Gordian seemed oddly irresolute. “I’m sorry to see you here,” he said. “If things had been different...”
Emily swallowed her anger with an effort. Gordian could hardly be blamed for not being the previous Grandmaster. Void’s brother had been a born leader. When he’d spoken, everyone had listened. And he’d been powerful - and knowledgeable - enough to enjoy a high degree of autonomy. He’d certainly known where all the bodies were buried. Gordian just wasn’t anything like him. Emily knew, all too well, that he was a weak reed. He simply didn’t have the power and prestige of his predecessor. Master Lucknow had probably steamrolled him into giving the proceedings a faint veneer of legality.
“If things had been different,” Emily repeated. “Why am I here?”
Gordian took a seat and stared down at his hands. “The White Council is deeply divided,” he said. “It may even be on the verge of complete collapse. No one sees any need to keep it, not now the necromancers are gone. They have to do something to reassert their control.”
“Control they never really had,” Emily commented, sardonically. The White Council had never had the power to push the kingdoms, or the magical families, around. It had little in the way of military power... hell, it couldn’t even tax its lands. The council was entirely dependent upon outside funding. and if that dried up… “Is that the point? Have they decided to arrest me in hopes of reasserting their control?”
Gordian looked uncomfortable. “They have to be seen to be doing something,” he said. “Far too many people hate you.”
“Including you,” Emily said, flatly.
“I do what I have to do.” Gordian didn’t meet her eyes. “My priority is preserving the school.”
“Which is suddenly a great deal easier, as the necromancers are gone,” Emily said. She couldn’t hide her anger. “You’re welcome.”
Gordian gave her a sharp look. “We’re not ungrateful for what you’ve done,” he said. “But that doesn’t absolve us of having to deal with the consequences.”
“Really?” Emily tried not to snort. “And what would have happened, Grandmaster, if Shadye had crushed Whitehall? Or if Rangka and his comrades had actually carved their way through the Craggy Mountains? Would there not be worse consequences then?”
“Yes,” Gordian conceded. “But we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.”
Emily allowed her eyes to bore into him. “And so you have allowed Master Lucknow to try to arrest me in the middle of a crowded town,” she said. “What were you thinking?”
She didn’t wait for him to reply. She knew the answer. Gordian was a weak man - politically, if not personally. He hadn’t been able to oppose Fulvia, let alone Master Lucknow, without paying a high price. She had no doubt Master Lucknow had promised the sun and the moon - or, more practically, a guarantee there would be no further demands, if Gordian signed off on the warrant. The non-existent warrant... perhaps that had been the plan all along. Gordian might find himself holding the bag, after Emily’s arrest and execution. Certainly, no one would come to his defense.
And Master Lucknow can claim he was only following orders, she thought. It would excuse everything, if the orders came from a legitimate source. Bastard.
“If this is how you repay me for saving you from a world-ending threat,” she said instead, “I’d hate to see how you punish your enemies.”
Gordian stood. “I regret the necessity of arresting you,” he said. He didn’t sound as though he meant it. “However, my personal feelings are immaterial. The council must assert its power or risk losing everything. The problem you present must be handled as quickly as possible, before the sparks of fire and fury along the borders lead to a full-scale war. You have already caused quite enough trouble, Emily. Perhaps it is time to put an end to it.”
Emily scowled. “And can I expect a fair trial?”
“Of course,” Gordian said. “But the charges against you are quite serious.”
“And no one has told me the charges,” Emily said. She looked him in the eye, resisting the urge to stand. “Your decision - the court’s decision - must stand the test of time. If it looks as though you judged me guilty, before so much as giving me a chance to defend myself, what will history think of you? What will the council as a whole think of you?”
Gordian hesitated. Emily pressed her advantage ruthlessly. “You know I have friends and allies,” she said. “What will they say, if you put me in front of a biased court?”
“History is written by the victors,” a new voice said. Master Lucknow was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “And by those who survive.”
Emily cursed under her breath. Gordian was a weak man. Master Lucknow was not.
