She held out the letter. “Things are growing increasingly unsteady everywhere. There’s been a string of bombings and shootings right across the Allied Lands. A king was nearly blown up, a prince really was blown up... a couple of aristocrats have been gunned down by commoners carrying pistols. So far, the magical communities have been largely spared, but it’s just a matter of time before the chaos spreads there, too. I don’t think anyone can put the brakes on now.”
“Unless we uncover the plotter,” Emily said. “We know someone is pulling strings.”
Lady Barb shook her head. “It may not matter,” she said. “The tinder has been building up for years. Catching the person who tossed the fireball into the kindling won’t stop the fire.”
“It might cause everyone to take a breath and step back from the brink,” Emily said, stubbornly. She didn’t want to fail. If she could prove Master Lucknow - or someone - had been behind the chaos, perhaps she could slow things down long enough for the conference to devise a more permanent settlement. “I have to try.”
“And I have to go,” Lady Barb said. “Emily, understand this. If you stay, you will be alone. You will have no formal credentials, no diplomatic immunity, no nothing. King Dater has already ordered you out of the kingdom. He’d have every right to kill you if he catches you in his kingdom after midnight. And the rebels would be within their rights to order you out, too.”
“They haven’t,” Emily said. She could go underground, if she had to. “I have to try.”
Lady Barb nodded, curtly. “Be careful, then,” she said. “I’ll need an hour or so to pack. I suggest” - her tone made it clear it was an order - “that you advise Prince Hedrick and Silent to accompany me. I’ll teleport them both to Dragon’s Den. They really shouldn’t stay here.”
Emily said nothing as the older woman stood and walked through the door, closing it behind her. She hated feeling so... helpless, so convinced that no matter what she did, it would make everything worse. Much worse. She almost yearned for a necromancer. There’d be no doubt, then, who had to be stopped. She wondered, briefly, if she could manufacture a threat to force both sides to work together, then shook her head. It wouldn’t work, outside a novel with a friendly writer. The threat would have to be creditable to be convincing and that meant she’d have to kill people...
She put the thought aside as she stepped into the kitchen. Prince Hedrick was still reading his book. The nasty part of Emily’s mind wondered when he’d learnt to read. Hedrick wasn’t exactly an idiot, but he’d come of age before she’d introduced the phonic alphabet. She doubted he’d bothered to learn more than the basics of the new writing, or more than he needed of the old. He had far more important things to do with his time.
A thought nagged at her, a connection that refused to come into the light, as she glanced into the kitchen. Silent was standing in front of the sink, washing pots and pans. Emily felt a stab of guilt and shame. She was no aristocrat, born with a silver spoon. She should have helped the maid, even though it wasn’t her job. She promised herself she’d make sure Silent had a long holiday when she got back to the tower. The maid deserved a great deal more than just piles upon piles of work.
Emily cleared her throat. “Silent? Can you join us in the kitchen?”
Prince Hedrick put his book aside as Emily returned. She wondered, suddenly, if he knew what had happened. Lady Barb could have told him... technically, she should have told him. The rebels hadn’t cancelled the safe conduct - not yet - but it was just a matter of time before they did. And even if they didn’t, Hedrick had no shortage of enemies. It was quite possible some of them would try to burst into the house, drag him out and hang him. Or worse.
“The first part of the mission has failed,” Emily said, bluntly. She saw no way to cushion the blow. “Both sides have offered terms, only to have them rejected. There is going to be war and it will get very bloody. I don’t think either side can pull off a quick victory.”
Hedrick looked irked, but said nothing. Emily guessed he couldn’t disagree. The rebels would get hurt if they fought the royalists in open country, but the royalists would be chewed to ribbons if they tried to take the city. Either they had a trick up their sleeve - it was far from impossible, perhaps agents on the inside who’d open the gates - or they’d lay siege to the city instead. Dater would know the odds better than she did. He’d be careful not to play for a victory that would be worse than a defeat.
