The Unbound Empire

by Melissa Caruso

  “I agree. Now’s the time to move.” I’d come back to the Mews with a restless energy coursing through me as if balefire burned in my veins, and had been glad to run into Zaira in the entry hall. I might not have the means to personally thwart Ruven right now, but this I could do. “Will you help me draft the final version of the law?”

  Zaira laughed. “Because I’ve got such a way with words. A golden tongue.” She held up her hands to frame an imaginary document. “Be it known that any stuffed-codpiece bastard who wants to conscript little mage brats into the army can bugger himself between the eyes from this day forth. By the imperial seal, love Zaira.”

  “It has a certain ring to it.” I hesitated then, not sure if she’d like what I had to say next. “I was more hoping you could help me decide what compromises we can and cannot make to help this pass into law.”

  She eyed me skeptically. “You’re considering some demon’s bargain, aren’t you.”

  “Maybe.” I slowed my stride and stopped beneath an olive tree, its oily leaves one of the few spots of green in the winter-bare garden. “If we abolish mandatory conscription, we need to regulate magic some other way. As just one example, we need some way to ensure that no one could hire or kidnap their own private mage army.”

  Zaira grunted. “Can’t let the Empire lose its grip on the magic, huh?”

  “I’m personally more concerned with avoiding a civil war. History suggests that when military power becomes decentralized, it can lead to—”

  Zaira interrupted me with a dramatic yawn. “Save the lecture. I get it.” She jabbed a finger at my chest. “If you’re so worried, keep the jesses. Then the Empire can still snuff our magic out the instant we do something it doesn’t like.”

  I blinked. “You wouldn’t mind still wearing a jess?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Intense cynicism hooded Zaira’s dark eyes. “Of course I’d mind. But it’s better than having a thousand stupid rules dictating every damned thing about my life because the Empire is scared of what I’ll do if they let me out of my cage.”

  “It would be easier to get the Assembly to pass a law that kept the jesses,” I admitted, turning the idea over in my mind. “It kills nearly all of the objections about safety my opponents keep raising. I could probably triple our support.”

  Zaira snorted. “That’s because they’re a bunch of cowards. The jesses are there to make you numb-brains feel safe. If we didn’t have them, you’d just start killing us.”

  I wished I could disagree. But there were places in Eruvia where they’d hanged mages or stoned them, before the Serene Empire came in and made them stop. It was the same paradox I’d struggled with all along: freedom had never been safe for the mage-marked.

  “Do you think the other Falcons would find that acceptable?” I asked. “I don’t want to trade away something that’s not mine to give.”

  Zaira jerked her thumb toward the dining hall. “I was about to head to dinner anyway. Let’s go ask them.”

  We found a table full of our Falcon friends in the dining hall—and best of all, Marcello was among them, out of bed and clear-eyed, his right arm bound up in a sling. Relief surged through me like clear water. He’d still gotten hurt on my account, but it seemed Ruven hadn’t done any permanent damage.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked him as Terika slid down the bench to make room for us.

  “Not bad,” he said, abandoning an awkward attempt to eat soup left-handed. “A bit groggy from all the potions, though.”

  “You could let me help you instead,” Istrella said brightly from beside him. “I have an idea for stimulating bone growth. We’d have to insert artifice wire into your shoulder, though.”

  Marcello shuddered. “No, thank you.”

  Istrella sighed and took a spoonful of her own soup. “Everyone always says that.”

  Down the table, my Ardentine friend Foss was attempting to convince his small mage-marked son Aleki to eat his dinner rather than simply mashing it together with his fingers. The boy’s jess had collected a certain amount of food in its intricate swirls of wirework.

  “Where’s Venasha?” I asked him. Usually the two of them brought Aleki to meals together.

  “She’s back in Ardence again, at the Ducal Library.” He smiled shyly. “She’s really hoping you can get your law passed soon, so she won’t have to keep traveling back and forth in order to keep her post.”

