Something clicked in her mind as she stepped into the lounge. Aiden sat on a hard wooden chair, wearing a simple brown outfit and a little cloth cap. His patchwork clothes were ill-fitting, as if they’d passed through multiple owners before finally being handed down to him. It wasn’t uncommon, outside the aristocracy, but... she leaned forward, noting the scarf wrapped around Aiden’s neck. It wasn’t that cold, not outside. The scarf leant him a rakish look, yet... it was a distraction.
Aiden stood and bowed. “Lady Emily.”
“Just Emily, please,” Emily said. Aiden was the first rebel who’d actually addressed her by title. And he’d bowed... that was interesting. And indicative. “And you don’t have to bow to me.”
“A man should always show proper manners to a young woman,” Aiden said. “And I see no reason to insult you by suggesting otherwise.
Emily smiled as suspicion hardened into certainty. “You’re no more a man than I am. Are you?”
Aiden blinked. “I do beg your pardon?”
“You’re a young woman, not a man,” Emily said. She had to admit it was a good act. She’d have missed it completely if she hadn’t grown up on Earth. “Aren’t you?”
Aiden stared at her for a long moment, then sat back on her chair. “You’re the first person to have seen me,” she said, finally. “How did you know?”
Emily shrugged. “A lot of little things that didn’t quite add up,” she said. The glamor made sense now. It made it harder for anyone looking at Aiden to even consider she might be female. “You make a very convincing man, but... I think, in some ways, you overdo it.”
She looked Aiden up and down. Loose clothes, to hide the shape of her body. A scarf, to conceal her neck. And her hair... Emily guessed it was hidden under the cap. It was a remarkable performance. In a society with strict gender roles, it was unlikely anyone would have thought to question it. Aiden walked like a man, talked like a man... as far as any of her comrades were concerned, she was a man.
“You’ve worn male garb yourself?” Aiden glanced at the walls, suddenly. “Can we be overheard?”
“No.” Emily checked the wards, to be sure. “Can I ask why?”
Aiden frowned. “Can I ask for your word you won’t reveal my secret?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “I won’t reveal the truth unless lives are at stake.”
She smiled, suddenly. “Why did you become a broadsheet writer?”
“It might have been your fault,” Aiden said. She grinned at Emily’s obvious confusion. “My father was a pretty wealthy merchant. He was one of the first people to adopt the New Learning and make it work. He and my mother had ambitions of moving into high society, so... they started attending balls and generally pretending to be aristocrats. They wanted me to marry someone who’d give me rank, if not wealth. Father even blatantly offered to pay a young fool’s gambling debts if he married me.”
“Ouch,” Emily said. “And what happened?”
“We got shunned, of course,” Aiden said. “The aristocratic girls my age looked down on me. They pretended I didn’t exist. So I listened and memorized everything they said, all the rumors and whispers and hints of great things happening below the surface. Jair was just starting his underground newspaper at the time - he’d asked my father for a loan - and I took the stories to him. One thing led to another and... here I am.”
Emily grinned. “You revealed their secrets in print?”
“I didn’t stop there,” Aiden said. “I was listening to the servants too. I learnt secrets and passed them to Jair. He went underground, shortly afterwards... I started to develop my male guise. They all assumed Sharp Ears had to be a man. It rankled at first, then I learn to work with it. There were a couple of close calls, but no one paid any attention to me. If they’d been a little more on the ball...”
“I remember hearing about Sharp Ears,” Emily said. “There was a lot of speculation over your identity.”
“None of them ever got close,” Aiden said. “You know... there were people, before the revolution, who insisted Working Girl had to be a man. They made fun of him for assuming a female name. It never crossed their mind that they might be wrong.”
She frowned. “Have you met her?”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t know her.”