“I have to stay,” Emily said. “I have to try to complete the second part of the mission. If I can catch the person responsible for pouring oil on the fire, perhaps I can calm everything down. If...” - she shook her head - “I have to stay. You don’t have to.”
“I do,” Hedrick said. “My place is here.”
Emily was tempted to simply order him to leave. Instead, she leaned forward and put the argument into words. “There is no way I can guarantee your safety,” she said, flatly. “The rebels will withdraw their safe conduct, perhaps without even allowing you time to get out first. You might even be killed by accident.”
“My place is here,” Hedrick said. “There’s nothing I can do with the army.”
Emily frowned. Hedrick wasn’t a complete fool. He had to know he was in dreadful danger. And yet... her eyes narrowed. Did he hope the rebels would put him on the throne? Did he think his brother would have him killed, just to eliminate a possible threat to the succession? It seemed unlikely - right now, Dater didn’t have any other heirs - but she had to admit it was possible. Hedrick - irony of ironies - might be safer in the rebel-held city.
Until they come for him, Emily thought. What’ll he do if they order him to leave?
“On your own head be it,” she said, curtly. “If you are determined to stay, write a letter for your brother. Lady Barb can deliver it on her way out.”
Hedrick stood and bowed. “As you please,” he said. “I’ll see to it now.”
Emily glowered at his back, then looked at Silent. “You should go,” she said, quietly. “I cannot guarantee your safety, either.”
“My Lady, I have orders to stay with you,” Silent said. Her voice was very quiet. “The Master would not be pleased if I left you behind.”
“I’ll write a note for him,” Emily said. Void would listen to her, wouldn’t he? If she ordered Silent to go, Silent could hardly say no. She had instructions to follow Emily’s orders, unless they conflicted with Void’s. And yet, she was in a very unpleasant place. If she disobeyed one set of orders, even if she’d been ordered to do so, it would look very bad. Void might be understanding. Or he might not. “I can tell him you were following my orders.”
She considered, briefly, simply forcing the maid to leave. Void could hardly blame her for that. And yet... she shook her head. The thought was appalling. She couldn’t abuse the maid. Silent deserved better than... no, it couldn’t be done. And yet...
“Someone has to look after you and the prince, while you’re trying to save the city,” Silent said. There was a hint of pride in her voice. “And that’s my job.”
Emily let out a breath. It wasn’t as if she needed a maid, although... her lips quirked at the thought of putting Prince Hedrick to work in the kitchen. She’d once joked that every king and prince should learn to cook, an eccentric concept that actually made a great deal of sense. And yet... she snorted. Prince Hedrick wasn’t going to cook. She was an indifferent cook, at best. Silent was probably right. They were going to need her.
“If you change your mind, let me know,” she said. “I can tell him that it was my decision to send you out. He can blame me.”
Silent didn’t look convinced. Emily supposed she wouldn’t be convinced either. Void could do whatever he liked to his maids, unlike his apprentice. And there were limits to how far Emily could push him. Silent was right to be concerned. She had to fear the worst if she openly disobeyed orders.
“Lady Barb won’t be here,” she added. “Does that change your mind?”
“No, My Lady.�
�� Silent seemed oddly amused by the remark, even though she’d be alone in the house with Prince Hedrick. “It does not.”
She dropped a curtsey. “I have to return to the kitchen now, My Lady,” she added. “Dinner will not cook itself.”
Emily nodded. “Like I said, let me know if you change your mind,” she said. “I can teleport you home in a jiffy.”
Chapter Thirty
“I’M SORRY ABOUT THE ACCUSATION,” AIDEN said, the following morning. “I didn’t mean it to happen.”
“It caught me by surprise, too,” Emily said. She couldn’t help noticing, as they walked down the street, a new tension in the air. Men were gathering in small groups, casting suspicious glances in all directions. There were only a handful of women on the streets, all escorted by men. “I never realized it could be a problem.”
