well. They wanted to sit on the fence, at least until a clear winner emerged, but Alassa had no intention of allowing it. She would make them choose between taking her side, at the risk of certain execution if Randor won the war, and giving up everything that separated them from the common herd.

  “The question of precisely who will rule the barony will be settled later,” Alassa added, after a moment. Her eyes lingered on Lord Burrows. “However, I will accept your parole... if you take a message to your master.”

  Lord Burrows hesitated. Emily understood. The man who took a message to King Randor, a message the king would not want to hear, took his life in his hands. Randor would not want to hear that Winter Flower had fallen, or that Alassa’s road to Alexis lay open, or... or that his mistress had lost her lands. Who knew how that would play out? Emily shook her head, dismissing the thought. Randor wouldn’t care about Alicia’s feelings. He’d probably tell her to shut up and stop moaning if she had the nerve to complain to him.

  “It is customary to give us a deadline,” Lord Burrows managed, finally. He sounded deeply shocked. “Your Highness...”

  “You have no hope of being relieved in less than a month, perhaps longer,” Alassa said, coldly. “You have nothing to gain by forcing me to either assault Winter Flower or simply wait for you to starve. I certainly have no intention of being so generous if I have to take the city by force. My troops will put everyone to the sword, including you.”

  The words hung in the air for a long, chilling moment. “Your Highness,” Lord Burrows said. “I swore an oath...”

  Alassa held out a hand. “Jade? Sword.”

  Jade passed her his sword without a word. Alassa took the blade, hefted it for a moment then stood and walked towards Lord Burrows. The man’s hands twitched, but he stood his ground as Alassa carefully used the sword to draw a circle in the dirt around him.

  “Before you step out of the circle, choose,” Alassa ordered. “Do you accept my very reasonable terms... or do you condemn your people, all of your people, to fire and sword?”

  Lord Burrows said nothing for a long moment. Emily could see the strain on his face. On one hand, he had sworn an oath to the king. And the king had richly rewarded him for his service. To all intents and purposes, he’d been given a barony on a plate. And yet, he knew he couldn’t keep his own people from turning on him. The city’s residents knew there was no hope of survival if Alassa stormed the city. There was no hope of keeping it civilised, even by the kingdom’s low standards. Even the aristocrats would be killed in the orgy of looting, rape and mass slaughter.

  And someone may put a knife in your back so they can surrender, Emily thought. And you know it too.

  “Very well,” Lord Burrows said. He stepped out of the circle. “I will accept your terms.”

  “Very good.” Alassa sat back on her chair. “Jade will coordinate the terms of the surrender with you. After that, we will give you a horse and you can gallop east.”

  Lord Burrows looked thoroughly displeased. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Emily caught Alassa’s attention as Lord Burrows and his men were escorted out of the tent, followed by Jade and Cat. “Was that wise?”

  “They wouldn’t have come here at all, not without an exchange of hostages, if they weren’t desperate,” Alassa said, quietly. “And the truth, Emily, is that we’re desperate too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “A REMARKABLE CITY,” EMILY SAID, AS she rode through the gates into Winter Flower. “But one turned into an engine of war.”

  She hadn’t realized, from the outside, just how striking Winter Flower actually was. The city was dominated by canals, allowing barges to move goods from the docks and all around the city. It was hard to believe that Winter Flower was an inland city, even though she’d seen the canals that linked Winter Flower to the distant ocean... she had to admire, once again, the men who’d dug the canals and filled them with water. They’d had the network in place long before she’d started introducing new ideas to their kingdom.

  The streets looked drab and empty, although she could see eyes peeking from behind curtains as the small procession made its way towards the city square. Alassa’s troops had ordered everyone to go home unless their presence was strictly necessary. It hadn’t been that hard, from what Emily had heard. Lord Burrows had been keeping people off the streets for days, ever since the siege had begun. He might not have done his people any favors. Here and there, a damaged building marked the spot where a cannonball had been lobbed over the walls and crashed down within the city. Emily hated to think of how many innocent people might have been killed.

  Her eyes narrowed as they turned into the square. The castle loomed over them, an ugly monstrosity that seemed out of place in the city, but it wasn’t the castle that caught her attention. Instead, there was a large statue of Alicia that looked to have been carved by someone who’d been working from a description, rather than real life. Emily rather suspected Alicia would not be pleased when she saw it. The statue made her look like a caricature of a woman.

  The artist probably never saw a woman either, she thought, wryly. He’s got all the details completely wrong.

  A small cluster of men were standing in the square, waiting for them. They looked nervous, their eyes flickering constantly to the soldiers who were keeping them under guard. Emily studied them thoughtfully, finally deciding they must be the leading men of the city, the aristocrats and wealthy merchants who kept the city going. Their clothes certainly suggested they were low-ranking aristocrats, although it was hard to be sure. The Sumptuary Laws had been weakening for years.

