Not that it will last forever, Emily reminded herself. Randor will have other spies and agents, less obvious ones, positioned within the barony.
“It’s good to be back,” she said, not entirely truthfully. “I trust things have run well in our absence?”
She sighed, inwardly, as Bryon composed his reply. She’d always been ambivalent about the barony, about her right to control the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. They might think she was the greatest landholder in the country, the one who actually allowed her people to earn money and profit from their ingenuity, but she had always dreaded the prospect of making a mistake that would get thousands of people killed.
“The barony has suffered no lasting damage from the usurper,” Bryon assured her, finally. “And I am sure his laws will be repealed once you have a chance to review them.”
Emily nodded, curtly. “We must prepare the barony for war,” she said. By now, the news was all over the country. Alexis hadn’t fallen, but open war had broken out between King Randor and the Noblest...while Alassa had escaped the Tower and was building up her own forces in Swanhaven. “We will be allied with Princess Alassa.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Bryon said. He sounded a little doubtful, although she knew he was willing to trust her judgement. He’d objected to some of her earlier reforms, but they’d all paid off–literally–for the barony. “Cockatrice is at your command.”
“Prince Consort Jade has been appointed Captain-General of Her Highness’s armed forces,” Emily informed him. “His deputy”–she indicated Cat with a nod–“will be responsible for raising, training and commanding forces specifically from Cockatrice itself. You will give him your full support, as well as a credit line from the Bank of Cockatrice.”
Bryon bowed to Cat. “As you wish, My Lady.”
“I may be required to return to Swanhaven and consult with Her Highness,” Emily continued. “Lady Imaiqah will run the barony on a day-to-day basis, as she did before.”
“Of course,” Bryon said. She’d expected a flicker of resentment, but there was nothing. She remembered that Imaiqah had been sweet on Bryon, once upon a time, and wondered if they’d been working closer together than either she or the king had realized. It didn’t really matter, she told herself firmly. She just hoped it didn’t end in a broken heart. “It would be my honor.”
Emily nodded, then walked to the windows and looked down. Cockatrice City had mushroomed in all directions, growing at a pace she would have considered impossible six years ago. It had tripled in size over the first four years, but now it was even bigger...she wondered, morbidly, just how many of the new apartment blocks had collapsed within a year or two after they were declared inhabitable. The demand for accommodation was pushing the builders to the limit, even after the financial crash. Her eye caught sight of a locomotive, puffing along the Cockatrice-Beneficence Line. The crash had hurt–no one could deny it–but the barony had recovered.
“This will be a very different war,” she said, as she watched the locomotive pull into the station and come to a halt. “The king and the aristocracy want to undo everything we’ve done over the last six years. They’ll burn books, smash printing presses and execute everyone who knows how to build a machine. They may even burn Cockatrice City to the ground and scatter salt over the rubble, cursing the land so nothing will ever grow here again. This is no mere border skirmish, no attempt by a nobleman to overthrow a king...this is a war for the very future itself.”
She turned to face Bryon. “We have to fight,” she said. “And if we lose, we lose everything.”
Bryon swallowed. “Yes, My Lady.”
“Lord Cat will take command of the preparations,” Emily said. “Introduce him to everyone he needs to know, including the guard and militia commanders. Make it clear to them that he’s in charge.”
She took a breath. “And on your way out, send in a messenger,” she added. “I need to send a message to Beneficence.”
Bryon bowed, then retreated. Cat shot Emily a wink before following Bryon out of the chamber. He didn’t have an easy job ahead of him, Emily knew. On one hand, he was a man; on the other, he wasn’t a local. Cat had seen war, real war, but he was still a stranger to everyone in Cockatrice. They might not assume that he knew nothing, yet...they wouldn’t be human if they didn’t resent him being placed over them. She made a mental note to keep their relationship secret. Too many people would wonder if he’d slept his way to the post.
She smiled, tiredly. That was almost funny.
Jade doesn’t have that sort of problem, she thought. But then, everyone expected him to command Alassa’s guardsmen anyway.
“This is a great place,” Imaiqah said, as they stared out of the window together. “I never really appreciated what you’d done until I found myself in charge of it.”
“I tried to do as little as possible,” Emily said. “All I really wanted to do was enforce fair play.”
She had to smile. There was no such thing as fair play outside Cockatrice, let alone any concept of equality before the law. She’d had to fight hard to introduce the concept and it was still hard, even though everyone liked it in principle. There had been times when she’d thought that people didn’t want to reform the system, they merely wanted to climb to a level where they could make the system work in their favor and pass whatever they’d earned on to their sons. It was odd to realize that much of the opposition had come from wealthy merchants who’d made their fortunes before the New Learning...
Or perhaps it isn’t odd at all, she thought. They’d already learned how to survive and prosper before I changed the rules.
“You did well,” Imaiqah said. “I don’t blame you.”
Emily didn’t want to look at her face. The bruises had yet to fade. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to damage your family...”
“You didn’t,” Imaiqah said. “My father...my father did what he thought he had to do, without encouragement from you. You gave us the tools that made us wealthy, but you didn’t make him commit treason or risk everything on a desperate bid to overthrow the king. I don’t know what was going through his head, but...”