“Come, Lady Emily,” Master Lucknow said. “It is time to face the court.”
“My... my father hasn’t returned,” Emily said. How long had it been? She wasn’t sure. “We need to wait for him.”
“Your father has abandoned you,” Master Lucknow said. There was something in his voice that suggested he wasn’t lying. “Come with me. Or do you want to be dragged?”
Chapter Four
EMILY FELT AS THOUGH SHE WAS walking to her own execution.
They hadn’t shackled her, or placed her under a compulsion spell, but she was grimly aware escape was impossible. The castle was so heavily warded she didn’t have a hope of getting out, not even if she had all her magic. Master Lucknow walked beside her, close enough to grab hold of her arm and yet not close enough for her to take offense. She knew, without looking, that Gordian was behind them. She wished, for a bitter moment, that he could live up to his predecessor’s reputation just once. Grandmaster Hasdrubal would have crushed Master Lucknow for daring to talk down to him.
A shiver ran through her as they walked down the corridor. Where was Void? She couldn’t believe he’d abandoned her. He could have done that a long time ago, if he hadn’t cared for her on some level; he could have simply ignored Jan if he hadn’t wanted to intervene when Master Lucknow had tried to arrest her. He was a strange person, with many secrets, but it was impossible to believe he meant her harm. He’d certainly had no shortage of opportunities to hurt or kill her if he’d wished.
She glanced at Master Lucknow. “What... what have you done to Jan?”
Master Lucknow’s voice was frosty. “That is none of your concern.”
Emily refused to be cowed. “He was only trying to help...”
“Jan’s fate is none of your concern,” Master Lucknow snapped. “When this is over, he will be dealt with.”
Emily winced. Jan didn’t deserve that.
The corridor widened as they walked into the courtroom. Emily had expected something akin to Alassa’s courtroom, where her father’s supporters had been tried for war crimes, but the magical courtroom was quite different. The room was so dark that large swathes of it were cloaked in shadow. Seven hooded figures sat at a desk, facing her; an eighth man had his hood pulled back to reveal his face. He looked oddly familiar, as if she’d crossed paths with him at some point over the last few years. She couldn’t place him. A tall man stood on the near side of the desk, his face carefully blank. Emily shivered as she recognized Master Tor. He’d told his class, once, that he practiced law in front of the White Council. She hadn’t really understood what he’d meant until now.
Gordian walked around her and took a seat beside the hooded figures. Emily sucked in her breath. Nine jurymen... if she recalled correctly, a simple majority would be enough to convict. She tried to pick out the faces under the hoods, but it was impossible. Master Tor had explained the reasoning, a long time ago. The individual jurymen, drawn from the White Council, had no power as individuals. It was only as a group they could convict people bought before the Shadow Chamber. She shivered, again, as she realized that she’d been brought before the chamber. Some of her classmates had argued it didn’t exist, that it was little better than a rumor. She knew better now.
Master Tor
snapped his fingers. A low chime echoed through the air. “The Shadow Chamber is now in session,” he said. “Emily, Daughter of Void, has been brought before us to answer charges.”
His eyes moved to Emily. “How do you plead?”
Emily kept her temper under firm control. “I cannot plead,” she said. Master Tor might look like Jean-Luc Picard, but he didn’t have the starship captain’s passion for justice. “I have not been informed of the charges.”
Master Tor looked impassive. “The Prosecutor will read the charges.”
Master Lucknow stepped forward. “There are a number of separate charges filed against Lady Emily,” he said. “Breaking the Compact, by accepting an aristocratic title, destabilizing the balance of power and inciting rebellion. Introducing dangerous and potentially forbidden techniques, ranging from gunpowder and steam engines to batteries. Interfering in the affairs of her betters, including the operations of no less than three magical schools. Challenging a tutor to a duel and killing him in cold blood.”
Emily leaned forward. “And how many of those are actually crimes?”
“The accused will be silent,” Master Tor said, flatly.
