The Princess in the Tower
	
	(Schooled in Magic XV)

	Christopher G. Nuttall

	

	

	

The Princess in the Tower
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Christopher G. Nuttall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

Contents
Prologue I
Prologue II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
About the author
Excerpt

Prologue I
 
Alassa cursed as she jabbed the needle into her finger. Again.
It wasn’t particularly ladylike to swear, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t the kind of person who liked being confined to a single suite, no matter how luxurious. She wanted to take her horse out for a ride or practice her magic or share a bed with her husband, not waste her time sewing...she’d never had the talent for needlework, no matter how many governesses had tried to train her in the genteel arts. 
She eyed her work for a long moment, then tossed it aside and began to pace the suite. It had everything she could reasonably want, except windows and freedom. The lights brightened and dimmed randomly, leaving her unsure just how long she’d spent in the suite. Her body didn’t appear to have changed that much, as far as she could tell, but without magic it was hard to be sure how well the pregnancy was progressing, if it was progressing at all. She was all too aware that her family found it hard to have children. The mere fact that it had taken her so long to conceive, even with a husband who wasn’t remotely related to her, was proof that the pregnancy wouldn’t be easy.
It has to be done, she thought, resting her hand on her abdomen. The child will be the next monarch of Zangaria.
A wave of despair crashed over her as she lay back in her bed. She’d gambled–she’d risked everything for her friend–and she’d lost. Her father had given her an opportunity to prove that she would defy him, that she would turn against him, and–like a silly little girl–she’d taken it. And yet, no matter how many times she second-guessed herself, she knew she’d had no choice. Imaiqah–one of her two closest friends–was condemned by the mere fact of being related to a traitor, a man who’d betrayed the king. Alassa knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the death warrant was nothing more than a formality. She’d had to move to save Imaiqah before it was too late. And she’d failed...
Jade was out there, somewhere. She clung to the thought, even though she had no way to know if he’d received her message. Mouse might have been caught, when she slipped out of the castle and into the town...or she might have betrayed her mistress and taken her message straight to the king. And if Jade hadn’t received the message...? He’d be suspicious, wouldn’t he? She’d made a point of chatting with him via parchment every day they’d spent apart. He might sneak back into the kingdom rather than ride up the High Street, sure of a hero’s welcome. She hoped he would have the sense to be careful–his father-in-law wouldn’t hesitate to have him executed if he fell into the king’s hands–and bring help. He’d need a great deal of assistance if he wanted to save his wife.
And his child from being raised by the king, Alassa thought. She didn’t think her father would have her executed, but he’d certainly send her into comfortable confinement shortly after she’d given birth. Boy or girl, her child would be the next legitimate ruler. He’ll take the child and raise him in his own image.
She stared up at the ceiling, battling despair. Imaiqah might have already been executed, now that she’d served her role. Sir William should have been safe–he’d been following her orders–but he might have been sent into exile. Not knowing was worse than anything. She’d tried asking her keeper about her friends and servants, but the wretched woman had refused to be drawn on the matter. Alassa, it seemed, was to be kept in a perpetual state of ignorance. Her letters to her mother and father had never been returned. She didn’t even know precisely how long she’d been a prisoner.
The door opened. Alassa tensed automatically, then told herself to relax as a maid walked into the suite. There was no point in trying to fight. She knew from bitter experience that the suite’s wards would immobilize her–in the most humiliating manner–if she tried to attack the maids. She thought she could break through the wards, if she had her magic, but her keeper had been very careful. She’d been forced to drink potions to keep her magic suppressed every day.
She glared at the maid as the young woman placed the tray on the bedside table, then curtseyed. She wanted the girl to flinch, even though it was unmannerly of her. But the maid showed no reaction, save for pointing a finger at a glass. Alassa grimaced as she reached for it, knowing that–again–there was no choice. If she didn’t drink the potion willingly, she’d be forced to drink anyway. She’d had that lesson hammered into her too.
“Very good, Your Highness,” the maid said, as Alassa swallowed the potion in one gulp. “I will be back for the tray when you’ve finished your meal.”
Alassa scowled at her retreating back, taking a drink of mead to wash away the taste of the potion. It tasted fundamentally wrong. She’d tried a few tricks, when she’d started, to make it look as though she’d drunk the potion, but nothing had worked. It was clear proof, as if she’d needed any, that she was under constant observation. The wards would allow their mistress to spy on her captive at any moment if she wished. They might even be clever enough to alert her if Alassa did something dangerous.
Damn it, Alassa thought.
The food was good, but she could only pick at it–listlessly–as she sat back on her bed. She was trapped, her body and brain already turning to mush. The servants were practically treating her like a baby, someone who couldn’t even get dressed on her own. Whitehall had taught her that she didn’t need servants to dress herself, but now...it was hard to muster the energy to do anything. She couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the potion she’d been fed than she thought. She’d always been an energetic girl.
But not for long, if I don’t get out of here soon, she thought. She could practically feel herself wasting away as her world shrank to the suite’s four walls. Jade...where are you?
Prologue II

There was a small army of guards on the streets.
Sir Roger of the Greenwood kept his face under tight control as his horse cantered up the High Street, his guardsmen following at a distance. He hadn’t expected cheering crowds–it wasn’t as if he’d won a great victory in the last six months–but the sullen atmosphere pervading the city was worrying. There was hardly anyone on the city’s streets, save for the guards. The shops were open, but deserted; the temples were open, yet few people seemed to be going to pray. Alexis seemed to be holding its collective breath, waiting for something to happen. 
Perhaps something has already happened, he thought, grimly. He’d heard hundreds of rumors, but each one had been crazier than the last. It feels as if we’re about to go to war.
A twinge of unease ran down his spine as he cantered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard, the amulet around his neck growing warm as it sensed the wards surrounding the castle. He had no magic himself–and he didn’t entirely trust those who did–but he took it for granted. King Randor appeared to have strengthened his defenses, physical and magical, more than ever before. There were hundreds of guards within eyeshot, some of them watching him as though they thought him a potential threat. Roger’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t fool enough to think the guards would respect his rank if the king had ordered them to be suspicious of everyone who entered the castle.
He jumped off his horse as he saw a familiar–and unwelcome–face making its way towards him. Viscount Nightingale, Master of the King’s Bedchamber... somehow, slimier than ever before. The only thing that kept him alive, Roger knew, was the king’s favor, a favor that would inevitably be lost one day. The bastard had so many enemies that the only real question was which one of them would get to him first.
“Sir Roger,” Nightingale said. “The king commands your immediate presence.”
Roger looked down at his sweaty clothes, then shrugged. There was no hurry, as far as he knew, but the king’s orders were not to be disobeyed. If he wanted Roger’s urgent presence–even a Roger smelling of sweat, mud and horse–he’d get it. It was possible, he supposed, that Nightingale had set out to embarrass him, but it wasn’t likely. Abusing the king’s authority would be a good way to get his head on the chopping block. Nightingale knew better than to risk alienating his protector for nothing more than snide amusement.
He passed the horse’s reins to a young man from the stables, then followed Nightingale into the castle and through a dizzying series of security checks. The guards frisked him thoroughly, removing his sword and both of his daggers before letting him into the king’s antechamber. Roger felt a flicker of humiliation at the search, knowing that only his relatively low birth allowed the king to risk treating him so poorly. He wouldn’t have risked searching a baron so thoroughly. But then, it would be a rare baron who was allowed a private audience with the king.
Nightingale indicated the door, his posture indicating that Roger should walk through alone. Roger bit down several cutting remarks–there was nothing to be gained by making an enemy of a man who had the king’s ear–then walked through into the king’s audience chamber. It felt cold, despite a roaring fire in the grate. The king himself sat on his throne, his face so impassive that it could have been carved from stone. There was no sign of the Crown Princess or her husband.
“Your Majesty,” Roger said, taking off his hat as he went down on one knee. “It is a great honor to be...”
“You may stand and face Us,” King Randor said, cutting off the flattery. “We have questions for you.”
Roger stood, carefully. “I am at your service, Your Majesty.”
He studied the king for a long moment. Randor had always been a powerful man–the tales of his martial exploits hadn’t been exaggerated–but now he looked...old. There were streaks of grey in his bushy brown beard. And yet, he wore a sword–it looked to be a charmed blade–at his belt, as well as a suit of golden armor. The runes carved into the gold would make it almost invulnerable to brute force. Randor was clearly expecting attack.
“You opened correspondence with Lady Imaiqah,” Randor said. “Did you come to any...agreement with her?”
Roger blinked. The king had urged him to open communications with Lady Imaiqah, with a view to getting married at some point in the future...clearly, the king was shifting away from that version of events. No doubt the politically-correct version wouldn’t mention the king at all. He’d been unsure how best to proceed when it came to courting a common-born noblewoman who was also a sorceress and close friends with two of the most powerful and dangerous people in the kingdom. No sorceress would accept the role of a traditional noble-born wife.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said, carefully. “We have yet to formally meet.”
The king studied him for a long moment. “The Lady Imaiqah is currently in the Tower,” he said. He didn’t have to say which tower. “Her father was responsible for the attack on Our daughter, on her wedding day.”
“Your Majesty,” Roger said. He was torn between defending Imaiqah’s honor and backing away from her as quickly as possible. There was no way they could get married now. A traitor’s kin were automatically sentenced to death, just for existing. Traitors had to know their families would pay the price if they gambled and lost. “I had no idea.”
“Nor did We,” the king said. “Lady Emily, it seems, was the only one who knew until recently.”
Roger swallowed, hard. “Lady Emily?”
“Yes,” the king said. “She knew and she said nothing.”
He changed the subject with dizzying speed. “How stand the regiments?”
“The first four regiments of musketmen are ready to deploy, Your Majesty.” Roger was finding it hard to think clearly. “I believe the remaining six regiments require more seasoning.”
“We are surrounded by enemies, Sir Roger,” King Randor said. It was hard to tell if he was speaking of the entire kingdom or using the Royal We. “Your regiments may be all that stands between Us and civil war.”
Roger bowed his head. He was a very junior nobleman–and he came from common-born stock–but he’d heard the rumors. The remaining barons were readying themselves for one final joust with the king, while the merchants and peasants were intent on claiming a share of power for themselves. There were stories of taxmen disappearing in the night, of entire communities that slaughtered the king’s inspectors and then fled into the wilderness...the entire kingdom was on a knife edge. And other stories, stories that were completely unbelievable. The war could not be long delayed.
He looked up, meeting the king’s eyes. King Randor was his patron; he’d been his patron since the day he joined the army. He would no more betray his monarch than he’d cut off his manhood. And the king knew it too. He would not have entrusted the musketmen to Roger if he’d had the slightest doubt of Roger’s loyalty. An unscrupulous man could do a great deal of damage with ten regiments loyal to him.
“It is my pleasure to serve, Your Majesty,” he said. “What do you wish of me?”
“Bring your regiments to Alexis,” King Randor said. “And make preparations to move against the barons.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Roger said.
“We will consider the matter of your marriage more fully at a later date,” King Randor added, coolly. “There will be many available heiresses after the campaign is concluded.”
Roger nodded. The king would distribute the heiresses–and their lands–as spoils of war, sharing them with his supporters. No one, least of all the monarch, would care what the women thought about it. He allowed himself a moment of hope–a good match would render his position effectively impregnable–and then dismissed it. He’d have to wait and see what the king was prepared to offer him.
And hope the king survives long enough to reward me, he reminded himself.
“I thank you, Your Majesty,” he said.
“You may go,” King Randor said.
Roger bowed. “I am at your service, Your Majesty.” He glanced around the empty room. Where was the Crown Princess? And her husband? “I live to serve.”
“Exactly,” King Randor said. “And do not forget it.”
Chapter One