  “About that.” I raised my voice slightly, pitching it so everyone at the table could hear. “I’m hoping to submit the final version of my Falcon reform act to the Assembly tomorrow, to put it forward for a vote within the week. I was hoping you all might be willing to give me some advice.”

  Silence fell across the table. Everyone turned to look at me. Jerith whistled appreciatively, exchanging glances with Balos.

  Marcello frowned. “Now? With war about to break out?”

  “Absolutely. Because war is about to break out, and the Falcons deserve a choice about how and whether they’ll fight it. Especially the children.”

  Foss drew Aleki a bit closer to him, failing to notice as the boy dipped his fingers into his milk cup. “We’re listening.”

  “Zaira had an idea for a compromise that I think would vastly increase our chances of getting this law passed.” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. It was hard to look a table full of my friends in their mage-marked eyes and ask them if they were willing to trade away control of their own magic for a greater slice of freedom. “I think I can get a large portion of the Assembly to agree to end unwilling conscription if—and, unfortunately, perhaps only if—we keep the jesses.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Jerith said dryly. “No one will vote to let us out of our kennel if they can’t still keep us on a leash.”

  “Much as I might wish otherwise, that’s an accurate assessment.” I grimaced. “In particular, we need the backing of the military—this law won’t pass without them. Fortunately, most of the military leaders I’ve talked to like the idea; they’d greatly prefer to have their plans and the safety of their troops hinge on willing volunteers rather than unwilling conscripts.” I took a deep breath. “But they want a means to shut down the powers of mages who lose control, are coerced, or voluntarily turn against Raverra.”

  Terika frowned. “If they still want jesses, what reforms are they backing, exactly?”

  “No mandatory conscription into the military,” I said. “No forcing mage-marked children to come to the Mews.”

  “Those are the important things,” Foss said, sounding relieved.

  “So how would it work, then?” Terika asked, brows lifting. “You’d get a jess, and they’d just let you go on your way, wherever you liked?”

  “Essentially.” I hesitated. “One idea I had was to call it a civilian reserve. That way, you’d still technically be part of the Falcons, which would mean we wouldn’t have to alter the Serene Accords. That means an easier vote, with a lower threshold to pass.”

  Foss paused in the act of offering Aleki a forkful of polenta. “A reserve sounds like it could be called up.”

  Jerith shrugged. “The Empire has the power to demand military service from any citizen during wartime. No matter what they call it, if they want mages badly enough, they can take us. Nothing’s going to change that.” He shared a glance with Zaira, and I knew what they were thinking: the Empire would never let go of such a rare and potent advantage as a warlock.

  “That’s part of why I think I can get so much more support for this version of the law,” I admitted, leaning my elbows on the table. “Because if the mage-marked still have jesses, the Serene City still controls the magic.”

  Marcello looked around at the expressions on the Falcons at the table: cautious, thoughtful, wearing a mixture of skepticism and hope. “If it doesn’t really change anything,” he asked, “what’s the point?”

  “It changes nothing, but it changes everything,” Foss said immediately. “My family could go home. Aleki wouldn’t have
to be a soldier. He could grow up like any other child.”

  “I wouldn’t have to live in the Mews,” Terika said. “I could make my own home, and travel, and live how I wanted.”

  Zaira jabbed her fork at Marcello. “If you’re not knocking people out and locking them up like a gang of stinking kidnappers, that sounds different to me.”

  An odd expression crossed Marcello’s face. “Do you think…” He swallowed. “Do you think we’ll lose a lot of active-duty Falcons if this law passes?”

  Jerith shrugged. “Anyone who’d back out of the fight now, knowing Vaskandar is going to come raging across the border as soon as the snow melts and start murdering civilians, isn’t someone I want at my side on the battlefield anyway.”

  “You’ll lose the little brats,” Zaira pointed out, nodding toward Foss, who put a protective arm around Aleki’s shoulders. “If their parents have any sense, that is.”

