Emily nodded. Sergeant Miles had made his class go over the battle reports in detail, forcing them to consider the advantages and disadvantages of both sides. Emily had been unable to avoid comparing the battle to Agincourt, when the French knights had charged against the English and been impaled on a swarm of English arrows. Adding guns to the mix would only make the slaughter worse, but the English wouldn’t have needed to lavish so much care and attention on their archers.
“Training for war is not an easy task,” General Pollack said. “I would venture that it will not be as easy as you suggest.”
He fixed Emily with a gimlet stare. “And I have had too much experience of people telling me, without any experience at all, that this idea is the concept that will change warfare completely.”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. Everything she knew came from Earth, where guns had changed the face of war. But she couldn’t tell him that, not when it would upset too many other applecarts. And, without that piece of knowledge, General Pollack was quite right to be sceptical of her suggestions. She knew that guns would revolutionize warfare, but she had no way to prove it.
Yet, she thought.
“It is my intention to put together a regiment of musketeers,” King Randor said, calmly. “I will learn, rapidly, if the concept is truly workable.”
“By your own admission, accuracy is terrible,” General Pollack said, addressing Paren. “Is that likely to improve?”
“Yes,” Paren said. “We have been working with guns and gunpowder for three years, General. The first guns were more dangerous to us than the enemy. Now, we can be reasonably sure the gun will fire in the correct direction when we pull the trigger.”
“Reasonably sure,” General Pollock repeated.
Emily leaned forward. “What good is a newborn baby?”
General Pollock scowled. “What?”
“A newborn baby is nothing more than a screaming mass of flesh that needs to be fed constantly,” Emily said. “Seven or so months after birth, it is already crawling; eighteen months after birth, it is walking around on tiny feet. It will learn to say its first words, then read and write; sixteen years after birth, it will be a strong adult ready to go to work.”
She pointed at the musket. “This is a newborn baby. It isn’t that effective now, General, but give it several years and it will change everything.”
King Randor nodded in agreement. “The necromancers can throw vast numbers of orcs at us,” he said. “They breed faster than humans, they’re stronger than humans and the necromancers don’t give a damn about how many die to achieve their aims. The necromancers can just keep piling dead bodies up in front of a wall until their comrades scramble over the bodies and into the city. These weapons may make the difference between survival and our slow defeat.”
And that is the perfect argument to appeal to him, Emily thought. Did you - or Paren - choose it deliberately?
She frowned, inwardly. The muskets and cannons would make a difference in the endless war, but King Randor might intend to turn them on rebellious noblemen. Holding a castle against cannons, to say nothing of explosive shells, would be damned near impossible; indeed, the development of guns in the Middle Ages had eventually allowed kings and emperors to bring over-mighty subjects to heel. If Randor decided to turn against his aristocrats, the ones who would resist any change, he’d be in a good place to win a civil war outright.
But it also puts a great deal of power into the hands of commoners, Emily added, in the privacy of her own head. The aristocracy simply had more time to practice with weapons than commoners, as well as raise, train and supply sword-armed soldiers. What happens when everyone has access to firearms?
“I will be very interested to see how they develop,” General Pollack said. “I would, however, be reluctant to gamble everything on them.”
“There are reports of trouble on the borders,” Jade offered. “The necromancers may be plotting something.”
Emily shivered as a nasty thought struck her. Someone with magic - powerful magic - was helping the rebels. A necromancer? They’d undermined hostile governments before, yet...Shadye had been too crazy to come up with such a plan and stick to it long enough for it to work. His planning had always been a mixture of improvisation and a desperate certainty that whatever had happened had been exactly what he wanted to happen, to the point of believing that a defeat had been part of his plan all along. A necromancer could be meddling in Zangaria...
But Shadye didn’t have the finesse to cast those wards, she told herself, firmly. He’d need someone else, someone sane, to help him. But anyone sane enough to cast the wards would understand the dangers of working with a necromancer.
