The Princess in the Tower

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Let’s go,” Jade said. “We’ll check out, then find somewhere to sell the horses.”

  Emily followed him out of the room and down the stairs, where they waited for the innkeeper to check them out and then point them in the direction of a horse-trader. The man looked rather like a used car salesman–Emily couldn’t help being amused at the flattery he lavished on Jade–but he seemed to know his stuff. He also knew the virtue of not asking questions: he sold them a cart, some oxen and a small bag of foodstuff for a price only mildly outrageous without asking anything that might get him into trouble later. Emily listened, carefully, to what he said and didn’t say. The price of horses–even workhorses–was steadily rising. King Randor had put out a call for them.

  And he will sell our horses to the king at a considerable profit, she thought. She didn’t really care about the money, and the advantageous deal would help buy the man’s silence, but it was annoying. They’ll be on their way to the wars.

  She eyed the cart suspiciously, although neither Jade nor Cat seemed put out by its appearance. It looked as though anyone who touched it ran the risk of getting a splinter, if they were lucky; she didn’t want to sit down on the wooden chair, even though she had no choice. The yoke didn’t look very strong either. She had a nasty feeling that the cart would topple over if the oxen broke free and scampered into the distance.

  “They’re easier than horses,” Cat said, as they bought a handful of goods for resale in the big city. Nothing too dramatic, nothing that would attract unwanted attention...indeed, with a glut of clothes on the market, it was quite plausible that a peddler would hurry to Alexis in the hope of selling them before their value collapsed completely. “You just have to keep them pointed in the right direction.”

  Emily sighed, then nudged the oxen down the road. They were slow, steady beasts; she thought she would have liked them if they’d moved a little faster. It would have been easier to walk, she told herself. Alexis wasn’t that far away. But the cart would attract less attention than three people on the road, two clearly mercenaries and the third a woman. She just hoped the guards wouldn’t find the hidden weapons. They might overlook a dagger, particularly a virgin blade, but not actual swords.

  “The traffic is lighter than I expected.” Jade’s voice was worried. “There are normally more people making their way to the big city.”

  “Going through the gates must be a nightmare,” Emily said. The gates were bottlenecks at the best of times, made worse by the guards inspecting every vehicle. “A farmer taking his crop to market might find it rotten before he had a chance to sell.”

  “There are preservation spells for that,” Cat grumbled.

  “Yeah, but not everyone can afford them,” Emily said. She hoped Cat wouldn’t say that in front of the guards. A charmed casket designed to preserve food wasn’t expensive, for an aristocrat, but it was so far beyond the average peasant farmer that the guards would know something was definitely wrong. “A peasant has to rely on more mundane ways to keep his food fresh.”

  She watched the passing traffic as they slowly inched down the road. Most of the travelers seemed to be women or older men, save for a handful of young men on horseback. They carried no livery that Emily could see, but she was fairly sure they were couriers. She didn’t like the absence of anything to show their allegiance; she suspected it was a tacit admission that the roads near Zangaria were no longer safe. But then, Jade had told her about someone trying to kidnap Alassa only a few short weeks ago. The enemy forces were clearly ready to gamble for vast rewards.

  A line of soldiers appeared in the distance, marching towards them. Emily felt her heart clench, even though it didn’t look as though the men were doing anything more than hurrying towards their next deployment. They had the easy gait of men who knew what they were doing, men who’d been tested in the fire...she wondered, suddenly, if she’d seen them at Farrakhan. King Randor had sent an entire regiment of musketeers to the war, just to test the new weapons in combat.

  And these men are musketeers, Emily thought. She had the sudden urge to hide her face, but it was already too late. They might have seen me in the war too.

  The soldiers marched past, their boots tramping up dust. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief, then tried to encourage the oxen to go faster. The beasts declined, seemingly content to plug ahead at walking pace. Emily glanced back at Jade, then shrugged. They’d just have to put up with them.

  “We can sell them for food after we get to the city,” Jade said. “I imagine they’ll go down well.”

  It was nearly an hour before they reached a watering place a mile or two from the city walls. Emily unhitched the oxen and pointed them at the river, then motioned for the boys to put on their disguises. There was no grumbling or joking now, just a grim awareness that it was time to play for keeps. She dabbed powder on her face, drew lines to suggest that she was in her thirties and tied her hair back in a scarf. The loose dress suggested, very strongly, that she was married and had children. She just hoped the guards would find it convincing.

  “I don’t know how women can stand to wear dresses,” Cat said, as he scrambled back into the cart. He looked surprisingly convincing, particularly when he wasn’t moving. “How do you cope?”

  “Society doesn’t really give us a choice,” Emily said, although she knew that wasn’t really true. Alassa might shock the world if she wore trousers in public, but commoner girls often wore loose trousers when they were working. “Just imagine the dress as a set of robes instead.”

  “That’s different,” Cat said. “They’re robes.”

  “It’s not that different,” Emily said, as she hitched the oxen to the cart once again. “But dresses are often cut to fit a particular woman.”

