“That’s always the case,” Emily said. Her lips twitched, humorlessly. “The price we pay for free speech and debate is free speech and debate.”
“Indeed,” Mistress Irene said. “There will always be those who will try to pervert the rules.”
“Or refuse to hear the truth, simply because they don’t like it,” Emily said. She shrugged, calmly. “Here, at least, people can speak freely.”
And no one will be allowed to silence anyone else, she added, privately. They will have a chance, at least, to listen to someone else pointing out their mistakes.
“It won’t last,” Mistress Irene said. “No matter what you do, it won’t last.”
“I have to try,” Emily said. “How many problems could have been avoided if someone was playing devil’s advocate, calmly pointing out the flaws...?”
“None, if people refuse to listen,” Mistress Irene said. “How pleased would you be if someone told you that you were wrong?”
Not very pleased at all, Emily thought. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t listen.
She frowned, remembering Rhett Butler’s attempts to explain the facts of life to Southerners who’d been eagerly awaiting the civil war. He’d pointed out that they were horrendously outnumbered and outmassed, that the North could out-produce them effortlessly... he’d been right, but the Southerners hadn’t wanted to listen. They’d mocked him and threatened him for daring to speak his mind. Who knew how different things would have been if they’d listened? It was probably a good thing their minds had been firmly shut.
And I might have been able to find out, if I looked through the mirror dimension, she thought coldly. But now I will never know.
“I’ve set things up to ensure free speech survives as long as possible,” she said. She knew it would be chancy, but she’d done everything she could. “And by the time we slip here, the habit should be firmly established elsewhere.”
“I certainly hope so,” Mistress Irene said. She leaned back in her chair. “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “Void hasn’t called me. I... I’m just waiting.”
She sighed, inwardly. She needed a holiday. She knew she wasn’t going to get one. There were places she wanted to visit, but... she’d have to go alone. Frieda was going back to school, Alassa and Imaiqah were a very long way away, Caleb could hardly bear to stand next to her, Cat was... somewhere. She hadn’t heard anything about him. She wasn’t surprised.
“Take a break,” Mistress Irene advised. “You won’t have time to rest once your apprenticeship begins.”
“I know,” Emily said. “Did you consider my request?”
“About taking the Gorgon as an apprentice?” Mistress Irene frowned. “I have considered it. I don’t think I’ll have the time to give her a proper education, unless she’s willing to accept a considerably longer apprenticeship than normal. I’ll ask her, personally, if she’s interested. She’s already said she’ll be staying here, so... she’ll have the chance.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “That’s all I ask.”
“Quite.” Mistress Irene didn’t look pleased. Emily didn’t know why. “Let me have that conversation with her, please. An apprenticeship doesn’t work so well if one or both parties feel bullied into it.”
“I’ll let you handle it,” Emily said. “I wasn’t planning to...”
Mistress Irene snorted. “You, Emily, are one of life’s meddlers. You should not have raised the subject with me.”
“I was only trying to help,” Emily protested. It was hard not to feel embarrassed at the older woman’s sharp tone. “She...”
“That’s what they all say,” Mistress Irene said. “They’re trying to help. Sometimes they do, but... more often, they make things worse. People don’t like being helped when they don’t want it... sometimes, they resent it even as they want it. And that leads to resentment, bitterness and ultimately...”
She broke off, looking up as she communed with the wards. “You have a visitor,” she said, slowly. “I’ll have her escorted up here.”
Emily frowned. Mistress Irene seemed to have mastered the rebooted wards very quickly. But then, she’d had a lot of practice at Whitehall. “Void?”
“No.” Mistress Irene smiled. “Lady Barb.”
Emily turned as the door opened. Lady Barb stepped into the room, wearing her combat sorcerer’s outfit. Emily stood and gave her a hug, silently glad that Lady Barb hadn’t seen her counterpart. Alt-Emily had murdered Lady Barb’s counterpart... the memories were faded, but they were there. Emily had no idea what her Lady Barb would make of them. She didn’t want to find out.
“Emily,” Lady Barb said. Her voice was calm, but there was an undertone of urgency. “I have a message from Alassa. She’s about to give birth and she wants you there.”
Emily glanced at Mistress Irene. “I have to go.”
“See you when you come back,” Mistress Irene said. She smiled, rather dryly. “Stay as long as you like.”
Long enough to let you assert yourself, Emily thought. She’d told everyone that Mistress Irene was the new administrator, but people still kept coming to her with their problems. It wouldn’t be long before someone asked her to overrule Mistress Irene. And once you’re established, people will stop coming to me.
“Take care of everyone,” Emily said. She didn’t have time to say goodbye to Caleb or Frieda... Frieda, at least, wouldn’t thank her for interrupting. They’d understand. Caleb might even be relieved. “And tell them where I’ve gone.”
“Of course,” Mistress Irene said. “And give Her Royal Highness my regards.”
“Her Majesty, now,” Lady Barb corrected. “She’s Queen.”