She looked up at the map, thoughtfully. The Blighted Lands were a long way away, with a number of other kingdoms between them and Zangaria. It seemed unlikely the necromancers could reach so far into the Allied Lands without being noticed. She certainly hadn’t seen any of them teleport or even use portals. It was far more likely that the backers were working for one of the neighboring kingdoms. A long period of social unrest in Zangaria would put the brakes on any expansionist policy Randor might have been contemplating.
Or someone in Beneficence could be behind it, she added. A strong king in Zangaria is a threat to their independence...
“It would do me great honor if you would assist,” Randor said, drawing her attention back to the table. “And your son has already been invited to take part in the wedding ceremony.”
General Pollack looked irked, just for a second. “I will be honored to observe, but my oath to the Allied Lands takes precedence,” he warned. Emily realized she’d missed some of the conversation. “If these weapons can be used against the necromancers, it is my duty to ensure that the rest of the world is aware of the possibilities.”
“That is understood,” Randor said.
Emily wished - savagely - that Lady Barb had been invited too. She could have picked apart just what was happening; Randor seemed to have given away a priceless advantage, something he wouldn’t have done unless he expected something of equal or greater value in return. A defense against the necromancers...or what? Somehow, Emily doubted that the prospect of her marrying Caleb was worth such a sacrifice.
Randor is playing games, she told herself. And you have to work out just what he’s doing and why.
“Alassa, why don’t you take Emily back to the dance hall?” Randor asked. “Her young man will meet her later.”
Emily exchanged glances with Caleb - meeting Void hadn’t been this awkward - and slowly rose to her feet. Alassa’s face was carefully blank, just blank enough to let Emily know that she was puzzled herself and trying desperately not to show it. She followed her friend out a door, through a pair of complex wards that deflected attention away from the entrance and into a smaller room. It was completely deserted.
“Father is playing games,” Alassa said, once she’d cast a privacy ward of her own. “And I don’t understand why.”
Emily frowned. “What does he want with Caleb?”
“To make sure he’s a suitable husband for you,” Alassa said. She scowled. “I should have anticipated the possibility, even though Caleb is even less threatening to the established order than Jade. I’m sorry, Emily.”
Emily rubbed the side of her head. “I’m sorry it’s taking attention away from you,” she said, sincerely. It was rare, very rare, for Alassa to apologize. “This wedding is meant to be about you.”
“It’s never been about just me,” Alassa said. She looked up at Emily, suddenly. “You talked about guns as if you’d seen them before, where you come from.”
“I know the theory,” Emily said, carefully. She’d never seen, let alone handled, a gun on Earth. Everything she knew came from history and military fiction books, not military textbooks or genuine practical experience. “And if the general had seen some of Earth’s weapons, he’d faint.”
She thought about nukes - and the nuke-spell - and shuddered. “Alassa, w
hat I was saying about peasant uprisings...that’s what happened on Earth.”
Alassa gave her a sharp look. “And how did they end?”
“A lot of people died,” Emily said. Historically, most peasant revolts had failed, but some had come very close to dethroning the monarch. The rebels in Zangaria were already considering what sort of world might follow the end of the Royal Family. “It’s a serious threat.”
“Then tell me,” Alassa said. “What do you propose we do about it?”
“What I suggested to your father,” Emily insisted. “Make some concessions now so you don’t lose the kingdom later.”
“Which would spark off a civil war anyway,” Alassa said. She shook her head. “The problem hasn’t changed, Emily. Go too far in one direction, start a civil war; go too far in the other direction, have a civil war. Stay where we are...”
“And try to build up a force to neutralize one of the enemy factions,” Emily said. “Is that what your father is trying to do?”
“I wish I knew,” Alassa said. She glared down at the floor. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”
Alassa sighed. “We need to get back to the dance floor,” she added, as she stood. “I dare say Caleb will be fine. Probably.”
