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

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Night was falling as she stepped through the gates and onto the streets. A small army of guards was marching up and down, chasing civilians back to their homes. Emily wondered if they’d try to stop her, but they paid her no heed as she walked back to the house. It was probably just a matter of time before something exploded, leading to chaos on the streets and a second revolution. The people had felt their power now, she reflected. They could turn on their city’s new rulers as easily as they’d turned on the old.

  She grimaced as she passed the spies, who pretended to ignore her. There was going to be a bloodbath, sooner or later, unless... unless what? She wasn’t sure anything could stop what was coming. The kingdom was sliding down the slippery slope to civil war, unless the two sides made an agreement in good faith and kept it. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure neither side had any interest in doing anything of the sort. They couldn’t make meaningful concessions without weakening their own position, if they didn’t get stabbed in the back by their own people.

  Lady Barb met her as she stepped inside. “We got a note,” she said. “We’re not allowed to leave the house after dark.”

  “I have to,” Emily said. She glanced back. Darkness was still falling. “And I’ll need your help.”

  Lady Barb listened to what she had in mind, then nodded curtly. Emily smiled as she hurried into the kitchen, accepted a cheese sandwich from Silent and inhaled it. She couldn’t help noticing there was less food in the pantry, despite the preservation spells. Silent couldn’t buy food that wasn’t there. Emily grimaced at the thought. It might be better to send everyone else out of the city, save perhaps for herself. There was nothing to be gained by keeping them trapped here.

  She waited for night to fall, then headed up to the attic and cast a night vision spell before opening the hatch to the rooftop. The stars overhead were strikingly bright as she cloaked herself in darkness and levitated herself onto the roof. She stood there for a moment, staring out over the city. There were few visible lights, save for a handful of lanterns surrounding the castle and a couple of glowing orbs near the magical quarter. She braced herself, then drew on her magic and launched into the air. Flying was a skill she’d only recently mastered, and she was all too aware it would be easy for even a weak magician to send her crashing to the ground, but it would allow her to evade the spies on the street. Lady Barb would cast a handful of illusions to make sure they thought she was still in the house.

  The night air was disturbingly warm, smelling of something unpleasant as she flew over the river and dropped towards the merchant quarters. Jair had founded his office there, Aiden had said when she’d shown Emily the city. He even slept in an apartment on top of the office block, rather than seizing an aristocratic manor for himself. Emily wasn’t sure that was a good sign. She could understand the urge to be humble - Jair didn’t seem inclined to spend money on conspicuous consumption - but if he was a magician, if he’d taken the time to weave protective spells into his home, he wouldn’t want to move in a hurry. If... she held herself in the air, looking down at the newspaper office below. It didn’t look heavily defended.

  She lowered herself to the ground, cast an obscurification charm around herself and headed to the building. She’d probably be taken for a streetwalker, if someone managed to spot her in the darkness, but she didn’t dare try to land on the building. If it was heavily warded... her eyes narrowed as she reached the wall and peered up. There were a handful of protective wards, but none were complex. She tested them carefully, then opened a gap wide enough to allow her to slip through and into the building. The physical lock proved more of a barrier than the wards. She allowed herself a moment of relief she’d spent so much time learning to pick locks.

  The sense of... unease... grew stronger as she inched her way into the building. It smelt of paper and ink and something she couldn’t quite place, but was strikingly familiar. She could hear people talking in low voices as she made her way up the stairs, altering the charm a little before she peered into a large room. A gaggle of apprentices, female as well as male, were laying out the blocks for the morning’s papers. Emily was mildly surprised Jair had recruited girls. Outside Heart’s Eye - and Cockatrice - female apprentices were relatively rare.

  She felt a pang of guilt as she resumed her creep up the stairs. If she was right, if Jair really was up to something, she was going to put the apprentices out of work. They’d have useful skills, but... she grimaced. They’d be lucky to survive if the city fell to the royalists. This time, there would be no mistakes. Privately-owned printing presses would be banned, newspapers would be censored and nothing would be published without the court’s approval. Who knew? Perhaps the New Learning would be banned completely...