“Emily?”
Emily jerked awake, her eyes snapping open as she brought one hand up in a casting pose. Someone was close to her, far too close to her...she lowered her hand as she remembered, with a flicker of irritation, just where she was. Cat knelt in front of her, his face grim. Behind him, at the front of the covered wagon, Jade was pulling the horses to a stop. Her body ached as she forced herself to sit up. The stories of settlers driving into the Wild West had somehow managed to miss just how uncomfortable it was to ride in the back of a cart.
“Cat,” she managed. She’d slept for...how long? It didn’t look any dimmer outside, so it probably hadn’t been more than an hour or two. “What’s happening?”
Cat stood and held out a hand. “I think you’d better come look at this. It’s not good news.”
Emily took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. He’d shaved his hair, save for a single blonde forelock, and dressed in leathers. A sword, a knife and a small wand hung at his belt. It marked him as a mercenary, a sellsword of no fixed abode, but it still felt odd to look at him. She didn’t think the mercenary look suited him–or Jade, for that matter. Both boys–men, really–looked unsettlingly violent.
But at least they don’t look like a Prince Consort and a Combat Sorcerer, she thought, stumbling towards the front of the wagon. She remembered her own disguise and scowled. Or a kept woman, for that matter.
She peered into the bright sunlight, one hand covering her eyes. Jade had stopped beside a copse of trees, planted to mark the boundaries between one set of common-held lands and the next. A set of bodies hung from the trees; their throats were slashed, blood staining their clothes and pooling on the ground. Flies buzzed, their hum somehow ominous in the warm air. The wind shifted, blowing the stench towards them. Emily had to fight not to cover her nose as the smell of decaying bodies washed over the wagon. The bodies had clearly been dead for days.
“Tax farmers, at a guess,” Cat said, from behind her. His voice was very calm. “Or perhaps the local noble’s functionaries, plotting to enclose the fields and turn the peasants into serfs.”
He nudged Jade. “I thought you were meant to be doing something about this.”
“Very few complaints ever reach the king,” Jade said, tartly. “And when they do, you can rest assured that he always rules in favor of the nobleman.”
“And so the commoners take matters into their own hands.” Cat waved a hand towards the bodies. “Who do you think they work for?”
Emily shrugged. The bodies wore a lord’s colors and badge, but she didn’t recognize the livery. Yellow and black, with gold trim...it was probably a middle-ranking nobleman. She didn’t want to go any closer to the bodies, even though it was possible one of them was carrying something that might give her useful intelligence. The smell alone was off-putting, but the prospect of the murderers having booby-trapped the bodies was worse. Sergeant Miles had told her, more than once, that peasant uprisings were always savage. The peasants knew little of the laws of war and cared less. Besides, it wasn’t as if they could expect any mercy either.
She looked away, her eyes sweeping over the checkerboard fields. They would be held in common, if she recognized the signs correctly; an entire village of peasants would work them collectively, giving half of their crop to their local nobility and keeping the rest for themselves. Tiny canals ran between the fields, so dry that only a trickle of water remained. The fields themselves looked abandoned, save for a handful of scarecrows. She was no expert, but it didn’t look as though they were being regularly tended. The peasants seemed to have vanished, leaving the fields behind.
They might not have had a choice, she thought, looking back at the hanging bodies. If the lord was planning to enclose the fields...
Her heart clenched. The nobility wanted to enclose the fields, claiming that larger fields would produce more crops. And they were right, she supposed. She’d seen the figures when it had been proposed at Cockatrice. It would be more efficient. But it would also turn the peasants into serfs, destroying what little freedoms they had left. She’d banned the practice in Cockatrice. Other aristocrats were far less concerned about the rights and freedoms of their tenants, let alone their traditional way of life.
“We’d better be going.” Jade cracked the whip and the horses started to move. “I don’t want to be around when someone comes to take down the bodies.”
Emily nodded in agreement as she settled back on the hard, wooden seat. The air outside was foul, but it was better than trying to sleep in the back of the wagon. She checked her headscarf, just to be sure her hair was still concealed, then looked down at the loose shirt and trousers she wore. She looked like a camp follower, a woman who served two mercenaries in exchange for protection...part of her found it humiliating, if only because Jade and Cat would have to treat her as a servant when they met other travelers, but she had to admit it was a good disguise. Between the headscarf, the clothes, and the dust on her skin, it was unlikely that anyone would draw a connection between her and the Necromancer’s Bane.
“We’re not moving fast enough,” Jade muttered. “We’re not going to be in Alexis for another week.”
“It can’t be helped,” Cat said, from where he was sitting in the back. “Unless you want to change your mind and teleport...”
Jade made a rude sound, but Emily didn’t miss the worry and desperation in his voice. “You know better than that,” he said. “We can’t risk being detected.”
Emily nodded, remembering the day they’d sat down in Dragon’s Den and hashed out the possibilities. King Randor, whatever else could be said about him, was far from stupid...and he had magicians in his service. Teleporting into Alexis–or even into the countryside near the city–risked detection, bringing the king’s army down on their heads. And while they could teleport into Beneficence, Emily had checked with Markus and he’d told her that anyone who crossed the bridge into Cockatrice was subjected to a careful examination. King Randor lacked the tools to carry out a real check–computers and databases were far in the Nameless World’s future–but his guards would know to watch for any inconsistencies. Or maybe they just used truth spells. 
It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take.
“We’ll be there in time,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture of affection she would never have normally allowed herself. But she trusted Jade. “The king won’t hurt Alassa until she gives birth.”
“Hah,” Jade muttered. “He has a bastard son, you know.”
Emily looked away. Jade was right. Randor’s son might be a bastard–and the mother married to someone else–but the king wouldn’t have any difficulty proving that he’d fathered the child. And, in the absence of any fully-legitimate heir, he could probably convince the nobility to accept the child as his successor. Enough noblemen had been concerned about the prospect of a Ruling Queen–and about Alassa taking the throne–to make it hard for anyone to dissent.
“He won’t risk hurting a woman,” Cat said. “The nobility wouldn’t stand for it.”
Emily glanced into the darkened rear. “They have no qualms about beating and raping and even killing their maidservants,” she pointed out, sharply. “I’ve seen fathers complaining about the treatment of their daughters while beating their wives bloody. Why would they question the king?”
“Because Alassa is a noblewoman, even if she is removed from the line of succession,” Cat pointed out. He ignored Jade’s snort. “They’ll be reluctant to condone the king abusing a noblewoman, whoever she is. They like to think of themselves as chivalrous.”
Emily rolled her eyes at him. On the face of it, Cat was right; knights and noblemen did like to think of themselves as the protectors of the gentler sex. And yet, she couldn’t help noticing that their chivalrous conduct had the unintentional effect of making noblewomen practically helpless. They couldn’t protect themselves, they couldn’t speak for themselves, they couldn’t even dress themselves. Everything was done for them by their small army of servants. As children, they were little more than dress-up dolls; as adults, they were expected to have babies–after their marriage was arranged for them–and nothing else. Legally, they were effectively children–and property.
It does have some advantages, she conceded. It was vanishingly rare for a noblewoman to be executed, whatever the crime. Hell, she’d heard of noblewomen deliberately running up vast debts which their husbands were legally liable to pay. But I would find it maddening.
