She sat at the table and took her bark tea without comment. Her body still ached, but she felt better after a good night’s sleep and a long bath. Lady Barb had insisted she drink a pair of potions to speed up the rest of her recovery, pointing out she couldn’t afford to waste time getting better as the city continued to self-destruct. Emily hadn’t been able to argue, even though she knew there were wounded on the streets who needed them more. The next assassination attempt could come at any time.
“My Lady,” Silent said. “Aiden sent a messenger while you were asleep. The rebel council will address the people this afternoon, just after noon. He’s promised to escort you to the city square.”
Prince Hedrick snorted, rudely. “You shouldn’t be walking out with him.”
Emily blinked, too surprised to be insulted. “Why not?”
“People will talk,” Hedrick said. “He’s a handsome young man and a rebel.”
“Oh.” Emily had to smile, despite his tone. Aiden wasn’t a man. Emily supposed Aiden would be glad to know she’d fooled Hedrick, perhaps a little too well. She allowed her voice to harden. “I have a duty to maintain friendly relationships with the rebel leadership until I can convince them to meet your brother halfway.”
Hedrick grimaced. “You do realize your... friend... probably led you into a trap,” he said, his expression darkening. “How else could the bomb had been detonated so close to you?”
Emily considered it for a long moment, then dismissed it. Aiden wasn’t a fanatic, certainly not one who’d risk certain death to kill her target. It had been sheer luck she’d been behind Emily when the bomb detonated... and sheer luck, too, that Emily made a practice of protecting herself against physical assault. The bomb would have injured or killed the average sorcerer, if it had caught him by surprise. Aiden could hardly have counted on being shielded by Emily. And... Emily frowned. It would have been easy enough for Aiden to stick a charmed knife in her ribs, if she’d wanted. She’d certainly been close enough to Emily to do it.
And she could have killed me while I was vulnerable, she reminded herself. It would have been easy for Aiden to make the damage a little worse, then swear blind there’d been nothing she could do. And she could have steered me a little closer to the bomb...
She frowned, tossing the problem around and around in her head. The bomb had detonated alarmingly close to her, close enough to kill. It would have killed... had it been meant to kill? Or had it simply been a coincidence? If someone wanted to cause chaos, detonating bombs at random would be an easy way to do it. There were so many carts on the streets that searching them all for barrels of gunpowder would waste a great deal of time and probably do nothing more than add to the chaos.
“You see my point,” Hedrick said. “Aiden could have led you into a trap.”
“He could also have shot me himself,” Emily pointed out. “It wouldn’t have been that hard.”
The coincidence nagged at her as she finished her breakfast. If she’d been the target, the assassin had gotten very lucky. If she hadn’t been the target... it was a wild - and extremely unlikely - coincidence. Unless there were two sets of assassins running around... it was possible. The bombers could have blown up the marketplace, giving the mystery sorcerer a chance to enchant a helpless victim and point her at Emily. And yet...
“Be on your guard,” Hedrick said. “Rebels cannot be trusted.”
“They don’t trust you either,” Emily said, tartly. She stood, brushing down her dress. “And why should they?”
She glanced up as she heard a knock on the door. Silent went to open it. Emily closed her eyes, linking into the wards to scan the newcomer. The wards they’d created were nowhere near as capable as those protecting a school of magic, but it was easy enough to be sure the newcomer - Aiden - didn’t have any magic on her, apart from her tiny glamor. Emily frowned as she headed to the lobby herself. Aiden wasn’t a magician. Where had she obtained the glamor?
“Emily,” Aiden said. She wore black clothes, the color of mourning. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Emily said. She flushed as she remembered Althorn carrying her back up the stairs. “Did you see to Fran?”
“She’s on her way out of the city, along with her uncle,” Aiden said. “Your mentor saw to her wounds. The mob” - she frowned - “the mob ripped her stall to shreds. Fortunately, she lives outside the city. We managed to deter the locals from chasing her family off the farm before it was too late.”
Emily made a face. The assassin had picked his victim well. If the mob turned on farmers, the farmers would stop sending food to the city... and there wasn’t enough food anyway. It was just a matter of time until Dater started raiding the farms, trying to starve the city without risking a siege. He wouldn’t want a victory that would leave his forces in ruins. The kingdom might be better off if he lost.
She met Aiden’s eyes. “And the bastards who tortured her?”
“That’s still being debated,” Aiden said. “The council is split on the issue.”
Emily grimaced. “And there I was thinking you’d banned torture.”
Aiden had the grace to look embarrassed. “We had every reason to think she was guilty,” she pointed out. “And we had to know - we have to know - if there are any other royalists in the city.”
Except she wasn’t acting of her own free will, Emily thought, sourly. The whole affair left a bad taste in her mouth. And even if she had been, she probably wouldn’t have been told anything more than she needed to know.
Aiden turned. “Come on,” she said. “We reserved a seat for you.”