  The shadows seemed to lessen as she reached the top of the stairs. She leaned forward, reaching out with her senses. There was one guard, standing behind a thin wardline. She inched forward, using her magic to open the wardline and shoot a freeze spell at him. He jerked, then froze. Emily muttered a spell to confuse his memories - she didn’t think he’d gotten a good look at her, but there was no point in taking chances - and then walked past him. The rooftop apartment - she couldn’t help thinking of it as a penthouse - was right in front of her. It was surprisingly small. It made her wonder why penthouses in big cities cost millions of dollars.

  Location, location, location, she thought, as she checked the wards. They were strikingly thin, barely enough to keep out the average thief. The people who bought the penthouses wanted to be near the action.

  She pushed her way through the wards, starting to wonder if she’d made a mistake. A magician who wanted to conceal his powers might set up very basic wards, if he had the money to hire a wardcrafter, but Jair was cutting it fine. It wouldn’t be easy to set up strong wards around the building itself, if only because too many people had to come and go at all times, but why would he leave himself so defenseless? She opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Jair was lying in the bed, snoring. He was alone.

  And defenseless, Emily thought. She wouldn’t have left herself so unprotected. She didn’t know any magician who would have taken such a dumb risk. What are you doing?

  She muttered a spell to keep him asleep, then strode around the room. The penthouse was really one small chamber, two walls lined with bookshelves. There wasn’t even a washroom, just a chamber pot under the bed. She grimaced as she continued her search, careful not to touch anything. If Jair was a traitor, it was hidden very well. The papers on his desk suggested nothing, but a dedicated newspaper editor and a loyal - her lips quirked - rebel. The only items of concern were a handful of notes from sources within the enemy army... not enough, she reflected, to be proof of anything. It was becoming clear she’d made a mistake.

  He could have been manipulated, if he isn’t the one doing the manipulating, she thought. Or he could have been co-opted...

  She scowled as she looked at his sleeping form. The aristos hadn’t killed Jair. Why? Had they thought they could use him? Had they thought they had something on him? A piece of blackmail information that was still useful, even after the revolution? She could believe Jair might have been on their payroll... she shook her head. Jair seemed determined to push the issue until the royalists backed down completely or went to war. She couldn’t believe that would help Dater.

  But it would help Red Rose, she mused. And any other faction that wants to cause trouble.

  She hesitated, torn between the grim awareness she needed to know and an uneasy sense she was about to cross a line. There were things she couldn’t do, not if she wanted to remain herself. There were just too many horror stories about people who talked themselves into compromising their values, then did it again and again until they lost all sense that what they were doing was wrong. The rebels might already be falling down the slippery slope. They’d pledged to restore freedoms, yet...

  Her fingertips touched Jair’s forehead. Her magic slipped into his mind. A volley of images assa
iled around her, from old memories to erotic dreams. She gritted her teeth, trying not to let the images hurl her out of his mind. They weren’t real. And yet, they were more than a little disturbing. An unconscious mind could be a terrible place.

  She pressed on, following the threads of memory. Jair had been a scribe... she recoiled at the sense of boredom that pervaded his lessons. He’d been forced to memorize thousands upon thousands of characters, each with a number of different meanings. He wouldn’t even have tried to become a scribe, she realized, if his parents hadn’t insisted. He’d been grateful beyond words when the New Learning arrived, taking advantage of the opportunities as his fellows fought to stem the tide. They’d called him a traitor. It was funny how little that had hurt.

  The memories slapped her mind. Men broke into the store... her store. She - he - tried to fight, only to be tied up and whipped... the memories were so intense she had trouble disentangling her thoughts from his mind. They’d flogged her... her back ached, even though she knew it was purely psychosomatic. And they’d done it in front of her apprentices... his apprentices. How could they respect him, after they’d seen him whipped like a serf? They’d robbed him of his dignity in a handful of seconds...