“They may make an exception in Alassa’s case,” she said, finally. Alassa had been the Crown Princess...she still was, as far as everyone knew. She was hardly some decorative bauble of a noblewoman. Her magic alone made her dangerous to men who thought that women simply couldn’t make the hard decisions. “And they certainly will in Imaiqah’s.”
Her heart clenched again. King Randor hadn’t just arrested Alassa, if Jade’s source was correct. He’d arrested Imaiqah as well. Emily didn’t know why he’d arrested both of her best friends, but she had a very nasty idea. Paren–Imaiqah’s father–had betrayed his monarch, which meant a certain death sentence for his entire family. None of the nobility would have any qualms about arresting a common-born sorceress.
And we don’t even know if they’re still alive or not, she thought. Jade was sure that Alassa was still alive, but there was no way to be confident. Their marriage bond wasn’t as intense as Melissa and Markus’s. And there is definitely no way to be sure about Imaiqah.
“She is a noblewoman,” Cat said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. She knew that wasn’t necessarily true. She needed to have a talk with Jade and Cat, sooner rather than later, about what Paren had done. Jade wouldn’t be happy when he heard the truth, even though he liked Imaiqah. He’d accuse Emily of ignoring a time bomb that had blown up in Alassa’s face. And he wouldn’t be wrong, either.
She leaned her shoulder against the wooden railing and watched the countryside go by. A handful of scattered farmhouses and peasant hovels came briefly into view, half-hidden in the fields, but they looked deserted. Two were little more than burned-out shells, their occupants either dead or long gone. There was no sign of the sheep, pigs or chickens that most farmhouses would keep as a matter of course. She shuddered as she realized yet again that Zangaria was on the brink of war. The tensions had been rising for years, but now...now they were on the verge of exploding into violence.
No, she told herself. The violence has already started.
Emily heard snoring from behind her and smiled, despite herself. Cat had the gift of being able to sleep whenever and wherever he wanted, a gift Emily rather wished she’d managed to master. Sergeant Miles had urged her to try, but she simply hadn’t had the time. Too much had happened in the last few months for her to concentrate on developing her magic. She should be back at Whitehall...
She felt a bitter pang, mingled with the grim understanding that she’d finally outgrown the school. Whitehall would always feel like home, she thought, and maybe one day she’d be back, but she’d never be a pupil again. She had a life outside the school now. And it hadn’t been the same since Grandmaster Hasdrubal had died. Grandmaster Gordian simply wasn’t his equal. She hoped he’d keep his side of the bargain and look after Frieda. There was no way she could visit her younger friend while she was trying to rescue Alassa and Imaiqah.
At least I got a chance to say goodbye, she thought. To her and to Lady Barb.
The sun was slowly starting to set as a small town came into view. Jade guided the cart down the road, eyes flickering from side to side as he watched for signs of trouble. It wasn’t uncommon for footpads to jump carts and wagons when the drivers thought they were safe, although Emily doubted they’d mess with a pair of sellswords. Too much chance of getting killed for too little reward. And if the footpads realized they were attacking three magicians instead...
We need to keep our magic concealed, she reminded herself. The word was out. King Randor was hiring–and sometimes conscripting–every magic-user in his kingdom. Or we’ll find ourselves enlisted in his magic corps.
Her eyes narrowed as the town came closer. It was surrounded by a wooden palisade, a sign that it was a free town, but someone had been piling up earth to make it stronger. Emily didn’t think it would keep out a determined attack, let alone a magician, yet it might just deter bandits. Law and order had to be breaking down. Free or not, a town wasn’t supposed to build defenses that might actually keep the local lord from asserting his authority. The mere fact that the townspeople had managed to get away with it was worrying.
“Watch my back,” Jade muttered, as he pulled the wagon to a halt. A set of guards were walking towards them, looking nervous. Emily had seen enough fighting men to know that the guards didn’t have any real training at all. Their weapons were probably more dangerous to their wielders than the enemy. “Cat, get up!”
Emily heard Cat standing behind her, but she didn’t look back. Jade jumped down from the wagon, careful to keep his empty hands in view, and walked towards the guards. Emily kept a wary eye on him, feeling a flicker of annoyance at how the guards barely glanced at her before dismissing her as unimportant. She knew she should be grateful to be ignored, particularly if Randor had any idea that she was accompanying Jade, but still...
“They’re taking their time,” Cat whispered. “What are they doing?”
“No idea,” Emily whispered back. It wasn’t uncommon for gates to be firmly closed after dark and not opened again until morning, no matter who demanded entry, but it was barely twilight. “Talking, it seems.”
Jade turned and hurried back to the wagon. “We’re not allowed in the town,” he said flatly, as he scrambled back onto the seat. “But there’s an inn on the far side, outside the walls. They’re playing host to a great many sellswords.”
“You’d think they’d want to hire us,” Cat said. “Did you see the way that idiot was holding his sword?”
“He came pretty close to unmanning himself.” Jade cracked the whip and the horses started to move, circling the palisade. “But we don’t want employment here, do we?”
“They wouldn’t want sellswords in their town at all, if it could be avoided,” Emily pointed out. “We’re about as welcome as wolves amidst the flock.”
She shook her head. Their cover story made sense. King Randor had put out a call for sellswords, as had most of the nobility. But it carried its own risks. Mercenaries were not loved, even during wartime. They were regarded as locusts; no, worse than locusts. She’d heard stories of sellswords being caught away from their bands and being brutally murdered by peasants who wanted to strike back at their unwanted guests. Jade had been insistent that they find a place to stay every night, even though it meant slowing their journey. The risk of being attacked if they camped in the open was too great.
“I took a look through the gate while they were talking,” Jade said. “I didn’t see any young men, save for a cripple. They were all old.”
“Conscripted,” Cat said.
“Or they’ve taken to the hills,” Jade said. He pointed towards the rolling tree-covered hills in the distance. They were part of the Royal Forest, if the map was to be believed, and technically forbidden to peasants, but the locals had never paid much attention to unenforceable laws when their livelihoods were at stake. “You could hide and feed an entire army in there if you wanted.”
Emily shrugged. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Zangaria was going to explode. All the grievances that had been neglected for decades, perhaps centuries, were about to tear the entire country apart. It wouldn’t be long before the urge to start settling grudges turned into a demand for wholesale reform...
“There’s the inn.” Jade pointed to a long wooden building, positioned temptingly beside the Royal Road. A small statue holding a lantern stood in front, inviting passing travelers to rest their weary heads in a proper bed; behind, she could see–and smell–the stables. “Shall we go see if they have a room for us?”
“Hopefully, one without too many tiny visitors,” Emily said. She’d never stayed in an inn that hadn’t had everything from rodents to insects running around. The food would need to be tested carefully or they’d be laid up for days with stomach cramps. “Or will that cost extra?”
“Probably,” Jade said. “But we’re only going to be staying there for one night.”
“We should be able to get some news too,” Cat pointed out. “Right now, we don’t know enough to make a plan.”
“True,” Emily agreed. The inn didn’t look very inviting, but they were short of choices. It was probably too much to hope for a bath, or anything remotely resembling a shower. There would be buckets of cold water for washing and chamberpots under the bed. And that was if they were lucky. “Let’s go, shall we?”
Chapter Two

