The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

“No,” Emily said. The Final Prison had sounded like the Tower of Alexis. “Why...?”

  “There are three layers to the complex,” Althorn said. “The very lowest layer is an oubliette. But not just any oubliette. It’s designed to allow the guards to piss and shit into the dungeon. Prisoners thrown in there drown in a lake of human waste. They even drop food into the mess to ensure the prisoners don’t starve before they drown. That’s where they sent people who dared ask the king for reform. Many of the early Levellers wound up there.”

  His face darkened. “And when we took the prison and searched it, we discovered that most of our people were already dead. The survivors were completely insane. There was nothing we could do for them. Compared to the Final Prison, the royal whore is being held in the lap of luxury. Why should we move her somewhere better? She and the king didn’t show that sort of consideration to us.”

  Emily winced as they resumed their walk. She wanted to believe the story wasn’t true, but... it was too awful not to be. Monarchs had never been kind to those who questioned their right to rule. King Randor had certainly put her in a terrible cell... a cell carefully designed to deny her everything from free movement to suicide. She had to admit Althorn had a point and yet... she didn’t want to leave the queen in the cell. It wouldn’t make talking to the royalists any easier.

  Althorn stopped as they reached the ground floor. “You’ll be leaving this afternoon?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Emily said. She wanted time to discuss matters with Lady Barb and Prince Hedrick. She was fairly sure Hedrick would want to write a note to his brother. She briefly considered smuggling Hedrick out of the city, too. It wasn’t as if he was any actual use to anyone. “I’ll be spending too much time on horseback.”

  “As you wish,” Althorn said. “I’ll have a proper letter sent to your house, with a list of demands for the royalists.”

  “It will be easier if you indicate ahead of time which demands are negotiable,” Emily pointed out, tiredly. She’d never quite understood why diplomats spent so much time arguing over points that both sides knew were never going to be resolved. Life would be so much simpler if people just came out and said whatever they wanted to say. “The royalist fire-breathers will make it hard for Dater to consider anything if they believe they’re expected to accept your demands without any significant changes.”

  Althorn laughed. “And my fire-breathers will feel the same way, too,” he said. He shot her a brilliant smile. “Good luck.”

  Emily turned away and headed down the road to the house. There were even more troops on the street, marching in a show of force. Were they trying to impress her, she wondered, or were they posing for royalist spies? She kept hearing stories of spies being uncovered, dragged into the open and brutally murdered... and yet, there were always more. The revolution was already starting to eat its own. Emily remembered the rebel council and wondered, grimly, which of them would be the first to make a bid for ultimate power.

  “Emily,” Lady Barb said, as she stepped into the house. “How did it go?”

  “Poorly,” Emily said. She removed her cloak and hung it on the wall, then stepped into the dining room. Prince Hedrick was sitting there, pretending to read a book. “They have a bunch of impossible demands.”

  She closed her eyes and recited them from memory. The more she thought about them, the more she was sure nothing was going to be resolved. There was no way in hell the aristocracy would agree to give up their lands, their titles and everything else that made them special. And yet, they’d lost half of their lands already. There was no way to put that particular genie back in the bottle. Even trying would trigger another revolution.

  And the rebels will ask, quite reasonably, why they shouldn’t take the rest? Emily acknowledged, not for the first time, that she sympathized. Why tolerate the aristocracy if you don’t have to?

  “Impossible,” Hedrick said, when she’d finished. “My brother will never agree.”

  “We’ll see,” Emily said. She silently accepted a cup of something warm and steaming from Silent. “I’ll leave tomorrow. Do you want to accompany me?”

  Hedrick frowned. “They said I wasn’t allowed to leave the house.”

  “I can hide you,” Emily said. It would be easy enough. She could turn Hedrick into something innocuous and conceal him in her saddlebags. As long as the rebels didn’t have a magician on guard duty, she should be able to smuggle him out without any real risk. “Or I could simply ask permission to take you with me.”

  “It would be wise,” Lady Barb said. “What can you do here?”

  Hedrick flushed, angrily. “Represent my brother?”

