The Right Side of History
	
(Schooled in Magic XXII)
	
Christopher G. Nuttall

	

	

	

The Right Side of History
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 © 2021 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.

First Edition, February 2021
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
Afterword
About the author

Prologue I

The throne room stank of fear.
Constance, Lady in Waiting to Queen Francoise of Alluvia, pulled her dress around her as the noise from beyond the walls grew louder. Night had fallen, but the city outside was cast into sharp relief by towering infernos. The riots had become a revolution, crowds of rebels and thugs throwing lighted torches into the homes of the great and the good. She huddled closer to the rest of the royal companions as the queen stared at her husband. He’d once been a great man and a greater king. He’d chucked Constance’s chin and whispered promises of royal favors if she wished to become his. Now, he seemed almost diminished. The kingdom was fading alongside its king.
It had all happened so quickly! Constance could barely keep track of each piece of news - bad news - before the next arrived. There had been fights over bread in the marketplace, of all things, fights that had turned into riots. The Royal Guard had arrived to break up the fighting, the City Guardsmen had turned on them and... Constance wasn’t sure what had happened next, but the king had lost control of his city. The castle gates had been slammed closed, wards snapped into place by royal magicians, but it hadn’t been enough to save everyone outside the walls. She’d heard a messenger screaming a warning about mansions going up in flames. The mob was running rampant, tearing through the aristocratic walls and hunting down the money-lenders and speculators. Constance had heard a tale of horror from the guards on the battlements, before the queen had cut them off. The money-lenders had been marched to the embankments and thrown to the rocks below. Their wives and daughters hadn’t been treated anything like so kindly.
She shivered, helplessly, as the shouting grew louder. The mob was calling for blood... royal blood. Constance herself was a very distant relative of the king - her family lands were on the other side of the country, near the border with Red Rose - but she was sure it wasn’t enough to protect her. The bodyguards and chaperones her father had sent with her, when he’d allowed her to enter the queen’s service, were nowhere to be seen. She hoped they were safe, wherever they were. But she feared the worst.
“Get out there.” Queen Francoise’s voice cut through the stifling tension. “Order them to disperse.”
Constance winced and tried to hide it. The queen was a sharp-tongued woman, more of a man – even though Constance would never dare say that aloud - than her husband. Her position was unassailable. She didn’t have to produce a male heir - her predecessor had produced two boys who’d survived to adulthood - and she’d given the king two daughters. The king could hardly refuse to treat her with the respect she’d earned, even though he had no compunctions about taking mistresses and then discarding them. And yet... Constance could tell that the queen was making a mistake. Her husband was trapped between fire and water, unable to confront the crowd or lead his men into battle against the mob. All he could do was wait.
“If only Dater was here,” Queen Francoise snapped. Her favorite stepson, according to rumor, had been disbanding his army when the rioting had turned into full-scale rebellion. “He would teach them all a lesson.”
“Dater is a long way away,” the king said, mildly. “And I sent Hedrick out as soon as the trouble began.”
“You should have sent him to deal with the crowds.” Queen Francoise frowned. “And now they’re at our door!”
The king turned away from his wife, his fists clenching with anger. Constance understood. A king could not be a king if he couldn’t exert authority over his wife and children as much as his kingdom. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time before the Crown Prince, perhaps pushed by his stepmother, started to demand more power and authority than his father could reasonably give. Dater was old enough to rule and young enough to make his mark, if he inherited the throne. He was certainly prominent enough to seem a viable replacement, if the king lost too much face to rule. It wouldn’t be the first time a king had ‘voluntarily’ surrendered his power and gone into exile.
Constance looked at the stone floor, trying not to attract attention. The king’s temper was starting to boil. She didn’t want to face his fury, not when no one would lift a hand in her defense. The assembled nobles feared the king too, feared what he might do if his back was against the wall. Constance felt cold, wondering - deep inside - if it might be better if the king was... convinced to abdicate in favor of his son. Dater was a dashing young man, so handsome and bursting with energy that no one would dare stand against him. Had he not been the hero of the wars? Had he not taken on a necromantic army and smashed it in an hour of furious combat? Had he not turned down the hand of Lady Emily herself, for the good of the kingdom? Constance’s heart fluttered at the thought. She was too low-born, for all the blue blood in her, to attract the prince... but she could dream.
She glanced up as Councilor Triune ran into the room. He was normally jovial and warm to everyone, even the lowliest maidservants, but now his jowled face was streaked with sweat and his hands were shaking. Constance knew she shouldn’t listen, as he hastily knelt before the king, but she couldn’t help herself. Knowledge was power in the court, particularly if one got it before anyone else. She had long since mastered the art of eavesdropping without making it obvious. She didn’t know why she bothered sometimes. As a young woman from the borderlands, she was rarely considered important enough to matter. The only thing that kept her from being sent home was the favor of the queen.
