Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Vesperian shrugged, dismissively. “There are some diplomatic headaches to be sorted out,” he said. “And minor technical bugs.”

  Emily frowned. “Diplomatic headaches?”

  “A number of aristocrats are reluctant to allow us to take the railway through their territory unless we come to terms with them first.” He sounded irked. “Each of them holds out for the best deal he can get, but whenever one of their fellows gets a better deal…they want the same deal for themselves. They just don’t stay bribed.”

  He shrugged. “But we have enough agreements in place to extend the line into Swanhaven and up towards the Iron Hills,” he added. “The profits will be considerable for those who cooperate.”

  Emily wasn’t so sure. “Do either of them have anything to offer your investors?”

  “The railway line will open up promising new investment opportunities,” Vesperian said. He rose and walked over to his desk, returning with a large paper map. “Shipping iron ore, for example, has always been a problem. A working railway line will make it cheaper to ship ore around the country, as well as creating new markets for coal. The mines down south have never been fully developed.”

  He placed the map on the table, inviting Emily to inspect it. The map was practically a work of art, an order of magnitude more detailed than any of the rough maps she’d seen on campaign. She silently applauded the mapmaker, noting how he’d carefully sketched out the distances instead of guessing wildly. It wouldn’t be perfect, of course, but it was good enough to showcase Vesperian’s plans. He’d even added the local boundary lines between the different noble estates.

  Her finger traced the railway lines on the map. The line between Beneficence and Cockatrice was relatively straight. It curved to avoid a couple of hills, but nothing else. The planned line beyond Cockatrice, however, looked as though someone had drawn a jagged line on the map. It swung around widely, adding hundreds of miles to its final length. Some of the alterations made sense – there were places where building a bridge would be difficult – but others seemed to come out of nowhere. The planned track meandered at random.

  “This will add considerably to the final cost,” she mused. “Why does it…?”

  She tapped the line. It was strikingly inefficient.

  “We’ve had problems getting permission to take the line through some of the estates,” Vesperian reminded her. “In the long run, however, it will work in our favor. Clear proof of profit will convince the holdouts to join us, allowing us to expand the network through their territory. We’ll be in a better position to dictate terms when we no longer need them.”

  Emily wasn’t so sure. She’d met enough aristocrats to know they reacted badly to anything that threatened their power. The railway, in and of itself, wasn’t much of a threat. It might even be profitable. But it would introduce a whole new world to the peasants laboring on the farms. Who knew what would happen when peasants could purchase a railway ticket to Beneficence…

  …And never come back.

  It’s hard enough catching runaways who flee to the nearest city, she thought, grimly. She’d had to deal with hundreds of complaints from her neighbors, the last time she’d been in Cockatrice. Too many of their peasants were fleeing into her territory. How much harder will it be if the runaways can cross the entire country?

  It wasn’t the only problem, either. Building a line over relatively flat countryside was simple enough, but cutting through hills and mountains would be considerably harder. Vesperian would have to build bridges and stations, install crossings…everything necessary to run a railway line up to the Iron Hills. And there would be an ongoing demand for maintenance that would eat up the early profits…

  “It’s an impressive scheme,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. It was impressive. But she doubted that profits would materialize as quickly as he suggested. “Why did you want to show it to me?”

  Vesperian leaned forward. “I wanted to give you the opportunity to invest,” he said, confidently. “I can give you notes at a rate of ten-to-fifteen.”

  Emily blinked. Marian had mentioned notes, hadn’t she? But she hadn’t gone into detail.

  “You want me to invest,” she said, slowly.

  “Yes,” Vesperian said. “Unfortunately, such a large project requires a sizable investment.”

  “It would,” Emily agreed.

  She listened as he outlined what he had in mind. Thankfully, listening to some of her tutors had taught her how to follow speakers who weaved backwards and forwards, sometimes changing the subject at random. It was simple enough, at least on first glance. She would invest ten thousand gold crowns, publicly, into Vesperian’s Track. In exchange, she would receive fifteen thousand crowns when the profits started rolling in. Vesperian himself wouldn’t take any profit until his investors had been serviced.