  Emily shrugged. The rebels weren’t interested in talking to Prince Hedrick. She wasn’t even sure why they’d agreed to let him enter the city. He had too many enemies for his safety to be guaranteed, whatever the rebel council wanted. And yet... had they hoped she’d deliver him into their hands? Or... she frowned as a thought struck her. The rebels might have considered crowning Hedrick instead, then making a deal with him. It wouldn’t have been legal, but...

  They might have made it work, she thought. And even if they didn’t, it would cause a great deal of confusion.

  “You can choose,” she said. She was tempted to order him out of the city, but it would cause too many other problems. “Stay or go?”

  “Stay,” Hedrick said. “It is my duty.”

  “Right now, your duty is not to get killed,” Lady Barb reminded him. “You’re second in line to the throne.”

  “I can’t run, either,” Hedrick said. He shook his head. “I’ll stay.”

  “As you wish,” Emily said. She stood. She’d need to check on the horses, then plan the ride to the army camp. “I just hope you don’t come to regret it.”

  And, her thoughts added silently, that I don’t come to regret it, too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  EMILY HADN’T REALIZED JUST HOW CONSTRAINING, and claustrophobic, the city had become until she rode through the rebel checkpoint and headed onto the road leading south. She detested horses with a passion - she’d certainly never shared Alassa’s passion for the smelly brutes - but it was almost a relief to be riding away from the city. The air was fresh and clear, the scent of summer wafting across her nostrils as she galloped onwards. It felt as if she’d stepped into a whole new world.

  She sighed, inwardly, as Lady Barb galloped after her. She’d urged the older woman to remain behind, if only to supervise the prince, but Lady Barb had insisted on accompanying her. Emily was fairly sure she was in no danger from the Crown Prince - Dater was smart enough not to kill the messenger - yet she had to admit the lands teemed with displaced peasants, bandits and demobilized soldiers. There was a risk of running into someone who didn’t know her or refused to accept the safe conducts that both sides - and the White Council - had given her.

  And yet, I had to leave Silent alone, she thought. That could end badly.

  She winced. Silent had hidden depths - there weren’t many maids who could drive a team of horses - but she was defenseless. Prince Hedrick had tried to flirt with her... what would happen, Emily wondered, if he tried to push the issue? He’d never dream of pressing his attentions on a noblewoman, or a sorceress, but Silent was neither. The aristocracy didn’t consider it rape when a nobleman forced himself on a commoner. Emily had made it clear, to Silent, that she could do whatever she needed to do to defend herself, but... she cursed under her breath. Perhaps it would have been smarter to insist on Hedrick coming with them. The rebels hadn’t so much as bothered to search her saddlebags.

  The horse slowed as they rode through the remains of a village and past an aristocratic mansion that had been probably been invaded and looted before being set on fire. There were crops in the fields that could be gathered, she noted, if the rebels had time to send parties out to do the work. She was fairly sure the peasants had hidden in the forest, if they hadn’t fled to the cities or... she shook her head. There was no way to know. S
he’d have to advise the rebels to collect the crops before it was too late. They’d start rotting soon enough.

  “Watch out,” Lady Barb said. “We have company.”

  Emily glanced up. A troop of cavalrymen were blocking the road. They moved forward, brandishing weapons. Emily hastily checked her wards. She thought she recognized the pennant and livery from the last war, but that was meaningless. The army that had fought beside her, in the Blighted Lands, had broken up as soon as the war came to an end. The cavalrymen were no longer on her side. She wasn’t sure, even, they’d take the time to listen to her before opening fire.

  She held up her hands to show they were empty as the cavalry approached. They eyed her warily, their disdain clearly visible. They were aristocracy and she... they didn’t know her, but they’d seen her ride. They knew she wasn’t an aristocrat. They were practically born in the saddle. Alassa had been a toddler when she’d been put on a horse for the very first time.

  The leader scowled at her. “Who are you?”