  She felt tears in her eyes as she tasted his shame and humiliation. She’d never been humiliated so badly, not even when... she shook her head as she tried to disengage. The memories were just too strong. He burnt with a helpless desire for revenge, a desire that had only grown stronger as he’d drifted further and further into the revolutionary underground. He’d helped set up rebel cells, fearing all the while that they wouldn’t be enough. And then the revolution had come. He’d forced his way onto the council to ensure the rebels didn’t give up, not when they could win.

  Emily stumbled back, head spinning. Jair was loyal. He might be making a mistake in pushing for total war, but he was loyal. How could he ever forgive the aristocracy? They’d broken him. Of course he’d want revenge. And... she shuddered, feeling the insane urge to retch. If someone had done that to her...

  I’m sorry, she thought, turning away. She’d made a dreadful mistake and violated a man’s mind for... for what? She didn’t even have the satisfaction of exposing the truth. She’d thought Jair was... she shook her head. Whatever he was, he wasn’t working for an outside power. And she couldn’t blame him for wanting revenge. I’m sorry.

  She twisted the spell and erased all traces of her presence, then turned and made her way past the frozen guard. The spell on him would wear off shortly, his memories blurred to the point he’d think he’d simply fallen asleep on duty. He wouldn’t mention it to his superior, Emily was sure. Sergeant Harkin had described an endless series of gruesome punishments meted out to guards who fell asleep when they were meant to be on watch. They were extreme enough - sometimes - to make a royal torturer blanch. She gritted her teeth as she slipped down the stairs, then stopped. She could hear voices. Two people were whispering in the stairwell, far too close to her for comfort.

  “... Don’t like this at all,” the first voice said. Young, male... perhaps in his late teens. “Aren’t we supposed to tell the truth?”

  “And if you send that article to His Nibs, you’ll be fired,” the second voice said. She sounded young too, although there was a hard edge to her voice. “You should be writing about Donna Trapp.”

  “Word on the streets is that she was lying,” the first voice said. “Her entire story is a load of bullshit.”

  “His Nibs wants you to write about it,” the second voice said. “And if you don’t, you’ll be fired out of a cannon.”

  Into a volcano, Emily thought. The dispute was growing heated. What are they talking about?

  A third voice broke in. “Why haven’t you two got back to work?”

  Emily smiled as she heard the sound of all three people going through a door and slamming it closed behind them, then hurried back down the stairs before someone else could appear. An open office sat in front of her, a pair of older men arguing loudly as they waved pieces of paper at each other. Emily moved past, trusting in the charm to conceal her presence. They didn’t even look up. The argument was just too important. Emily reached the bottom of the stairs, headed onto the alleyway and vanished into the surrounding streets. They were almost completely empty.

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, centering herself, then drifted into the air and headed back across the river. She’d wasted her time. Worse, she’d crossed a line and... guilt gnawed at her, only slightly tempered by the awareness she’d needed to know. But... she scowled as she lowered herself back to the rooftop. Jair might not be working for someone else, not openly, but his demand for war was still going to work in their favor. Perhaps...

  And we don’t really know what’s going on, Emily thought. Her thoughts churned in circles, time and time again. There could be a dozen different factions... or none.

  Emily rubbed her forehead as she turned and looked over the city. She could see the flickering light of a fire, far too close to the walls for comfort. A homeless encampment? Or a burning house? The mob was still looking for royalists. If she was any judge, a bunch of people had already reported their neighbors in hopes of ensuring their neighbors wouldn’t have time to report them. The mob wouldn’t give a damn about guilt or innocence. It just wanted someone to kill.

  She opened the hatch, then froze as she saw an explosion in the distance, followed by a peal of thunder. She cursed under her breath as the fireball rose into the air. It would be clearly visible all over the city. The terrorists - whoever they were - were still out there. And it was just a matter of time until they struck again.

