Aiden didn’t look convinced. She glanced at Hedrick, then scowled. “Do you not have duties to the White Council?”
“I have to try to carry out my mission,” Emily said. Void had said she’d been set up to fail. Emily had a nasty feeling he was right. Master Lucknow might have calculated there was no hope of convincing both sides to come to terms and... she put the thought out of her mind. She didn’t have time to worry about it. “I’m not obliged to tell them everything.”
“I see.” Aiden played with her hands, twisting them over and over. “Emily... there’s a meeting this evening. I think you should attend.”
Emily blinked. “A meeting? Between whom?”
Aiden, very visibly, took the plunge. “Some of us... moderates... have been uneasy with the rush to war. The declaration of martial law has pushed us into looking for a way out of the crisis. We’re planning to meet tonight to discuss it.”
Hedrick threw back his head and brayed like a mule. “So you’re going to become rebels against the rebels,” he said. His laughter was a horrible sound. “What a surprise!”
“No.” Aiden reddened. “We want to preserve something of the revolution’s goals. We’re willing to meet your brother, the king, halfway. But we have to know there’s a chance we’ll actually get what we want out of it.”
“You don’t want anything,” Hedrick said. “You just want things to go back to normal.”
Emily ignored the argument as she forced herself to think. It had occurred to her, more than once, that there had to be several factions within the rebel council, but Althorn had seemed to be in control. Now... she grimaced. Martial law had probably concentrated a few minds on just what would happen if the council got used to wielding unlimited power. She’d seen broadsheets and pamphlets criticizing the rebel government. How long would those be allowed to run if they were branded treacherous? Or defeatist? Or... who cared? There’d always be an excuse for a crackdown if the people in charge wanted one.
She frowned, then considered her options. Attending the meeting was asking for trouble, if she were caught. The rebel leadership would be well within their rights to order her to leave the city. And yet... if she could convince the moderates to come up with a more reasonable proposal, she might be able to take it to Dater and convince him to accept it. If... she gritted her teeth. The moderates might not have the ability to take power and impose their terms on the remainder of the rebels. It could easily lead to a bloodbath.
And that might happen if I do nothing, she thought. I can’t let this chance slip by.
“You had a taste of ruling for yourself and you didn’t like it,” Hedrick purred. “And now you want us back in charge.”
Emily cleared her throat before Aiden could come up with a retort. “I’ll attend,” she said, shortly. “When do we go?”
“I’ll come too.” Hedrick stood. “As my brother’s representative...”
“You’re not invited,” Aiden said. “And even if you were, your head would be lopped off the moment you stuck it outside the house.”
“I can speak to my brother on your behalf,” Hedrick pointed out. “He’d listen to me.”
Would he? Emily wasn’t so sure. What are you playing at now, Hedrick?
She frowned. She wasn’t sure why the rebels had left Hedrick alone. Did they have a reason to keep him alive? He was, technically, heir to the throne. The rebels might consider putting him on the throne, if his older brother proved unreasonable. Or... he might have much the same thing in mind himself. There were wheels within wheels, conspiracies within conspiracies... she shook her head. She didn’t have time to worry about it. And she certainly didn’t want Prince Hedrick caught outside the house.
“You have to stay here,” she said. “You’re not... remotely diplomatic.”
Hedrick rested his hands on his hips. “I can be charming...”
“But not charming enough,” Emily said, curtly. She was sick of him. “Let me handle this. I’ll give you a full report.”
She glanced at Lady Barb, who shrugged. Silent started collecting the empty mugs and carrying them into the kitchen. Attending the meeting was a very definite long-shot, and it could blow up in her face, but it might be her final chance to avert serious bloodshed. The rebels were preparing for war, readying themselves to destroy the city and rip the kingdom apart rather than surrender to the aristocrats. She owed it to herself to take the chance.
“Grab your cloak,” Aiden said. “We want to be well clear of the house before twilight.”
Prince Hedrick made a rude sound, but said nothing as Emily donned her cloak and led the way to the door. She hoped he’d behave himself, while she was gone. The city was moving closer and closer to war. She was mildly surprised the council hadn’t ordered the queen’s execution, despite her pleas. They couldn’t see her as a bargaining chip if she was effectively worthless. Dater might make a show of mourning her loss, but Emily wasn’t convinced he’d mean it. His stepmother could easily turn into a liability, even if the rumors hadn’t spread from one end of the kingdom to the other.
The streets felt colder, despite the heat, as they made their way towards the river. There were guards everywhere, chanting rebel songs and rewritten military cadences as they marched. They looked very young and scared, even though they were putting on a good show. Emily wondered if the rebel leadership was trying to make it clear to any doubters that they weren’t going to surrender. The temptation to surrender the city in exchange for their lives and safe passage into exile had to be overwhelming.
Jair would never go along with it, she mused. But what about the others?
The bridge was guarded at both ends, with heavily-armed soldiers searching everyone before they were allowed to cross. Aiden used her council authority to be allowed to avoid the search and skip the line, something that left a bad taste in Emily’s mouth even though she understood the logic. The guards wouldn’t be able to miss Aiden’s breasts... she wondered, idly, how Aiden intended to get home after the meeting. It would be well after dark, when all good men and women were supposed to be off the streets. The guards might not recognize her until it was far too late.