“Busy place,” Cat commented, as they drove up the driveway. “I can hear the drunken singing from here.”
Emily nodded, tersely. The inn seemed to grow larger with every passing second, large enough to pass for a hotel on Earth. Someone had paved the drive with cobblestones–she was amused to note that they’d paid more attention to their drive than the Royal Road–but it was clear that hundreds of horses and carts had passed through in the last few days. The sound of music–and glasses clinking–was growing louder too. She felt a lump form in her stomach as she looked up at the forbidding building. It felt...unsafe.
Stout heart, she told herself, as Jade pulled the wagon to a stop. You’ve been in worse places.
“Ho!” She looked up and saw a young boy, around ten years old, running towards them. “I...welcome!”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. The boy was young, wearing a cap, a brown jerkin and loose trousers that seemed to be a size or two too big for him. No, for her. The disguise was a good one–and Emily probably wouldn’t have seen through it if she hadn’t had plenty of experience with women dressing as men–but it wasn’t good enough. The clothes were just a little too loose for peasant garments that could be resized on the fly. She wondered, as the girl reached the cart and bowed deeply, if Jade or Cat had seen through it too. She’d known plenty of people who’d see someone dressed as a boy and assume ‘he’ was a boy.
“Ho,” the greeter said, again. She wouldn’t be able to pass for a boy for much longer, not if her voice didn’t grow deeper. “Rooms for three?”
“Yes,” Jade said. He jumped down to the cobblestones and motioned for Cat to pass him the trunk. “And a place in the stables for our horse and wagon.”
The girl bowed, again. “My mother will handle the details inside,” she said, pointing to the door. “I’ll take your horses to the back now.”
Emily watched her scramble up with all the ease of youth, feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Children in the Nameless World were different. They were expected to make themselves useful from a very early age. It still felt odd to see children with adult responsibilities, but she had to admit it was the making of them. The kind of psychosis that had been all too common back home, where children were not allowed to grow up until the appointed time, was rarely seen on the Nameless World.
But she also knew why the girl was wearing male guise. It would keep her safe in a world full of threats. Hundreds of people would be passing through the inn every day and some of them would be dangerous. A young girl might look vulnerable...she felt sick at the very thought. The Nameless World had its downsides too. Someone with enough rank or wealth or power–or magic–could get away with anything. 
She scrambled down to the cobblestones, slung one of the bags over her shoulders and followed the men to the main entrance. A handful of older men were sitting outside, swapping gossip and smoking something that smelled sickly-sweet. Emily had no idea what it was, but she doubted it was doing their lungs any good. Their eyes flickered over her as she walked past, then looked away. She wasn’t remotely surprised to see, as they walked into the inn, that a middle-aged woman was sitting behind the table. Greeting the guests was woman’s work. The flintlock lying on her desk, on the other hand, was a considerable surprise. She’d known handheld guns were starting to spread across Zangaria–everyone wanted one, no matter what the king said–but she wouldn’t have expected to find one here.
And too many people won’t know what it is, she thought, wryly. A weapon wouldn’t deter anyone if they didn’t realize it was a weapon. Or maybe they’ll believe it has supernatural powers.
Jade did the talking. “We want a single room for the three of us, with the proper facilities.”
The woman looked at Emily with a hint of disdain before frowning up at the blackboard behind her. Emily felt her cheeks heat. Passing for a kept woman was embarrassing, even though she was fairly sure no one would be able to penetrate her disguise. Even if they figured out that she wasn’t some peasant girl who’d run off in search of adventure–or to escape an unwanted marriage–they’d never guess the truth. But it also meant dealing with society’s contempt. Prostitutes were right at the bottom. The innkeeper would feel free to look down on her.
She turned away, allowing her eyes to roam around the hallway. It was dark, illuminated only by a handful of flickering lanterns. Someone had placed them very carefully, ensuring that the innkeeper could see her guests while making it harder for the guests to see her. The walls were cloaked in shadow, probably hiding the remnants of previous guests as well as the dirt and grime that was omnipresent in the Nameless World. Music echoed down one corridor: a man bellowing out a bawdy ballad, accompanied by something that sounded vaguely like a guitar. The lyrics were explicit enough to make her cringe.
The innkeeper coughed, loudly. “Women are to eat in the upper hall,” she said, stiffly. “Men are to eat in the lower floor.”
Emily nodded, keeping her face impassive. It was a wise precaution. The inn appeared to be bursting with guests, most of whom would probably be mercenaries. Better to try to keep men and women separate than risk a fight breaking out over one of the girls. She shifted her bag, then followed Jade and Cat through a low-hanging door and up a narrow flight of wooden stairs. It was so dark that she wanted to cast a night-vision spell. Someone was likely to have an accident if they had to sneak down in the middle of the night.
And we’re going to have real trouble if there’s a fire, she thought, as they reached the top of the stairs. A pair of heavyset men with swords were standing at the top. Getting everyone out in a hurry will be difficult.
She tensed as she saw Jade’s hand resting on his dagger. Drawing his sword in such a confined space would be difficult. Hell, the inn might have been designed to make fighting difficult. She’d been in castles built to make life harder for anyone trying to fight their way up the stairs. She touched her own dagger, hidden in her sleeve, as the two men looked at them, then stepped aside. Her skin crawled as their eyes wandered over her chest. She was showing nothing, but it didn’t matter. The men hadn’t seen a young woman in far too long.
Her back itched as they made their way down the corridor, careful not to show any sign of fear. Jade and Cat had plenty of experience–she knew she’d never be a swordmaster herself–but fighting without magic was always chancy. The men were mercenaries, judging by their clothing. They had probably fought in wars where the rules of warfare were nothing more than sick jokes. They might well be experienced enough to make up for Jade and Cat’s youth. 
And if we reveal we’re magicians, we will draw too much attention to ourselves, she reminded herself. We must pass unnoticed.
Jade stopped outside a wooden door and inserted a large iron key into the lock. Emily wasn’t remotely impressed. She could have picked that primitive lock with her eyes closed, without magic. The smell of...something...wafted out as the door opened, forcing her to breathe through her mouth. Inside, it was dark and uncomfortably warm. Cat stumbled into the room and opened the shutters. It didn’t look as though anyone had bothered to clean the room before renting it out again.
“It could be worse,” Cat said, as light streamed into the room. “At least we have some air.”
“And we’re trapped, if we need to get out in a hurry,” Jade said, pointing to the iron bars covering the windows. “Are we guests or prisoners?”
“They probably don’t want people running off without paying,” Cat said. “Emily? What do you think?”
Emily looked around the room. Two wooden beds–she rather suspected the innkeeper had thought she would be sharing with one of the men–covered in sheets that looked decidedly unclean. Chamberpots under the bed, as she’d expected; a bucket of water in the corner, clearly an afterthought. The New Learning included plenty of warnings about how diseases spread, and how even something as simple as boiling water or washing one’s hands could keep them from spreading, but not everyone believed it. There were places on the Nameless World–particularly near cities–where drinking the water was a good way to commit suicide. 
“It will have to do,” she said, as she put her bag down. There was no point in complaining about it. The innkeeper had no reason to think they needed a better room, assuming one was available. They might have been given the best room in the inn. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Cat said. He winked at her. “Shall we go down for dinner?”
“We can’t go together,” Jade reminded him. His expression darkened. “I don’t like leaving our stuff here.”
“Put up a very basic ward,” Cat suggested. “We should be able to get away with it.”
Emily had her doubts. No one would think twice about a mercenary carrying a wand, or a handful of protective amulets, but a ward would be far too revealing. If, of course, someone dared try to search the room. A thief would be risking everything if he were caught. No one would bat an eyelid if a would-be thief was killed by his victim. She’d seen mutilated criminals wandering around towns in the past. None of them had any hope of a better life.
“Rig the door, instead,” she suggested. “A charm to keep it closed unless one of us is turning the key should be workable.”
“Good thought,” Jade said. “Give me a moment.”
Emily watched as he set up a handful of tells to alert them if someone managed to enter and search the room anyway, then hurried back down the stairs to the upper hall. It was bigger than she’d expected, given that women wouldn’t be that common on the roads; women crammed the tables, while a grim-faced waitress moved from table to table, taking orders and bringing food from the kitchen. Emily felt her stomach churn–she knew how grimy inn kitchens could be–but there was no alternative. The only consolation was that the men wouldn’t be having anything better.
A middle-aged woman waved to her. “Just passing through?”
“Yes,” Emily said, taking the implied invitation and sitting down. She would have preferred to eat alone, but that wasn’t a possibility either. “We’re going to Alexis.”
“I hear the roads are clogged there,” the woman said. “We’re heading away from Alexis.”
Emily ordered food–rabbit stew and bread–then leaned back in her chair and listened to her dining companions as they talked. Sharing stories and rumors was a tradition, she’d heard, but it wasn’t something she’d done before. The last time she’d been to an inn, it had been with Lady Barb, deep in the Cairngorms. There just hadn’t been enough people traveling to keep the tradition alive. Here, it was different. She said as little as she could as they talked.
“The king is supposed to have locked up the princess,” one woman said, when the conversation turned to politics. She looked to be a merchant’s wife, although she could easily have been the merchant herself. “She’s somewhere in the castle.”
“Rubbish,” another woman said. “She’s dead.”
“Or leading an army against the king,” a third woman said. “The rumors keep growing.”
“I heard she was caught in bed with a footman,” the second woman said. “Or even a maid.”
The women giggled. Emily felt a hot flash of anger on Alassa’s behalf, even as she tried to work out who might be spreading the rumors and why. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard awful stories about Alassa, stories that would make her seem unsuitable for the throne...the mere suggestion that Jade might not have fathered Alassa’s child would call the baby’s legitimacy into question. But there were plenty of paternity spells to make sure the child was truly his...
“Baron Gaillard has been taxing all caravans that pass through his territory,” the merchant woman said. “He’s even been putting the squeeze on the free towns.”
“He isn’t the only one,” the second woman said. Emily had no idea what she did. Her clothes suggested a middle-class life, but they were curiously bland. “Baroness Winter Flower has demanded more taxes too.”
Emily frowned. Alicia? King Randor’s former mistress? Or had her husband taken control of the barony? Lord Burrows wouldn’t have been married off to a baroness if the king hadn’t been sure of his loyalty. Who was really in charge? And why were they raising taxes?
They want a fighting fund, she thought, grimly. And who knows what side they’ll take?
“I hear there’s trouble in Cockatrice,” the merchant woman said. “We were hoping to go there, after visiting Callable.”
“Cockatrice?” Emily leaned forward, interested. “What’s happening there?”
“It depends who you believe,” the merchant woman said. “But most of the stories agree that the king’s man in the castle is shitty.”
“The baroness should go back,” the second woman grumbled. “My husband isn’t going to invest any monies if he doesn’t trust the baron to repay him.”
So your husband is a banker, then, Emily thought. Or a loan shark. 
The third woman looked at Emily. “What is it like, traveling with two sellswords?”
Emily lifted her eyebrows in surprise, then realized the woman must have seen Jade and Cat when they’d walked her down to the hall. Their forelocks made them instantly recognizable as mercenaries. And...she met the woman’s eyes, reading the challenge there. She wanted to put Emily down, to put her right at the bottom of the table hierarchy...Emily almost laughed at just how petty it was. It wasn’t as if any of them were in school.
And if you knew who you were talking to, she thought wryly, you’d throw yourself on the ground so fast you’d crack your head against the stone.
“It’s never boring,” she said, choosing to pretend she wasn’t supposed to be ashamed of herself. Most of the kept women she’d seen in Farrakhan had looked downtrodden, all too aware that they could be replaced at any moment. “And I’ve seen things you would not believe.”
The merchant woman smiled, a little weakly. “Why don’t you tell us about them?”
Emily shrugged and launched into a story about the battles in and around Farrakhan. She had been there, after all. And even if they doubted her, they’d never be able to prove she was lying. Halfway through the story, her meal arrived. She picked at the rabbit stew and bread as she talked, enjoying their attention. It might make them see the world a little differently.
“So you won the war,” the merchant woman said, finally.
That was truer than she knew, Emily reflected. “Yeah,” she said. “And then we were told to move out of the city before the end of the month.”
“Because sellswords are unpopular,” the third woman said. “No one wants you around when there’s no risk of war.”
Emily nodded. No one liked mercenaries, not even the noblemen who hired them. And a mercenary who was badly wounded would be lucky if he received anything in the way of medical attention. Even a chirurgeon would be reluctant to treat a mercenary.
“Which is why you’re going to Alexis,” the banker woman said. “What do you think will happen there?”
“We’ll find work, of course,” Emily said. “I’ll spend my days washing their clothes and shining their swords, then we’ll move on.”
“And they call you Emily,” the merchant woman said.
Emily had to fight to keep the surprise off her face. The woman must have overhead Jade or Cat addressing her by name.
“My name is Millie,” she said. “They just like the sound of Emily.”
“They like the thought of sleeping with the sorceress,” the banker woman said.
Emily didn’t have to fake embarrassment. The cover story would ensure that no one would connect her with the real Emily, but it was still embarrassing. She looked down, allowing them to draw their own conclusions. They’d believe those more than anything Emily might tell them.
The merchant woman sniffed, then changed the subject. Emily listened as she finished her stew, enjoying it more than she wanted to admit. It had taken her a while to get used to eating rabbit, when the sergeants had caught rabbits to feed their students on overnight forced marches, but the meat tasted good. And selling the pelts was apparently a good way for country boys to earn a little money.
She knew she should stay longer and see what other rumors she could pick up, but she suspected it would be useless. No one knew anything for sure. The civil war was about to begin, the civil war was underway, the civil war was already over or never going to happen or...there were just too many contradictory rumors. Instead, she bid her dining companions farewell and left the room. Her thoughts were a muddle. She knew she needed to lie down and sleep.
And wake up tomorrow covered in insect bites, she thought. It had happened before and would no doubt happen again. They’d run out of insect-repelling incense long ago. Surely we could cast a ward against insects.
The inn felt oddly quiet, although she could hear music in the distance. Someone would have hired an entertainer to keep the men quiet, she was sure. It might save the inn from being torn apart if the mercenaries got bored and started a fight. She walked along the wooden corridor, suddenly unsure of the way back to her room...
...And then she heard someone grunt in pain. 
Chapter Three