  “I’d hope the colonel wouldn’t send children into battle regardless,” Balos said, his brows lowering.

  “And I’d hope no one would stick a knife in me and steal my purse, but sometimes people don’t live up to our expectations,” Zaira shot back.

  “It’s not as simple a question as I wish it were.” I turned to Foss and met his worried gaze. “What would you do, if you had the freedom to go back to Ardence with Aleki, but they told you he could save lives by staying in the Mews a little longer to mix up simple healing potions for the soldiers?”

  Foss frowned. “Healing potions sound like a good thing, I suppose.”

  “And then what if they switched him to mixing poisons to coat musket balls, and didn’t tell you?” Foss winced, but I pressed on. “They might not even mean any harm by it. He’d be under the direction of fellow alchemists, and some of them can get lost in their work and, ah, lose perspective.”

  Foss didn’t reply, but stroked Aleki’s hair, his brow furrowed.

  “Children shouldn’t make instruments of death,” Terika said sharply. Zaira put a hand on her back, and I remembered with a pang that Terika had been forced to make poisons when she’d been abducted by criminals as a child; I could have chosen a better example.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Istrella put in cheerfully. “I rather like making weapons.”

  Marcello caught my eyes and shook his head in affectionate despair. Balos and Terika traded uncomfortable looks.

  “Honestly, if they know we can choose to leave active duty, they’re less likely to order us to do reprehensible things in the first place,” Jerith said. “If they want to keep us, they have to avoid putting us in positions where we’d resign in protest. Even if every one of us chose to stay, it would make a difference.”

  I felt as if I’d finally slid the right key into a stubborn lock. “That’s exactly why I have to try to get this passed now. So that the Empire will fight this war in a way we can live with afterward.”

  Terika nodded firmly. “Submit the version you think you can get passed, then. You can always propose more laws later, right?”

  “I can, and I will,” I promised.

  “When is the vote?” Jerith asked, in an unusually subdued voice.

  “If I submit it to the Assembly tomorrow, the vote will be in a few days.” I swallowed. “I have to admit, I’m a bit nervous.”

  “Grace of Luck go with you,” Foss said, hugging Aleki tight.

  The words settled an ominous weight over my shoulders, like a damp cloak. If what had transpired during her festival was any sign, the Grace of Luck held me in precious little favor.

  After dinner, Marcello and I lingered at the table after the others had left. He adjusted his sling, wincing, his face pale and shadowed with stubble.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked, guilt gnawing at my rib cage like a sullen animal.

  “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “It mostly only hurts when I move, but it’s impossible not to move my ribs. I have to breathe.”

  “I’m sorry. This would never have happened if—”

  “If you didn’t care about me? You have to care about people, Amalia. If you don’t, you wind up like Ruven.” Marcello’s face went somber. “Honestly, don’t worry about me. I’m more concerned about who else Ruven attacked last night.”

  I set my head in my hands. “Yes, there’s that to keep me up all night, too. Has the Mews tested for Ruven’s potion?”

  “Everyone down to the most junior scullery boy. All clear. I hear that a few bodies have turned up in the city, though, and we had a bit of a scare when one of our soldiers didn’t show up for duty this morning.” His expression lightened, then. “But he arrived late, with no potion in his veins and what looks like a brutal hangover. So far as I can tell, the Mews is secure.”

  “That just means Ruven has some other plan we haven’t uncovered.” I pulled on a loose lock of hair. “Why couldn’t this have happened after the vote?”

  “Focus on your law for now. It’s something only you can do, and it’s important.”

  “I can’t let the Falcons down.” I dug my fingers into my legs. “They’re all counting on me to do this, Marcello, and I’m not sure I can. I may not have enough votes.”

  “You won’t let them down.” His voice dropped, then, and he lowered his gaze to the table. “Though I’m afraid that I already have.”

  “You? Let down the Falcons?” I asked incredulously. “You’ve dedicated your entire life to the Falcons.”