“It is true that many of the offenses are relatively minor,” Master Lucknow said. “However, two of them are extremely serious. It cannot be denied that Lady Emily’s innovations, the so-called New Learning, have had an extremely disruptive effect on society. The new method of writing alone has put the ability to communicate in the hands of everyone, including people who lack the maturity and perspective to handle it. We have seen kingdoms shake, even fall, because of her innovations. This is a clear breach of the Compact, even if it was not intentional. She had a duty to consider what her innovations might do before she released them.
“Furthermore, Lady Emily is deeply involved in the politics of Zangaria while trying, at the same time, to present herself as both a humble apprentice and a champion of the Allied Lands themselves. She is a baroness, with immense personal power; she is, after fighting for the queen in a civil war, practically the greatest aristocrat in the kingdom. She did not have to involve herself so deeply and, practically, she could have declined the honors showered upon her by two successive monarchs. Again, this is a clear breach of the Compact.”
He paused for effect. “The most disturbing aspects of her innovations, however, are the magical ones. She has devised a means of long-range communication, private communications, that can be easily abused. Chat parchments have been used to break down wards and sneak through mental defenses, as we saw - only a few short days ago - in Laughter. Worse, she has devised a means of permanently storing magical power. She has, in a single stroke, upended our society. What can be done - what cannot be done - by a person with a battery and bad intentions?
“It is a point of law, of course, that an inventor cannot be blamed for the effects of their invention. The alchemist who first devised a basic lust potion cannot be held accountable for what someone else does with the recipe. But there is a certain responsibility, on the part of the inventor, to ensure it doesn’t fall into unsuitable hands. They should take all reasonable precautions to ensure the recipe isn’t stolen. Lady Emily did not. In some cases, she practically ensured that everyone in the community knew how to duplicate her innovation. In others, she did not take anything like enough precautions to protect her designs. The only reason I can talk freely now, about the batteries, is that the secret is out and spreading. My oaths no longer bind me.”
Emily let out a breath. She’d done everything she reasonably could do to keep that secret from getting out. And yet... she gritted her teeth. There was no way any reasonably impartial court could blame her for someone copying the chat parchment spells, turning them into weapons and putting them into use. Hell, the secret wasn’t wholly hers. It had been Aloha who’d come up with the final version. She decided not to point that out. There was no point in getting both of them in trouble.
“It cannot be denied that Lady Emily has done great things,” Master Lucknow said. “But it is also clear she’s dangerous. She’s shown a willingness to interfere in matters that are none of her concern, to the point she tries to push around people vastly more experienced than herself. She meddles in situations she does not understand, throwing the established order - both magical and mundane - into chaos. The crisis we are facing now is a direct result of her meddling. She must answer for her crimes.”
Crimes, Emily thought, sarcastically.
“The prosecution believes the charges cannot be answered,” Master Lucknow said. “There is no dispute over the facts. Accordingly, we request that the court moves immediately to judgement.”
Emily opened her mouth to object, but Master Tor spoke first. “The accused has a right to respond to the charges,” he said. Emily could have kissed him. “Lady Emily, the floor is yours.”
Master Lucknow stepped back. Emily composed herself with an effort. Nine jurymen... one too weak to stand against her enemies. Another weirdly familiar, as if she knew him from somewhere... the remainder strangers. Had Master Lucknow rigged the jury selection? She didn’t know. From what little she recalled, the process was supposed to be random. And yet, there were plenty of ways to influence the outcome if things had to be done in a rush. Master Lucknow would certainly try, she was sure. He wasn’t the type of man to leave things to chance if it could be avoided.
Cold anger shot through her. The trial was a farce. The whole affair was a farce. She hadn’t intended to cause chaos... she certainly hadn’t set out to upset the balance of power. And yet... a dozen arguments ran through her mind, each unlikely to convince the jury. They’d used her, they’d praised her... and now they were planning to discard her, after all she’d done for them. It wasn’t her fault that her innovations had been misused. She’d certainly never anticipated how the chat parchments could be turned into weapons...
