“I am to be king,” Dater said. He sounded puzzled. “Why would she decline?”
Emily shook her head. Mariah wouldn’t have been given a choice. Too much rode on the match for her to have any say in it. Her father would marry her to Dater even if he had to tie her up and carry her to the wedding. She shuddered in disgust. Dater was a better man than most aristocrats, but... he didn’t know his bride. They wouldn’t be alone together until the wedding night, by which time it would be too late...
“Perhaps you should wait until you actually win the war,” she said. “Red Rose will drop you if you lose.”
“All the more reason to marry as quickly as possible,” Dater said. “I don’t want to be dropped.”
Emily snorted. It wasn’t uncommon for marriage talks to get very close to the actual marriage before they were called off. Kings used princes and princesses as bargaining chips, often threatening to marry them into one family to ensure the other offered better terms. And the politics could be a nightmare. On the face of it, Mariah couldn’t hope to find a better match. Dater was a king in his own right. But if Dater lost the war, his father-in-law would have to support him... which, she noted, Dater was actually counting on.
“Red Rose might be stirring the pot,” she pointed out. “What if they were the ones who backed the rebellion?”
“King Rupert is not a fool,” Dater said. “He would not back a force that would come to threaten him, if it overwhelmed my kingdom.”
No, Emily agreed. But it wouldn’t stop them from fishing in troubled waters.
“I will put together a formal response to the rebels, if you’ll wait long enough for me to write it,” Dater said. He paused, leaning forward until he met her eyes. “I need to ask you a more... personal favor.”
Emily hesitated. “It would depend on what you were actually asking,” she said. Her imagination provided too many possibilities, none of them good. “What do you want?”
“I want you to guarantee the safety of my stepmother,” Crown Prince Dater said. “I do not want her to come to any harm.”
“I can try,” Emily said. “She’s alive. But right now, I don’t have that much leverage with the rebels.”
“They might listen to you,” Crown Prince Dater said. “It would be... unfortunate... if she died.”
Emily looked at her hands. She could see Dater’s point. His stepmother was in an odd position. She was no blood relation to the Crown Prince, who would be crowned king by the end of the day, yet her death would be embarrassing. It spoke well of Dater, she supposed, that he was at least trying to safeguard his stepmother. There were enough horror stories about royal stepmothers murdering their stepsons, in hopes of allowing their children to claim the throne, for him to be a little ambivalent about the queen.
“I can try,” she repeated. From what she recalled, the queen was linked to a handful of minor but influential families. They would make one hell of a fuss if she was executed by the rebels. “I will try. But I can’t promise anything.”
“I understand,” Dater assured her. “Just do the best you can.”
He stood, shaking his head. “Why can’t they be satisfied with their lot?”
Emily looked up at him. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but weren’t you always the Crown Prince?”
“Yes, so?”
“You have spent your entire life being right at the top of the pecking order,” Emily said, curtly. It was a more complex answer than he wanted, she was sure. “Your father is - was - a powerful king. The rules didn’t really apply to you. You were never aware of this because it didn’t really touch you. You never really needed to be aware that you weren’t at the top because you were at the top. The rebels never had that unspoken assurance. They were always aware that they could be kicked at any moment and that there was nothing they could do about it. And then the rules started changing randomly.”
Dater eyed her, narrowly. “You sound as though you’re on their side.”
“You don’t have to agree with them,” Emily pointed out, “to realize they have a point.”
“Really?” Dater didn’t look convinced. “My forefathers pulled the kingdom together after the Empire crashed into ruins. What have they done for the kingdom?”
“They live in it,” Emily pointed out. “And they pay taxes. And that leads to the radical idea they should have a say in how those taxes are spent.”