  Lady Barb met her as she dropped through the hatch and returned to the kitchen. “Any luck?”

  “No,” Emily said, sourly. She heard another explosion in the distance and winced. “I think I made a mistake.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “THERE WERE TWO BOMBINGS LAST NIGHT,” Aiden said. She’d arrived shortly after noon and hinted, none too subtly, that she wanted to be invited in. “Both of them targeted guard patrols.”

  Emily made a face. She hadn’t slept well. She’d had to meditate for hours, just to keep Jair’s memories from overwhelming her. He had a powerful presence, she had to admit, although he was nowhere near as charismatic as Althorn. It was no wonder, she told herself again and again, that he was so bitter. To be treated like that...

  She dragged her attention back to Aiden. “What happened?”

  “Oh, the guards searched for the bombers, but found nothing,” Aiden said. “A handful of suspects were taken and imprisoned, yet... there’s no proof of anything. There were a few other attacks as well, all minor. The streets are no longer safe.”

  “That’s what happens when you destroy the rule of law,” Prince Hedrick said. He sat at the table, eying his lunch as if it were a poisonous snake. “The streets are no longer safe.”

  “They weren’t safe beforehand,” Aiden snapped. “Your guardsmen were happy to ignore crime as long as it didn’t impinge upon you.”

  Emily held up a hand. “What are things like on the streets?”

  “Right now?” Aiden shook her head. “People are staying indoors, unless they absolutely have to be outside. The guards are searching everyone who tries to enter the marketplaces or shopping streets, just to make sure they’re not carrying bombs. And rumors are spreading like the royal pox. They’re saying you were actually killed in the bombing and that we have to avenge you.”

  “Ouch,” Emily commented. She briefly considered making a speech, but she was all too aware no one who’d not already met her would believe she was the Emily. They’d expect someone who lived up to the paintings and they’d find the real person disappointing. She’d never realized that could become a problem until it was far too late. “Can’t the council do something?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Right now, there are too many other crazy rumors flying around,” she said. “I doubt any of them can be put to bed anytime soon.”
/>
  “That’s what happens when you let everyone talk,” Hedrick said. He sneered. “You get people talking nonsense because no one slaps them down.”

  “There are people who allege you were having sex with your stepmother,” Aiden said, sardonically. “And they were doing that before the revolution...”

  Hedrick rose, half-drawing his sword. “How dare you?”

  “Sit down,” Emily said, sharply. Hedrick would have no trouble gutting Aiden, if Emily didn’t step in. Whatever his flaws, he was a practiced swordsman. “We can’t afford another diplomatic incident!”

  Hedrick glowered at her, then sat. Silent placed a mug of bark tea in front of him, then refilled Emily and Aiden’s cups. Emily was almost relieved, even though she knew Aiden’s remark was going to fester. Hedrick would never be able to disprove the rumors, no matter what he did. Too many people wanted to believe the story or say they did, just so they could hold it up as an example of royal depravity. It was going to linger until everyone involved was safely dead.

  Aiden sipped her tea, then leaned forward. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Of course,” Emily said. She remembered what Void would say and smiled. “I don’t promise to answer.”

  “I know.” Aiden met her eyes. “Do you” - she hesitated, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say - “do you believe your mission is likely to succeed?”

  Hedrick snorted. Emily wasn’t sure how to answer. The first part of her mission had failed, unless something changed radically. There was little hope of convincing the royalists and the rebels to come to an agreement both sides could accept. The second part... she grimaced. She was going to have to check out the remainder of the council, as well as their aides, to see if they were under outside influence. And if they weren’t...

  “It hasn’t failed,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet,” Aiden echoed. She hesitated, again. “Can I trust you?”

  “... Maybe,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure how to answer that either. “I... anything you tell me in confidence will stay in confidence.”