Aiden snorted. “Most of the king’s men were idiots. Once... they nearly caught me, but I was dressed as a maid and they just ran past. Another time... there was a girl who had a crush on me, in my male guise. It was hard to convince her I wasn’t interested. And... there was someone who was so insistent that he put his hand in my pants. I had to tell him I was a eunuch. Luckily, he was too drunk to think anything of it.”
“And you’re still wearing male garb,” Emily said. “Why?”
“Because...” Aiden let out a breath. “Very few people, even hardcore Levellers, take women seriously. They don’t... they don’t expect much from us. I was the only woman nominated to the council and...”
“They don’t know it,” Emily finished.
“Yeah.” Aiden stood and started to pace the room. “There’s a bunch of them who pay lip service to the rights of women, as well as the rights of men, but they don’t do much about it. Not really. Politically, they say, it will be difficult. The council isn’t strong enough to impose itself on everyone.”
She shrugged. “Unless you’re a sorceress, your rights will always be secondary to a man’s.”
“That’ll change,” Emily said.
“That’s what they say,” Aiden said. “But I don’t know if we have time.”
Emily winced, inwardly. “What happened to your family?”
“They fled the city when the riots began,” Aiden said. “I imagine they think I’m dead.”
“Did they know?” Emily cocked her head. “About you, I mean?”
“That I wore male clothes and pretended to be a man?” Aiden shook her head. “My father would have been horrified. He was determined to find me a suitable husband. I suppose I should be grateful. If he’d lowered his aim a little, he would probably have had me married off by now. And I would have donned my outfit one last time and vanished into the city. I had enough money salted away to hide for a good long time.”
She met Emily’s eyes. “Are things better for women, in Cockatrice?”
“I think so,” Emily said. “I gave them rights and... there have been bumps along the way, but things are getting better.”
“And the only reason you were able to do that is because you’re a sorceress,” Aiden pointed out. “Would you have done anything like as well if you were a powerless mundane?”
“Perhaps not,” Emily conceded. The question hit too close to home. “How did you get involved with the council?”
“Jair was always involved,” Aiden said. “He brought me along... invited me to write for the underground broadsheets. A lot of my work involved spreading the word. I already had a great deal of credibility, although there was no way to keep others from copying my style, so becoming part of the international movement in the final months before the revolution seemed a good idea.”
“I’m sure it was,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure she’d get a straight answer to the next question, but she had to ask. “How planned was the revolution?”
“Officially, the revolution was planned in every detail,” Aiden said. “We were certainly working to pressure the government. Some of us - the ones who were openly agitating for change - were demanding reforms, rather than outright revolution. They saw the threat of a violent uprising as an important part of their strategy. Others thought we wouldn’t have a hope in hell of actually convincing the government to make changes. They were the ones who dreamed up schemes like digging a tunnel under the castle, sticking hundreds of barrels of gunpowder in the tunnel and lighting a match. And they started putting together cells of fighters...
“And then a riot turned into a rebellion and it caught us all by surprise.”
Emily had to smile. “And the council t
ook control?”
“Yes.” Aiden smiled back. “We were the only ones left.”
“What now?” Emily met her eyes. “What do you, and the others, want?”
Aiden shook her head. “It depends on who you ask,” she said. “Some of us will be open to a compromise, if the Crown Prince meets us halfway. Others... want to reshape the kingdom completely, then go on to carry the green flag of rebellion right across the Allied Lands. They say it’s the only way to be safe. There isn’t a monarch who’ll be happy leaving us alone to build a new world. Is there?”
“Probably not,” Emily conceded.
Aiden sat down. “It’s funny, you know? I stepped outside society’s rules in a bid for freedom. And yet, because of the disguise, I found myself trapped by a different set of expectations. People expect more from me and yet...”
She snorted. “I was asked to show you around the city,” she said. “Coming?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“My father was extremely rich,” Aiden said. “He could buy a house like this one” - she waved a hand at the wall - “but it wasn’t for sale to him, not for any price. He could buy a hundred noblemen with pocket change, yet they would never lower themselves to take his filthy money. They looked down on him, Lady Emily; they mocked him for trying to join them. And their daughters were worse. One of them...”