Her eyes narrowed. Someone had known she’d spent the night with Aiden, even if they hadn’t been doing what the mystery observer thought they’d been doing. Someone had known and put their own spin on it, before sending a message to Dater. Someone... she glanced around herself, wondering who was on the king’s payroll. King Randor had had a small army of spies under his command, to the point that some revolutionary groups had had more spies than actual rebels. King Jorlem might have had such a network too, before his head was chopped off. His son definitely understood the importance of good intelligence.
“It must be easier if you’re a sorceress,” Aiden said. There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “How many sorceresses get in trouble for having torrid love affairs?”
Emily said nothing for a long moment. “They wouldn’t see anything wrong with having a relationship,” she said, finally. “But they’d certainly think the lovers might be a tiny bit biased in favor of their partners.”
Aiden laughed. “One might hope,” she said. “It must be a great deal easier.”
“It is,” Emily said. She remembered Caleb and Cat and frowned. “But it isn’t that much easier.”
She shook her head. A sorceress didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant or catching something thoroughly unpleasant. A sorceress didn’t have to worry - mostly - about backbiting elders acting as though she was defiled forever, just because she’d had sex with a man. And yet... it wasn’t all fun and games. Sorceresses - and sorcerers - still had to deal with broken hearts and all the other problems that made relationships so difficult to maintain. She felt a twinge of guilt. She really should have taken the time to write to Jan.
Aiden lowered her voice. “From what I’ve heard, a royalist meeting was busted a couple of days ago,” she said. “They didn’t realize what was really happening.”
It took Emily a moment to grasp her meaning. “They don’t know we were there?”
“No.” Aiden didn’t sound as if she believed herself. “There’s no suggestion the troops captured anyone important. Just... people who were unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But... it could be a lie.”
“Yes.” Emily let out a breath. “Your friends... they know who you are, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” Aiden grimaced as they turned the corner and passed the marketplace. The bomb crater was still there, guarded by a handful of soldiers in little cloth caps. “I mean... they don’t know everything, of course, but they know about Aiden. I could run and hide, if I wanted to give up everything. If they were taken and forced to talk...”
Emily nodded. The rebels hadn’t said anything - yet - about revoking her safe conduct, but she was sure it was just a matter of time. She’d half-expected Aiden to tell her that Prince Hedrick had been ordered to leave or else. If they knew she’d been at the meeting, they’d see it as a breach of neutrality. And, unlike Dater, they’d actually have good reason to demand her expulsion from the city. And...
Her eyes narrowed. Aiden’s fellow moderates had either been captured or simply forced to scatter. If the latter... they could go underground and hide, if they were prepared to give up what little influence they had left. Aiden herself couldn’t hide without giving up everything... the hell of it, she supposed, was that Aiden could hide easily. All she had to do was put on a dress and raise it, whenever someone questioned her gender. And that wasn’t likely to happen. She wondered, sourly, what the rest of the council would think if they realized the truth. They’d probably do everything in their power to cover the whole affair up, rather than admit they’d been fooled.
“I was being followed this morning,” Aiden said. “I don’t know if they know something or if I’m just being paranoid.”
“No,” Emily agreed. “Do you want to leave the city?”
Aiden gave her a shocked look. “And go where?”
Emily started to answer, then stopped herself as they kept walking through the market. It looked as if it was on the brink of shutting down, even though it was the middle of the day. Only a handful of stalls were open, each guarded by a cluster of armed men. There wasn’t much visible food, nowhere near enough to feed a whole city. The stallkeepers were either running dry or holding stocks back, on the assumption prices would continue to rise. They were likely to get into trouble either way. It wasn’t as if the mob would hesitate to rob the stalls if they thought there was food to be found.
“Last night, someone bombed a grain silo,” Aiden commented, grimly. “And there’s a rumor going round that half the wells are poisoned. People are even drawing water from the river, which is sheer desperation. It isn’t safe to drink.”
“It can be boiled,” Emily said. “Can’t it?”
“Yes,” Aiden said. “But it isn’t always easy to render poisoned water safe.”
Emily nodded, curtly. “I think...”