Emily frowned. “Probably?”
“Father can be very intimidating when he feels like it,” Alassa said. “But I think he’d probably approve of Caleb. He wouldn’t have offered Caleb a place in the wedding party if he’d heard only bad things about him.”
Emily rose and followed her towards the door. “But it doesn’t matter to me if he approves of Caleb or not,” she insisted. “I can marry whoever I please.”
Alassa stopped and swung around to face her. “You are a noblewoman - a baroness - of Zangaria,” she said. “Your marriage is a matter of national concern. You are in no danger of being married off to someone you don’t know, someone chosen by your parents, but you have to understand that your marriage will shift the balance of power. At the very least, Caleb will become Baron Consort. My father needs to understand what changes are likely to follow before anything happens.”
You too, Alassa, Emily thought.
Alassa turned back. “Tonight, make sure you get plenty of sleep,” she added. “Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
ALASSA, AS IT TURNED OUT, WAS right.
The first full-scale wedding rehearsal was a near-complete disaster, despite the best efforts of Imaiqah, Nightingale and Queen Marlena. Emily did her best to stay out of the shouting match that followed, standing next to Caleb and waiting for everyone to settle down for a second try at the rehearsal. Imaiqah finally pushed her into supervising the bridesmaids as they went through a complex dance routine, intended to distract the audience while Alassa changed from one dress into another. The bridesmaids, thankfully, didn’t try to argue with her as they went through the whole routine a second time. It was slightly less terrible, as Queen Marlena said, than the first rehearsal.
“Jade asked me to attend his stag night,” Caleb said, as the rehearsal came to an end. “Are you going to be attending?”
“I thought it was boys only,” Emily teased. She had no idea what a stag night was supposed to be like on Earth, beyond a handful of horror stories she’d read on the Internet, but Alassa had invited her to a private gathering for a handful of friends. “I’ll be with Alassa.”
“It is,” Caleb said. “I wish you were coming too.”
Emily nodded. “You try and keep an eye on Jade, all right?”
“I can try,” Caleb said, giving Jade a pointed look. “I think, right now, he needs a stiff drink and a quiet sit-down.”
Emily followed his gaze. Jade seemed as tired and ill as she felt, with her magic reserves threatening to break loose. It looked as though he was reaching the ends of his endurance. Beside him, Alassa didn’t look much better. She’d had to change her dresses twice for each rehearsal, something that wouldn’t have been particularly easy even with a dozen maids. Emily couldn’t help wondering if the best thing she could do for Alassa was to take her to bed, feed her some sleeping potion and then stand guard until she woke up by herself. But she knew it would only complicate the day.
“Don’t let him drink too much,” she warned. “Who else is coming?”
“A handful of his friends from Whitehall and a bunch of young noblemen,” Caleb said. “I think they were talking about going down into the city.”
“Joy,” Emily said. Jade was a decent person, but she wouldn’t have bet money on the bartenders being pleased to see them. A handful of drunken noblemen could smash up the bar and escape with only a slap on the wrist, if that. King Randor wasn’t likely to order them flogged, not when it would annoy their parents. “Try and keep things under control, please.”
Caleb gave her a look that suggested it might be beyond his considerable powers, and followed her over to Alassa as the gathering slowly broke up. Imaiqah had said there would be at least one more big rehearsal, the day before the wedding itself, once she and the others had a chance to identify the weaknesses in the performance. Emily had never been so glad to be undervalued in her life. She had a feeling that Imaiqah was going to need a long holiday after the wedding was over, before she returned to the kingdom to do...what?
She’s Alassa’s friend, she thought, feeling a hint of bitter jealousy. She’ll be one of her closest advisors. There’ll always be something for her to do.
“Emily,” Alassa said. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“Just about,” Emily said, carefully. Alassa was entitled to two hen nights, apparently, but she hadn’t gone into details about what they’d be doing. “You?”