  She looked them up and down, then passed them the fish sauce. Cat grimaced, but applied it to his lips anyway. Jade didn’t seem quite so bothered by the smell. Emily wasn’t surprised. She didn’t know much about Cat’s family, but she knew it was magical. He would have been allowed to develop fussy eating habits that Jade, whose parents were commoners, would never have been permitted. Emily understood, more than she cared to admit. A fussy eater was one who had the luxury of many different types of food.

  “Here we go,” she said, after nibbling a little of the sauce herself. It made her mouth taste foul. “Remember, keep your mouths shut unless they speak to you directly.”

  “Yes, daughter,” Cat crackled. His voice was almost passably feminine, if the speaker had smoked several dozen cigarettes a day. “We will do as you command.”

  Jade snickered. Emily snorted at them both, then nudged the oxen into motion. They inched back onto the road, then crawled down it at a snail’s pace. Emily found herself willing them to move faster, even though she didn’t really want to reach the gates in a hurry. It would be better, perhaps, to reach them in late afternoon. The guards would be tiring, but not on the verge of shutting the gates for the night.

  Her heart started to pound as she saw the tailback. Several dozen carts, lined up in front of the South Gate; dozens of farmers and salesmen, grumbling as they moved slowly towards the city. A handful were happily chatting with old friends, although they ignored Emily and the others. She was just as happy to be ignored. The disguises couldn’t be tested too openly.

  The line kept moving forwards slowly, very slowly. She felt her heart starting to pound as they finally reached the gate, the portcullis opening and closing every time a cart moved into the city. It was a neat little trap, she had to admit; anyone who caused trouble would be caught at the bottom, allowing the guards to pour boiling oil on their heads. She could feel the wards drifting around the gatehouse, wards designed to look for...what? It was all she could do to keep her magic under tight control. The wards might have been designed to provoke a reaction rather than look for anyone in particular.

  Randor is hunting for magic-users, she thought, as the cart slowly inched forward into the gatehouse. The portcullis slammed closed behind th
em, nearly making her jump. I guess any magicians they catch get an offer they can’t refuse.

  She forced herself to look up as the guards advanced towards her. They wore the king’s livery, rather than the uniforms of the City Guard. She rather suspected that wasn’t a good sign. The City Guard had been meant to be independent of the king, to protect the city rather than Randor’s throne. If the guard had been scattered...she hoped it had been folded into the king’s army, but she doubted it. The guardsmen had probably been rounded up and sent into exile.

  The lead guard leered at her. “Name?”

  “Millie of Easterbrook,” Emily lied. Easterbrook was several days away by horse, far enough that no one could prove she was lying in a hurry. “Wife of Caleb, Mother of Frieda.”

  The guard eyed her for a long moment. Using familiar names was a risk–Emily had no idea if Randor knew she’d broken up with Caleb or not–but she didn’t dare risk getting caught in an obvious lie. Besides, both Caleb and Frieda were common names.

  He gestured to Jade and Cat. “And these old crones?”

  Emily managed a nervous smile, trying to silently convey the impression that she’d pay for his remark later. “My aunties-in-law,” she said. “They’re here to help me sell my wares.”

  She hoped the guard would fill the rest of the story in himself. Caleb would be in the army or on the run. He wouldn’t be a traitor–Easterbrook was in the Crown Lands–but he wouldn’t be available. And the older women were there to make sure Emily didn’t do anything her husband wouldn’t like while she was in the city. No one would bat an eyelid if a girl–even a grown woman–was slapped around by her older relatives. Emily had long since come to realize that it was often the older women who maintained the sexual status quo.

  The guard eyed the cart meaningfully, then leaned forward until he was invading her personal space. Emily leaned back, trying to breathe out without making it obvious. The guard’s lips twisted in disgust as he caught a sniff of her breath. If he’d wanted to force a kiss, right in front of her elderly relatives, he’d changed his mind. Emily didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t have wanted to kiss a man who smelled like he’d been eating rotting fish for lunch.

  He poked the small pile of clothes, blankets and other wares, then shrugged. “How long will you be staying?”

  “Two days,” Emily said. “My husband wants me home.”

  The guard made a rude face. “I’ll write you a chit for two days,” he said, removing a small notebook from his belt. “If you need to stay in the city for longer, report to the local guardhouse for an extension. If you are found in the city without a valid chit, you will be detained.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Emily said, bowing her head.

  “Very good.” The guard smirked, clearly enjoying her submission. “Good luck selling your wares.”

  Emily took the chit and scanned it quickly, feeling a chill running down her spine. The New Learning hadn’t been meant for this. There had been limits to how far the population could be registered, regulated and controlled before she’d introduced the New Learning...now, Zangaria was halfway to adopting ID cards and other social devices to keep the population under control. It would be only a matter of time until they learnt how to take and check fingerprints. God knew she’d used fingerprints herself, back in Second Year...

  The guard cleared his throat. “You may go.”

  “Thank you, My Lord,” Emily managed. She put the chit in her pouch as the inner portcullis cranked open. “May the gods heap blessings upon you.”

  She ignored the guard’s smirk–calculated to make her blood boil–and cracked the whip instead. The oxen started to inch forward, moving so slowly that Emily was sure they were trying to get them caught. If the guards decided to search the cart again...it felt like an eternity before they were out onto the street, heading away from the gatehouse as if they were being chased by a tortoise...

