“And I would never have had so much to write about,” Aiden said. “I hope we’ll have a chance to talk later.”
“Me too,” Emily said. She vaguely recalled hearing something about Aiden, although she hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time. “I look forward to your insights.”
“Please, be seated,” Althorn said. “Wine?”
“The king left us a giant cellar to empty,” Oskar said. “We have accepted his challenge.”
“Just water or juice, please,” Emily said. “I need to keep a clear head.”
Althorn nodded and started to pour drinks, then hand them out. Emily took her glass of water and checked it quickly, making sure it was safe to drink before she took a sip. Althorn sat next to her, regarding her with warm and friendly eyes. She couldn’t help responding favorably, even though she knew it might be a trap. Althorn couldn’t have become a rebel leader, perhaps the leader, if he wasn’t very good at manipulating people. He might be trying to manipulate her, too.
“We are glad the White Council has seen fit to take us seriously,” Jair said. “What are your orders from the council?”
“To try to bring you and the royalists to the table,” Emily said. “And to try to convince you to compromise.”
“One does not compromise with princes,” Jair informed her. “They cannot be trusted to look after their own interests, let alone the kingdom’s.”
Althorn held up a hand. “We can discuss that matter later, when we’ve had a chance to sit down and consider the future,” he said. “This meeting is purely for introductory purposes.”
Emily nodded. They’d probably already discussed what terms they intended to offer and accept, but her arrival - and the king’s execution - had lent the matter a new urgency. She allowed her eyes to wander the room, trying to gauge their feelings. Aiden was smiling broadly, a little too broadly, but the others were hiding their thoughts very well. Emily sighed inwardly. She had a feeling the rebels weren’t actually in agreement. If they’d come up with a proposal they could all accept, they’d have presented it to her as soon as she arrived.
She sat back in her chair and listened as the discussion flowed around the room. It was strikingly like listening to a group of friends rather than a council. She had the impression that the majority of the councilors had known each other for years, save perhaps for Oskar and Aiden. The former was a farmboy-turned-soldier, if she was any judge; the latter was decidedly odd. It felt as though Aiden were playing a role, although Emily couldn’t put it into words. His mannerisms were decidedly a little too pat.
“Everyone has a different account of what actually happened, when the revolution began,” she said, when there was a lull in the conversation. “What did happen?”
Aiden grinned at Jair. “I told you we should have invested in more printing presses.”
“And our papers are banned outside the kingdom anyway,” Jair reminded him. “Right now, no one in Red Rose is going to be reading our broadsheets.”
“No,” Oskar agreed. “They’re readying themselves to invade.”
“Probably,” Althorn agreed.
He looked at Emily. “We’re Levellers,” he said. “Many of us... we worked together for reform, over the last five years. The king was not responsive. A number of us were arrested and executed. We started planning an uprising, but it wasn’t easy to gather weapons and supplies until we made contact with the broader Leveller movement. They helped us obtain weapons.”
Emily nodded, keeping her doubts to herself. The Levellers had never been that well organized, not outside Zangaria. Alassa tolerated them... she had no choice. Trying to break the Levellers would trigger another civil war, one she might lose. Emily frowned inwardly. Had someone in Zangaria started exporting weapons? Or was someone else trying to make sure Alassa - and Emily herself - got the blame? Or was she overthinking it?
“The end of the war brought us no relief,” Althorn continued. “The king had told us, time and time again, that we had to prepare for invasion. The threat was gone, yet the taxes remained. And then food started running out. We were starving. A bread riot turned into a rebellion when the soldiers refused to fire on the women, giving us a chance to get everyone on the streets. And we took the city.”
Emily could fill in the blanks. The Levellers had been the only organized force in the city, after the king’s forces had dissolved. They could have taken control, led the population against the palace and the castle and... and executed the king. By the time anyone else got organized, it would be too late. She thought she knew, now, why the king had been executed so quickly. People who might have had second thoughts about supporting the rebellion could hardly change their minds now...
Too neat, she thought. Someone helped them. But who? And why?
She studied the group, thoughtfully. Storm was a magician, but not a very powerful one. She guessed he was an alchemist or perhaps an enchanter, although it was hard to be sure. Did he have the power to manipulate the others? Emily wasn’t sure. Aiden had the faint hint of a glamor around him, so weak it might have been nothing more than Emily’s imagination. And yet, she was sure there was something off about him. The others... they didn’t seem to have magic. Althorn’s charisma owed nothing to inborn power...
It doesn’t have to be a magician, she reminded herself. Whoever is behind the rebellion doesn’t need magic to light the fire. The whole kingdom was a tinderbox ready to blow.
She met Althorn’s eyes. “Why did you kill the king?”
Althorn looked regretful. “In days gone by, it was believed that the king was the father of his nation. That he would always rule wisely and justly... as long as he was not influenced by evil advisors. Many of us believed it to be true, to our shame. We would remove the advisors, and yet things did not get better. It was the king himself, and the monarchy, that was the true source of our woes. We could not progress unless we removed the entire system, root and branch.”