  “Lady Emily, Special Representative of the White Council,” Emily said. She was tempted to list all her titles, but she didn’t have time. Instead, she handed over her official documents and the safe conduct passes. “Please escort us to the Crown Prince.”

  The leader’s face twisted through an entire string of emotions before he nodded. “Follow me,” he said, as his men fanned out around them. “And don’t slow down.”

  Emily felt sweat trickling down her back as they started galloping down the road. A handful of other scouts were clearly visible, suggesting there were others hidden where they couldn’t be easily seen. She saw a flash of light in the distance, probably a warning that the cavalry patrol was returning ahead of time. Crown Prince Dater had been quite interested in modern technology, such as it was. He’d certainly be aware of the danger of sending horsemen charging into a mass of enemy guns.

  Her arms and legs were aching by the time the campsite finally came into view. The army had taken over a mid-sized town, then surrounded it with tents, trenches and barricades. It was hard to be sure - Emily was no expert - but it looked as though the army was strikingly short on infantry. They normally outnumbered the cavalry quite heavily, yet here...

  She put the thought out of her mind as the troop slowed to a halt. A pair of men in fancy uniforms hailed the leader and held a brief conversation with him, then pointed to a large tent on the wrong side of the defense lines. Emily concealed her annoyance as they led her to the tent, then explained she wouldn’t be allowed into the camp itself unless she pledged loyalty to the Crown Prince. The tent was neutral ground. She scrambled off the horse, passed the reins to a blond squire and hurried into the tent. The Crown Prince had clearly put some thought into prospective negotiations. He’d had the interior designed to imply the parties would be meeting as equals.

  Interesting, Emily thought. Someone had also set up a tiny washroom, complete with buckets of cold water. She took advantage of the opportunity to freshen up. Does he really see the rebels as equals?

  The flap opened. “Lady Emily,” Crown Prince Dater said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “And you,” Emily said, as Lady Barb stepped outside. The Crown Prince had always struck her as a little unimaginative, but the war - and the revolution - had probably loosened him up a little. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

  “Indeed,” Crown Prince Dater said. “Triune informed Hedrick and myself that you were behind the rebellion. Is that actually true?”

  Emily flushed at the grim reminder she was no closer to figuring out who had backed the rebellion and why. “No,” she said. She took a moment to compose her thoughts as something struck her. “Triune is here?”

  “He escaped the city,” Crown Prince Dater said. “Why?”

  “I need to ask him why he thinks I am behind the revolution,” Emily said. She forced herself to think. If she suggested Triune had betrayed his king, the royalists would torture him to death. Her word would be enough to condemn him to death. And she didn’t know he’d betrayed the king. “I didn’t realize I’d been blamed until Hedrick informed me.”

  “I sent him to recruit help,” Crown Prince Dater said. “Where is he now?”

  “In the city,” Emily said. She reached into her bag and produced the letters. “He sent you a note. And I’ve also brought a formal letter from the rebel council.”

  “Charming,” Crown Prince Dater said. He frowned. “Is my father truly dead?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Emily said. She was surprised he didn’t already know. Perhaps, just perhaps, he’d hoped for the best. And... politically, if he declared himself king while his father was still alive, he’d wind up in deep shit. In hindsight, executing the king might have been a serious mistake. Royal legitimacy had passed to the Crown Prince. “I’m sorry.”

  Crown Prince Dater said nothing as he scanned the letters, one by one. His face was impassive. Emily suspected he’d already mourned for a dead father... not, she supposed, that he’d show his feelings in public. They would be taken as a sign of weakness. The vultures were already beginning to gather.

  “The rebels don’t intend to surrender?” Crown Prince Dater sounded astonished, although Emily thought it was an act. “They send this, this” - he waved the paper in the air - “list of outrageous demands and expect me to bend the knee to them?”

  “Yes.” Emily met his eyes, evenly. “Can I offer a word of advice?”

  “I once asked you to marry me,” Crown Prince Dater reminded her. “I wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t ready to listen to you.”

  Emily cringed at the memory, then pushed it aside. “The seeds for this revolution...”

  “Rebellion,” Crown Prince Dater corrected, coldly.