Dater snorted in disgust. “Choose your side carefully,” he said, as he headed for the flap. “It will soon be too late to change your mind.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE SUN WAS SETTING AS EMILY and Lady Barb made their way back to the city. Emily had hoped to spend more time talking to the royalists, and perhaps taking a good look at Councilor Triune, but the Crown Prince had refused to let them stay the night. He’d been strikingly reluctant to even let them stay in the tent, let alone cross the defenses to visit the town. Emily feared he’d decided she wasn’t neutral, no matter what she’d said. The hell of it, she admitted sourly, was that he had a point.
She grimaced as the wind changed, blowing the stench of the city towards her. The rebels were doing what they could, but capturing a city was a great deal easier than running one. They were cremating the dead bodies and sweeping the streets, trying to keep them free of everything from horseshit to garbage, yet... she shook her head. It was just a matter of time before disease started to fester, then spread. There were just too many people within the city for the rebels to enforce proper sanitation.
And they can’t sweep the countryside for grain without the cavalry giving them a hard time, she mused. Dater might not have the manpower, or the guns, to retake the cities, but he could keep them under siege in hopes of forcing them to surrender. This isn’t going to end well.
They passed through the checkpoint, then rode through the streets to the palace. Emily was desperately tired and sore - she wanted a bath and a rest, in that order - but she knew the rebel council would expect her to report to them as soon as she arrived. She wondered, grimly, how ambassadors and messengers managed to do it all the time. They went back and forth time and time again, often several times in a day. She couldn’t quite believe it. It was...
“I’ll see you at the house,” Lady Barb said. “Good luck.”
“Ask Silent to fill a bath for me,” Emily said. “I’m going to need it.”
Aiden met her as she dismounted. “Any word for our readers?”
Emily had to smile. She liked Aiden. There was something about the other girl that appealed to her. Perhaps, if things had been different, they could have been friends. Perhaps...
“I think I have to give the letter to the council as a whole,” she said, instead. “Are they ready?”
“We’ve been discussing weighty matters for the past few hours,” Aiden said. “I’m sure your letter will break up the monotony.”
Emily snorted as they made their way up the stairs. Her arms and legs ached so badly she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get up again when she sat down. There were guards everywhere, looking more uniform now the rebels had managed to start sorting their infantrymen out. Emily silently calculated the odds, fighting the civil war over and over in her mind. The rebels would have some advantages, but they might be countered by the aristocracy. It would be a long time before the rebels could produce a cavalry arm of their own.
She stepped into the room and looked around. The councilors sat at a round table, with two seats left at the near end. She noted Althorn sitting next to Jair, with Sergeant Oskar speaking quietly to Scribe Bajingan. A large sheaf of papers lay on the table in front of them. Emily wasn’t sure, but they looked like orders of battle. Organizing a large army required a certain amount of bureaucracy as well as military school. She’d heard Jade complaining about it often enough. She supposed it was a good use for the unemployed scribes and accountants.
“Emily.” Althorn motioned for her to take one of the empty chairs. “What did the royalists have to say fo
r themselves?”
Emily removed the letter from her pouch and held it out. “They rejected your demands.”
“I’m surprised they so much as bothered to reply,” Althorn muttered, as he opened the letter and read it quickly. “They’ll offer us a handful of worthless concessions, in exchange for surrendering without a fight.”
He snorted, rudely. “And he crowns himself without so much as asking permission?”
“Technically, he was crowned the moment we killed his father,” Scribe Bajingan pointed out, dryly. “The formal ceremony is little more than a statement he’s assumed the crown.”
Althorn passed the letter to Jair, who read it before passing it on. “Do you believe he’s serious?”
“I haven’t read the letter myself,” Emily said. “But I don’t believe he’s interested in opening discussions with you.”
She frowned as the letter was passed from person to person until it reached her. Crown Prince Dater - King Dater now, she reminded herself - had been surprisingly blunt. He hadn’t so much as tried to hide his true feelings. He’d made clunky noises about setting up a consultative council, and hinting that the rebels would be forgiven if they stood down and allowed him to reoccupy Jorlem City - he certainly didn’t call it Freedom City - but there was nothing she’d consider much of a concession. He seemed to believe the rebels should throw themselves at his feet and beg for forgiveness. Somehow, Emily doubted they’d receive it. Too much blood had been shed in the last few weeks.