Emily hesitated, torn between the urge to run forward to investigate and the need to keep her head down. Someone was in trouble, someone needed help...and yet, she didn’t dare draw attention to herself. Getting kicked out of the inn would be a disaster, but...
“Let go of me,” a voice pleaded. A girl’s voice. “Please!”
Emily was moving before her mind had quite caught up. She had an awful feeling she knew what she was about to see, even before she rounded the corner. A man–a mercenary, judging by his hair and leathers–was pushing the young girl Emily had met earlier against the wall, his face so close to hers that he was practically forcing her to kiss him. Emily felt her stomach churn with rage, a rage so strong she had to put solid blocks on her magic to keep from accidentally incinerating the entire inn. How dare he?
He dares because he knows no one will stop him, her thoughts answered. And no one will believe her if she complains.
She slipped the dagger out of her belt and moved forward, as quietly as she could. The man didn’t seem to hear her, too intent on forcing the younger girl into submission. Emily walked up behind him and held her dagger to his throat, barely resisting the urge to butcher him like a hog as he froze. She could do it...but there would be too many questions, too much attention from the local authorities. And if someone had already hired the would-be rapist, he’d have questions too.
“Let go of her,” Emily ordered, sharply. “Now!”
The man seemed to hesitate, just for a second. Emily braced herself, ready to slash his throat if necessary. Sergeant Miles and Lady Barb had warned her, more than once, that some men would sooner die than allow themselves to be dictated to, particularly by a woman. And mercenaries were not known for allowing anyone to push them around. They had a habit of pulling up stakes and leaving if regular payments weren’t forthcoming.
He stepped backwards, dropping his hands to his side. The girl shot Emily a grateful look, then slipped away from the wall and hurried down the corridor. Emily hoped she’d have the sense to stay out of sight for the rest of the evening. The mercenary would be keeping an eye open for her, hoping for a chance to try to rape her again. God knew the girl’s parents wouldn’t be much help. They’d be in worse trouble if they tried to stop him.
She gritted her teeth. What now? She had a knife to his throat, but...if she tried to take it away, he’d have a clear shot at her. And if she used magic...she kicked herself, silently, for not having thought to bring a wand of her own. It would have explained any traces of magic without revealing her power, let alone her true identity. Perhaps if she stunned him, then hastily made a fake wand...the locals probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Or if she...
The mercenary moved, suddenly. One hand caught Emily’s arm and shoved it–and the knife–away from his throat, even as he slammed his other elbow into Emily’s chest. She stumbled back, gasping for breath; her fingers opened, involuntarily, dropping the knife to the floor. She barely heard it as he slammed her into the wall, one hand pressing against her throat. He was going to suffocate her! She reached for her magic desperately, cursing her own mistake, then had a better idea. The virgin blade slipped out of her sleeve and into her palm; she pressed it against his groin, as hard as she could without actually cutting his leathers. He froze, clearly terrified. Emily knew how men like him thought. Losing his manhood was almost worse than losing his life.
“Go away,” Emily ordered. It was hard to speak, even though he’d stopped pressing against her throat. “Now.”
He glared at her. She could smell his breath, so foul that she dreaded to imagine what he might have been eating. His beady eyes were alight with calculation, clearly wondering if he could get the other knife away from her and then...she shuddered at the thought she saw so clearly on his face. She’d have to use magic and that would be far too revealing...
His gaze slipped to the side and froze. Emily blinked in surprise, then risked a glance herself. Cat was standing there, holding his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. The mercenary hesitated, then jumped back and ran down the corridor with commendable speed. Emily didn’t really blame him, even though it was shameful. No one would fault Cat for killing someone who laid hands on his woman.
She took a long breath, then picked up her dagger and slotted it back into her belt. If she’d cut the bastard’s throat...perhaps she should have cut the bastard’s throat. The girl he’d wanted to rape wouldn’t be his last victim, not after what Emily had done to him. If the other mercenaries found out that he’d been threatened by a mere woman, he was going to be a laughingstock. He’d take it out on any woman unlucky enough to cross his path.
“Emily,” Cat said. “What happened?”
“He was going to rape her,” Emily said, numbly. “I had to intervene.”
“I know,” Cat said.
Emily looked at him, surprised. How could he know? He hadn’t seen the girl...no, he had seen the girl. She’d had the presence of mind to fetch him. Emily felt a flicker of admiration, mingled with a grim awareness that the mercenary wouldn’t be the first or last guest to threaten the inn’s staff. It wasn’t as if they were protected...
“She fetched you, then,” she said. “That was good thinking.”
“She told me to hurry,” Cat agreed. “And I don’t blame you.”
They walked back to the room slowly, keeping their hands on their weapons. The room hadn’t been disturbed, as far as Emily could tell, but they had to check everything anyway. It was quite possible that someone had managed to get in without disturbing the charm. Jade hadn’t risked using a powerful spell, knowing that might cause comment too. Who knew what might alert the king’s watchers.
Cat took a lantern from the outside wall, shone it into the room as he opened the door, then used the flame to light the lanterns inside the room. Emily checked the beds automatically, before walking over to the window to peer into the darkness. The night sky was glowing with stars, twinkling high overhead, but the land beyond was lost in shadow. There were no lights, as far as she could see. The inky darkness had consumed everything. A chill ran down her spine, even though she was used to the lack of electric light by now. Most people in the Nameless World never risked going outside after dark.
“Jade’s still downstairs, pretending to drink and swapping lies with the others,” Cat told her, softly. She was all too aware of him coming up behind her. “Did you hear anything useful?”
“Just rumors,” Emily said. The women might not have had much in the way of power, but that didn’t make them stupid. Women and servants had eyes and ears, something that many of the great and good forgot. “I don’t know how much credence to place in them.”
“Every rumor has a kernel of truth.” Cat stood beside her, just close enough for her to feel him without being too close. “But sorting out the truth from the lies is a task for a lifetime.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. Rumors changed, growing and warping in the telling until they were no longer recognizable. The stories people told about her...no wonder no one recognized her, when everyone knew that Lady Emily was three meters tall, breathed fire and squashed necromancers as easily as a man might step on a slug. She supposed it wasn’t all bad–she could walk outside and not be recognized by a passing stranger–but it was still annoying.
“They’ve realized that Alassa is in jail,” she said, softly. “And they’re spreading lies about her.”
“We heard some of those too,” Cat said. “I had to keep Jade from smashing a particularly obnoxious idiot in the nose.”
He snorted. “Did you hear the one about Simon Harkness being fathered by the king?”
“No.” Emily shook her head. “But it doesn’t seem very likely.”
She tried to remember if she’d ever met Simon Harkness. She’d met his adopted mother, shortly before the first coup, but she didn’t think she’d met the son. Simon Harkness would probably have been mooted as a potential husband for her, if not Alassa. Who knew? Perhaps his mother had been one of the hopefuls who’d written to Void to ask for Emily’s hand in marriage...
...But if someone was claiming he’d been fathered by King Randor, were they trying to give him a claim to the throne? Or perhaps to keep him from having a claim to the throne?
“He’s about the same age as us, I think,” she said. “I think...”
She broke off. King Randor already had a child Emily’s age, Alassa. The king could certainly have sired Simon Harkness...but he’d been so desperate for a male heir that he would have taken the child as soon as the paternity became clear, even if the boy was a bastard. No, it made no sense. But to someone who didn’t realize how unlikely it was that the king would have left the child alone, it might almost be believable. Lady Barb had taught her that people had a tendency to believe what they wanted to believe.
“No,” she said. “He can’t be the king’s bastard son.”
“He certainly won’t submit to a paternity test,” Cat agreed. “But it might give him a claim to the throne if Randor and Alassa are dead.”
And probably Alexis too, Emily thought. Alicia’s child–a baby–was unlikely to survive if his paternity became clear. He’ll be dead before he has his second birthday.
She took a long breath, tasting the cool night air, then turned to look at Cat. His profile was cast in shadow, illuminated only by the lantern he’d hung from the ceiling, yet...his face looked to have been carved from stone. She felt...she felt a complicated mixture of emotions, including some she was unwilling to name. Cat had asked her out on a date–and he’d kissed her–and she found him attractive, but...part of her wondered if it would be a good idea to date him. Or even do anything with him. He wasn’t Caleb, who’d been gentle and caring and as inexperienced as she was. Cat was...
Different, she thought. It was hard to imagine Cat being willing to back down, if he thought he’d been placed in an untenable position. Or being unwilling to fight. She had no doubt of his bravery or his competence. But he’s also more demanding than Caleb ever was.
Cat turned. She found herself looking into his eyes. “Emily?”
Emily stared back at him for a long moment. It would be easy to lean forward and kiss him. It had been a long time since she’d initiated a kiss, let alone gone further. Her body was intent, all of a sudden, on reminding her just how long it had been since she’d slept with anyone. It was strange, so strange, to realize that she’d come to enjoy sex...
“I was just woolgathering,” she said, softly. “Did you hear anything else that might be useful?”
“Very little,” Cat said. If he knew where her thoughts had been, he gave no sign. “We ran into a recruiting officer and had to swear blind that work awaited us in Alexis, for better or worse. Everyone seems to be hiring mercenaries these days.”
Emily tensed. “Is he going to cause trouble?”
“Not unless his master really wants to piss off the mercenary guilds.” Cat pushed away from the window and strode back to the bed. “They’d be furious if someone started bullying sellswords just because they refused to fight for them. It wouldn’t be long before no one would fight for them.”
“I suppose.” Emily turned to follow him with her eyes. “Still, he could make trouble.”
“Perhaps.” Cat looked up and winked at her. “But how much damage are two sellswords going to cause? We’re not an entire mercenary company, you know.”
Emily had to smile. There were mercenary companies that were practically small armies in their own right. They deployed hundreds–even thousands–of men, to the point where she’d heard they were regarded as potential kingmakers and thus dangerous. Most mercenary bands were smaller, but nonetheless effective. Cat was right. Making trouble for two men wasn’t worth the risk of pissing off every mercenary in the world.
Cat stripped off his leathers and then his shirt, heedless of her presence. Emily looked away hastily, although not before she caught a glimpse of powerful muscles and a protective tattoo just above his heart. It looked like the rune she’d had carved onto her chest, though there were quite a few additions. Cat wouldn’t just be protected against subtle magic. He’d be protected against quite a few other charms too.
“You can look back now,” Cat said. “I’m decent.”
Emily reddened. She hadn’t meant to peek. She’d done better when they’d shared a tent during the war, although they’d had a number of others sharing the tent too...and, really, they’d been too tired to do anything more than collapse into their blankets every night. She forced herself to look back at him, noting the nightshirt he’d pulled over his head. It could have passed for a shirt if he ran out of other clothes to wear.
“Jade can take the first watch, on the grounds he’s not here to fight over the job,” Cat said, as he climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over his legs. “You sleep through the night.”
“I’ll take the third watch,” Emily said. The men could drive the wagon while she slept in the back. It wasn’t very fair, but someone would probably notice a woman driving a wagon and ask questions they didn’t want to have to answer. Besides, horses hated her. “You wake me up when you’ve finished your watch.”
Cat looked a little relieved, although Emily knew better than to point that out. He’d need his sleep, yet he wouldn’t feel right forcing her to take a turn keeping watch. Emily doubted there would be any trouble in the middle of the night, but she knew better than to take that for granted. It was better to be ready for trouble than let it catch her by surprise.
She removed her shoes, then reached for her bag and poked through it until she found the chat parchments. Alassa’s parchment was completely blank, of course. She hadn’t written anything since she’d been arrested. Whatever had happened had clearly happened in a tearing hurry, if only because Alassa hadn’t had a chance to write anything. A brief statement of what she was planning would have made their planning much easier. Frieda’s parchment, on the other hand, was glowing with message after message. Emily smiled, wanly. Frieda had to be feeling better.
“Be careful what you tell them,” Cat said, as Emily started to write a reply. “You don’t want rumors to spread.”
“Duh,” Emily said. Sergeant Miles had drilled operational security into her head, along with quite a few other lessons she’d considered useless at the time. “I won’t tell her anything useful.”
She took a breath, then started to write a vague response. Frieda would know Emily was leaving out all the interesting details, but...she’d understand. She’d had good marks in Martial Magic, even though she’d kept getting into fights. God alone knew what would happen by the time she recovered–Emily had no idea if Frieda would be allowed to retake Fourth Year or if she’d be forced to start from Third Year–but at least she’d be safe. Gordian would take care of her.
The door shook. Emily reached for her dagger, just as it opened to reveal Jade. His shirt was stained with beer–Emily could smell it from right across the room–but he didn’t look particularly drunk. Emily wondered, absently, if he’d forgotten that they didn’t have any washing facilities. They’d probably have to stop by a stream to wash their clothes.
“I think you’d better go jump in a lake,” Cat said, wryly. “You stink.”
“Better to stink than to be drunk,” Jade said. He closed the door behind him and slotted the bolt into place, then hastily removed his shirt. “I think I was standing in a pool of beer.”
“No one will notice,” Cat said. “The whole place was practically drenched in beer.”
Emily made a face. “Yuck.”
“They really should have poured the beer back in the horse,” Jade said.
“This place isn’t that upmarket,” Cat said. “I think they should have poured it back into the dog.”
“And not the cat,” Jade said, deadpan. 
“No.” Cat shot him a rude gesture. “Emily had a little adventure of her own.”
“Ah,” Jade said. “Another one?”
Emily shrugged, dismissively. “There’s something else I have to tell you,” she said. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, but they needed to know. Now. “Paren was a traitor.”
Jade stared. “What?”
“It’s a long story,” Emily said. She winced, inwardly, as Jade’s face started to darken. He’d never liked secrets being kept from him and this one had blown up in his face. “Really.”
She took a long breath and started to explain.
Chapter Four