He met her eyes. “King Jorlem was not a good monarch. He cared nothing for his people. He passed laws that made our lives worse, while granting his cronies rights and monopolies that made them rich while others starved. He cared little for anything beyond his children, and even they were suspect to him. He killed those who tried to argue for reform... and yet, he was the king! As long as he was regarded as above us, how could there be reform? And so we made the decision to kill him.
“It was not an easy choice. We debated it for hours. We know the king’s sons will not take it calmly. We know the rest of the monarchs will not take it calmly, either. And yet, in the end, his body will serve as a warning to the rest of the world that monarchy is not unbeatable, that a people can hold their king to account and execute him if he is found wanting. Would that not, Emily, encourage them to reform?”
“They might also crack down harder,” Emily said. “They’ll want to protect themselves.”
“And that will encourage their people to rise up against them,” Aiden said. “And to take the thrones themselves.”
“To be free to research what one likes,” Storm said.
“To live without the guilds,” Bajingan added.
“To be free,” Althorn said. “Can you not understand the desire to be free?”
He waved a hand towards the wall, indicating the city beyond. “I don’t pretend we have all the answers,” he admitted. “There is an awful lot of theory on a society without a monarchy. It’s never been tried, outside the city-states, and they often have an aristocracy of their own, even if” - he smiled - “they deny it. But we cannot go back to serving at the whim of an all-powerful monarch. Even if King Jorlem had been a good man, could you say the same about his youngest son?”
Emily said nothing, but she knew the answer.
“He wanted me to ask you,” she said. “What happened to the queen?”
“The whore?” Jair’s face darkened. “She has been put on trial and found guilty of treason, abusing her serving girls and incest with the king’s sons. Sh
e will be executed and her body...”
“Please don’t,” Emily said. “It will be a great deal harder to come to any sort of terms if you execute the queen as well as the king. It will harden their hearts against you.”
“They already hate us,” Althorn pointed out, mildly. “They intend to wipe us out, root and branch. We intend to do the same to them. What is there to talk about?”
Emily frowned. His words suggested there could be no compromise, but his tone hinted he might be open to persuasion. Perhaps...
“The royalists still have a formidable military force, under a formidable commander,” she said, carefully. “I know Crown Prince Dater. He is not... unreasonable. You may be able to come to terms with him and his supporters, perhaps by agreeing to accept a constitutional monarchy or simply surrendering their lands, titles, and going into exile. He is smart enough to accept that he might lose the war and concede defeat if he is allowed to salvage something from the wreckage. And if you make it clear that you intend to wage war to the knife, that you intend to wipe them out root and branch” - she echoed their words deliberately - “they will fight to the death.”
“We will win,” Oskar said.
“Are you sure?” Emily looked at him, evenly, and then back at Althorn. “If they feel they have no choice, but to hang together or hang separately, they will fight. If they win, you’ll be crushed. A prolonged war will give them time to recruit help from the other kingdoms. And if you win, which - yes - might happen, you’ll inherit a ruined kingdom. They could burn the crops, poison wells, uproot or slaughter entire communities... your kingdom might wind up looking like the Blighted Lands.”
“Burning a field will not render it completely useless,” Oskar pointed out. “It might even be advantageous.”
“Perhaps,” Emily agreed. “But you’re already short of food. Do you really want to provoke a war to the knife?”
She pushed her advantage. “Right now, you have cards you can play to convince Dater to come to terms with you,” she said. “And even if he isn’t interested, you can worm away at his support. But if you kill the queen, if you make it clear that death is all his supporters can expect, you’ll harden their hearts against you. Do you really want a war that no one will win?”
Althorn glanced at his fellows, then nodded. “She was tried,” he said. “But we will suspend her sentence, pending the outcome of the talks. If they attack us, of course, we will take whatever measures we see fit.”
“Of course,” Emily echoed.
She sighed, inwardly. The hell of it was that she understood perfectly. The urge to just lash out at one’s enemies, to destroy them completely, was almost overwhelming. She’d never actually met the queen. She was just a name, one of many. And yet, she’d come to symbolize everything that was wrong with the kingdom.
But at least they’re going to keep her alive, for the moment, she thought. Perhaps that’s progress, of a sort.
Chapter Fourteen
“MY LADY?”
Emily jerked awake, feeling as though she hadn’t slept at all. The dinner had gone into the wee small hours, with drinking, dancing and endless toasts to the people of the world. She barely remembered walking back to the house, with a vague promise that someone would be sent to give her a tour of the city. She’d muttered something to Lady Barb and Prince Hedrick and gone straight to bed, unsure why they’d bothered to stay up to wait for her. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t take care of herself.
She sat upright. “Silent?”
“Yes, My Lady.” Silent stood by the bed, holding a mug of something hot. “Lady Barb asked me to wake you.”
“Thanks,” Emily said, sourly. The room was cold, even though it was summer. There was no fire in the grate. She muttered a spell to warm the air as she took the mug and sipped it gingerly. The taste was decidedly odd. “What is this?”
“Bark Tea, My Lady,” Silent informed her. “I was unable to source proper Kava.”
“Disaster.” Emily had to smile, although it wasn’t funny. Kava was commonplace in magical settlements, but rare elsewhere. “We might have to teleport to Dragon’s Den to buy more.”