  It sounded good. It sounded too good to be true.

  They might not be able to get the line built, she thought, looking down at the map. The line between Beneficence and Cockatrice served as a proof of concept, but it was also relatively simple. Scaling it up, even pushing the line to Swanhaven, would be expensive. And if they can’t get permission to build the line, everything will be wasted.

  And yet, she knew the railway line was necessary…

  “I will consider it,” she said. “However, before I offer any money, I will require a good look at your accounting books.”

  Vesperian’s face froze, just for a second. “My books?”

  “I need to know just how profitable the first part of the railway has been,” Emily said. It seemed the obvious thing to check. “You do keep figures, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Vesperian said. “The line has been profitable, strikingly profitable.”

  Then you should be willing to prove it, Emily thought.

  She looked back at him. “I am unwilling to invest any money until I know that the line is profitable,” she said, flatly. She wasn’t Bryon – or Imaiqah – but she knew a few things. “I will require a look at the accounting books, a comprehensive cost-benefit analysis for the future expansion and a full list of your investment collateral.”

  Vesperian’s face darkened. “There are details I cannot share,” he said. “My investors…”

  “Should have no objection to anything I demanded,” Emily said. Had Vesperian’s original investors bothered to do any due diligence? “I believe they would be interested in seeing the books too.”

  Vesperian rose, firmly. “Thank you for coming, Lady Emily,” he said. It was clearly a dismissal. “I may not be able to offer so good a deal in future.”

  “I will not change my mind,” Emily said. “I cannot even consider a loan before seeing your books.”

  “As you wish,” Vesperian said. He snapped his fingers. The door opened a moment later, revealing Callam. “My assistant will escort you back to your bank.”

  My bank, Emily thought.

  She looked at him. “How did you know I was here? At the bank, I mean?”

  Vesperian smiled. “That would be telling.”

  Emily sighed. She’d announced herself to the clerk, in front of two guards. Any of them could have tipped off Vesperian. They might not even be breaking their contracts with Markus! Or…perhaps someone had put two and two together and realized that she was staying with Caleb’s family. It wouldn’t be that hard to deduce her identity. Caleb and she hadn’t made any sort of formal announcement, but the magical community probably knew they were dating. The thought made her more uncomfortable than she cared to admit. Her private life was none of their business.

  She nodded to Vesperian, catching a hint of…something…crossing his face. He hid it well, but he clearly hadn’t been brought up in an aristocratic household. He was…fearful? Or worried?

  Perhaps he has reason to worry, she thought.

  She followed Callam out of the house and through the streets. They seemed tenser somehow, although it was hard to put her finger on it. The crowds milled around, small g
roups forming only to break up moments later. She was missing something, she was sure. But what?

  “Lady Emily,” Callam said, breaking into her thoughts. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Railway Street,” Emily said. She was due to meet Caleb and Frieda there. “I hear it’s quite impressive.”

  “It is,” Callam assured her. “I’ll be happy to take you there. It’s Mr. Vesperian’s pride and joy.”

  Chapter Nine

  RAILWAY STREET WAS DOMINATED, UNSURPRISINGLY, BY a steam engine that was only three years old, but already outdated. The first steam engine was in Alexis, on display near Paren’s former workshop; this one, according to the placard underneath it, was the first steam locomotive to be designed in Beneficence. It looked like a giant wooden kettle, mounted on a wooden carriage. Emily suspected it had been outdated long before it had first been driven up the track, but building it had probably taught the local artisans a great deal about how to complete the job.

  She took a moment to admire the sight, then allowed her gaze to wander down the street. A dozen other steam engines stood there, all clearly wooden mock-ups rather than real locomotives. Dozens of children clambered over them, waving to their friends and families as they posed on the tops or jumped down to the street. One of the engines – a little tank engine – had a large smiley face drawn on the front. The children seemed to find it delightful.

