Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “This way,” Harriman said.

  He led the way towards the mob, holding his head high. Emily stared at his back, then hastily prepared a dozen more spells as she followed him. A line of guardsmen spotted them a moment later and advanced, driving back the mob to allow them to reach the gates and open the doors. A man stood in the lobby, unable to move. A guard sorcerer caught her eye and winked. He’d clearly frozen the man when he’d tried to enter.

  “I thought it would be better to hold him until you arrived,” the sorcerer said. He was a young man, probably only two or three years older than Emily. “I didn’t want him trying to burn anything.”

  “Good thinking,” Harriman said. “Ah, Callam. Lady Emily, if you would…?”

  Emily blinked in surprise – the frozen man was Callam, Vesperian’s assistant – and then undid the spell with a wave of her hand. Callam fell to the floor, groaning loudly. Harman strode past him, further into the building, while Harriman helped Callam back to his feet. Emily took a moment to check him for spells and found nothing. He didn’t even have a protective amulet.

  “I thought I should be here,” Callam said. “Mr. Harriman, I…”

  “Good,” Harriman said. “Where are the books?”

  “Upstairs,” Callam said. “Do you want to see them?”

  “Yes.” Harriman nodded towards the stairwell. “Shall we go?”

  Emily followed them up the stairs, reaching out with her senses as she walked. There were no wards at all, as far as she could determine…not even a basic anti-theft ward. Had they all died with Vesperian? Or had someone – or something – beaten them to the offices? She glanced into a pair of smaller rooms as they reached the top of the stairs, half-expecting to see another statue waiting for them. But there was nothing. The rooms seemed completely empty.

  She reached out and tapped Callam’s shoulder. “What have you been doing since Vesperian’s death?”

  “Waiting to see who I work for,” Callam said. “I believe Vesperian left most of his property to his son, but there were some…unusual bequests in the will.”

  Emily frowned. “Unusual bequests?”

  “Later,” Harriman said, as they entered an office. “I…”

  His voice trailed away as they took in the scene before them. The office was a mess, pieces of paper and parchment lying everywhere. Emily glanced into the next room and saw a collection of filing cabinets, each one a jumbled mess. A dozen account books sat on a table, filled with entries in spiky handwriting. She wasn’t sure if someone had searched the building, looking for the money, or if Vesperian had simply left behind a tremendous mess. If there was a filing system, she couldn’t see it.

  Her heart sank as she opened one of the account books. Vesperian had ignored all of the basics, making the books incredibly difficult to follow. He’d left notes or initials to represent his investors, but he hadn’t said if they owed him money or he owed them money. Emily picked her way through the pages, trying to determine if there were even any dates. She had no idea how each entry could be matched to a specific note, let alone used to figure out how much the note-holder was entitled to collect. She didn’t even know where to begin.

  “Gods,” Harman breathed.

  Emily turned. Harman had entered the room, his expression falling as he saw the chaos. She hadn’t expected much from him, but…she shook her head, fully understanding his dismay. How many account books were there? And how did they relate to one another? It might take years to sort them out, assuming it was even possible. Vesperian had clearly figured that his memory would be enough to put the pieces together, perhaps with a few prompts from his notes. She’d read books by sorcerers who’d seemed to follow the same principle.

  “He was supposed to have hired accountants,” Harman said. “Where are they?”

  “They didn’t show up for work,” Callam said. “Besides, Vesperian handled these accounts himself.”

  Emily felt despair gnawing at her soul. “Where do we even start?”

  Harman looked at Callam. “Which one of these ledgers is the oldest?”

  “I think it’s stored in the vaults,” Callam said, as Markus and Caleb entered the room. “I’ll go find it, shall I?”

  “A very good idea.” Harriman glanced at Caleb. “Perhaps you could escort him, young man. We don’t want him getting lost along the way.”

  Caleb nodded and followed Callam out of the room.