She shuddered. “The aristocracy is too stupid to realize it needs to change,” she added, after a moment. “And we have had enough of being treated like... animals. Men like my father and Jair, men with ambition and cleverness and bitter resentment, aren’t going to tolerate it any longer. Why should they? Why should they swallow their pride for a moment longer?”
Her eyes met Emily’s. “I think there’s no going back,” she said. “I think there’s going to be blood.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE AIR OUTSIDE WAS SURPRISINGLY WARM, after the cool of the house. Emily pulled her cloak around her - Aiden had suggested that she didn’t wear anything that marked her as either an aristocrat or a sorceress - as she stepped onto the street and looked around. A couple of spies were leaning against a wall on the other side of the street, doing an unconvincing impression of idle layabouts. Emily was fairly sure there were other watching eyes. The long row of expensive homes provided plenty of vantage points for more discreet observers.
She glanced at Aiden, feeling a flicker of admiration for how well she wore her masculine guise. It was no wonder, Emily thought, that even people who knew her well didn’t realize she was female. She walked like a man, talked like a man... she swaggered down the street, one hand on the pommel of her sword, in a manner that defied anyone to think she wasn’t a cocky young man. Emily had grown up in a world where women wore unisex clothes and yet even she had been fooled. She felt a flicker of pity, mingled with grim understanding. A sorceress might be treated as an equal, if only because she had the power to make her displeasure felt. A mundane woman would find it a great deal harder to get her way.
“This street has a bad reputation,” Aiden said, as they reached the corner. “Even now, most people will take the long way around rather than walk past the houses here.”
Emily frowned. “Why so?”
“The king’s most trusted advisors made their homes here,” Aiden said. “They were very nasty people - believe me, I figured out most of their secrets. The man who lived in that house” - she pointed to the house on the corner - “was bedding his niece, all the while trying to convince the king to make over her property to him. Their wives weren’t any better. One of my best sources was a maid who worked back there, whose mistress delighted in treating the servants poorly.”
She winked. “I believe her maids attacked her, when the city exploded with red hot rage,” she added. “There wasn’t enough left of the bitch to bury. I think they threw what remained of her on a bonfire and went off to loot the house.”
Emily felt sick. “And these stories were more than just rumors?”
“Oh, yes,” Aiden said. “Some of the residents here were so vile even the aristocracy thought they’d gone too far.”
They turned the corner and walked onto the main street. There were more people in the open, strolling... Emily couldn’t help noticing there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of unaccompanied women. Broadsheet criers worked the crowds, loudly proclaiming the arrival of the latest edition; Emily bought a copy of one of the papers and stuffed it in her pocket for later. She covered her ears as she passed a pair of criers from rival broadsheets, who seemed more intent on outshouting each other than actually selling copies. Emily hid her amusement as Aiden pointed her finger at one of the boys and ordered him to stop shouting and get back to work. He jumped, then did as he was told.
“And I say to you there can be no peace if a single toff remains alive,” a loud voice proclaimed. Emily frowned as she saw a man in a little cloth cap haranguing the crowd. He had an impressive voice, drawing attention from everyone on the street. “There can be no freedom if one of them remains alive to destroy our liberties.”
The crowd howled in approval. Emily winced inwardly as they worked themselves up into a crescendo of fury, directed at any aristocrats who might happen to cross their path. She hoped the remaining aristocrats had fled or gone into hiding. Mob rule was always dangerous. There was no way in hell the crowd wouldn’t get out of control. They’d kill everyone who got in the way, even if they weren’t aristocrats. She’d seen mobs on the streets before. That hadn’t been pleasant for anyone.
“Everyone has the right to speak,” Aiden commented. “They just don’t have the right to be heard.”