  “Emily,” a voice called. She turned to see Caleb, hurrying over to her. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I had an odd invitation.” Emily gave him a quick hug, then drew back. If Vesperian and Callam had identified her, who else might be watching? She’d have to use a glamour if she wanted to go out in public. “Where’s Frieda?”

  “Just visiting the bookstalls,” Caleb said. “I said I’d wait for you here.”

  Emily had to smile. Frieda hadn’t made a bad guess. Emily probably would have visited the bookstalls, if Caleb hadn’t found her first. Frieda had certainly followed Emily through a dozen bookshops and stalls back in Dragon’s Den. She took Caleb’s hand and allowed him to lead her into a side street lined with small stalls. A dozen of them sold newly-printed books. Beyond them, a broadsheet singer offered the latest broadsheets from three different printers.

  “There she is.” Caleb nodded towards one of the larger stalls. “Do you think you should be concerned about her reading matter?”

  “Not as long as she doesn’t take it back to Whitehall,” Emily muttered, as she saw a particularly lurid cover. “She’ll be in trouble if someone catches her with it.”

  She shook her head in annoyance as they walked over to join Frieda. She’d introduced the printing press, knowing it would make books cheaper…yet she hadn’t considered all of the ramifications. Textbooks had become cheaper and more widely distributed, true, but the publishing industry had also boomed. Cheap novels had started to spring up all over the continent, including hundreds – perhaps thousands – of blue books. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by the growing mass of erotic fiction, almost all of it tame compared to some of the fan fiction she’d read, but it was still disconcerting. Blue books were banned at Whitehall, Mountaintop and probably every other magical and mundane school in the world. Somehow, that hadn’t put a dent in their popularity.

  “Emily.” Frieda turned, holding a pair of books tucked under her arms. Emily decided it would be better to pretend she hadn’t seen the cover. She doubted anyone’s body could bend that way. “What happened at the bank?”

  “I’ll tell you over lunch,” Emily said. “Coming?”

  Frieda paid, then jerked a hand towards the furthest store. “You probably should take a look at that one,” she said. “There’s stuff about Zangaria there.”

  Emily frowned. “Stuff?

  “About King Randor, about Alassa…about everyone,” Frieda said. “I glanced at a couple of pamphlets, Emily. They make Alassa out to be like one of the girls from Sapphic Sorceress Sisters. She’s having an affair with her handmaid as well as her husband…”

  She led Emily down the street and up to the stall before Emily could formulate a coherent response. The stall was covered in pamphlets and broadsheets, including a handful of hand-drawn cartoons. She glanced through a couple, then shook her head in disgust. Alassa wasn’t the only one being slandered, depending on the writer. King Randor, Baroness Harkness and Baron Gaunt were accused of all sorts of perversions, while Sir Roger of the Greenwood had apparently been partying in Farrakhan during the war. That, at least, she knew to be a lie. He and his men had played a major role in saving the city from the first enemy attack.

  “They’ve been fighting the battle of the broadsheets for a long time,” Caleb said, quietly. “I don’t think anyone’s managed to ban them from the city.”

  Emily nodded, reluctantly. Journalism in Zangaria – and the rest of the world – was still in its infancy. Truth and justice took a backseat to sensation and titillation. King Randor had probably banned most of these broadsheets – she could pick out a couple of familiar names – but he’d find it impossible to keep them out of his kingdom completely. The printers could pay a couple of kids to distribute them, then pull up stakes and vanish. They’d never be caught.

  “I’ll have to discuss it with Alassa,” she said. She suspected it would be pointless – Alassa couldn’t do anything about it either – but it probably needed to be mentioned. The tensions in Zangaria continued to rise, from what she’d heard. Slanderous suggestions about the Crown Princess’s personal life would only undermine her position when she took the throne. “Do you want to pick a place for lunch?”

