“It’s very romantic,” Imaiqah said. “But what concern is it of ours?”
“It’s political, not romantic,” Alassa snapped. Her face darkened. “Send them both home, Emily; you can come up with something that will serve as an excuse. You don’t want this to explode in your face.”
Imaiqah gave her a sharp look. “You’re only saying that because you don’t like Melissa.”
Alassa sneered. “Do you like Melissa?”
“Not really,” Imaiqah said. “But...”
“Have you forgotten,” Alassa said, “who it was who rigged the chairs so we couldn’t get up, making us late for class? Have you forgotten who managed to turn us into rats and hide us in a cage for an hour? Have you forgotten who accidentally stole our notes and...”
Imaiqah slapped the table. “Have you forgotten who it was who turned them into stones and left them hidden outside the school?”
Alassa frowned. “What’s your point?”
“She’s been pretty awful to us, but we’ve been pretty awful to her,” Imaiqah said. “Does that justify telling her parents and really screwing up her life?”
“She turned you into a cow,” Alassa snapped.
“I got better,” Imaiqah said. “And so did you. Tell me: does everything she did justify telling her parents and really screwing up her life?”
“No,” Emily said, before Imaiqah could repeat the question for the third time. “But there is a political implication, too.”
She sighed, and outlined the problem as she saw it. If the affair remained a secret, well and good; if it came out into the open, the two families would likely go to war. Frieda stared at her openly as she spoke, her eyes wide; the others, more practiced in controlling their expressions, kept their faces blank.
“That’s why I told you to send them away,” Alassa said, once Emily had finished. “Get the problem out of your hair before it explodes.”
“But they will want explanations,” Imaiqah said, quietly. “What will you tell their families when you send them away?”
Emily looked down at the table. What could she tell their families?
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. Imaiqah was right. If she sent Markus and Melissa away without explanation, Fulvia and Marcellus would be displeased. But if she came up with an excuse, it would haunt their lives until the day they died. “There’s nothing I can tell them.”
“I think Lady Barb would say the same,” Alassa said. “They shouldn’t be allowed to risk the lives of everyone in the castle, Emily.”
And that is what they’re doing, Emily thought.
“If it was just Melissa, sending her home would be easy,” she said. “But I don’t hate Markus.”
Alassa lifted an eyebrow. “A secret boyfriend?”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. “He was good to me, when he didn’t have to be. I don’t think he’s a bad person.”
“He was a decent Head Boy,” Frieda agreed. “Many of us had a crush on him.”
“He could be playing games with Melissa,” Imaiqah said. “It doesn’t really matter if she loses her maidenhead to him or not, but an affair here, right under Gaius’s nose, will have repercussions for the rest of her life.”
“You’re meant to hate Romeo,” Emily muttered.
Alassa gave her a sharp look. “Pardon?”
“It’s from a play...a play where I come from,” Emily said. Maybe she could write down a few Shakespeare plays, and try and get them performed. “Two feuding families, two star-crossed lovers...and a very stupid plan to escape their fate by faking their deaths.”
“Oh,” Frieda said. “What happens?”
“They both end up dead,” Emily said.
But, when they’d been forced to study the play, one of her teachers on Earth had suggested that Romeo was meant to be the villain. He’d been a player, moving from Rosalind to Juliet, eventually deflowering Juliet to ensure she could never marry Paris. Some of the girls had objected, either because it wasn’t romantic or because it made Juliet a simple victim, but Emily had found the argument surprisingly compelling. Romeo had been driven by hormones rather than common sense. God alone knew if Romeo and Juliet would have been able to forge a life together if they’d escaped their fate.
“I don’t think either Markus or Melissa will be killing themselves,” Imaiqah said. “But really...what else can you do, but watch and wait?”
“And hope it doesn’t blow up in your face,” Alassa said.
“Their families will notice,” Frieda said, slowly. “My family always noticed when I was doing something wrong.”
“She has a point,” Alassa agreed. “Even in a castle, there are watching eyes.”
Emily shivered. Alassa had never really known true privacy, even if she’d regarded the servants as less than human. And it had only grown worse as she’d grown older. Alassa’s personal household, which was legally separate from King Randor’s even though it was in the same palace, consisted of servants the king had chosen personally. Emily rather doubted they kept their mistress’s secrets when their master ordered them to talk. If Alassa and Jade had kissed in the castle, word would have slipped back to the king.
She leaned forward. “How did you and Jade...do stuff without being noticed?”
Alassa colored as Imaiqah snickered. “We didn’t actually do much stuff,” she said. “I can’t until the wedding.”
Double standards, Emily thought.
“But I did manage to use some magic to give us some time together,” Alassa added. “Subtle magic is quite useful for hiding things.”
“I know,” Emily said, grimly. She tapped the rune between her breasts meaningfully. “But only if the people have no protection.”
Alassa cleared her throat. “If you’re not willing to throw them both out of the castle,” she said, “you should help them.”
Imaiqah coughed. “You want to help Melissa?”
“It’s the practical solution,” Alassa said. “Look, they’re close, right? They’re already kissing, aren’t they? So they’re going to keep kissing and...going further until they either lose interest in one another, or get caught. And when they get caught, all hell is going to break loose.”