Emily hesitated, unsure if she should actually attend. The monarchy had authorized torture as a matter of course, unless the suspect was of noble blood. The rebels had banned torture, only to resort to it the moment they felt they needed it. She wasn’t too surprised - most reformers found themselves grappling with the realities of power, including the need to make hard decisions, sooner or later - but it annoyed her. She’d hoped the rebels could forge a new society. She was starting to fear the worst.
She followed Aiden, keeping her eyes open. There were more spies on the street, making their presence painfully obvious. There were fewer civilians on the streets beyond, and only a handful of them were unescorted women. They glanced from side to side, their hands on the pommels of their swords... swords Emily was fairly certain they didn’t know how to use. A couple of men even wore their swords on their backs! That only worked if the blades and scabbards were carefully charmed.
Her eyes narrowed as they walked towards the city square. There were more soldiers on the streets, wearing their mismatched uniforms and omnipresent cloth caps. Emily couldn’t help thinking there were too many soldiers on the streets for effective security. It would be easy enough for someone to don a uniform, complete with cap, and make their way through the defenses completely unchallenged. She’d heard plenty of stories of men who’d done just that during brushfire wars. The rebels would have to be very careful to keep infiltrators from sneaking into their ranks.
“In days of yore, the king’s heralds would read out his decrees here,” Aiden said, as they circumvented the square. It was heaving with people, almost all men. “They didn’t have the force of law until they were presented to the public, although” - she chuckled humorlessly - “it would be a fool who’d rely on such a defense in court. Now, we’ve been using it for public debate. Everyone who thinks he has a bright idea is welcome to come and tell everyone who can be bothered to listen.”
She grinned. “Someone wanted to set up a rotting fruit stall,” she added. “He got lynched.”
Emily scowled as they approached the stage. She didn’t approve of lynch mobs, but she didn’t approve of the heckler’s veto either. Shouting someone down didn’t prove them wrong. It only proved you could shout louder. And treating someone like that tended to make enemies. No one in their right mind would trust a heckler, even if they claimed to be on their side. Anyone prepared to be a jerk for you
was equally prepared to be a jerk to you. It was practically a law of nature.
She took her seat and studied the crowd. They looked restive, ready to burst into action. She saw a handful of salesmen working the rear, proffering everything from pamphlets and broadsheets to food and drink. There were probably a bunch of pickpockets, too, she thought, although it would be a brave man who tried to rob someone here. Too many people were carrying weapons, clearly prepared to use them. The scene could easily turn into a bloodbath if someone coughed and someone else took it as a sign to start something violent.
“There were a handful of incidents last night,” Aiden muttered. “A bunch of men were mugged. A mob tore apart a broadsheet stall and vanished before the guards could arrive. A woman - a co-chair of the Female Revolutionary League - was snatched off the streets, brutally beaten and dumped on the other side of the city. Another was raped...”
Emily stared at her in numb horror. “Why...?”
“Royalists,” Aiden said. “Or that’s what everyone is saying.”
The crowd rustled, then started to cheer as Althorn stepped onto the stage. Someone started to chant - “FREE THE PEOPLE, KILL THE ROYALS” - and it grew and grew until it echoed over the entire city. Emily had never liked large gatherings, from pep rallies to political protest marches, but... she could feel the appeal as thousands of people shouted in unison. And yet... she looked at Althorn, standing at the center of the storm. He seemed larger than life, a figure out of legend... she gritted her teeth. She was being silly. He was as human as everyone else.
Althorn raised his hands. The crowd quietened. “The royalists wish to cow us. They wish to scare us. They think we can be whipped until we bow the knee once again. But we are strong. We will be free.”
Emily listened as the speech went on and on. It was surprisingly repetitive, returning to the same themes over and over again, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it and demand more. Althorn blasted the Crown Prince for declaring himself king, for selling out his country to Red Rose, for refusing to so much as make a single worthwhile concession to the rebels. He promised blood and suffering, but also a wonderful land of peace and harmony when the aristocracy was finally exterminated. Emily shivered, despite herself. There would be no peace.
“The Royalists have struck within our city,” Althorn thundered. “They have bombed us and attacked us and tried to silence us. They are so desperate they even tried to kill Emily herself” - Emily flinched as the crowd howled in anger - “and blow up our food. Even now, those cowardly shits lurk in the darkness, moving amongst us as they work to undermine our cause. I promise you, they will not win. We will not let them win!”
The crowd howled, again and again. The sound blurred together into a horrendous crescendo. Althorn could point them at someone - anyone - and they’d tear the victim apart, without pausing to wonder even for a moment if the target was actually guilty. There were few - if any - people who would stand in the way. Emily wasn’t sure she could stand in the way. She’d have to use magic just to protect herself, let alone the target.
“We will take every precaution to keep them from striking again,” Althorn said. “Our brave troops will turn the city upside down, looking for the royalist scum. I pledge to you, we will find them and drag them out. We will not let them win. In the name of freedom itself, we will not let them win!”