“As Your Ladyship pleases,” Silent said. She dropped a curtsey. “With your permission, I’ll see to breakfast downstairs.”
Emily dismissed the maid with a nod and drank the rest of her tea. It tasted like nothing she’d ever had before, although there was a faint hint of the herbal brews she’d been taught to prepare during survival training. Sergeant Harkin had been very clear on the importance of learning to live off the land, although he’d also cautioned the class about the dangers. Eating the wrong thing could be extremely dangerous, particularly in a high-magic zone. The living might envy the dead.
She stood and stumbled into the bathroom. There was no shower. Someone - Silent, probably - had filled the bathtub with water. Emily used a bucket to fill the washbasin, then heated the water with magic and splashed it on her face. It wasn’t much, not compared to a proper bath, but she didn’t have much time to wash. She walked back into the bedroom, found a clean set of clothes and dressed quickly. They’d have to bring in more dresses, too, she decided, if they couldn’t be washed in the city. She felt a twinge of guilt. Silent was going to be very busy.
The air was colder as she made her way down the stairs and into the dining room. Prince Hedrick was sitting at the table, munching his way through a bacon sandwich. He looked hungover, although Emily had been fairly sure there’d been no alcohol in the house. He might have packed a bottle or two dozen into his bag. It had certainly been big enough. She felt her eyes narrow in disapproval as Silent appeared with a plate of bacon, eggs and fried bread. The smell made her stomach churn. Her body clock was completely out of whack.
Prince Hedrick eyed her darkly. “What did they say about her?”
“The Queen?” Emily decided it would be better not to repeat some of the nastier allegations made against Queen Francoise. She was fairly sure there was no truth in them. Accusations of adultery and incest were common, when someone wanted to smear an aristocratic woman and take her down a peg or two. “They said she’s a prisoner, for the moment.”
“Bah.” Prince Hedrick eyed the remains of his sandwich mournfully. “But she’s alive?”
“So they said,” Emily told him. She hadn’t seen Queen Francoise personally. She’d have to demand that, before she took the rebel terms to the royalists. There would be terms, she was sure. She’d have been ordered out of the city if the rebels truly wanted to fight to the last. “I’ll try and check up on her before anything else happens.”
Prince Hedrick looked thoroughly unimpressed as he summoned Silent and demanded more food. Emily scowled, reminding herself to check on his behavior while she was away. The prince wasn’t the type of person to be happy doing nothing, even if he wasn’t trapped in a gloomy old house. She was quite certain the doors and windows were still being watched. If Hedrick put his nose outside the door, the rebels would grab him and cut off his head before she could object. And the hell of it was that she didn’t really want to object.
Lady Barb stepped into the room, looking surprisingly fresh for someone who couldn’t have had any more sleep than Emily. “Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Emily lied. “How about yourself?”
“As good as could be expected,” Lady Barb said. “There were five separate attempts to break through our wards last night. I tried to trace the magic back, but lost the thread somewhere in the haze.”
Emily frowned. “And it could have been anyone.”
“The rebels,” Prince Hedrick said. “They’re not bargaining in good faith.”
“Perhaps,” Emily said. “There are other suspects.”
“But none who know where we are,” Hedrick pointed out. “Why would anyone bother to probe our defenses if they thought there was nothing to defend?”
“The mere fact that someone bothered to set up defenses proves they thought there was so
mething worth defending,” Lady Barb countered. “And I rather suspect, by now, that everyone knows where we are.”
Emily nodded in agreement. Jorlem City - she reminded herself to think of it as Freedom City - was big, almost impossible to secure. If it was anything like Alexis, there would be secret tunnels under the walls... if, of course, the guards couldn’t be bribed to let people and letters pass through the gatehouse. Hell, the spies in the city - and she was morbidly certain there were spies - could simply use chat parchments. Crown Prince Dater was probably well informed on events within the city. Emily would be astonished if he wasn’t.
She looked up as she heard someone knocking at the door, then glanced at the clock. It was ten bells. The city would have been awake for hours. Silent walked through the dining room and headed to the door, her face a careful mask. Emily reached out with her senses, readying herself to intervene. Who knew who’d come to visit? The rebels might have tired of being diplomatic and decided to take Prince Hedrick by force. Or one of his former victims might have come for a little revenge.
Silent returned and dropped a curtsey. “My Lady, Councilor Aiden requests the pleasure of an interview.”
“He’s no councilor,” Hedrick snapped. “He’s a filthy muckraker!”
Emily held up a hand to silence him. “I’ll see Aiden in the lounge,” she said. The rebels had said they’d send someone to give her a tour, but she was surprised at the choice. Broadsheet writers tended to have bad reputations. “Please, can you bring us both something to drink?”
“Of course, My Lady,” Silent said.
Hedrick looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t quite dare. Emily exchanged glances with Lady Barb, then stood and headed for the lounge. Lady Barb’s wards pulsed around her, assuring her that Aiden had no magic beyond a very slight glamor. Emily frowned as she studied the subtle spell through the wards. She’d never quite seen anything like it. The spell wasn’t designed to attract attention or deflect it. It was designed to...
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 14