She wrapped an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “It was not your fault,” she said. “I wish you’d told me, just so I could decide what to do, but...don’t go beating yourself up over it.”
“There will be plenty of other people wanting to do that for me,” Emily said. “I know that here”–she touched her head–“but I don’t believe it in my heart.”
“I know,” Imaiqah said. “But it wasn’t your fault.”
The door opened. Emily turned, just in time to see the messenger enter and take a knee. He was a young man, barely entering his teens. The messenger service preferred young boys to grown men, claiming that the former didn’t wear down the horses so much. Emily suspected they also didn’t have to pay young men so much, despite the laws she’d enacted. They simply had less clout than their fathers or older brothers.
“You are to take this message directly to Markus, at the Bank of Silence,” Emily said, as she took a notepad and scribbled out a handful of lines. Randor’s troops on the bridge had scattered as soon as Swanhaven fell, allowing normal passage between Beneficence and Swanhaven once again. “Once you get there, wait for a reply unless he sends you home at once.”
“Yes, My Lady,” the messenger said.
“And don’t try to open the note.” Emily added a charm to the paper, just to make sure he couldn’t. Markus would have no trouble opening it, but the messenger would find it impossible. “It would not be safe.”
She sealed the note, then held it out. The messenger took the note, and a silver coin, then bowed his way out of the room. Emily smiled to herself. A young man with a silver coin could find all manner of distractions in Beneficence, if he had the sense to tell Markus that he’d be back in a few hours to pick up the reply. Or he could save it...the Bank of Silence, and the Bank of Cockatrice, had no qualms about allowing commoners to open
accounts with very reasonable interest rates. Thankfully, the banking crisis hadn’t completely destroyed faith in the banks.
It could have been a lot worse, she reminded herself. A lot worse.
“Markus may not help,” Imaiqah said. “The City Council might not be willing to take a stand.”
“I know,” Emily said. Markus could help fund the war effort, if he wanted, but Beneficence was vulnerable. Randor probably couldn’t cut the city off from the sea–he didn’t have that many ships under his direct control–yet he could set up a land blockade if Swanhaven and Cockatrice fell. “We have to ask.”
And hope he sees the importance of having Alassa, instead of Randor or the Noblest, as neighbors, she added, silently. Randor won’t forget Beneficence in a hurry and, if he wins, he’ll have the power to bring the city to heel.
Bryon returned, looking tired. “Lord Cat is currently taking command of the city’s volunteers. What can I do for you now, My Lady?”
“Bring us the records,” Emily ordered. “We need to go through them with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Bryon said. He bowed, stiffly. “Might I also recommend that you formally cancel the laws your...ah...replacement enacted? The merchants and industrialists would be most grateful.”
“Of course,” Emily said. “Bring me those laws as well.”
She hadn’t expected Randor–or his appointed man–to support free enterprise, but even she was shocked by the new laws. They would practically crush free enterprise or drive it underground, if anyone actually tried to enforce them. New taxes, limits on what could be produced...a strict ban on hiring runaway peasants and even citizens of the nearest city-state...she shook her head in disbelief, then hastily wrote a note repealing the laws. She rather suspected she had no legal authority to repeal anything, but it didn’t matter. If Alassa won the civil war, Emily would have the authority; if Randor won, Emily and Cockatrice would have a number of far worse problems. Randor would put the city to the sword, his men raping and murdering their way through the population. No one would call him to account either...
Everyone here is a rebel now, she thought. Her blood seemed to freeze. And none of them can expect mercy.
They spent the next few hours going through the books, barely pausing to eat sandwiches for lunch. Emily was surprised–and relieved–to discover that her replacement, currently cooling his heels in the dungeons, hadn’t actually tried to loot the barony’s coffers. He’d probably expected to remain in power indefinitely, ensuring that he didn’t feel any need to steal from himself. Her lips twitched at the thought–the bastard might have done a great deal more damage if he had stolen her money–before she dismissed it. Cockatrice’s wealth didn’t lie in gold and silver.
But it doesn’t hurt to have gold and silver, she reminded herself. You have to spend money in order to make money.
Bryon cleared his throat. “My Lady...what do you want me to do with your...replacement?”
“Keep him in the cells, for now,” Emily said. Her cells were actually civilized. They weren’t very pleasant, but at least there was no risk of random brutality, sexual assault or death. “We can decide what to do with him later.”
The rest of the day passed quickly. She inspected the castle, spoke briefly to a handful of envoys from the city, all of whom seemed pathetically grateful to see her. It cost her a pang, even though she knew she should be pleased. The barony shouldn’t need her to keep running smoothly. But a single bad ruler could turn everything upside down.
Bryon seemed to expect that they would have a big welcome dinner, once night started to fall, but Emily vetoed the idea. She was too tired for a formal affair, particularly one where she was technically the host. Besides, too many people were starving all over the country. She wouldn’t have felt right eating and drinking to her heart’s content–and feeding vast numbers of powerful or wealthy guests–while others were starving. It wasn’t something she could put off indefinitely–too much of local politics involved pressing the flesh–but for the moment she wanted something simpler.