  Alassa dismounted in one smooth motion, followed closely by Jade. She looked every inch a princess, Emily thought, as Alassa climbed onto the dais. There wasn’t a hint of fear in her face, despite the certainty that there would be loyalists amongst the city’s population. But then, Jade had layered so many protective charms over his wife that her ability to do magic had been sharply limited. It would take a strong magician to break through her defenses. Even a charmed blade would shatter if someone smashed it against Alassa’s wards.

  “I thank you for your welcome,” Alassa said. Only someone who knew her very well would hear the irony behind her words. “It is truly a pleasure to stand within a city that
has such a long history of serving my family.”

  Emily forced herself to watch the crowd as Alassa spoke on, promising the Great Charter – and a host of economic benefits – if Winter Flower cooperated. Copies of the Great Charter were already being distributed around the city, with a promise that anyone who lived by the charter – and swore loyalty to Alassa – would have its protection. The crowd seemed torn, the noblemen disliking the idea while most of the merchants seemed to love it. But a handful seemed remarkably unenthused.

  They’re already at the top, as far as they know, Emily thought. Winter Flower hadn’t really benefitted from the New Learning. They don’t think they can go any higher and they resent the prospect of more competition.

  The crowd clapped and cheered as Alassa’s speech came to an end, then hurried away as Alassa remounted her horse and headed into the castle. Emily followed, reaching out with her senses to be sure the castle was safe. Lord Burrows would hardly have stinted on the defenses, although he should have turned everything over to Jade. Emily sensed a dozen wards protecting the outer keep alone, with others waiting in reserve. Lord Burrows was no magician, but he’d clearly known wardcrafters who did good work.

  “Well,” Cat said, as he dismounted. “That was fun.”

  Emily shrugged, then followed Alassa as the castle’s castellan showed her into the baronial suite. Alicia’s relatives had built a castle that was strikingly similar to Randor’s castle, right down to the heavy defenses and the throne room. It made her wonder why the castle hadn’t been demolished long ago, after the first attempted coup. Randor had to understand the dangers of leaving such an edifice in baronial hands. But then, it would have weakened Alicia’s position if the castle had been destroyed. Randor might have assumed that his loyalists would always wield real power.

  “The bedrooms appear to be safe,” Jade said. A team of maids were already stripping the rooms bare of anything that belonged to their former occupants. Somehow, Emily wasn’t surprised to see that Alicia and Lord Burrows had kept separate rooms. “We can sleep there tonight.”

  “How lucky for us,” Emily muttered.

  She caught Alassa’s attention as Jade and Cat headed off to check the security and Imaiqah hurried to inspect the castle’s records. “What message did you give Lord Burrows?”

  “An offer to accept my father’s surrender,” Alassa said. They stepped into her suite. “If he does surrender, we can arrange something to keep him out of trouble.”

  Emily winced. There was no way Randor would surrender. She knew him too well. He would do everything in his power to keep his throne, even murder his only legitimate daughter once she’d given birth. And then... no, Randor would not go into peaceful retirement without a fight. Emily suspected he’d have to be killed once the war was over, just to keep his loyalists from trying to free him. There was no choice.

  “Get some rest,” Alassa advised, as she started to undress. “Tomorrow will be a very busy day.”

  Emily nodded and headed to her suite. It was large enough for three or four people, but it was primitive. There was no hot or cold running water, merely a immense – and empty – bathtub and wash basin. A maid stood by the door, ready to run for water – or anything else Emily might need – at a moment’s notice. Emily hesitated, then dismissed the maid and cast a handful of cleaning spells. Alicia had had plenty of time to modernise the castle. It was a surprise that she’d apparently done nothing to make her living space more comfortable.

  Particularly as she was pregnant when she moved back here, Emily reminded herself. Alassa might see nothing wrong with putting a maid to work, hauling water up the stairs, but Emily did. Alicia could not have been very comfortable here.

  She cast a handful of security wards and climbed into bed. Cat joined her a moment later, looking vastly amused. Emily opened her mouth to ask what was so funny, then decided it didn’t matter. She wrapped her arms around him, then closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly.

  Alassa was right, Emily discovered the following day. It was very busy. Alassa and her retinue barely had time for breakfast before the first set of petitioners arrived, seeking justice or redress or simply trying to make themselves known. Emily had no idea how Alassa managed to be so calm and polite to her visitors, half of whom were clearly trying to manipulate her into taking their side in a political dispute with roots stretching all the way back to the kingdom’s birth. It was almost a relief when Cat suggested they go for a walk, although it meant leaving Alassa and Jade alone. Emily was sure they’d pay for that later.

  Imaiqah was sitting in the clerk’s office, going through ledger after ledger. The New Learning hadn’t even spread into the records, Emily noted; Winter Flower didn’t have Arabic numerals, let alone something as simple as double-entry bookkeeping. Imaiqah didn’t have any trouble reading the ledgers, but Emily was morbidly aware that she would have given up long ago. The barons had clearly worked hard to conceal their financial dealings from the crown.