“It was a waste of time,” Jair said. His dark eyes swept the room. “I argued as much.”
“We had to try,” Althorn pointed out. “The aristos should have seen reason.”
Jair laughed. “What are they, without their lands and titles?”
“Commoners.” Storm seemed to find the riddle hilarious. “What else would they be?”
Scribe Bajingan cleared his throat. “We seem to have a choice between baring our throats to him or fighting to the death,” he said. “Is there anyone here who wants to surrender?”
Sergeant Oskar snorted. “More like pulling down our pants, bending over and opening our...”
“Thank you.” Althorn cut him off. “Does anyone feel we can make a second offer to the royalists?”
Aiden leaned forward. “We can hint at recognizing their titles, can we not?”
“Titles are nothing without land and power,” Storm pointed out. “Just ask Triune.”
“We should at least stall for a few more weeks,” Aiden said. She waved a hand at the wall and the city beyond. “How long will it be before our armies are ready to take the field?”
“We can go now,” Jair insisted. “Our men are fired with the flame of freedom. We will burn the toffs and their cowardly armies until they flee our lands.”
Storm laughed. “You’re not giving a speech now, newspaper man.”
Jair snorted. “Do you believe, magician, that you can escape their wrath if they win?”
“No,” Storm said. “But we cannot afford to lose track of the practicalities.”
“And the practicalities are that our new weapons and tactics are more than enough to stop their horsemen in their tracks,” Jair insisted. “Is that not true?”
Emily kept her face impassive. It was true, if the cavalry commander was stupid enough to impale his men on the infantry’s guns. A cavalry regiment that tried a charge against a body of musketmen would be slaughtered several times over before it reached its target. They might have archers on their side, but probably not enough to make a difference. And yet, Dater wasn’t a fool. He’d seen an orcish charge torn to ribbons by massed muskets and cannons. He wouldn’t make that mistake. He didn’t have the cavalry to spare.
Unless he wants to get rid of his mentally-challenged officers, she thought. Getting them all killed in a dumb charge would probably make it easier for him to win the war.
“Wars are chancy,” Sergeant Oskar said, bluntly. “We do have some advantages. They have some advantages too. In particular, they are faster and more mobile than us. They can run rings around us all day if they wish, rather than closing for the kill. We can counter the threat by raising more troops and pushing our defenses out, forcing them to engage us or be driven out of the kingdom, but it will take time.”
“And the royalist scum will put that time to good use,” Storm snapped. “What will they do with that time?”
“Form an alliance with one of the other kingdoms,” Althorn said. “They won’t want to leave us alone.”
He’s already planning to form a marriage alliance with Red Rose, Emily thought. She wasn’t sure if she should tell them or not. How long until the match is made and consummated?
“They were already talking about a formal alliance between Alluvia and Red Rose,” Jair said, curtly. He shot a look at Aiden. “Was that not true?”
“Yes,” Aiden said. “Councilor Triune headed a mission to explore the prospects of arranging a marital alliance shortly after the end of the Necromantic War. King Rupert was apparently open to the offer, so matters proceeded to the next step. From what my sources told me, King Jorlem and his wife took over the discussion personally.”
“So we ask the bitch,” Jair snarled. “She’ll tell us.”
Emily winced, inwardly. She’d hoped to have a chance to speak to Althorn privately, to plead for the queen’s safety. She hadn’t realized that rumors had already begun to spread, or that Councilor Triune had been involved. She was surprised anything had leaked out, let alone enough to convince Aiden the story was true. Both parties would have preferred to keep the talks secret, just in case they failed. It would be embarrassing, even though everyone knew marriage talks failed all the time.
“That will not be necessary,” Emily said. “I heard the story, too. Talks are still in progress.”