“Paren betrayed the king?” Jade asked, when Emily had finished. She could see the anguish in his eyes. “Why?”
Emily met his eyes. “Five years ago, Paren and his allies sided with Randor and Alassa against the coup plotters,” she said. She had to think about how to say it without letting her feelings get in the way. “Promises were made, promises of representation and a say in affairs that were not honored. Paren was ennobled, but the Assembly was effectively neutered over the next couple of years. Reformers were purged, particularly the ones who wanted to smash the system.”
She took a breath. “And eventually, Paren decided that they needed to take more direct action before the king crushed them utterly.”
Jade’s eyes narrowed. “They tried to kill Alassa on our wedding day.”
“They tried to kill everyone in the chamber, including Imaiqah,” Emily pointed out. “Paren thought their forces could take control in the chaos. Nanette had other ideas, I think; their plan to take the city never got off the ground after their leader was killed.”
“How do you know all this?” Jade’s eyes bored into hers. “And why didn’t you tell us?”
“Paren confessed to me,” Emily said, flatly. In hindsight, it was clear that Paren had tried to recruit her before the wedding. “I...I believed it would be better if the secret died with him.”
Jade glared. “You should have told us!”
Emily looked back at him. It was an effort to meet his eyes. “And then what? What happens to the families of known traitors? Should I have put Imaiqah’s head on the chopping block myself?”
“Something could have been worked out,” Jade snapped. “Emily...”
“She’s right,” Cat said, smoothly. “Jade, what choice did she have?”
Jade opened his mouth, then closed it again. Emily understood. He–and his wife–had been blindsided because she hadn’t told them the truth. But how could she have risked telling Alassa, when her father could demand the truth from her at any moment? How could she have risked telling Imaiqah, when that would have robbed her friend of the chance to swear innocence of any plot against the king? How could she have done anything, but kept her mouth shut?
“You should have told us,” Jade said. “If Imaiqah was innocent...”
Emily glared at him. “Do you think Imaiqah would cold-bloodedly plot her friend’s death?”
“No,” Jade said. His eyes were very hard. “And an oath would have proved her innocence.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Emily reminded him. “The families of known traitors are sentenced to death, from the oldest to the youngest. Imaiqah stands condemned by the mere fact her father became a traitor. And there would be no hope of hiding it if someone else knew.”
“Except someone did know,” Jade pointed out. “You. And Nanette. Is she involved in this, somewhere?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. She’d assumed that Paren had covered his tracks very well, after the king’s investigators had failed to find anything that might have led them to the masterminds. “I don’t know how the king found out.”
Jade let out a heavy sigh. “Then we will have to watch for her. As if we didn’t have enough problems.”
“We had a problem we didn’t know about, an hour ago.” Cat gave Emily a fond look. “I’d say we’re better off now.”
“Only because Emily kept her mouth shut,” Jade said, angrily. “You should have warned us.”
“And then what?” Emily asked. “Imaiqah takes her family and goes into exile?”
“You never gave her the choice,” Jade snapped. He balled his fists for a moment, then–with visible effort–forced them to unclench. “You never gave any of us the choice.”
Emily nodded, shortly. Jade loved Alassa, deeply and truly. He’d do anything to protect his wife and unborn child. Emily remembered just how shaken he’d been when Emily had used a forbidden spell to save Alassa’s life. Jade was her friend, but she had no doubt that he would put Alassa first, whatever happened. She didn’t blame him, either. Indeed, she envied Alassa. Would anyone ever care about her like that?
“Alassa will have to decide what to do about...about you keeping the secret until it was too late,” Jade said, heavily. He leaned back on the bed. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?”
He went on before Emily could say a word. “We’re not talking about rescuing the pair of them, not now. We’re talking about...about kicking a king off his throne, perhaps even about killing him to prevent him from coming back and retaking the kingdom. We are talking about outright treason!”
“Shout a little louder, why don’t you?” Cat’s voice was very dry. “I don’t think the people at the far end of the corridor heard you.”
Jade scowled at him. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” Cat said. “But if you expect unthinking devotion, you’re going to be disappointed.”
He tapped his chin, meaningfully. “Emily made the best of a set of bad choices,” he added, after a moment. “I don’t blame you for being angry, but I don’t blame Emily for making the choice either. And now, yes we are committed to putting Alassa on the throne. I can’t see her deciding to run off to the other side of the world, can you?”
“No,” Jade said.
“Quite,” Cat agreed. “Now, you’re supposed to be the reasonable one of our duo. Start being reasonable again, please. My head is already starting to ache from being too reasonable for my own good.”
Emily had to smile. “Alassa won’t want to run.”
“Even if she did,” Jade added, “her father won’t let her go into peaceful exile.”
“No,” Cat agreed. He leaned forward. “Right now, we simply don’t know enough to make any long-term plans. The only thing we have to go on are a collection of rumors, half of which contradict the other half. We wait until we get into the city, then we gather intelligence and start making proper plans. Until then...we’re just a pair of sellswords who have been hired to serve the king, may the gods bless him.”
“And me,” Emily said.
“No one will pay any attention to you,” Cat said. “That’s what we’re counting on.”
Just in case this is a trap for us, Emily thought. Nanette’s involvement–Nanette’s possible involvement, she reminded herself–suggested that Alassa and Imaiqah might be nothing more than bait in a trap. Randor would certainly want to get his hands on Jade, if not Emily herself. And if Nanette’s involved, she’ll want to get me too.
She looked down at her hands. King Randor might not take the risk of executing his daughter, before or after she gave birth, but Imaiqah had no such protection. She might already be dead. Hell, executing her at once would be the safest course of action. Imaiqah wasn’t the most powerful sorceress in the world, but she was certainly one of the most capable. Given time, she might break out of captivity and set out to wreak revenge. The thought nagged at Emily’s mind. Imaiqah might already be dead.
“I still don’t like it,” Jade said. He shot Emily a look that promised trouble, later. “But we have no choice.”
Emily nodded. She didn’t want to kick Randor off his throne, but the king had been growing increasingly erratic–and paranoid–even before he’d arrested Alassa and Imaiqah. She’d heard reports about his inspectors harassing peasants, merchants, even noblemen...while he’d been building up his army with desperate haste. It was only a matter of time before he had a showdown with the remaining barons, even the ones who supported him. Emily knew who’d bear the brunt of any civil war and it wouldn’t be the nobility. It was the commoners who’d suffer.
And yet, fixing the kingdom’s problems might take longer than they have, she thought. Alassa might not have enough time to deal with them before the revolution begins.
“We’ll do whatever we have to do when the time comes.” She made a show of looking at the window. “Shall we get some sleep now?”
“I’ll take the first watch,” Jade said. “Cat, do you want the second?”
“Yeah,” Cat said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Emily leaned back in her bed, pulled the blanket over her head and closed her eyes. Sleeping in her clothes felt uncomfortable, but she had a feeling she’d be a great deal less comfortable if she slept in her nightwear. The bed was uncomfortable and she was certain the blankets hadn’t been washed before the room had been rented out again. Her skin itched unpleasantly as she tried to empty her mind. But the thought of insects crawling over the sheets was one that refused to go away in a hurry.
There are already signs of trouble, she thought, remembering the dead bodies. The peasants wouldn’t take the risk of killing taxmen and inspectors if they weren’t on the verge of revolt.
She shuddered at the thought. Peasant revolts rarely succeeded, at least on Earth, but they tended to be savage. The peasants had generations of pent-up hatred that demanded release, while the aristocratic conventions of fair play never applied to peasants who dared to lift a hand against their betters. There would be a bloody slaughter if the peasants lost, but how could they win? Typically, peasant revolutionaries had never had a long-term plan to take power and rule the country themselves. They’d always accepted the aristocracy’s short-term concessions, never realizing that the king and his nobility were just buying time to ready the counteroffensive. And there were no alternate power structures, not on a national scale.
Randor saw to that, when he weakened the Assembly, she reminded herself. No wonder Paren chose to revolt.
Her mind raced. Jade was angry at her, with reason. Alassa wouldn’t be pleased either, when she found out. And Jade wouldn’t keep it from his wife, no matter what happened. She might have lost their friendship, just because she’d wanted to save her friend’s life...
She pushed the thought out of her head and forced herself to concentrate on the future. They would need an army, if they wanted to take on the king. It wasn’t going to be easy to get one, not when Randor had a head start on everyone else. They didn’t have enough money to hire mercenaries, even if using mercenaries wouldn’t discredit their claims to be acting in the interests of the commoners. And yet, an untrained and inexperienced army would be cut to ribbons if pitted against trained and disciplined opposition. And yet...
Someone shook her, gently. Emily jerked awake, throwing the blanket aside. It was dark, so dark that it took her several seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the dim glow from the lantern. Cat was standing beside the bed, looking down at her. Emily hesitated, then forced herself to sit up. She was sure, logically, that she’d been asleep, but...it didn’t feel like it.
“Wake us if you hear anything,” Cat whispered. “We’ll be up at cock-crow.”
Emily nodded, silently grateful that he’d taken her side. She hadn’t really expected it. Jade and Cat had known each other for five years before they’d met Emily. Or had it really been that long? Jade was a year older and it was unusual for an older student to socialize with a younger one, outside class. God knew Emily had managed to put her foot in it when she’d stayed friends with Frieda. 
Men normally side with other men, she thought, as she swung her legs over the bedside and stood. It was a backhanded compliment, of sorts. I guess I should be flattered.
She made her way over to the chair and sat down. She’d managed to sleep for at least five hours, but it didn’t feel anything like enough. She wished, savagely, for some Kava–or something else to help her stay awake. Falling asleep on watch was a capital crime, as far as the sergeants had been concerned. They wouldn’t kill the unlucky watchman, she thought, but they’d certainly make him wish he were dead.
Cat clambered into bed and vanished under the sheets. Emily smiled, rather thinly, then forced herself to listen. Jade was breathing in and out quietly–she couldn’t hear Cat at all–but there were no other sounds in the room. Outside, she heard someone moving down the corridor just enough to be conspicuous; outside the inn, she heard owls hooting as they glided through the darkness, hunting for mice before the sun rose and they had to return to their nests. She checked her weapons, just in case she needed them, as the footsteps came closer. It was a relief when they hurried past the door and continued down the corridor without stopping.
That rapist probably wants revenge, she told herself. He’d never forgive her for humiliating him. If she ever saw him again, she might worry...of course, if she was lucky, the next time she saw him again she would be able to use her magic freely. Perhaps a transformation into a slug would teach him a lesson. It would certainly make the air smell nicer.
Her thoughts ran in circles, considering everything they might encounter when they reached Alexis. Would the war have started by then? Or would it already be over? Would Randor be expecting them? Or would he assume that Jade didn’t know what had happened to his wife?
Assume the worst, she told herself. Randor knows we’re coming.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it had to be faced. They’d left Whitehall a week ago. By now, it would have dawned on the wretched gossipmongers that she wasn’t going to be going back. She had an unconditional offer of an apprenticeship and she didn’t need to stick around for the exams. But one didn’t have to be as paranoid as Randor to suspect that Emily might be on her way to Zangaria. The inquest was over. Jade was almost certainly on his way back too. Randor wouldn’t expect him to take the long route home.
She rose and walked over to the window. Cat had left it open, allowing the night air to blow through the room. Emily had to smile, recalling some of the superstitions she’d seen in the Cairngorms about leaving windows open at night. There were stories of creatures that saw open windows as invitations and came inside, creatures that did unspeakable things to their victims...her lips quirked. Their deeds might be unspeakable, but that didn’t stop everyone from knowing what they were. Or from keeping their windows securely covered at night.
A faint glimmer of light could be seen in the distance, marking the slow shift from night to dawn. It wouldn’t be that long before the sun appeared, driving the night creatures back into the shadows. This close to a town, it was unlikely that there was anything genuinely supernatural lurking in the darkness, but she understood just how scared people were of the shadows. The really dangerous creatures only came out at night.
And they may still come close to the town, she thought. Supernatural creatures were supposed to respect walls and closed doors, even unlocked doors, but they were also supposed to watch carefully for opportunities to enter a house without explicit permission. The stories about vampires being unable to enter without an invitation had some basis in truth. A farmer who leaves a door open might as well have invited every creature in the neighborhood to lunch.
Emily yawned as she stood by the window, her body telling her she needed to go back to sleep. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood in order to keep from falling asleep. The boys wouldn’t respect her if she allowed herself to fall asleep while she was on watch, even if they never said a word to her about it. Sergeant Miles had taught her enough about how young men thought–particularly on campaign–to know that respect was hard to win, but very easy to lose. No matter what she was–no matter what she’d done–she could still lose it in a moment.
She heard someone moving down below and frowned, peering into the semi-darkness. A fox? A cat? Someone going out to relieve himself? Or...someone intent on trouble. She reached for her dagger and held it gently, ready to move. If someone was coming up the wall...she’d taken a look at it, earlier. It wouldn’t be easy to climb, but it wouldn’t be impossible...
The sound faded back into nothingness. Emily listened for a long moment, hearing nothing but the beating of her heart. She leaned forward carefully as the light slowly brightened, hoping to see something...there was nothing. She might easily have imagined it.
She jumped, one hand reaching for the dagger, as the cockerel started to crow. Others joined in a moment later, telling the guests that it was time to get up. Emily turned as she heard Cat sitting upright, his eyes flickering from side to side. He looked grumpy, unsurprisingly. She doubted he’d had more than two or three hours of sleep on each side of his watch.
“Time to get up,” she said, dryly. “Did you sleep well?”
“No.” Jade sounded annoyed. “I slept very poorly.”
He stumbled out of bed, knelt down beside the headboard and pulled the chamberpot out from under the mattress. Emily turned away as he did his business, brightening the lantern and then hunting for her shoes. Jade would want to leave as soon as they could. They probably wouldn’t be coming back after breakfast. 
“It could have been worse,” Cat said. He sounded revoltingly cheerful for someone who’d been grumpy a minute or two ago. “We could have been murdered in our beds.”
“Yeah,” Jade said. “That could still happen, you know.”
Chapter Five