  “I think they took out a whole string of loans over the past decade,” Imaiqah said. She didn’t look up from the record books. “Baron Winter Flower must have been gambling on the coup suceeding, as he would have been able to pay his debts afterwards. But instead” – she shrugged – “it looks as if Lord Burrows took out a few more loans himself, instead of trying to pay the original set of loans off. The barony is not in a good state.”

  Cat snorted. “Does it matter?”

  Imaiqah shrugged. “It might. The people who are owed money will demand that it be repaid, eventually. And that may turn into a problem for us.”

  Emily had a different question in mind. “What was he doing with the money?”

  “I don’t know,” Imaiqah said, reluctantly. “He was investing a considerable sum in war materials, including prefabricated siege engines. And he was hiring mercenaries and magicians at great expense. But that doesn’t account for all the money. He could have been funnelling it to the king.”

  “Or putting it somewhere out of the way for a rainy day,” Emily said. She wouldn’t have blamed Lord Burrows for opening a bank account in Beneficence, just in case he needed to run for his life. “Or...” – she shook her head – “does that mean there’s no money in the city?”

  Imaiqah smiled, wryly. “I’m sure there is money somewhere in the city,” she said. “It just isn’t in the vaults.”

  Emily sighed. The natural response for any leader, faced with a revenue shortfall, was to raise taxes. But Emily knew that higher taxes eventually led to lower income. She’d seen it happen right across the kingdom. Indeed, she’d lowered taxes in Cockatrice and seen her income rise steadily, as innovators realized that they would get to keep more of their earnings. Ten percent of a thousand dollars was more than fifty percent of a hundred dollars.

  And the Great Charter forbids taxes to be raised too high, Emily thought. I wonder what will have to be sold off to settle the debts.

  “It’s a problem for later,” she said, finally. If Alassa won, Alicia could sit down with the money-lenders and figure out a way to repay the debts; if Alassa lost, the whole problem would become irrelevant. “Would you like to come walking with us?”

  Imaiqah smiled, then glanced at Cat. “I’d hate to intrude...”

  “Come with us,” Cat said. He shot a disgusted look at the ledgers. “You’ll go blind if you keep looking at these dusty... things.”

  “Alicia will need a new staff,” Imaiqah agreed. She stood and brushed dust off her dress. “I heard that the old staff vanished before we had the city completely sealed off.”

  “Maybe they were just stealing money from their mistress,” Emily speculated. Alicia would hardly have been encouraged to look at the financial side of things, while Lord Burrows didn’t have the temperament to care. “They might even have taken loans out in her name.”

  Imaiqah looked disgusted at such carelessness, although she knew as well as Emily herself that it wasn’t completely impossible. Noblemen rarely sullied their hands with
trade. They talked about trade, about making money through commerce rather than collecting taxes and rents, as if it was something on the same level as cleaning one’s toilets. The nobleman who engaged in trade might as well be a woman who prostituted herself, as far as society was concerned. No one would care if they had no other choice. It was quite possible that someone had taken out a large loan in Alicia’s name and then vanished before the bill came due.

  “They might,” she said, as they walked up the stairs and into the courtyard. “She really needs to learn what she’s doing.”

  Emily said nothing as they walked through the gates and out into the city. There were more civilians on the streets this time, although very few of them were young women. Alassa’s soldiers were patrolling constantly, sometimes stopping men who looked suspicious to ask pointed questions. A number of shops had reopened, although it was clear they had very little to sell. Lord Burrows had confiscated their stocks to keep the population alive.

  And it will be a while before we can ship more supplies in from Swanhaven, Emily thought, grimly. The local population was going to have to tighten its belt. It would be difficult to get enough food into the city, at least until the river had been reopened or a railway line established from Cockatrice. Too many people are going to starve.

  The local population didn’t seem downcast, even though their city was under occupation. Copies of the Great Charter had been pasted everywhere, next to appeals for men to join the army fighting to dethrone the king and establish a new order. Men and women were chatting away in hushed voices, arguing over precisely what the Great Charter meant... and what, if anything, would actually happen when Princess Alassa took the throne. A handful seemed to believe Alassa was a monster, hiding her true colors behind a pretty face. It didn’t seem fair, somehow.

  “They’ve been reading the filthy broadsheets,” Imaiqah muttered.

  Emily nodded, hoping that Alassa and Jade hadn’t seen the broadsheets. Someone – she suspected the Noblest, although it could be a particularly extreme Leveller – had been publishing stories about Alassa and her friends, implying that Alassa was everything from a wanton sex maniac to a ruthless butcher in the making. A third of the acts the writers described were impossible, even for a contortionist; another third would disgust even a necromancer... Emily shook her head in bitter disbelief. Whoever had written those stories had a lot to answer for.