She grimaced at the stench as they crossed the bridge. The river was running dry, revealing everything from half-decomposed bodies to skeletal boats and the debris of an entire city. A small army of half-naked children were poking through the riverbanks, scrounging for something - anything - they could sell. She shuddered in disgust. The river was rapidly turning into a breeding ground for disease. She wasn’t even sure it was navigable any longer. There were certainly no boats making their way up and down the waters.
“Those poor kids,” she breathed. “Is there nothing we can do for them?”
“They’re orphans, mostly.” Aiden’s voice was grim. “Unwanted kids, abandoned by their parents... they were often sent to the workhouses, if they were lucky. The unlucky ones were picked up by the punters and put to work, scooping up horseshit or picking pockets or worse. I... we killed a bunch of the bastards, after we took power. The kids are free. Right now, they can sell whatever they find and keep the money for themselves.”
She turned away, hiding her face. Emily felt her heart twist in pain. It was easy, all too easy, to imagine growing up on the streets. She’d wanted to run away, more than once... here, she’d have been lucky if she’d lasted more than a day or two. It was hard to believe, looking at the kids, that the rebels had made their lives much better. And yet, even having the chance to save some money might help in the long run. If they survived...
“My father grew up here,” Aiden explained, as they left the bridge behind. “He said he’d do anything, no matter how humiliating, to avoid coming home.”
Emily nodded in understanding. The streets were faded, the buildings looked as if they were permanently on the verge of falling down, the people on the streets were largely thugs or streetwalkers... it looked like a place that never let anyone go. She frowned as she spotted a trio of prostitutes making eyes
at potential customers... if she’d escaped, she wouldn’t want to fall back into the morass either. The rebels might make it better, if they tried, but it wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t even sure where they should begin.
They stopped at a stall to eat a very suspicious looking sausage in a bun - she didn’t want to think what sort of meat might have gone into the sausage, although her spells insisted it was safe to eat - and then kept walking until they reached a modest-looking apartment block. Aiden led the way inside and down a long, dark corridor, footsteps echoing in the quiet. Emily couldn’t help feeling a little claustrophobic. She muttered a night vision spell under her breath and instantly regretted it. The corridor was so dilapidated that it was a minor miracle the entire building hadn’t collapsed.
Aiden led her up two flights of stairs, passing through a cobweb of subtle wards that were barely noticeable, then stopped in front of a solid-looking door and tapped once. It was opened by a young girl who glanced at them both, eyes widening when she saw Emily. Aiden leaned close and whispered something in her ear, then beckoned Emily to follow her into the apartment. It was larger than she’d expected, gashes in the walls and ladders leading upwards suggesting the owners had turned several smaller apartments into one big one. A couple of flickering lanterns provided light as they clambered up the ladder. The windows were open, but night was falling rapidly.
“Lady Emily,” Aiden said. There was a brief exchange of silent hand signals. “Please allow me to present People’s Voice, Voting Right and Speaker to Power.”
Emily hid her amusement. The three men wore cloaks that hid their faces... she wondered, suddenly, if they were men. Two of the three had nondescript builds, so completely average that they could easily be women instead. She could have walked past them without so much as noticing. The third was so strikingly muscular he could have passed for an orc in bad light. She was fairly sure he was a man, although... she shook her head. She’d just have to bear in mind that she didn’t know much of anything about them.
“Lady Emily,” People’s Voice said. His voice was as nondescript as his appearance. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“And you,” Emily said. The other two nodded agreement. “I don’t think we have much time.”
“Perhaps not,” Voting Right agreed. His voice was bland. “There are troops on the streets everywhere now.”
Emily spoke bluntly. “If you don’t mind, we need to come right to the point.”
“Agreed,” People’s Voice said. “Our position is as follows. The council is becoming mad with power. Althorn will either take regal power for himself, shortly, or be replaced by someone else - Jair, perhaps - who will. At the same time, the monarchy has proved itself dangerously untrustworthy. We are unprepared to put our fates in either pair of hands. Accordingly, we feel we should propose a compromise.
“We will accept a power-sharing agreement in line with Zangaria. In particular, the assembly having a say in how taxes are raised and spent, the right to bear arms, freedom of the press and a complete and total end to serfdom. The estates that have already been seized will be retained by their new owners, save for the manors themselves; the unoccupied estates will be left with their aristocrats, but their serfs will be released from the land.”
Emily nodded, slowly. On paper, it was a reasonable compromise. The aristocrats would keep their lands, but they’d have to treat the commoners a little better - a lot better - if they wanted to keep the commoners working the land. Serfs could be underpaid - if they were paid at all - because they had nowhere to go, unless they wanted to take the risk of running away. Freemen, on the other hand, could go where they liked. She wondered, idly, if the aristocracy would notice the problem until it was too late. They were just too used to seeing the serfs as nothing more than property.
“I can present your proposed compromise to Dater,” Emily said, carefully. “Why didn’t you suggest it to the council?”