  “Have I?” He spread his hand on a tabletop rough with old burns and knife cuts; a couple of pale scars marked his knuckles and the back of his wrist, too. I’d never asked where they came from, assuming they were part of the wages one paid for being a soldier. “I became a Falconer for two reasons. I’ve worked hard to rise through the ranks for those same two reasons.”

  “To protect Istrella, and people like her,” I supplied without hesitation. “To keep the mage-marked safe, and to ensure that the Mews always treats them well.”

  “That’s one,” he agreed. “But there’s always been another.” He lifted his eyes to mine, green and honest as always. But this time, that honesty was clouded with pain. “To prove my father wrong.”

  “Ah.” I let the sound out on a long breath. “I do understand how family can prove to be, shall we say, a complex motivational force.”

  “There’s nothing complicated about it in my case. I don’t want his approval or his love. Not anymore.” Marcello’s fingers curled into a fist. “Not after all the years he told me I was worthless and would never amount to anything. No, I just want him to look at me and know he was wrong. I want it to bother him every time he looks across the lagoon and sees the Mews, and knows that I’m in command of the most powerful military force in Eruvia.” Marcello shook his head. “That’s my second reason. And it’s entirely selfish.”

  I laid my hand over his, gentling his bone-hard knuckles with a touch. “It’s all right to have the occasional uncharitable feeling. Especially if it drives you to do something good.”

  “But that’s the problem.” Marcello started to sigh, then cut it short and flinched at his broken ribs. “Having that personal ambition only helps the Falcons if I’m actually the best possible commander for them. And I’m not.”

  “There’s no one in all the Falconers who cares more about the welfare of the Falcons than you,” I objected.

  “Maybe not. But we don’t need a Falconer in command of the Mews.” He squeezed my hand and leaned across the table, his face intent. “We need a Falcon.”

  “Ah! Yes, I can see that.”

  “I tried everything I could to make the Falcons safe and happy. And I thought I’d succeeded. But now I’ve seen that the Falcons aren’t going to tell me if they’re unhappy.” A wistful note entered Marcello’s voice. “I still want the job, I admit it. But that doesn’t matter. It’s long past time the Falcons had one of their own in charge.”

  “I don’t think there’s any law against it.” I searched my memory. “Falcons can’t have noble titles or sit
in the Assembly, but they can hold military rank.”

  “It’s only custom that keeps them out of high posts, and that’s been fading with time.” Marcello’s eyes shone with excitement. “There’s no reason we couldn’t prepare a Falcon to succeed Colonel Vasante.”

  There was the small matter that the colonel had been grooming Marcello to take her place, and that it had been his dearest ambition since he was fourteen years old. But if that didn’t concern Marcello, I supposed it shouldn’t concern me. “I can help you garner political support for that.”

  His smile kindled a small warmth in my chest. “Pass your law, first. I think you have enough on your plate for now.”

  I thought of everything I had to do over the next few days: finishing the law, submitting it to the Assembly, and the ensuing grand, mad scramble to secure votes. I doubted I’d get much sleep this week.

  “Yes,” I sighed. “Yes, I do.”

  The next few days were a blur of meetings and social events as I strove to sway as many Assembly members as possible before the vote on my Falcon law. I choked down coffee with admirals, hosted influential family heads for wine and crostini at the Cornaro palace, and debated ethics and logic in the salons of the intellectuals. One thousand Assembly members could vote on this law, and by the Graces, I would try to personally convince as many of them as I could in the short time I had.

  An unexpected boon to my cause came when news arrived over the courier lamps that the Lady of Bears and the Serpent Lord appeared to be withdrawing their forces from the Loreician border. I found myself suddenly in high favor, with generals lifting gleeful toasts to my name, Assembly members congratulating me on my diplomatic success when we passed in the halls of the Imperial Palace, and even the doge sending me a note of stiff gratitude.

  My crow message to Kathe that day was simple: Thank you for the delicious eggs. I pictured him chuckling as he read it, and smiled.