  “I’ll have my staff here within the hour,” Harman said. “Markus, you and your staff can focus on the notes – who bought them, when and where, for how much. I’ll concentrate on the big investments and whatever assets remain to the company.”

  Emily heard a whistle. She turned and walked over to the window, just in time to see a train puffing out of the station and heading for the bridge. She wondered, grimly, who was running the station. Were they certain Vesperian’s son would take over the family business or were they trying to put a brave face on matters?

  Callam returned, carrying a bunch of dusty books under his arm. “These date back to the start of the original track,” he said. “Anything older would be in Cockatrice.”

  Harriman looked at Emily. “Could you find the records for us?”

  “I can try,” Emily said. She had no idea who’d started the original railway, let alone sold it to Vesperian. Imaiqah would have to find out. “I’ll send a message tonight.”

  Harman opened the first ledger. Dust drifted up from the pages. “We’ll start as soon as my staff arrives,” he said. “Hopefully, we’ll have some answers by the end of the day.”

  Emily enjoyed reading old spellbooks and figuring out the missing steps the ancient sorcerers had used to conceal their secrets, but she had to admit – as the minutes turned into hours – that accountancy was mind-numbingly boring. There was no prospect of danger if she transposed a rune or added the wrong ingredient to an alchemical brew, merely the certainty that a tiny mistake would eventually turn into an accounting disaster. She felt her head starting to pound, even as Harriman, Harman and Markus delved further and further into the files. Vesperian’s filing system made so little sense that Emily thought he’d just shoved paperwork into the files at random. It was a nightmare.

  “He has an ongoing contract with the ironworkers to purchase thousands of tons of iron rails,” Harriman said. “He owes them upwards of five thousand crowns.”

  “And another with the artificers,” Harman added. “They’re paid per engine, I think.”

  “And he’s paid some of them in notes.” Markus’s voice was grim. “I think they won’t be repaid in a hurry.”

  Emily rubbed her forehead. It was starting to look as though, if anything, that they’d underestimated the situation. Vesperian’s Ponzi scheme had grown and grown until it had started to consume everything else. Nearly every industry within the city limits had been selling…something…to the railway, from simple iron rails and steam engines to rope and luxury furnishings. And most of the debts had never been paid. It looked as though she’d been right, when Vesperian had asked her for a loan. He’d been taking out new loans and using them to pay off the older loans.

  And sooner or later he would have run out of money, she thought. He did run out of money.

  She looked up from the account book, caught Caleb’s eye, and nodded to the door. Harman took the book without comment and added it to the set to be studied as Emily and Caleb walked out. The upper floors were crammed with accountants and bankers, each one trying to put together a giant jigsaw puzzle, but the lower floors were deserted. Even the angry mob outside was quieter, somehow…

  “It’s a nightmare,” she said. “It’ll take years to get through it all.”

  She sat down on a chair, resting her head in her hands. Tomorrow, the bill would come due; tomorrow, the city would realize that the bills would not be paid, that the notes weren’t even worth the paper they were printed on. And then…she swallowed, hard. Thousands of people would wake up to the news that they would never get
their money back, no matter what they did. It would set off a chain reaction that could bring the city to its knees.

  Caleb moved up behind her and gently started massaging her shoulders. She looked up at him, feeling a sudden rush of genuine affection. He had to have been bored, watching and waiting while the accountants worked their way through the books…she silently blessed him for staying with her. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d wanted to leave. His fingers reached further down, working out the kinks…

  “I love you,” she said, quietly.

  His fingers seemed to freeze, just for a second. She hadn’t said that to him often, had she? She wasn’t sure she’d said it at all. And yet, she did feel something for him. Their relationship was…stable. Maybe she would never have Imaiqah’s series of romances mixed with break-ups and new romances – or Alassa’s passionate relationship with Jade – but she didn’t want it. She wanted someone who would be there for her, someone she could trust with her life…

  The thought caused her a stab of guilt. She hadn’t trusted him completely, had she?

  “I love you too,” he whispered.