“I want to let my hair down, just for a while,” Alassa said. She rubbed her forehead as her mother approached. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know how,” Emily admitted.
“Everything has been prepared,” Queen Marlena said. She looked at Emily. “Don’t let her get too silly, please.”
Emily frowned. “I’ll try,” she said. Too silly? “When do we start?”
“Two hours,” Alassa said, after a glance at her watch. “Get changed into something more comfortable - have a nap if you want - and we’ll meet up in my rooms.”
“Jade wants me to meet him in the courtyard,” Caleb said. “What about dinner?”
“You’ll be eating with him,” Alassa said. She smiled, rather unpleasantly. “Do try and have the kind of evening Emily can ask you about.”
Emily glanced at Caleb, feeling a flicker of concern. She knew he could take care of himself - he was a magician who’d spent two years at Stronghold - but she couldn’t help being worried. A night on the town hadn’t been her idea of fun on Earth, let alone on the Nameless World. It was unlikely that supernatural vermin would dare sneak into Alexis - the city was crammed with humans - but some of the most dangerous predators in the world walked on two legs. And Jade was being accompanied by a gaggle of noblemen...
This isn’t going to end well, she thought.
She walked back to Caleb’s room, kissed him goodbye and hurried up to her own suite. A maid waited outside, holding a box. Emily took it, tipped the maid with a silver coin from her pocket and slipped into her room. The box proved to contain a folded black dress, a silver necklace and a note. She ran through a handful of spells, testing to make sure someone hadn’t hexed or cursed the box’s contents, then took the note. It told her to make sure she wore the dress, and the necklace, when she went to Alassa’s room. She checked the dress again, just to be sure, before pulling it out of the box. It looked more like an elaborate nightgown than anything she’d wear in public. Gritting her teeth, she removed her dress and pulled the new one over her head. It was so tight in all the wrong places that she had to use a glamor to hide her curves.
Caleb would love it, the treacherous part of her mind said.
Shut up, her own thoughts answered. Does Alassa really expect me to wear this?
She pic
ked up Master Grey’s book and resumed her reading, careful to keep one eye on her watch at all times. Alassa wouldn’t thank her if she was late. The book was engrossing, but when the time came she forced herself to put it down and walked out the door, cursing the dress under her breath. If Caleb saw her in it - or any other guy she knew - she’d probably die of embarrassment.
“Emily,” Alassa said, when Emily stepped through the door. “You look good.”
“Not as good as you,” Emily said. Alassa wore the same kind of dress, showing off her long blonde hair. It was so tight around her chest that Emily had to look away, embarrassed. “The dress suits you.”
“They’re traditional,” Alassa said, as she waved Emily into the room. Inside, Imaiqah and Frieda sat on cushions. They both wore similar dresses. “The Crown Princess gets a couple of nights where she can let her hair down” - her hand toyed with one long blonde strand for a second - “and be something different. A boy, of course, would get to go out on the town, but it isn’t safe for me.”
“There are rebels out there,” Emily pointed out. The thought of Alassa, the sole heir to the throne, being kidnapped or killed was terrifying. If she died, civil war would break out almost at once. “You wouldn’t be safe at all.”
“I know that,” Alassa said, crossly. “But that isn’t the real reason these sessions are always private, you know. They don’t want to spark off any more rumors.”
Emily glanced around. “Is anyone else coming?”
“I hoped a couple of others from Whitehall could make it, but they won’t be here until the day before the wedding,” Alassa said. “Aloha declined, unfortunately; the Gorgon wasn’t sure if she’d be able to attend or not.”
She settled down next to Imaiqah and waved for Emily to sit too. “And there aren’t many others I really wanted to invite,” she added, after a moment. “Lady Regina was pushing for an invitation, but I didn’t want to invite her. She doesn’t seem to have changed a bit since I knew her as a little girl. Alicia...didn’t show any interest in coming.”
Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) Page 22