Emily headed for the door. She could go now. She didn’t need to take anything with her beyond a couple of chat parchments... she didn't even need those. She could come back and collect them later, if she had to stay longer than she thought. She had no idea when Void was going to summon her.
“Let’s go,” she said. They could teleport the moment they stepped outside the wards. “Hurry.”
Chapter Forty
“I KEEP THINKING ABOUT HER,” EMILY said. She knew she was echoing Caleb and she didn’t care. “My counterpart.”
Lady Barb frowned as they waited in the antechamber. They’d arrived too late to witness the birth. Instead, they’d been asked to wait. Emily hadn’t been inclined to argue. Alassa needed time to recover after giving birth.
“She wasn’t you,” Lady Barb said. Emily had told her what had happened during the journey to Zangaria. “Not really.”
“She was me, once,” Emily countered. “We were the same until...”
She remembered her counterpart’s memories and felt sick. “Shadye forced me to kill Sergeant Harkin. She... she had to kill Sergeant Miles. It drove her insane. It made her a necromancer.”
“But she’s still not you,” Lady Barb pointed out, curtly. “You’re not responsible for her crimes.”
“We’re the same person,” Emily said. “I mean”—she looked down at her hands—“I mean, we’re the same in many respects...”
“But not in all.” Lady Barb cut her off. “You didn’t kill Sergeant Miles. You didn’t kill... however many other people your counterpart killed. You didn’t enslave hundreds of people...”
Far more than hundreds of people, Emily thought. She remembered the mushroom clouds her counterpart had witnessed and shuddered. Alt-Emily hadn’t just watched them. She’d made them. She enslaved an entire world.
“She wasn’t you,” Lady Barb said. “And you can’t blame yourself for her crimes.”
“I don’t,” Emily said. “I...”
Lady Barb snorted. “Yes. You do.”
“...Maybe,” Emily said. “But I keep thinking about her.”
“Yeah.” Lady Barb touched her hand, gently. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”
Her voice hardened. “And you shouldn’t discuss it with Void either.”
Emily blinked. “Why not?”
“Because it might not be a good idea,” Lady Barb said. “Enough rumors have already gotten out...”
She looked up as Jade strode into the antechamber. “Emily? She’s ready for you?”
Emily stood. “Just me?”
“Just you,” Jade said. “I just had to chase the witnesses out of the chamber. She wants to talk to you alone. I’ll keep Lady Barb company.”
“Thanks,” Emily said.
She stood and headed through the door. The birthing chamber was heavily warded, from spells designed to keep prying eyes out to charms that should ensure an easy and safe delivery. A Healer nodded to her as he left the room, leaving Emily and Alassa alone. Alassa lay in the bed, a pink thing in her arm... Emily felt her eyes start to water as she realized it was a baby. Alassa’s baby. She’d known Alassa was pregnant, but... she hadn’t really believed it. It had never felt entirely real. And yet...
Emily had never thought of herself as particularly maternal, not considering the fact her mother had been a drunkard and her father a mystery. She’d contemplated children with Caleb, when they’d been a couple, but... they’d never married, let alone procreated. The idea of children had almost seemed an abstract concept, something that belonged to a distant future if it belonged to her at all. But one look at the child in Alassa’s arms was enough to make her heart melt into a puddle.
She was tiny, so tiny. Emily could hardly believe she’d grow into a little girl, let alone a grown woman. And yet... she was perfect. A tiny wisp of blonde hair crowned a baby face, tiny hands poked out of the swaddling cloth... Emily wanted to take the baby and hold her and, at the same time, she didn’t dare. The infant was so fragile, she might break her simply by touching her. Emily clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from reaching for the child. She shouldn’t hold her.
Alassa looked tired, but—at the same time—she’d never looked more beautiful. Her blonde hair was a mess, her face was wrinkled and sweaty and... she was beautiful. She glowed with life. She held the baby to her breast without even trying to cover herself. Emily felt embarrassed, but she couldn’t look away. The baby latched on effortlessly and began to feed.
“She won’t have a wet nurse,” Alassa said, tiredly. “She’s mine.”
“I understand,” Emily said.
Alassa smiled. She was too tired for it to be more than a faint movement, but Emily saw it. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come in time,” Emily said. “I...”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alassa said. She smiled again, wider this time. “There were enough witnesses to be sure she came out of me.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “As if there aren’t spells to prove who fathered and mothered the child.”
“Spells can be fooled,” Alassa said. “And you know that some people will believe whatever they want to believe, whatever they find convenient to believe, as well as I do.”
Emily nodded and changed the subject. “Have you settled on a name?”
“Emily,” Alassa said. “She won’t be the first Emily, but... she’ll be my Emily.”
“You want to name her after me?” Emily wasn’t sure what to make of that. She’d known there were people naming their daughters after her, but... she’d never gone out of her way to meet them. It felt a little creepy to have perfect strangers honoring her. Or insulting her, perhaps. There were cultures where naming a child after someone living was a grave insult. “Me?”
“Yes,” Alassa said. “I owe you everything. And... there aren’t that many choices.”
“There are thousands of female names,” Emily said. “Hundreds of thousands. Millions.”