  His lips pressed against the back of her neck. She shivered as he kissed her, then lifted her head so he could kiss her lips. A thrill of excitement ran through her body, mingled with a fear of discovery. This wasn’t Whitehall. There would be consequences if they were caught making out when there was work to be done. She dreaded to think what Caleb’s mother would say if they embarrassed the family. And yet…part of her wanted to throw caution to the winds.

  She stood, turning so she could hug him. “We can’t,” she whispered. “Not here.”

  Caleb nodded in grim understanding. His arms wrapped around her, running down her back…her body thrilled to his touch, even though she knew it was dangerous. She met his eyes, seeing regret clearly written there, then let go of him and stepped back firmly. They couldn’t be caught, not now. Even finding an inn would be problematic. She rubbed her face clean, hoping her lips didn’t look too puffy. They had work to do.

  She jumped as she heard someone shouting at the bottom of the stairs. The racket was so loud that she thought, just for a second, that they had been caught. And then she turned and hurried down the stairs. Someone else – Markus, probably – was already coming down from the top floor. Caleb followed her, his footsteps echoing. The noise grew louder as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “And I’m telling you that I have every right to view his papers,” a young man was shouting, despite an older man trying to restrain him. “He was my father!”

  “And I’m telling you that this building has been sealed,” a guardsman was saying. “Sir, please leave…”

  The younger man looked past him. “Lady Emily,” he called. “Can we talk?”

  Markus clattered down behind Caleb. “Tryon, I’m afraid this building has been sealed.”

  The younger man shot him a nasty glance, then looked at Emily. “Can we talk?”

  “I suppose.” Emily didn’t want Tryon – Tryon Junior, she assumed – interrupting the accountants. “We’ll find a room.”

  “Thank you.” Tryon bowed low, then rose. “This is Vespers, my family’s advocate.”

  Lawyer, Emily translated.

  “There’s a room on the second floor,” Caleb said, turning to lead the way up the stairs. “I’m sure it will be suitable.”

  “Of course,” Tryon said.

  Emily studied Vesperian’s son as they walked up to the meeting room. He was tall, but otherwise he looked like a younger version of his father. And yet, there was a nervous energy about him that would have worried her, if she’d met him five years ago. He looked as though he would lash out at any moment. She reminded herself, firmly, that she had more than enough magic to stop him in his tracks if he tried anything stupid.

  “The will has been read,” Vespers said, once they were seated. He had a plummy voice that put Emily’s teeth on edge. “The controlling interest in Vesperian Industries has been passed to my client. I must therefore ask that you refrain from any further disruption until my client takes possession of his heritage.”

  Emily cursed, mentally. She should have asked Harriman to join them. He was the one with real authority.

  Markus leaned forward. “I have a question,” he said. “Are you filing a legal demand that we stop inspecting the account books?”

  “They’re mine,” Tryon said. “I’m the one who decides what happens to them.”

  “The information contained within the accounts may also be confidential,” Vespers added, smoothly. “My client and his investors would be most displeased if certain details were revealed.”

  Emily exchanged glances with Caleb, then spoke. “Has your client been following the details of his father’s investments?”

  Tryon colored. “My father handled all such matters himself!”

  He stood and started to pace the room, as if a chair couldn’t contain his nervous energy any longer. “I was groomed to succeed him.” He turned to look at Emily. “And I will not allow anyone to get in my way.”

  Markus snorted. “Do you understand the codes your father used in his account books?”

  “There are accountants to handle the details,” Tyron insisted. “That’s what they’re paid to do!”

  “Yes, I suppose there are.” Markus looked at Vespers. “The Guild Council granted the investigation commission wide latitude to open the account books and carry out a complete audit of Vesperian’s finances. As you are no doubt aware, such a commission can only be overruled by the Guild Council itself.”

  “Such a commission is only legal if the city itself is at risk,” Vespers pointed out.

  “The city is at risk,” Emily said, quietly.