  “The seeds for this rebellion were sown a long time ago,” Emily said. “Your aristocracy forgot its duty to the people. Your... your father made a great many mistakes that undermined his power, as well as faith in his willingness to serve his people. He had a chance to make reforms, but chose not to take it. And so, he drove people into rebellion.”

  “You sound as though he brought his problems on himself,” Crown Prince Dater said.

  “He did,” Emily said. “And now” - she waved a hand at the paper - “they are no longer willing to trust you and your aristocrats with supreme power. You can haggle over the terms, you can meet them halfway... but you can’t turn the clock back. They’ve broken, once and for all, your reputation for invincibility.”

  Crown Prince Dater eyed her for a long moment. “And which side are you on?”

  “My instructions are to convince you and the rebels to come to terms, instead of fighting to the last drop of blood,” Emily said. It wasn’t quite an answer and she feared he knew it. “And that means cautioning you - both of you - about the dangers of making impossible demands.”

  “They didn’t listen to you.” Crown Prince Dater laughed, humorlessly, as he scanned the letter again. “Would they like me to cut off my manhood as well? Perhaps put my head in a noose? This is nothing less than a demand for unconditional surrender.”

  “It isn’t that bad,” Emily said.

  “And, even if I was inclined to agree, the aristocracy would not,” Crown Prince Dater added, dryly. “Do you think they’d surrender their rights so easily?”

  “I think they need to recognize that the world has changed,” Emily said. “And that they can no longer treat people like... property.”

  Crown Prince Dater met her eyes. “What can I realistically give the rebels,” he asked sardonically, “that my aristocracy would accept?”

  Emily felt a flicker of sympathy. There were always winners and losers - that was practically a law of nature - and the losers, naturally, had no desire to remain losers. The aristocrats who’d lost their estates would want them back - or, at the very least, they’d expect the new government to arrange for them to be compensated. And the ones who hadn’t lost their estates - yet - would expect th
eir property rights to be respected. It wasn’t going to happen - the peasants would come for them, soon enough - and yet it needed to happen. The rebel council was going to find itself caught in a horrific mess, unable to balance the competing demands. Which way would it jump?

  You could leave, she thought. Take what you can grab and abandon the kingdom.

  She sighed, inwardly. She knew Crown Prince Dater too well. He wasn’t going to cut and run. He certainly wasn’t going to become a king-in-exile, alternatively pitied and scorned by his fellow monarchs. She couldn’t imagine him moving from kingdom to kingdom like the Old Pretender. He’d be more likely to emulate Bonnie Prince Charlie and stake everything on a desperate bid to regain his throne.

  “I can make a few concessions,” he said. “We can recognize some of the land grabs, if there are no more...”

  Emily sighed, again. She knew that wasn’t going to get anywhere. The peasants who hadn’t grabbed their land would be pissed. They’d move to grab what they could and the rebel council wouldn’t be able to stop them. If Crown Prince Dater wanted to divide the rebels, perhaps even set off a second civil war within the first, he could hardly find a better way. He could just stroll in, afterwards, and reclaim the throne for himself.

  “I don’t think that will get anywhere,” she said. “I can take it back, if you like, but...”

  “Indeed,” Crown Prince Dater said. “I have already been advised, by Triune, to crown myself king. As my dead father’s legal heir, I have the right to do so.”

  The king is dead, Emily thought. Long live the king.

  “Furthermore, we have been in talks with Red Rose,” Crown Prince Dater continued. “I have committed to marry Princess Mariah, in exchange for troops and military support.”

  Emily blinked. “She’s twelve!”

  Dater gave her an odd look. “She’s nineteen.”

  “She was twelve when I met her.” Emily flushed in embarrassment. That had been six or so years ago, shortly after she’d passed through Alluvia with Alassa. She remembered a bubbly little girl... she winced. Of course Mariah’s father would see her as an asset. Marrying her to the King of Alluvia would link the two kingdoms together, perhaps even unite them under Dater and Mariah’s children. “Did she agree to marry you?”