Alassa leaned back in her bed. “But not that many when it comes to picking a name with meaning. This child—this Emily—is going to take the throne when I die. She can’t be named after mother because mother was just a queen. There aren’t that many queens who ruled in their own right. And I can’t name her after a commoner because it would be a commoner name.”
She shook her head. “But Emily carries a wealth of meaning. It honors the magician who saved my throne, it honors the baroness who saved her barony, it honors the girl who changed the world. And it shows that I—we—are unafraid to walk into the future, rather than trying to cling to the past.”
Emily held up her hands. “Enough! I am convinced.”
Alassa giggled. “I thought you’d be.”
“What does Jade think of it?” Emily felt the memories rising up within her and shoved them away, ruthlessly. That wasn’t her Jade. “Did you ask him?”
“Of course I did,” Alassa said. “He liked the idea. He thought...”
She lowered her voice. “We’d have done it for you anyway,” she said. “Let the world know we honor you. You deserve it.”
Emily blushed. “Thanks.”
Alassa carefully removed the baby from her breast. “Would you like to hold her?”
“I’m scared to try,” Emily admitted. The baby—little Emily—opened her mouth and started to cry. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“It’s how she tells us she’s hungry,” Alassa said, as she switched the child to the other breast. “She can’t tell us yet, so...”
She shook her head. “Mother told me I’d be spending a lot of time guessing what my child wants, before she grows old enough to actually tell me. I didn’t really believe it until...”
“She’ll learn to talk, sooner or later,” Emily said. “And then she’ll be demanding all sorts of things.”
“I know,” Alassa said. “We... we wanted to ask if you’d be her godmother.”
Emily blinked. “Me?”
“Don’t answer just yet,” Alassa said. “It isn’t an honorary title. If I die and Jade survives me, he’ll be regent. If both of us die, you’ll be regent. You might wind up running the whole kingdom.”
“Horrors,” Emily said, lightly. It had been hard enough running a barony, even with her hands-off approach. “You’re not going to die.”
“We will all die, one day.” Alassa burped the baby, then held her out to Emily. “We have to take precautions, even if we hope they will never be necessary. And... if they are necessary, I have faith that you will rise to the challenge.”
Emily gingerly took the baby. “I hope you’re right.”
She looked down at her namesake, watching the child snuggling against her. Little Emily was so small, yet so... so perfect. She felt a flash of envy that surprised her, mingled with the awareness that motherhood wasn’t going to be easy. King Randor had been a failure as a father. Alassa was lucky she wasn’t a great deal worse. She’d been a brat until she’d met Emily...
“I am right.” Alassa spoke with utter certainty. “Am I ever wrong?”
“Well...” Emily drew out the word as much as possible. “I hope you’re right here.”
“Quite.” Alassa took back the child, who closed her eyes and went to sleep. “Will you be staying?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “Do you want me to stay?”
“You’re always welcome,” Alassa said. “If nothing else, you can stand next to the bed and scowl at anyone who sounds as if they’re planning how best to take advantage of Princess Emily’s birth.”
“Princess Emily,” Emily repeated. “That’s not going to be easy to get used to.”
“There would have been more surprise if I hadn’t named the child after you,” Alassa said, dryly. She grimaced as she settled back, keeping the baby by her side. “If she’d been a boy, I might have had to name him after Father.”
“Ouch,” Emily said.
“Ouch indeed.” Alassa’s mouth opened in a yawn. “I need a nap. Tell Jade to keep the council in line, will you?”
“I will,” Emily said. She concealed her amusement as Alassa closed her eyes. “Will the baby be safe?”
“There are enough wards around her to protect her from anything,” Alassa said. “And the nurse will be outside.”
“Emily,” Jade said. “Did you like your namesake?”
“She’s wonderful,” Emily said, honestly. “And you must be so proud.”
“He’s been bragging all afternoon,” Lady Barb said. Her voice was grim. “Emily, I’m afraid I have bad news.”
Emily shivered. “What’s happened?”
“Void has sent for you,” Lady Barb said. “It’s time for your apprenticeship to begin. And if you don’t go now, you won’t have another chance.”
“I understand.” Emily swallowed, hard. The timing was awful. She couldn’t leave Alassa now, could she? And yet, she wanted—she needed—the apprenticeship. “I...”
“Go,” Jade said. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
“I... I know,” Emily said. Did she have time to collect her possessions? Or... should she just go straight to Void and collect her possessions later? “I...”
She looked at Lady Barb. “I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”
End of Book Eighteen
Emily Will Return In:
The Artful Apprentice
Coming Soon
About the author
Christopher G. Nuttall was born in Edinburgh, studied in Manchester, married in Malaysia and currently living in Scotland, United Kingdom with his wife and baby son. He is the author of thirty novels from various publishers and over fifty self-published novels.
Current and forthcoming titles published by Twilight Times Books
Schooled in Magic YA fantasy series
Schooled in Magic — book 1
Lessons in Etiquette — book 2
A Study in Slaughter — book 3
Work Experience — book 4
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 38