  “Nonsense,” Tryon thundered. He glowered at her. “My father loved this city!”

  “The figures are clear,” Markus said. “Tomorrow, your father’s corporation will be expected to pay out upwards of twenty thousand crowns in repayment of investments, not to mention his debts to various industries. So far, we have been unable to uncover anything like enough funds to cover the debts. Your father’s total free cash, as far as we have been able to determine, is somewhere around two thousand crowns – a respectable amount, to be sure, but not enough to cover his debts.”

  “Impossible,” Tryon thundered. “My father was a great man, his dreams destroyed by small-minded fools…”

  “The preliminary report will be presented tomorrow.” Markus’s voice was even. “We may uncover more cash reserves, but I have my doubts. Vesperian could have settled most of his debts if he had the cash.”

  “You’re lying,” Tryon said. His gaze switched to Emily. “This is all your fault, you…”

  Vespers elbowed him. “What my client means to say,” he said smoothly, “is that it was reported that you made considerable investments in the track.”

  “Such reports are lies,” Emily said. “I invested no money.”

  “My father wouldn’t lie,” Tryon said. “I demand…”

  “You can make your demands to the Guild Council,” Markus said. “I’m sure they will make the best possible decision, once you’ve stated your case. Until then, the investigation will continue.”

  “I’ll own your bank by the end of the week,” Tryon snapped. “You’re not an accountant, you’re not even an advocate! The lawsuit will…”

  “I would advise you to grab what you can and flee the city.” Markus’s expression twisted into something that could charitably be called a smile. “But seeing you probably wouldn’t take my advice, I won’t bother.”

  Tyron stamped up to the table and glared at him. “This is an outrage!”

  Markus lifted a hand. Emily felt a spell forming, a moment before it drained back into nothingness. “No,” he said. His voice was so calm that Emily knew he was faking it. “What is an outrage is your father building a financial scheme that will wipe out the savings of countless people who trusted him. Now, you can leave here peacefully
or I’ll turn you both into frogs and dump you in the nearest pond.”

  Vespers rose and stalked out of the room. Tyron gave Markus a nasty look, shot a nastier one at Emily, then followed his lawyer. Emily resisted the urge to hex him in the back as he left – barely. Beside her, Caleb was bristling. She took his hand and squeezed it lightly.

  “He’ll go straight to the council,” Markus predicted. He sounded oddly amused. “But they’ll probably do their best to ignore him.”

  “Good.” Caleb looked at Emily. “How long do we have?”

  Emily glanced at her watch. “Fifteen hours,” she said. “That’s when the notes fall due.”

  Chapter Twenty

  DESPITE CALEB’S TENDER TOUCH – AND A painkilling potion she’d kept in her pouch – Emily’s headache had only grown worse by the end of the day. Vesperian’s account-keeping had been so poor that it was impossible to say with any certainty just what he owned, let alone what it was worth and who needed to be paid. Even Harman’s snide remarks had drained away as he and his staff struggled to figure out the truth. There was no hope of a quick resolution.

  “We could sell everything we know he owns,” she said to Caleb, “but it wouldn’t raise enough money to buy back the notes.”

  “And the richest and most powerful investors would want their money back first,” Caleb pointed out. “Everyone else would be screwed.”

  Emily winced. Caleb was right. The ordinary investors would be lucky if they got anything back. She doubted selling the steam engines and railway lines would bring in much money, not when it would take years for them to repay the investment. The guildmasters might reclaim their money, but everyone else…? She closed her eyes in pain. Everyone who had trusted Vesperian with their life savings was about to lose everything.

  She peered out of the window over the city, wondering what would happen when the notes finally came due. There were already rumors…what would happen when those rumors were confirmed? The crowd outside the office had grown, despite the best efforts of the guardsmen. They hadn’t been able to convince the crowd to disperse, even as night began to fall. Emily didn’t blame them for not pushing harder. The guardsmen were outnumbered fifty to one. And besides, some of them probably had relatives in the crowd.