“You have a lot of enthusiastic followers down there,” Cat said, as they sat down to dine in her quarters. The food was simple–the cooks had learned her tastes, at least–but there was plenty of it. “They have a lot of learn, it seems, but they’re keen.”
Emily had to smile. “Did you have any problems taking command?”
“Not once I proved I knew what I was doing,” Cat said. He made a face. “You do realize that I have never commanded anything larger than a platoon?”
“Yeah,” Emily said. She’d seen Cat at Farrakhan–and during Martial Magic. “Does Jade know that?”
“He should,” Cat said. “I’ve found a few veterans amongst the population, men who can help organize the troops, but we’re going to be doing a lot of learning by doing.”
“There are more veterans in Beneficence,” Imaiqah pointed out. “You can probably recruit some of them.”
“Jade’s looking into it,” Cat said. He sounded doubtful. “But quite a few of them have good reason to think they won’t be welcome here. We may have to offer quite considerable bounties in advance.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. Randor and the aristocrats had always seen trained soldiers, particularly short-termers, as a two-edged sword. They might have fought for the king, but they might–later–fight against the king. They had skills the aristocrats didn’t want the peasants to learn. Some became mercenaries, some found jobs outside the country...and some just sank into drunken despair. Randor didn’t care about them once they had outlived their usefulness.
They finished their meal in silence, then Imaiqah stood. “My rooms have been left untouched,” she said. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Emily watched her go, then fiddled with the wards to lock the door. “I mean to ask,” she said, as she stood. “How did you replace the executioner?”
“He has a little room he uses to get ready,” Cat told her. “Had, I should say. I sneaked inside, cracked him on the head and stole his clothes. And then I just played my role until the time was right.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “You saved my life.”
Cat smiled. “Well, we were hardly going to abandon you,” he said. “Jade and Alassa were very insistent that you be rescued. We were quite frantic when we heard you were going to be beheaded. If the Noblest hadn’t been attacking the city at the same moment...”
“Bad luck for Randor,” Emily agreed. She couldn’t help noticing that he was downplaying his own contribution. “The timing was really quite appalling.”
“But he apparently survived,” Cat said. He stood, brushing down his shirt. “And I doubt he lost that many troops during the fighting. I suspect the Noblest weren’t ready for gunpowder weapons.”
Emily nodded, leading the way into the bedroom. “Do you think we can win?”
“I believe the raw material for a strong army is there,” Cat said. He came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. “They’ll need seasoning, of course. It’s easy to talk about going to war when you’ve never heard the sound of the drums, never seen men returning with mutilated bodies...if they return at all. Some of them will break and run the moment they smell gunpowder or see their comrades falling...”
He pressed himself into her. “I can’t promise anything,” he said, as he nuzzled the back of her neck. She shivered at the raw sensation as she stroked his arms, feeling his muscles holding her tightly. His hands slid upwards until they were touching the underside of her breasts. “All I can really say is that we do have a chance. Anything after that is up to the gods.”
Emily turned, shifting in his arms until she was facing him. “I know,” she said. She wanted to talk about the future, to ask if there was a chance to be something more, but she knew better. They might be dead in the next few months. “But at least we have a chance.”
And then she kissed him.
Chapter Forty
THE HILL, EMILY CONSIDERED, WOULD
HAVE been a good place for a picnic.
She sat on the grass, a rug underneath her, and watched the soldiers go through their paces under the burning sun. They seemed to be getting the hang of marching in line, she thought, although they were still too rusty on more detailed commands. Cat and his subordinates–he’d given practically every veteran who signed up an immediate promotion to sergeant–were running around sorting out tangles, pushing men back into line and offering a mixture of encouragement and threats to keep everyone moving. Emily couldn’t help wondering, as she saw the women on the far side of the field, just how many men had signed up because their girlfriends had encouraged them. The thought of being branded a coward had been making men do stupid things ever since the dawn of time.
And soldiers are not highly regarded in Zangaria, Emily thought. It must be the first time anyone was actually encouraged to enlist.
She shivered as she caught sight of one young man who was desperately trying to keep up with his bigger peers. The man had grit, she had to admit, although he was clearly unfit for duty. He’d need to work hard to fit in with the crowd. And yet, he was working hard. Cat would have kicked him out if he hadn’t been trying to qualify...
“Well,” a voice said, from behind her. “The country goes to war.”
Emily turned and saw Void, standing behind her. He looked...younger than before, with dark hair falling down over strong cheekbones and a muscular frame. His eyes were dark...and old, reflecting his true age. She had to remind herself that Void was in his second century. He might look young, but he was old enough to be her great-grandfather.
“Void,” she said, suddenly unsure of herself. Void had offered her an apprenticeship, but she’d barely taken the time to write him a letter before hurrying off to save her friends from the Tower. “I was hoping I’d see you soon.”
Void looked disapproving as he peered past her, his eyes taking in the men on the training field. “You do realize that this is none of your concern?”
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