“We did,” People’s Voice growled. “The council rejected it on the grounds it left the aristocracy with too much power.”
Aiden nodded. “Jair and the others voted against it,” she said. “Some of them would change their minds, if they thought Dater would agree, but...”
Emily met her eyes. “And can you force the council to consider the offer?”
“I don’t know,” Aiden said. “If Dater made the offer...”
Fuck, Emily thought. What comes first? The chicken or the egg?
She tugged on her hair. “Dater will not consider the offer unless you make it seriously,” she said, bluntly. “And you say the council will not consider the offer unless he makes it. How are we going to convince either side to climb down?”
“I...”
And then the wards jangled an alarm.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“OPEN UP!” THE DOOR BELOW RATTLED loudly. “Open up in the name of the people!”
Emily stood, reaching for her magic. She couldn’t be caught here. None of them could be caught here. And yet... the entire building was shaking as the soldiers - or whoever they were - started to batten down the door. She was surprised it hadn’t been smashed already. It wasn’t as if the wards could hold the intruders out for more than a few seconds. They weren’t designed to do anything but warn of unwelcome guests.
Aiden stared around the room, eyes wide. “Who betrayed us?”
The three men looked at each other. They didn’t know. There was no time to worry about it either. Emily cursed under her breath as she sensed a magician amongst the intruders, dispelling the wards one by one. She thought she could take him, but... she winced as Aiden caught her arm and yanked her towards a ladder. It led to a loft. She guessed there was no other way out.
“They’ll have troops on the ground,” People’s Voice said. “You go up. We’ll go down.”
Emily scrambled up the ladder, gritting her teeth as a splinter rammed into her palm. She didn’t dare leave any of her blood behind, either. She had no idea if the magician below could use her blood against her but even if he couldn’t attack her from a distance, he might be able to trace the blood back to her. Darkness enveloped them as they plunged into the loft and hurried to the next ladder. Below, she heard a crash, followed rapidly by a scream.
“You’re under arrest, in the name of the revolution,” a voice bellowed. “You’re under arrest!”
“They must have followed us,” Aiden breathed. “But how?”
“Not important right now,” Emily said. There was another crash from down below. She guessed someone had dropped the ladder to the floor. It wouldn’t slow the attackers for more than a few seconds, unless they were very lucky. “I...”
She froze as she heard footsteps on the roof above. Someone was up there... she could hear the person scrabbling at the hatch. It shuddered, but held firm. Emily heard Aiden curse as an axe crashed into the wood, smashing through the rooftop with ease. Someone shouted as they picked their way through the loft, heading towards the rear of the building. It wasn’t easy to move fast. The flooring was gone, leaving only a skeleton of wood in its wake. If she put her foot in the wrong place, she’d plunge right through and crash into someone’s apartment.
“I can’t be found here,” Aiden gasped. “I just can’t!”
“Yeah.” Emily tried desperately to think of a plan. The footsteps were above them. Either they were following them or there was a small army on the rooftops. Her lips quirked. The rebels had used the rooftops to escape more than once, just as she’d done in Zangaria. They knew all the tricks - and how to counter them, too. “I think...”
She reached out gingerly, trying to parse out the wards. They weren’t strong enough to zero in on her, but she didn’t dare try to teleport. There was too great a chance of having her atoms scattered across the world. Even if she succeeded... she shook her head. The risk was just too great. And yet...
A thought crossed her mind. “Do you trust me?”
Aiden glanced at her. “What sort of question is t
hat?”
“I think I have an idea,” Emily said. Behind her, she heard the hatch being wrenched open. They’d have to fight or surrender and she didn’t dare do either. It would blow any hope of peace right out of the water. “But you have to trust me.”
“You kept my secret,” Aiden said. “I trust you.”
Emily took a moment to shape the spell, attuning it to the wards as carefully as possible. It wouldn’t be easy to fool them, but... as long as the wardmaster didn’t look too closely, it should work. She felt a pang of guilt, then cast the spell. Aiden’s body shrank, her mouth opening in horror an instant before it - and the rest of her - melted into a tiny stone on the ground. She wouldn’t enjoy the experience, Emily reflected as she cast a similar spell on herself, but at least she’d be relatively safe. Emily wasn’t going to have such an easy time of it.
A sense of timelessness enveloped her as her body shrank into a tiny stone. She forced herself to keep her thoughts active, to reach out passively with her mind and use senses that - technically - she no longer had. The sensation of being trapped warred with the grim awareness she’d done it to herself, her thoughts threatening to evaporate completely as she held the spell in place. Time itself no longer mattered... she understood, suddenly, why there were magicians who spent their lives in animal forms. There was a sense of innocence, of salvation, that came with being a dumb beast. But it also ran the risk of - one day - losing one’s self completely.
Her awareness held itself together, somehow, as boots crashed through the loft and dropped down the ladder to the floors below. The ground shook, time and time again, as doors were smashed and civilians yanked out to face revolutionary justice. Someone cried out in pain, others shouted in outrage... she heard the baying of the mob outside as it called for the heads of royalist scum. She would have smiled if she could. There were no royalists in the building. Probably. But the mob wouldn’t give a damn. It just wanted blood.
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 25