  Frieda nodded and led the way back to Railway Street. Emily followed, holding Caleb’s hand and thinking hard. Were there stories about her on the stall? It was hard to imagine anything worse than the songs she’d heard, shortly after defeating Shadye, but she knew her imagination in such matters was limited. The bards had come up with all sorts of explanations for her victory, ranging from the possible to the outrageous. And there was nothing she could do about that, either.

  “Burgers,” Caleb said, as Frieda pointed to the eatery. “Coming?”

  Emily sighed, dismissing her concerns. “Yeah,” she said. “Can you get us a private booth?”

  She followed them into the burger bar, looking around with interest. It could have passed for a fast food restaurant on Earth, if the chairs and tables hadn’t been wooden and the burgers larger and generally more attractive. She reminded herself to be careful what she put on her burger as a waitress led them to a private booth. The local mustard was far stronger than the yellow crap she’d eaten back home.

  “So,” Caleb said, once they were seated and orders had been placed. “What happened?”

  Emily ran her hand through her hair. “I’ve been noticed,” she said. She cast a privacy ward before continuing. “Vesperian himself asked me to visit.”

  Caleb blinked. “And you went alone? Without telling us where you were going?”

  “I beat a necromancer,” Emily reminded him. She knew he had a point, but that didn’t stop his concern being irritating. “And I didn’t know where to find you.”

  “Ouch,” Frieda said. She shrugged. “What did he want?”

  “A loan.” Emily went through the full story as they waited for the burgers. “He wanted ten thousand crowns.”

  Caleb muttered a rude word under his breath. Emily didn’t blame him. The value of money on the Nameless World was a little variable, largely because coinage hadn’t been standardized for long, but ten thousand crowns was an immense sum. She had a feeling it was well over ten million dollars, perhaps much more. Even a well-paid alchemist would be lucky if he made over a hundred crowns in a year.

  Frieda shook her head. “Do you have that sort of money?”

  Emily winced, inwardly. She’d never liked discussing money.

  “He thinks I do,” she said, finally. Vesperian might well be right. Even if she didn’t have ten thousand crowns at hand, she
could – presumably – use her position as Baroness Cockatrice to take out a loan. Hell, Imaiqah would probably send the money if Emily asked for it. “But I asked him for a look at his books, and he refused.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “That’s probably not a good thing.”

  Frieda glanced at him. “Probably?”

  “On one hand, opening his books would help to convince someone to offer him a loan,” Caleb pointed out. “But on the other, it would also reveal the names of his investors…who could then be targeted, if someone wanted to ruin his business. The Accountants Guild was noted for using their inside information to cause trouble, back before the New Learning.”

  Emily nodded, slowly. “If he wants so much money…”

  “That’s probably not a good thing either.” Caleb leaned forward. “Do you remember what Marian said, yesterday?”

  “She was talking about notes,” Emily recalled. A thought struck her. “Vesperian offered me fifteen for ten.”

  Caleb met her eyes. “You wouldn’t be the first person to be offered such a good deal,” he said. “The price of notes has been going up and up…”

  “And it will come down,” Emily finished.

  Frieda held up a hand. “Notes?”

  Emily and Caleb exchanged glances. “Vesperian has been selling promissory notes to everyone with the money to buy them,” he said. “He started out by offering eleven for ten, from what I heard, but the rate has been going up over the last few months. People have even been exchanging the notes or selling them on.”

  “Shares,” Emily muttered.

  She shook her head in disbelief. It sounded like a recipe for trouble.

  “I don’t understand,” Frieda said. “What does it mean?”

  “Suppose I loan you ten crowns,” Emily said. “We set the repayment rate at fifteen-to-ten, with a due date of…well, next month. You have to pay me fifteen crowns and, if you don’t, I have the right to claim something of yours.”

  “I don’t think I have anything that’s worth fifteen crowns,” Frieda mused.