A dull BOOM echoed over the city. Aiden jumped, one hand dropping to her sword as she looked around. A puff of red smoke was rising from the castle. Emily tensed. Red was the danger sign, although she had no idea what this sign meant. It wouldn’t be used for anything but an absolute emergency. She started to say something, then stopped as Aiden grabbed her hand and yanked her forward. They were practically running by the time they reached the edge of the marketplace and hurried towards the gates.
Emily hitched up her dress and forced herself to run faster as chaos burst onto the streets. Store windows were slammed closed, shutters and bolts locked firmly. Young men - some wearing uniforms, some not - hurried out of their buildings, forming up into makeshift units. The handful of women on the streets practically vanished, save for a couple carrying muskets and swords. She heard people barking commands, trying to impose some order on the chaos. It looked, very much, as though the whole city had gone mad.
Sweat poured down her back as they reached the walls. The gatehouse was swarming with soldiers, all ready for action. Guns were wheeled into place, some sited well... some sure to be blown away the moment the enemy slammed a cannonball into the walls. They’d been experimenting with canister shot and explosive shells, from what she recalled, but she couldn’t remember if they’d actually gotten it to work without magic. The makeshift machine guns she’d seen during the war had needed magic to work... she gritted her teeth. Dater might have a handful of magicians under his command. If he swept the walls with them, a lot of rebels were going to die before they realized they were under attack.
Aiden let out a breath and released Emily’s hand. “They wouldn’t have fired that gun unless the enemy army was in sight,” she said. “The city is about to be attacked.”
Emily swore under her breath as she followed Aiden into the gatehouse and up a narrow staircase. If the royalists attacked, what side was she supposed to be on? Master Lucknow wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at her if he thought she’d taken sides, even though she was sure it was him who’d made the chaos worse in the first place. She tightened her wards as they reached the top of the stairs, to the point she should be able to survive a machine gun burst long enough to duck. Her fingers touched Void’s amulet, feeling the magic within the gem. She might have to teleport out and sneak bac
k into the city if the walls came under heavy attack.
“Lady Emily.” Sergeant Oskar stood in the observation post, a telescope pressed to his eye. “They’re coming.”
Emily leaned forward, muttering a vision-enhancing spell. A handful of cavalry sat on the road, just out of effective arrow or musket range. Hitting them would require a great deal of luck - or magic. Behind them, plumes of smoke rose into the sky. She guessed the royalists were trying to envelop the city, rather than draw up their forces and establish a tight siege that could be broken. Dater wouldn’t risk bringing his men too close to the city. She’d be surprised if he didn’t already question their loyalty. Conscripts made poor soldiers.
“The scouts claim they’re bringing up the main body behind the cavalry,” Sergeant Oskar informed her. “They’ll be in position to attack soon enough.”
“They won’t risk it,” Aiden said. “We’ll have the edge if they attack the city.”
“Perhaps,” Sergeant Oskar said. “How much time do they have? How much time do they think they have?”
Aiden glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“The river runs down from the north, passes through the city and heads south,” Sergeant Oskar said. “If they have weeks, they could build a dam, allow the river to turn into a lake and then blow up the dam. The damn dam” - he snickered at the pun - “would unleash a wave of water that would do immense damage to the walls.”
“Damn,” Aiden said. “Do they have time?”
“I’d be surprised if they didn’t have the concept in the back of their minds,” Sergeant Oskar said. “Dater is no fool. He’s certainly better than most of the aristocrat fops I had to endure. Drenching half the city would be a neat way to win, without putting his forces in serious danger. But the river has been drying out for months. It could take longer than he thinks he has to build a dam and then collect enough water to flood the city.”
Emily considered it, briefly, then shrugged as she turned and looked over the city. The rebels weren’t downhearted, even though they were on the brink of victory or defeat. Freedom City looked like an anthill, thousands of men marching to the walls or throwing up barricades at street corners to make life difficult for anyone who came over the walls. There would be no surrender, she realized numbly. The speakers below, hectoring the crowd, would make sure the city would fight to the last. Or, at least, ensure there was little left of the city to be recaptured.
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 29