Breakfast, to Emily’s pleasant surprise, was held in a single large dining room, where a handful of men and women mingled as they ate. One table was lined with everything from poached eggs to sliced meat, while another held bread, water, beer and Kava. She took a mug of Kava, then filled her plate with food. She knew just how long it might be before they had a chance to eat again. The food was plain and simple, but it tasted good. 
“Half the men are probably nursing hangovers,” Jade commented, as they ate. “Or they’ve left without waiting for breakfast.”
Cat shrugged. “They’re probably used to drinking themselves silly every night. I think they’re already heading to their next destination.”
“It probably doesn’t matter, as long as they’re not paying any attention to us,” Emily said, quietly. She looked around, checking for listening ears. “Did any of them seem a little too interested in us?”
“No, apart from the recruiting officer,” Jade said. “And he just wants us to fight for his lord.”
“Pity he wasn’t working for the king,” Cat commented. “It would have made our trip north a great deal easier.”
Emily shook her head. Randor would have to be absolutely insane to allow a sizable contingent of mercenaries inside the walls. There was very little else that would guarantee turning the city’s population against him. Besides, mercenaries were expendable. They’d be sent out to crush opposition across the country, not ordered to garrison the capital city. That was a job for the king’s loyal men. Jade and Cat would find themselves further away from their destination than ever before.
Although they’d probably never be suspected, she told herself, wryly. Who’d expect the Prince Consort to sign up with a mercenary band?
“We’d better be on our way,” Jade said, as he cleaned his plate. “We have a long way to go before nightfall.”
“True,” Emily agreed. Her body ached, after five days in the wagon, but there was no help for it. She would just have to endure a few days longer. They were barely crawling along, compared to the distances she’d traveled on Earth...but there was no help for that either. It would be a long time before the locals invented the car. “I think that...”
She heard someone approaching and looked up, sharply. The girl she’d saved was walking towards them, her pale face clearly nervous. Up close, it was easier to see through the masculine disguise...although, given she already knew it was a disguise, it was possible that casual observers wouldn’t notice. The girl’s face showed no hint of stubble, but she was young enough for that not to seem strange.
“Ah...My Lady,” the girl said. “I...”
Emily tensed, half-forming a spell in her mind. Did the girl know who they were? Or was she simply trying to flatter her? Emily had saved her virtue, after all.
“My mother would like to speak to the three of you,” the girl stuttered. She seemed to be having problems looking at Jade and Cat. “Please, would you come with me?”
Emily exchanged glances with Jade. A trap? Or...or what? The girl could have told her mother anything. Did the mother want to thank them personally? Or...?
Jade stood. “We would be honored,” he said, smoothly. “Cat?”
“Of course,” Cat said. Emily noted that he kept one hand close to his sword as he stood. “Shall we go?”
She let the boys take the lead as the girl led them out of the dining room and down a long wooden corridor into the lobby. A handful of guests were lining up in front of the desk, settling their accounts with the clerks; a pair of guards, carrying staffs, were standing by the doors, ready to evict anyone who quarrelled over the bill. Emily wasn’t particularly surprised to see them. Zangaria didn’t have much in the way of contract law. The only contracts that were honored, outside the merchant communities, were the contracts that were enforced. No one would make a fuss if an inn’s guardsmen threw a debtor in the local stocks.
The girl led them into a back office, bare save for a single table and a set of hard wooden chairs. Emily braced herself as she noted that there was only one way in or out of the room, although the walls wouldn’t stand up to a single blasting spell. The innkeeper–the older woman they’d seen the previous day–sat in one of the chairs, a broadsheet open in front of her. Emily felt a twinge of pride, despite her nervousness. The broadsheets wouldn’t have come into existence if she hadn’t introduced the printing press, cheap paper and a far simpler alphabet. It was a sign that she had changed an entire world.
For better or worse, she thought. The locals seemed to practically revere the written word, if only because it had once been incredibly costly to produce a book, but it hadn’t taken long for broadsheet editors to figure out that they could write lies into their newspapers. Who knows how it will end?
The innkeeper rose, slowly. She looked to be around sixty, too old to have a young daughter, although that was meaningless. People aged quickly in the Nameless World. The innkeeper might well be in her early forties, if not younger. She might not have grown up on a farm, unlike Frieda’s parents, but she would still have had a hard life. Even the highest-ranking aristocrats had hard lives.
“You saved my daughter,” she said, looking directly at Emily. “I...I thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily said. She wondered, grimly, just what was going through the older woman’s mind. It wasn’t common for someone to risk their life to save a commoner girl from a mercenary. And Emily was very definitely a young woman. Women who could fight were rare. “It was my pleasure.”
Jade shifted beside her. Emily wondered what he was thinking, too. He would have saved the girl–she was sure he would have saved the girl–but he would have caused much less comment. A fighting woman, on the other hand...fighting women tended to get noticed, if only because they went against the grain. They were almost always combat sorcerers. It would be the height of irony if they were discovered because Emily had risked her life to save a young girl...
“You will not have to pay for your bread and board,” the woman said. She sounded...hesitant, as if she was torn between rewarding them and the need to keep the money coming in. “And...I understand that you are heading north?”
“We have employment near Alexis,” Jade said, stiffly. Their cover story was vague enough to be plausible, but it wouldn’t stand up to sustained questioning. They simply didn’t know enough about what was going on in the north to tell a convincing lie. “We’re expected there by the end of the week.”
The innkeeper nodded. “There is a convoy of merchants leaving for Chatham this morning,” she said, glancing out of the window. “I believe they will allow you to accompany them, if I ask. They’re always keen to be escorted by fighting men. Would you be interested?”
Emily glanced at Jade, then Cat. It sounded promising–no one would look twice at the guards accompanying the convoy–but it had its downsides. The merchants would draw attention...and not just from bandits. There would be inspectors who’d search the wagons and demand bribes if they found even the slightest hint of contraband. Or simply to let the merchant convoy proceed without harassment. King Randor had forbidden local tolls, but–under the circumstances–she wouldn’t be surprised to discover that everyone was throwing up roadblocks. It was a simple way to earn money, in the short term. 
And, in the long term, it will kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, she thought. Too many aristocrats seemed to believe they could squeeze and squeeze again, without repercussions. But the local economy never seemed to grow. Why would people invest when their money could be stolen on a whim? And it encourages people to cheat the system.
“It would be a good idea, if you will vouch for us,” Jade said. It was what a mercenary would say. The prospect of getting paid while making their way north, which they would have to do anyway, was very attractive. “We would be delighted.”
The innkeeper’s eyes rested on Emily for a long moment. Emily looked back, keeping her face as bland as possible. The innkeeper knew she wasn’t just a kept woman now. A kept woman wouldn’t risk her life to save a young girl, even if she had the nerve. Emily just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut. If the innkeeper asked any questions, Emily would have to lie...
“Brook will show you to the convoy,” the innkeeper said, nodding to the girl. “And she’ll make the introductions.”
“We’ll have to collect our wagon first,” Cat said, quickly. “We can’t leave that behind.”
Brook nodded and headed for the door. Emily watched her go, wondering if the innkeeper had chosen a gender-neutral name deliberately. Brook might actually be Brooke, but Brooke was close enough to Brook for her not to miss it when she was called. There would be no confusion as she struggled to remember her name, no hesitation that might reveal she was trying to hide something...it was quite possible that the innkeeper had wanted a boy.
Or that she wanted her daughter to be able to pass as a son, if necessary, Emily thought, as she followed the girl out of the office. No one would notice as long as they were careful.
Brook led them into the courtyard, then hurried around the back to collect the horses and wagon. Dozens of other guests were already loading up their carts and horses before departing, trying to make as much progress as possible before night started to fall again. A handful of mercenaries waved to Jade and Cat, ignoring Emily completely. She suspected they didn’t bear any malice towards the two men. Jade and Cat might be fighting on the other side of the war, but mercenaries fought for money. They didn’t bother to hate their enemies.
The girl reappeared, driving the wagon with practiced skill. Jade scrambled up into the back as soon as she stopped, checking to make sure everything was fine. Cat motioned for Emily to check the wheels while he inspected the horses, feeding them little treats to put them in a good mood. They looked to have been rubbed down and fed, thankfully, but they wouldn’t have enjoyed having it done by strangers. The inn simply didn’t have space for the horses to be tended by their owners.
“It looks good,” Jade called. “Hop up!”
Emily clambered up, then watched from the back as Jade sat down next to Brook and cracked the whip. The horses started to move forward, the wagon jerking slightly as Cat jumped into the rear. Brook pointed them down the road, her expression suddenly tighter. Emily realized that it had dawned on her, all of a sudden, that she was alone with three strangers. Being wary of strangers was a wise move anywhere. Emily didn’t blame her in the slightest.
“Down there,” Brook said, pointing towards the town. “They’ll let you in if I speak to the guards.”
The town didn’t look much better in the morning light, Emily noted. A faint stench of manure hung in the air as they approached, reminding her that towns were hardly the cleanest places in the world. Farmers were already bringing their wares to market: she saw an elderly man leading a line of pigs, following a younger woman who was carrying two large baskets of vegetables. The guards let them pass without bothering to do more than glance at their faces. They paid Jade and Cat a little more attention.
Brook jumped down and spoke, briefly, to the guards. Emily couldn’t hear what she said, but it must have been convincing. The guards waved the wagon through without bothering to search it. Brook trotted alongside them, pointing down to a small cluster of carts and wagons outside a smaller inn. Emily suspected it belonged to the local merchant’s guild. It wasn’t well-placed to take advantage of people passing through the town.
And the guards probably don’t help, she mused, as Jade pulled the wagon to a stop. Anyone who might want to stay the night gets ordered to the inn outside the walls.
“Stay here,” Jade ordered.
Emily glanced at Cat, then watched as Jade scrambled down and followed Brook as she walked towards the convoy. A large man wearing a set of guild robes greeted Brook, speaking to her as though she was a favored child. Emily wondered at their relationship, then decided it wasn’t too surprising. Personal relationships meant a lot in a world where contract law was largely ineffectual. Brook’s mother would have worked hard to ensure that her guests and suppliers saw her as trustworthy.
“Only four visible guards,” Cat muttered. “That might not be a good thing.”
“They’ll have more, perhaps,” Emily muttered back. “And the merchants themselves will have swords, won’t they?”
“They may not know how to use them,” Cat said. “And they may be harassed merely for carrying swords.”
Emily nodded. Freemen had the right to bear arms–it was what separated them from serfs and slaves–but they weren’t always allowed to make use of it. Proper training was almost always lacking, giving the upper classes a decisive advantage. That was going to change, she knew, as more and more gunpowder weapons entered the mainstream. A man needed years to master a sword, but only minutes to master a firearm. And then the face of warfare would change forever.
Jade walked back to them, slowly. “We’re being allowed to accompany them as far as Chatham,” he said. “After that, we’re on our own.”
“That’s good,” Emily said. Chatham was a merchant town, a free city upriver from the capital. She’d never been there, but she’d heard good things about it. “Chatham isn’t far from Alexis.”
“No, it isn’t,” Jade said. “We should get some answers there before we proceed to the city itself.”
Cat had a more practical concern. “Any rules we should know about?”
“They don’t want us buying and selling on the way,” Jade said. His lips quirked. “What do we have to sell?”
“Our expertise,” Cat said. “Anything else?”
“Not really.” Jade scrambled up into the wagon and lowered his voice. “They will expect us to help with setting up camp and Emily to help with the cooking.”
Emily nodded, unsurprised. Cooking was women’s work, as far as the vast majority of the population was concerned. Caleb had cooked for her, but he’d been in the minority. The only other men who actually cooked worked in restaurants, which somehow didn’t count as female work. The logic behind the reasoning escaped her. Perhaps it had something to do with working for money instead of cooking for one’s husband.
“I can cope.” She smiled, rather thinly. “As long as they can cope with my cooking...”
“I told them you were an army cook with a great record,” Jade said, deadpan. “You only killed ten men.”
“Great,” Cat said. “They won’t let you anywhere near the food.”
“As long as they don’t expect me to sew,” Emily said. She’d never learnt to sew on Earth, a skill she’d never realized she lacked until she discovered it was useful for Subtle Magic. But it was definitely not one of her talents. “I’m not good at sewing.”
“They won’t expect you to be.” Jade turned and jumped back down to the ground, then turned to beckon them down. “Let’s go meet our new friends.”
Emily had seen a convoy before–Lady Barb had insisted on traveling with the Diddakoi, four years ago–but the merchant convoy was different. Men and women seemed to be almost equal, laughing and chatting together as they prepared to depart. There was something oddly healthy and warm about the scene, a bunch of people united by a common goal instead of being pushed together by fate. They seemed to be different too, from the handful of genuine merchants to the travelers who clearly believed it was better to travel in a large group. A handful of young children ran around, shouting and laughing while their older peers helped their parents. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. Why couldn’t she have had an upbringing like that?
Brook caught her arm. “Thank you, once again,” she said, very quietly. “I hope you get where you’re going.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily said, automatically. “Thank your mother for us, please.”
The younger girl eyed her for a long moment. “I’ve often wanted to run away,” she said, lowering her voice still further. “Is being a mercenary as exciting as they say?”
Emily hesitated. She understood the urge, but...Brook had no conception of just how bad it could be in a mercenary camp. There was no way she could pretend to be a young man when privacy was completely non-existent. Someone would notice and then...and then what? If she’d won respect, her secret might be kept; if she hadn’t, someone would blab...
“It can be,” she said, finally. “But you remember the guy who wanted to hurt you? There are a lot of men like that in mercenary camps. And if you meet one, you will be in trouble.”
“Emily,” Jade called. “It’s time to go!”
“Coming,” Emily called back. She looked at Brook. “Good luck with your life.”
“Thank you,” Brook said. “And may all the gods accompany you on your way.”
Chapter Six