Emily gave her a sharp look as they walked onwards. There were men arguing for everything from universal civil rights and constitutional government to communalism and effective communism. A man in an ill-fitting military uniform was insisting on universal military service, warning of the dangers of a royalist military; a man beside him was insisting, with even greater conviction, that everyone had both the right and the responsibility to bear arms at all times. Emily glanced at the crowd, noting just how many of them were carrying weapons. It wouldn’t have been allowed only a few, short weeks ago. Only the aristocracy had had the right to keep and bear arms.
A young woman stood on a bench, making the case for female rights and pointing out - repeatedly - that if women were denied rights it was only a short step to denying men rights as well. She didn’t touch on anything too specific, but she insisted - loudly - that women should have the right to vote in the forthcoming elections and that they’d go on strike, refusing to recognize the new government if they didn’t have any say in its formation. A little further down the road, an older woman was demanding price controls for food and an absolute ban on alcohol. The crowd was alternatively cheering and booing her.
That’s not going to go down well, Emily thought. They’re not going to thank her for banning alcohol.
She glanced at Aiden. “Are you going to hold elections?”
“That’s the plan,” Aiden said. “But we don’t know when.”
Emily frowned as they circumvented the crowd and walked around the corner. It was never easy to time an election, even in the best of times. Here... she could see the rebels putting the elections back time and time again until it was tacitly accepted they’d never be held at all. It certainly wouldn’t be easy to organize them, not in the middle of a war. There’d been a lot of thinking about non-monarchical forms of government - and even some practice, in the city-states - but nothing on a national scale. She could see arguments getting out of control and leading straight to civil war. Her heart sank. It was going to be years before everything sorted itself out.
“And I say to you, the land belongs to those who work it,” a farmer snapped. The crowd before him cheered loudly. “It does not belong to those who do nothing but fellate the king and his sinister ministers! The land is ours! We should not pay - we shall not pay - for that which is ours by ri
ght!”
“The farming communities were the bedrock of revolution, in the countryside,” Aiden muttered. “They were burning manors well before the uprising here.”
Emily nodded, remembering the ruined estates they’d seen on the drive from Dragon’s Den. She could understand how tempers had been running hot for years, but... she shook her head. The farmers and the aristocrats needed each other and yet neither side was prepared to admit it and treat the other with proper respect. And... she had to admit, as the farmer continued to condemn the practice of forced labor, that she was inclined to side with the farmers. The local aristocrat was little more than a parasite, taking a vast share of the harvest and leaving the peasants with almost nothing. Why should they produce anything more than the bare minimum when they didn’t get to enjoy the fruits of their labor? Food production had quadrupled in Cockatrice after she’d ruled the farmers could keep most of their crop.
She said as much to Aiden, who nodded. “There’s a movement afoot to ban taxes completely,” she said. “And there’s a very good chance the entire city will support it.”
Emily made a face. “And then who’ll pay for the infrastructure?”
“That’s the question,” Aiden said. “We don’t have a good answer.”
Emily kept her thoughts to herself. The city was bursting with life and enthusiasm, but it felt like the calm before the storm. Crown Prince Dater was only a few short miles away, gathering his forces; the remainder of the Allied Lands were probably already cracking down on the Levellers and making plans to assist Dater in regaining his throne. And even if Dater didn’t make a move, the council would find itself struggling with the problem of actually governing. It was easy, in her experience, to carp and criticize. It was easy to say that one would do a better job, if one became the government. But it was a great deal harder to actually do the job. The council had made itself the new government. It could no longer avoid the hard decisions...
She tensed as they rounded a corner and approached a row of shops. A crowd of women were gathered outside one of the shops, shouting at the shopkeeper. The man looked scared out of his wits. Emily gathered the women were demanding food at reasonable prices, paid for by promissory notes, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to want to take them. She shuddered as Aiden put a hand on her arm, guiding her around the crowd. It looked as if all hell was going to break loose. The women could steal the food, if they wished, but it was going to run out very quickly. There were hard limits on just how much could be stored and produced within the city itself...
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 15