Jair glowered at her. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
He went on, addressing the table before Emily could reply. “It doesn’t matter. There are Leveller cells in Red Rose. There are Levellers everywhere. Let them plan to marry a royal whore to Prince Cock. We will rise up everywhere. Our armies will take the fire of revolution right across the Allied Lands!”
“Once we’re ready to move,” Sergeant Oskar said.
“Let us move now.” Jair thumped the table. “Let us send a challenge to the prince. Let him meet us on the field, if he dares, or be known forever as a base and cowardly dog.”
“We are not ready to meet him outside our defenses,” Oskar said.
“Then he can test himself against our defenses,” Jair insisted. “And once we crush his armies, it will be all over. We’ll win.”
“He’ll work to buy time,” Scribe Bajingan said. “He’ll try to refuse battle until he thinks he can win.”
“The aristos think one of them is worth ten of us,” Jair snapped.
“Wonderful,” Scribe Bajingan said. “We outnumber them twenty to one.”
A chuckle ran around the table. Jair scowled. Emily eyed him thoughtfully, wondering why Althorn wasn’t moving to take command of the meeting. The debate appeared to have become pointless. The rebels weren’t going to surrender and Dater wasn’t going to accept their terms. She suspected her mission had become equally pointless. Or, at least, the first part of it.
Her eyes lingered on Jair. He sounded like a fanatic, yet - if Aiden was to be believed - he was also a man of good business sense. Why was he pushing for a war that would be immensely devastating even if the rebels won? Did he believe his own propaganda? Emily had read stories in Jair’s broadsheets that would have made the average tabloid editor throw up his hands in horror, tales of royal depravity that would have shocked a libertine to the core. She was fairly sure they were made up of whole cloth... did Jair believe them? Or was something else at work?
“There are vast swathes of the landscape under royalist control,” Oskar said, slowly. “We can march out troops and take them. If the royalists stand and fight, we will have a battle on our terms. If they run, we
destroy the manors and shatter their power base once and for all. Either way, we win.”
“It doesn’t force Prince Cocky to come get us,” Jair snapped.
“It does,” Oskar said. “His support is primarily drawn from the aristocracy. Half of them have nothing to offer but their bodies and whatever they could carry when we kicked them out of their homes. The remainder have troops and men, as well as access to recruiting grounds. He’ll have to risk battle or lose a large chunk of his support.”
“Particularly as we can make offers to individual aristocrats,” Scribe Bajingan said. “We can promise them anything, including the return of their lands.”
“You would suggest letting them have their lands back?” Jair sounded furious. “The people would turn on us in a heartbeat.”
His voice hardened. “But then, I suppose we don’t have to keep the promises. It isn’t as if they ever bothered to keep promises they made to us.”
“If we start breaking promises,” Aiden said quietly, “no one will ever trust us again.”
“And who’ll trust them, when they insist we broke our promises?” Jair snickered. “They always lie. They lie even when it would be more practical not to lie.”
Emily kept her face impassive as the debate raged around the table. Jair was a hard-liner, backed by Oskar. Scribe Bajingan seemed more inclined to keep talks going, although Emily wasn’t sure if he genuinely intended to come to terms with the king or if he was simply stalling for time. Aiden and Storm seemed caught in the middle, the latter clearly stinging under the suggestion he could simply leave the city and make his way to a magical community. Dragon’s Den was only a day’s travel away. Whitehall had declared the borders closed, but Gordian would probably make an exception for a magician. He’d say he was merely upholding the Compact.
She felt her eyes narrow as she studied Althorn. Dater would have taken charge by now... but everyone knew he was the legitimate ruler. Althorn had no precedents backing him up, no long line of previous kings supporting his rule. He didn’t even have the institutional support of a president or a prime minister. There was no way to get around the fact that he’d taken power by force and, if he couldn’t establish a social structure that would support his primacy, he’d lose it by force, too. Emily scowled, inwardly, as the two sides kept hurling facts and figures at each other. Jair seemed to believe they had the numbers to do everything. Scribe Bajingan seemed to think they were dangerously short of everything from food to gunpowder.
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 19