Traveling in a merchant convoy would’ve been much more enjoyable had they not been concerned about getting to Alexis as fast as they could
The merchants were surprisingly friendly, always willing to chat and share stories of life on the road. Rumors were swapped freely, then dissected for what scraps of truth could be extracted from their bodyguard of lies. The travelers were slightly less talkative, at first, but as the days wore on they shed their reluctance and started to chat as well. Emily couldn’t help feeling guilty, as life stories were shared, about the lies she was telling. She could make them convincing, but she knew they were lies. The fact that no one could call her on them didn’t make her feel any better.
Jade had been right about her being expected to help with the cooking, although it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. The merchants ate at inns, when they could, and set up camp when they couldn’t. Their food was very basic, stews and bread rather than anything more elaborate; they caught animals and harvested plants from the local woodlands and cooked them over an open fire, seasoning the mix with a little salt or spice. Emily had learnt enough under Sergeant Miles and Lady Barb to help the older women, although she had to admit they were experts. They’d been doing it most of their lives.
The convoy rumbled along the roads, passing through towns and villages. Some of the villages were apparently deserted, the population staying firmly out of sight; the towns were inhabited, but clearly expecting trouble at any moment. The merchant guild had a string of private inns for its travelers, yet the convoy was nearly turned away from several towns despite their credentials. It was rare to see a military-aged man or a young girl on the streets. The former had been conscripted or were hiding from the recruiting sergeants, while the latter were vulnerable to the squads of soldiers and mercenaries making their way through the countryside. Emily couldn’t help thinking that society was steadily breaking down. The number of fields that appeared to have been abandoned, crops left to rot in the morning air, was terrifying. Famine was a very real possibility, whatever else happened.
“I heard that the king has gone mad,” Linder said, one evening. She was a young girl, a year or two younger than Emily, with strawberry-blonde hair and a strikingly sunny disposition. Her name was close enough to Lin for Emily to covertly probe her for magic, before deciding she was being silly. “And his daughter has already taken the crown.”
“I heard the king has locked up his daughter,” an older man said. He was kneeling beside the fire. “And that he already has someone else lined up to take the crown.”
“It can’t be his brother,” another man said. “The Duke of Iron is already mad.”
“The former Duke,” Jade said. “He was stripped of most of his titles after the coup.”
And the Duchy went to Alassa, Emily added, silently. Randor should have given it to his daughter years ago. Traditionally, it was where the Crown Prince learnt the ropes before taking the throne. But what’s happened to it now?
“It doesn’t matter to us,” the older man growled. “What matters is what gets in our way. A little girl on the throne is bad news.”
“A woman on the throne is bad news,” another man said. His wife elbowed him, hard. “See what I mean?”
“She’s hardly a little girl,” Jade said. Emily could hear the irritation in his tone and wondered if anyone else, apart from Cat, could hear it too. “She’s a grown woman.”
“I wouldn’t trust my daughter to handle a kingdom,” the older man said. “And even if she was smart and sensible, she would still have to handle the”–he spat–“nobles.”
“Aye, that’s true,” a woman agreed. “How many noblemen have started raising taxes over the last few months? It’s getting to the point where we can’t run convoys through their territory without ending up in the red.”
Emily listened as the conversation ranged back and forth, assessing everything from the latest set of rumors to what few scraps of truth had been passed up the chain. It shouldn’t have surprised her that the traveling merchants kept their ears to the ground just to see which regions were safe for convoys and which should be avoided at all costs. Their intelligence network was surprisingly good, under the circumstances, although it had its limits. They didn’t dare take anything for granted.
She lifted her eyebrows, concerned, as Jade stood and walked away from the fire. It wasn’t like him to stamp off, no matter how displeased. She looked at Cat, who looked as though he wanted to bite his lip, then rose herself. Jade hadn’t gone far. The woods seemed safe–the trees were nowhere near thick enough to hide a small army, unlike the forests near Whitehall–but only an idiot would go too far from the light. She didn’t have any trouble following him into a smaller clearing.
“They don’t respect her,” he said, as she stopped beside him. “Or anyone.”
“They don’t know her,” Emily pointed out. “To them, she’s just a name and a bundle of rumors.”
“They’re treating her as if she’s...as if she’s a whore,” Jade snarled. He kicked a stone across the clearing. “She’s their princess, not a monster.”
“They still don’t know her,” Emily said, trying to sound reassuring. Thankfully, one of the women had pointed out that the rumor about Alassa having a whole stable of lovers was obvious nonsense. A man could afford to tomcat around, if he wished, but a woman–even a princess–didn’t have anything like as much leeway. “They don’t even know who you are.”
“These are the people she’s meant to rule,” Jade pointed out. “And they hate her!”
Emily shrugged. “First, she isn’t ruling them yet, so they have no idea how she’s going to perform as their Queen. And second, they’re more concerned about policy–and her ability to affect policy–than they are with her personally. They’re not going to be concerned about who sits on the throne, Jade. They worry more about how that person will rule.”
“So they won’t rise up for her,” Jade muttered. He knelt down, resting his hands on his knees. “They won’t fight for her.”
“Not yet,” Emily said, with the private thought that it was unlikely that anyone would fight unless they saw a real chance at victory. A failed rebellion might be worse than not rebelling at all. “They need a reason to fight for her.”
Jade glowered up at her. “And they don’t already have one?”
“No,” Emily said. “And that’s something we’re going to have to change.”
They sat together for a long moment, lost in their thoughts, then rose and made their way back towards the wagons. The debating had turned to dancing, a handful of dancers whirling their way around the fire while the older merchants played a strange collection of instruments. Emily felt wistful, wondering–again–what her life would have been like if she’d grown up in such an environment. She was tempted to go back to Cat and see if he wanted to dance, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to let her hair down that far. Besides, she suspected someone should stay with Jade.
“Get some rest,” she ordered, as they reached the wagons. Jade really needed something to do, something to keep him from brooding, but very little came to mind. Hearing his wife talked about so rudely hadn’t been good for him. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Sleep in the wagon,” Jade reminded her, firmly. “I’ll be underneath.”
“Fine,” Emily said. Cat would sleep next to Jade, if he didn’t rest under the night sky. “I’ll be here in the morning.”
The following morning, Linder caught her attention as they washed in the nearby stream. “I was wondering,” she said. “That man...what sort of relationship do you have with him?”
Emily blinked. “Which one?”
“Jade,” Linder said. “Are the two of you lovers?”
“No,” Emily said, flatly. She had a nasty suspicion that she knew where this was going. “We’re just...fellow travelers.”
Linder looked pleased. Emily groaned, inwardly. Someone paying close attention to the three of them would know that they weren’t quite what they seemed to be. Linder might well have noticed that Jade and Emily–or Cat and Emily–didn’t act as though they were lovers, let alone husband and wife. They didn’t even orientate on one another when they were together. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Someone older and wiser than Linder might also have realized they were lying.
“He’s handsome.” Linder looked as if she were dreaming, just for a second. “Do you think he’d be interested in sticking around?”
Emily stared at her in shock. Jade was handsome, she supposed; she’d been attracted to him too, once upon a time. And Linder didn’t even know Jade was married. He might seem a good catch, both for her and for her parents. A trained soldier, one who could teach others...perhaps even one who wouldn’t try to dominate Linder herself. Emily could see the advantages...
...But she also knew it was impossible.
“He’s married,” she said, quietly. “His wife is in Alexis.”
She splashed cold water on her face to cover her feelings. She’d have to warn Jade, as quickly as possible. There was no way they’d escape scrutiny if they told different stories, although it wasn’t a lie. Jade’s wife was in Alexis. Perhaps she should have told Linder that Jade was more interested in men than women, even though it would probably have annoyed Jade a little. He - and his mercenary persona–wouldn’t want people thinking he was gay. A homosexual mercenary would have good reason to want a beard.
Linder caught her arm. “He’s married? But he went into the woods with you!”
Emily flushed. Linder thought she and Jade had been making love? She thought fast, trying to think of an explanation. No one would think anything of a boy and a girl walking out together at Whitehall–she’d explored the mountains with Jade, back in First Year–but here...? No wonder Linder thought Jade was unmarried. He’d done something that could get him in real trouble if he’d been married...
And yet, no explanation seemed to fit. She could claim to be his sister–or his half-sister–but that would raise a whole string of even harder questions. Perhaps they should have claimed to be family, right from the start. Or perhaps she could claim to be a more distant relative, except that would raise even more questions. First-cousin marriages were rare in Zangaria, but second-cousin marriages happened all the time. 
“We’re old friends,” she said, finally. “We...well, he saved my life and then I helped him and...and we just ended up staying together.”
Linder looked unconvinced. Emily didn’t really blame her. Male-female friendships were common in the magical world, but quite rare outside it. Girls were closely chaperoned by their parents, while boys were often told that there was something wrong with wanting to be friends with a girl. No one would fault a young boy for having a friendly relationship with his sister, but they’d make fun of him for spending time with a girl without a good excuse.
“We were in the same camp,” she added, as she dried her face. “It’s like...it’s like being in a convoy, only worse.”
Linder looked wistful. “Is it really as fun as they say?”
Emily sighed. Jade and Cat had told stories about the mercenary life, stories that were remarkably convincing even though neither of them had been mercenaries. They had made it sound exciting, she had to admit. There were men who liked to fight and the mercenary life seemed to offer all the fighting they could possibly want...and women, for better or worse, who found the concept of mercenaries exciting.
All women want bad boys, she thought, sourly. There was more truth in it, even in the Nameless World, than she cared to admit. And then they find out that bad boys don’t grow into good men.
“No,” she said, allowing her irritation to show. “If you’re a female mercenary, you will be expected to fight and fight again just to prove you have a right to be there. Your fellow soldiers can be more dangerous than the enemy, although you really don’t want to fall into enemy hands. If you’re a camp follower, you will spend your days cooking, cleaning and marching from place to place and your nights...”
She took a sharp breath. Sergeant Miles had spelled the facts of life out in what Emily had considered, at the time, to be unnecessary graphic detail. “If you’re lucky, you will partner up with a man who will look after you as long as you’re good to him. And if you’re unlucky, you will be little more than a whore. Except you won’t get paid.”
Linder swallowed. “And you...?”
“Oh, I was lucky,” Emily assured her. “I had a friend.”
She stood and stalked back to the wagons. Linder didn’t follow her, much to Emily’s private relief. She’d have to tell the boys what she’d told Linder, before one of them managed to say something that contradicted the story. And then...
At least we’re closer to Alexis, she thought, as she scrambled into the wagon. Jade was sitting in the back, sorting through the supplies while Cat tied the horses to the yoke. We can get there on our own if they kick us out.
“Get up here,” she called to Cat. “I need to tell you something.”
Cat jumped up to join them. “Is it good news?”
“No,” Emily said. “Well...it might be.”
She outlined what she’d told Linder, sparing them nothing. Jade wouldn’t be tempted, she was sure. He loved Alassa. She had no idea how Cat would have reacted...or how she would have felt about it if he’d been interested in someone else. Her feelings were a mess.
“Well, it could have been worse.” Jade looked pensive. “You might have done better to claim we were lovers.”
“Water under the bridge,” Cat said. “Besides, you don’t act like lovers.”
“Linder picked up on that,” Emily said. “She’s quite perceptive.”
Cat snickered. “Why do so many girls go for obviously unsuitable men?”
“Because women see different things than men,” Emily pointed out, wryly. “And because Jade isn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“And because they’re looking for protection,” Jade added. “A strong man who can fight–who is willing and able to fight–would be a good husband, even if he happens to be an asshole.”
“That would explain a lot,” Cat muttered.
“We don’t know who actually asked,” Emily pointed out. “Linder might have been...advised...to try to court Jade by her parents.”
“Makes sense,” Cat agreed. “Who’d want to court Jade without being pushed?”
“Alassa,” Jade said, sharply.
Emily held up a hand before a fight could break out. “We’re clear on the details,” she said, flatly. “Jade has a wife in Alexis, someone who doesn’t mind him being a mercenary...”
“Probably a shopkeeper,” Cat said. “Someone who has good reason not to want him around all the time. A happy relationship, naturally, but also one where they’re better off staying apart for much of the time.”
That didn’t sound very pleasant, Emily thought, but she supposed it made sense. It was certainly not going to be easy to disprove in a hurry. Merchantwomen had a great deal of freedom, compared to both aristocratic and peasant women, but there were limits. A female shopkeeper wouldn’t want a husband who might assert his power over the shop–and his wife–whatever the law said. Hell, merchant law would back her, but civil law would support him. She’d prefer a husband who didn’t show his face too often. 
“Fine,” Jade said, as they heard the trumpet announcing their departure. “I’ve got a wife in Zangaria.”
Emily sat beside Cat as he took the reins, then guided the wagon out of the clearing and back onto the road. She was grimly aware of Jade brooding in back, even though they were still on their way. Perhaps they should have risked the teleport after all. Or traveling by sea...they could have teleported to Beneficence, then sailed to Alexis. But that would have been too risky. They’d heard that the king’s men were searching every ship that tried to make landfall in the kingdom. Even transfiguring themselves into fish and swimming ashore would have been unacceptably dangerous.
“He’ll get over it,” Cat said. “It’s the only way to get into the city with a minimum of risk.”
Emily glanced at him in surprise. Had he read her thoughts? Or...had her face betrayed her? Cat was a combat sorcerer. He was far more perceptive than he let on. He had to be. A combat sorcerer who wasn’t perceptive was likely to end up dead after a short and exciting career. 
“I know,” she said. “But he doesn’t like it.”
She leaned back and watched the trees slowly closing in. The locals were responsible for maintaining the roads, clearing the ditches and keeping the foliage back from the cobblestones, but it was clear they’d been neglecting their duties. She gritted her teeth as the wagon rattled over potholes and splashed through puddles of water. She was going to be aching–again–by the time they reached the next campsite...
...And then she heard the trumpet sound the alarm.
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