She met Emily’s eyes. “If you arrange for them to have a private room on the upper levels,” she added, “they wouldn’t be doing it in such risky places.”
Emily shook her head slowly. “And you think that will help?”
“I think they will need to make some pretty hard choices soon enough,” Alassa said, flatly. “Are they going to stay together? And if they do, what are they prepared to give up to do it?”
“You mean they’ll be kicked out of their families,” Imaiqah said.
“Precisely,” Alassa agreed. She rested her elbows on the table. “You know Countess Morin?”
Emily shook her head.
“She’s the youngest cousin of Baron Gold — the one who had his head lopped off,” Alassa said. “Somehow, she managed to avoid being married off as soon as she became old enough to be entered on the marriage market. She reached twenty-one...and then married the young man of her choosing, without bothering to get anyone’s permission to wed.”
“How romantic,” Imaiqah said.
“You keep saying that,” Emily teased.
“She wasn’t meant to do it,” Alassa snapped, glowing at them both. “As a relative of the baron, he was meant to choose her partner and the king, my father, was meant to confirm his choice. Her marriage would always be a political issue, first and foremost. She could have been married off to someone who made her family stronger. Instead, she chose her own path.”
Her face darkened. “The baron disowned her, of course,” she continued. “The husband’s family wasn’t too pleased, either. She moved from riches to...poor cloths. They eventually moved to Beneficence and made a life of their own, well away from the aristocracy. And it could easily have been a great deal worse.”
“But they were happy together,” Imaiqah said.
/> “I don’t know if they were or they weren’t,” Alassa said. “But at that level, marriage is never solely a union between a man and a woman. Two families are being united.”
“If Markus and Melissa marry,” Emily said, “will it stop their families from fighting?”
“It might,” Alassa said. “Or they might both be kicked out — or murdered — and then the fighting would go on.”
She shrugged. “Give them a room, let them get on with it...and hope it doesn’t come to light before the end of the Faire.”
Imaiqah swore. “Emily,” she said, “when are Melissa and Gaius meant to get married?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “But the Ashworth Family did request the Great Hall for the last night of the Faire.”
Alassa paled. “If that’s when they are going to get married,” she said, “Melissa will have to make a choice very quickly.”
Emily wished, suddenly, that Lady Barb had stayed. She could have asked the older woman’s advice. Instead, Master Grey was in charge of security...and he had ties to the Ashworth Family. If she talked to him about it, Fulvia would know by the end of the day, and then all hell would break loose.
And was it a coincidence, she asked herself, that Lady Barb had to go?
She tossed it around and around in her mind. Sergeant Miles had told her, more than once, that the more unlikely a coincidence, the less likely it was a coincidence. But she couldn’t see how Lady Barb’s departure tied in with Melissa and Markus’s relationship. Unless Lady Barb had seen the problem looming and decided it would make a nice test for Emily...the older woman did have a “sink or swim” mentality.
But it seemed unlikely. Lady Barb might test Emily, she might push her mercilessly, but she wouldn’t risk thousands of lives for a test.
“I’ll find them a room,” she decided. It would cut down the risk of the lovers being discovered before they’d made some decisions. “And don’t mention this to anyone.”
Alassa smirked. “As if I would,” she said. “I do know how to be discreet.”
“Just think of the favors she will owe you next year,” Imaiqah said. “Or what Markus will be able to do for you.”
“Or the trouble it will cause if all hell breaks loose,” Emily said. She gave Frieda a sharp look. “You too, really. Keep it a secret.”
“I will,” Frieda promised.
After breakfast, Emily went to find Bryon. A room was assigned to Markus and Melissa on the upper levels, so it should be relatively safe, but she fiddled with the wards anyway, ensuring that it should be completely secure. She just hoped it was enough to allow them to decide their future before time ran out completely.
If it isn’t, she thought, I will need another option.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE NEXT FOUR DAYS PASSED RELATIVELY smoothly, much to Emily’s surprise. Master Grey kept her informed of a constant string of small incidents at the Faire, but reassured her that such incidents were common to all such gatherings. Magicians acting out old grudges, sorcerers carrying out industrial espionage, sellers trying to undercut their rivals...as long as it didn’t lead to outright violence, it was reluctantly tolerated. Emily had her doubts, but kept them to herself.
Melissa also seemed to be keeping to herself, she noted. Emily had hoped to be able to have a discreet chat with her about Gaius and Markus, but Melissa was nowhere to be found. Emily couldn’t help wondering if Melissa was avoiding her, or if she was just spending all her time with Markus, who was keeping himself out of sight. It would be an understandable thing to do.
She found herself dividing her time between Caleb in the mornings, and Frieda in the afternoons. Emily had never really had a chance to explore Cockatrice City, so she wrapped a glamor around herself and took Frieda down to see it. It was far smaller than any city on Earth, but it was blossoming rapidly. Hundreds of cheap houses and apartment blocks had been erected, while shanty towns were being taken down and rebuilt as people moved in from the countryside in hopes of finding employment. And there were opportunities everywhere. A peasant runaway from the next barony could train as a carpenter, a blacksmith, a printer, a steam engineer...