Emily kept her face carefully impassive as Althorn outlined a series of security measures that might as well be martial law. Every cart coming into or going out of the city would be searched thoroughly before it would be allowed to pass. Every citizen was expected to keep an eye open on each and every other citizen and report them for anything that even hinted at royalist behavior. Everyone out on the streets after dark was expected to have a pass, or else they’d be arrested and detained... the list went on and on. Emily rather doubted the rebel government would remain popular, even if the citizens felt the security measures were necessary. Emergency measures had a habit of lingering long after the emergency itself was over.
Aiden shifted uncomfortably. Emily glanced at her. Aiden had been a roving reporter, someone who’d fought for freedom of the press. It had to be hard to watch as the rebel council cracked down on press freedom in the name of freedom itself. Emily could understand the importance of keeping rumors from spreading, but nothing made them spread faster than official denial and suppression. She looked at Jair, sitting with the rest of the councilors. He’d made his name by founding a number of broadsheets, from tabloids to serious newspapers. Why was he going along with the rest of the council?
“We will force Dater to accept the will of the people,” Althorn finished. “And if he refuses, we promise him war to the knife.”
The crowd went wild. Emily tried not to cringe into her chair as they shouted and screamed for total war. None of them had ever seen a war, she was sure. The revolution had been bloody, but it hadn’t been a real fight. The monarchy had been so weak that one good kick had been enough to send it crashing down, allowing the rebels to take control. They’d definitely had at least some help on the inside... she made a face. She needed to know who was behind the whole affair, if indeed anyone was...
Someone tried to kill me, she thought, stiffly. And they’re clearly intent on causing trouble.
It felt like hours before the crowd finally began to disperse. Althorn had taken bow after bow, soaking in the cheers as though they were meat and drink. The remainder of the council had come in for their own applause, particularly after they made short speeches endorsing the new security measures. Jair was particularly enthusiastic, somewhat to Emily’s surprise. She’d known he was a hard-liner, but... that much of a hard-liner?
“This way,” Aiden said. “The council would like your insight.”
“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give it,” Emily said. Her mind was racing. Jair was the loudest voice pushing for war, denying even the slightest suggestion of a meaningful concession. “Why is Jair so... aggressive?”
“He was a scribe in training when the New Learning arrived,” Aiden said. “Unlike the others, he saw the potential immediately and opened a printer’s shop. One thing led to another and he founded a broadsheet the following year. A couple of his friends drew on his resources to launch a couple more... it was just a matter of time, I suppose, before they printed something that drew official anger. A nobleman disliked a story printed about him, even though it was true, and sent his men around to express his feelings. Jair was beaten and humiliated and … you know, it’s illegal to use a whip on a citizen? That’s what they did to him. They whipped him like a serf.”
Emily shuddered. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Aiden agreed. “And he hates them. Really hates them. He rebuilt his shop and kept founding new broadsheets, setting up a whole network of underground printing shops. By the time the people rose up, he had a small empire of his own. He won’t accept anything less than total press freedom.”
“And the destruction of the aristocracy,” Emily agreed. She could see his point. And yet... Jair was pushing too hard. Why had he agreed to allow the rebels to censor the press? Had he simply been outvoted? Or was he up to something more sinister? The person who controlled the media was in an excellent position to influence public opinion. “Why is he going along with this?”
“I don’t know,” Aiden said. She sounded doubtful. “But he’ll do anything to destroy the aristos.”
“I know the feeling,” Emily said. If there was anyone on the council who had a good reason to push for total war, it was Jair. And yet - win or lose - the war was going to be utterly devastating. “I just wonder what he really has in mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE NAGGING FEELING THAT JAIR WAS more than he seemed didn’t go away as Emily suffered through a long and largely pointless council meeting. Jair was easily the loudest voice calling for everything from strict security measures to outright war, even suggesting sending assassins to murder Dater in retaliation for the attempt on Emily�
�s life. Emily tried to probe him gingerly, but the wards surrounding the table made it impossible to glean anything beyond a vague sense of his presence. Jair could easily be a magician himself, she considered, although it was odd he’d let himself be whipped if he could easily get away. Perhaps he just wasn’t a very strong magician. He could have enough magic to charge a wand, but not enough to defend himself...
She frowned as she considered the evidence. It just made no sense. The person who’d enslaved Fran had been working in a hurry, but they’d clearly known what they were doing. They’d seen a chance to take a shot at Emily and taken it. And yet... why? The questions boiled in her mind as the meeting went on and on and on. Had the attempt been intended to fail? Or had there been contingency plans for success as well as failure? Perhaps Jair had hoped to create a martyr. He’d certainly worked hard to make use of the assassination attempt to push his agenda.
“I think we’re in agreement,” Althorn said. “And we can bring this meeting to an end.”
We are? Emily tried not to roll her eyes. We agreed on something?
She smiled, inwardly, as the meeting broke up. Althorn and Scribe Bajingan remained behind, apparently to draft a formal message to the new king. Emily saw Aiden speaking to two of the others in a low voice, suggesting she didn’t want to be overheard. Jair headed down a long corridor leading to his offices and effectively vanished. Emily sighed, inwardly. She was going to have to check Jair out, as quickly as possible. Perhaps, if she uncovered the truth, she could convince both sides to come to the negotiating table and make some real concessions.
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 23