  It felt, very much, as though they’d stepped into a nightmare.

  Chapter Ten

  THE STREETS WERE QUIET, VERY QUIET.

  Emily felt an icy chill running down her spine as she guided the oxen along the cobbled street. Alexis was normally a lively city, with a population of nearly half a million aristocrats, freemen, apprentices, serfs and slaves–not to mention thousands of visitors from all over the country–but it felt as though the city was too frightened to breathe. Half the shops were shuttered, small groups of soldiers loitered on every street corner and there were hardly any civilians on the streets. The only people in clear view were other guests, she thought, all heading towards the marketplace. She had no idea what, if anything, they’d find there.

  “Keep us going,” Jade muttered. “We need to get this lot to market.”

  “And find a place to stay,” Cat said, quietly. “What does that chit say?”

  “Three women, with a cart and two oxen,” Emily said. She had no doubt that someone was already forging chits–there was no magic attached to the paper, as far as she could tell–but it would take them some time to make contacts. “You may have to stay in those disguises.”

  She gritted her teeth as they moved further into the city, the castle looming over them like a horrific blackened nightmare. She’d seen it before, of course, but she’d never realized just how thoroughly it dominated the city. Randor could rain cannonballs on his people if they rebelled against him, while the castle–perched on a giant rocky promontory–would be very difficult to assault. Someone–Robert the Bruce, she thought–had managed to climb up the rock and capture Edinburgh Castle, but it would be difficult to manage against an alert foe.

  The streets became more active as they approached the market place, much to her relief, but the soldiers were everywhere. She couldn’t see any young women at all, not even any clearly underage children. Hell, there weren’t many young men either. It beggared belief that Randor had managed to conscript an entire city, but...she shook her head, firmly. The young men were probably just keeping out of sight. They didn’t want to be harassed any more than their female counterparts.

  Or they’re planning something, she thought. Paren wasn’t the only person who wanted to overthrow the king.

  She looked back at Jade. “Now what?”

  “Now we abandon the cart, change our clothes and make our way down to the docks,” Jade said, practically. “They can’t be watching everywhere.”

  Emily nodded, although she didn’t feel remotely safe. There were just too many soldiers on the streets. She knew, from Sergeant Miles, that holding an entire city could take a small army, but Randor seemed to have a small army. And yet, if he was expending it on the city, he wouldn’t be in any position to take the war to his enemies. She rather hoped that meant Randor was relying on people allowing their perceptions to fill the gaps in his military formations. An appearance of omnipresence might be enough to keep the city’s population from challenging him...

  She parked the cart on the edge of the market place, where the streets started to turn darker and the stench of rotting fish wafted up from the docks. The two boys ducked into an alleyway and hastily changed their clothes, concealing their swords in their bags. Emily watched with some amusement as they checked their clothes, then hurried into the nearest shop. Jade must have scouted the shop out earlier, because he had no trouble in selling the cart, its contents and the oxen to the owner. The shopkeeper didn’t ask any questions.

  He probably wants some fresh meat, Emily thought. Very few of the locals would eat horse, but ox was quite another matter. The shopkeeper was probably a smuggler as well as everything else. And if he can give us some papers...

  “We should be fine for the next few days,” Jade said, as he emerged. He held a couple of chits in one hand. “This should pass muster, as long as they don’t realize there are several copies running around.”

  Emily had to smile. If there was one advantage to the vast numbers of printing shops that had opened their doors in Alexis, it was that nearly all government paperwork could be copie
d and forged relatively quickly. The chits were nothing more than residence permits, without even names...she couldn’t help wondering if Randor realized just how many holes there were in his system. But then, he was trying to set it up very quickly. He probably planned to close the loopholes later.

  She cleared her throat. “What about me?”

  “Resident women don’t have chits,” Jade said, tightly. “The king doesn’t seem to require it, as long as the woman has a responsible male guardian.”

  Emily gritted her teeth, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. Randor had learnt from experience, she supposed. There had been riots–and even revolutions–when women had been harassed and molested by tax collectors and inspectors. The peasants put up with a lot, but...they’d gone to war for their women. Besides, Randor simply didn’t take young women seriously. She was sure that would come back to bite him on the behind, sooner or later. She would make sure of it, personally.

  He should have noticed that his daughter is very intelligent, she thought, as they started to walk through the gloomy backstreets. The smell of rotting fish grew stronger. But he may not have realized that every other young woman has intelligence too.

  She considered a number of possible ideas. If young women were allowed to walk the streets unmolested, they could carry messages from place to place. But...there were few women of any age on the streets. Were the soldiers harassing them anyway? Or...were their menfolk simply keeping the women at home? She didn’t think she’d blame a father for wanting to keep his daughter somewhere out of sight. It wasn’t as if anyone would punish a soldier for rape unless the victim was related to someone important.

  There were fewer guards on the streets, she noted as they approached the docks. The men on the streets looked rough, their eyes flickering from side to side as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. She was grimly aware of unseen eyes following their movements, but saw nothing when she looked around. The locals would be good at remaining out of sight.