It made her think of what America might have been like in the days after independence from the British crown. There was fearsome injustice, but there was also a sense of hope, a sense that immigrants could work and become part of a new nation. Cockatrice was older, of course, but it had changed remarkably in two years. And much of it was due to the influence she’d had on the country.
“They seem to like putting up notices,” Frieda said, indicating a large billboard someone had erected by the side of the pavement. “Why?”
“Because now half the population can read,” Emily said. “It lets them spread the word quicker than hiring a herald.”
She scanned the billboard, unable to conceal her amusement. It was littered in advertisements for everything from printing services to legal advice, as well as warnings from the Town Council. One note warned that anyone who threw slops into the streets would be forced to clean them with their bare hands. It wouldn’t be pleasant, Emily knew, but it was necessary. Cockatrice, like most of the other cities on the Nameless World, had serious problems with sanitation. Diseases bred and spread where people didn’t wash their hands, let alone bathe; people needed to boil water and clean up waste in the streets to avoid catching something nasty.
Besides, there’s a use for human waste in making gunpowder, she thought. The trick was finding a way for someone to profit in cleaning up the waste.
Frieda didn’t seem to like the city very much, Emily discovered, although she couldn’t say she was surprised. Frieda had grown up in a tiny village before she’d moved to Mountaintop; a city with over a hundred thousand inhabitants was far too large for her. Eventually, they walked back to the castle, with Emily checking on Markus and Melissa before going to bed.
The following morning, she finally managed to chat with Caleb about steam engines.
“There are times when magic can be unreliable,” she said, once they were sitting in her workroom with full mugs of Kava. “A magician who doesn’t want to cast a spell may find himself incapable of casting it. Random factors and glitches can throw off any spell, if not handled properly. Technology, on the other hand, always produces the same results, time and time again.”
“So does magic, if handled properly,” Caleb objected.
“Not all magic,” Emily said. “There are some spells that demand a virgin caster” — she’d never realized Caleb could blush so brightly — “and others that insist they can only be cast by male or female magicians. Technology does not make any such demands. As long as you get it right, it will work.”
“Spells can be rewritten,” Caleb said, stubbornly. “But would that make them the same spells?”
“Good question,” Emily said. She took a sip of Kava, then picked up a sheet of paper and began to draw. Imaiqah had neatened up her original diagrams considerably, back when she’d just started; even now, no one would ever credit Emily as a draftswoman. “This is a pan of water, bubbling over a fire. Notice the steam coming up from the water.”
“I see,” Caleb said. “I thought it was a cow eating grass.”
Emily blinked, but realized she was being teased. “As the water boils, it emits steam,” she said. “In fact, the water is expanding to the point it becomes hot vapor. With me so far?”
Caleb nodded.
“So if you happen to seal the pan,” she continued, drawing a lid over the pan, “what happens?”
“The water keeps becoming steam,” Caleb said. He shook his head, doubtfully. “And then...?”
“The pan bursts,” Emily said. “The water keeps expanding, pushing against the metal, until something finally breaks. It needs somewhere to go and, eventually, it makes a way out.”
“I see,” Caleb said. “You can’t slow this from happening?”
“Not without magic,” Emily said. She’d had to learn the hard way when sh
e’d found herself having to cook her own meals on Earth. “Point is, the steam has to go somewhere.”
She picked up a second piece of paper and drew out another pan, with a pipe leading up and out into the air. “You can steer the steam by providing a way for it to escape,” she continued, as she added steam to the diagram. “The steam expands along the path of least resistance, but the pressure never reaches a point where the pan explodes because the steam is escaping.”
Carefully, she drew out a wheel and placed it in front of him. “In this diagram, the steam pushes the wheel as it struggles to follow the path of least resistance. The wheel turns, which, through the science of clockwork, is linked to another set of wheels. Eventually, the steam can be used to move an entire train.”
“It doesn’t look as though it could produce enough power,” Caleb said, doubtfully.
“You rode on the train,” Emily said. “It didn’t need magic to work.”
“No, it didn’t,” Caleb said. “But I still have problems imagining it.”
“The first models we produced were ramshackle things,” Emily said. “They leaked steam, they only inched forward at the same pace as an elderly snail, but the designers eventually solved some of the problems and the trains moved faster. Now, they’re planning designs that will actually be able to outrun a horse.”
“That seems unlikely,” Caleb said.
“Maybe not in the short term,” Emily said. “But horses get tired. A steam train does not. Horses have limits to what they can carry; a steam train has limits, but they’re much higher than any horse. Given time, there will be a network of rails running between cities, each one carrying goods and services from one place to another.”
“Like the portals,” Caleb said. He looked down at the sheet of paper. “Assuming your steam train could move at the speed of the average horse, it would take roughly nine hours to travel from here to Beneficence. However, I could step through a portal and arrive instantly.”
“That would be true, in the short term,” Emily said. “But portals require a great deal of magic to set up, while you can’t move anything larger than a cart or a coach through them. A steam train would still have a very definite advantage.”
Love's Labor's Won (Schooled in Magic Book 6) Page 26