She clasped her hands behind her back and addressed the jury. “You ungrateful bastards.”
The words hung in the air. She almost smiled as shock rippled around the chamber. It wasn’t something she would normally say, but... logic and reason wasn’t going to get her out of this mess. There was no hope of convincing anyone to uphold the law. She knew from watching King Randor - and even Alassa - that the law was flexible, if someone with enough power wanted to bend it to his will. But if she reminded them of everything she’d done...
“Seven years ago, back when I came into my magic, the situation was dire,” she said, pressing on before anyone could intervene. “The necromancers were pressing against the Craggy Mountains. Shadye and his predecessors had already made several attempts to smash through Whitehall and rampage through the Allied Lands. Two kingdoms further to the east had fallen, with the necromancers slowed by geography rather than a stout defense. Dua Kepala was on the far side of the Desert of Death, exploring Heart’s Eye and laying the groundwork for an invasion of Tarsier. And other necromancers - and dark wizards - were popping up regularly on the northern side of the mountains.
“It was just a matter of time before the end.”
She paused, wishing she could gauge their reactions. But it was impossible. All she could do was press on and hope for the best.
“I went to Whitehall for my first year, when Shadye attacked for the final time. I killed him. I saved the school. I saved Alluvia and the kingdoms beyond. The next year, I killed another necromancer, one who could have turned the Cairngorms into her personal slaughterhouse if she hadn’t been stopped. Two years after that, I killed yet another necromancer and recaptured Heart’s Eye.
“And, only a few short months ago, I devised a way to beat them permanently.
“I am twenty-three years old. There isn’t a person in this chamber who isn’t old enough to be my father. How can you forget, so quickly, that you were staring Armageddon in the face? How can you forget that it was just a matter of time before the necromancers came for you? How can you forget that they were finally on the verge of grinding through the mountains and wi
nning the war? How can you condemn me for saving you from a fate worse than death?”
She allowed her voice to rise, just a little. “You say that I am to blame for my inventions being misused. But how can that possibly be true? I am responsible for what I do, but not for the actions of others. There is no reasonable way you can blame me for what someone else does with my work. And if you think I should never have invented the batteries, ask yourself this: What would the world be like, right now, if I’d never so much as devised the concept, let alone turned it into reality?
“I’ll tell you. The necromancers would still be alive. They would still be a serious threat on the far side of the mountains. And they’d just have to get lucky once to crush you.”
Master Lucknow cleared his throat. “No one is denying that you saved the world,” he said, bluntly. “But we cannot deny the consequences either. You have upset the balance of power. Reigniting the nexus points alone...”
Emily cut him off. “No one, including yourself, so much as raised the possibility that reigniting the Kuching nexus would reignite the other dead nexus points. You were there at the planning meetings. Did anyone raise it as a practical concern?”
“Objection,” Master Lucknow said. “The defense is not allowed to ask questions of the prosecution.”
“True enough,” Master Tor agreed. “However, there are no other witnesses to those planning sessions on hand. Answer the question.”
“The concern was never raised,” Master Lucknow said, coldly. “However, the fact remains that she upset the balance of power...”
“By accident,” Emily said.
“Then, perhaps,” Master Lucknow conceded. “But by inventing gunpowder?”
“If I hadn’t introduced gunpowder,” Emily said, “what would have happened when the orcs charged our lines?”
She winced, inwardly. She hadn’t set out to turn the world upside down, by introducing earthly innovations, but she’d known it was going to happen. Gunpowder alone put the power to kill in the hands of anyone who could obtain a gun... hell, it wasn’t as if gunpowder was difficult to produce. The formula had leaked out years ago. She’d heard rumors that every blacksmith was converting his forge into a gunsmith’s factory and trying desperately to devise the next generation of guns, putting them into production before they become outdated. And gunpowder was only the big - obvious - invention. English letters and Arabic numbers - and paper - would be just as disruptive in the long run.
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 5