“Your Majesty!” Councilor Triune sounded as if he wanted to panic. “The sorcerers are dead!”
A rustle ran round the chamber. Constance swallowed, hard. The walls were strong, but the royal court didn’t have enough men to hold them after the Royal Guard had been slaughtered. Or deserted. Or joined the rebels. The stories just kept getting worse and worse. If the rebels turned their attention to the castle, they could get over the walls. The sorcerers were dead. It was only a matter of time before the wards fell. 
The king glanced at his queen, then at the barred window looking over the courtyard and the city beyond. The bars weren’t that strong. If the rebels captured a catapult, or one of the new-fangled cannons, they could put a shot right through the window. Constance took no interest in military affairs, but even she knew that walls couldn’t be held forever. And then... she tried not to think about it. The rebels wanted blood. Her blood.
No, she corrected herself. It was unlikely any of the mob knew who she was. They want the king’s blood.
An idea flashed through her mind. She could leave the chamber, perhaps on the pretense of going to the water closet, and swap clothes with a maid. She could pretend to be a maid. No one would know, if she was dressed as a maid... the rebels would ignore her, allowing her to walk out and then... and then what? She didn’t know the city, beyond the inner walls. She couldn’t hope to walk home. She had only the faintest idea of the way!
“We have a plan,” Councilor Triune babbled. “The troops will create a diversion. The rest of us will get into carriages and flee to the army camp. And then...”
“Excellent,” the queen said. “Dater will purge the city with fire and blood.”
The plan didn’t seem a very good idea to Constance, but no one bothered to ask her opinion. It was just taken for granted she’d accompany the queen, along with the remainder of her ladies. Councilor Triune’s men urged them down the stairs, into the rear courtyard, as troops ran forward to rally at the forward gates. They’d always struck Constance as fops, when they hadn’t been trying to court her in their clumsy manner, but... they were going to die in defense of their king. She wished she’d been kinder to the last knight who’d tried to court her. He’d been so dreadfully earnest she’d laughed in his face.
She winced at the noise as they scrambled into the royal carriages. It was hardly her first time in a coach, but... she wished she were on horseback. An eager horse and a clear road... it was all she asked. The littlest princess asked for a horse for herself as she was bundled into another carriage with her nanny, her mother ignoring her cries as the door slammed firmly closed. Constance was tempted to suggest the princess was given a horse, that she was given a horse, but she didn’t dare. Councilor Triune fussed around, snapping orders to the guards as the sound of fighting grew louder. His face was too grim for her to risk speaking her mind. If he got the royal family out, his future would be assured. He was hardly going to alter the plan on her say-so.
“Get in,” the queen snapped. “Now!”
Constance heard someone - Councilor Triune, perhaps - give the command to open the rear gates as she scrambled into the carriage. The regal vehicle lurched as the door was banged closed, then started to move. Constance found a seat and sat down, trying not to look at the queen. The expression on her face promised death and destruction - and social exclusion, perhaps, for the one who disturbed her. Constance tried not to shiver openly. Law and order had broken down everywhere. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if the Crown Prince couldn’t regain control of the city. How many of the dressmakers and jewelers and others she’d patronized were about to die?
“They’ll pay for this,” the queen said, more to herself than the rest of the passengers. It had the air of a blood oath, a promise that could not be broken. “They’ll pay in...”
The shouting grew louder. The carriage lurched again, then crashed to a halt. Constance reached for the window to pull back the blinds, but the queen slapped her hand hard enough to hurt before she could touch the fabric. The carriage was quivering, as if someone was beating their fists against it... Constance started back as the door shook, then came free. A grim-faced man stared at her, his gaze swiftly turning into a leer. Behind him, the city burned.
“Look,” he shouted. “We’ve captured the royal whores!”
Before she could pull back, his hand snapped hold of Constance’s wrist and yanked her forward. She tumbled out of the carriage, hitting the paving stone before she could catch herself. Pain shot through her as strong arms jerked her to her feet, holding her so firmly she couldn’t pull free. The queen was dragged out too, to hoots and hollers from the rabble. Her eyes were wide with fear. Constance struggled against her captor, but she couldn’t break free. He was just too strong.
She felt horror, numb horror, sinking into her as she looked past the carriage. The king’s carriage was ahead of her, the king himself being manhandled away by a group of men in red shirts. They were on the embankment, too close to the river to escape... she wondered, suddenly, if that had been deliberate. She couldn’t see Councilor Triune anywhere. The king’s man had vanished...
A commanding voice cut through the crowd. “Take the whores to the Final Prison!”
Constance shuddered as her captor started to push her forward. She’d heard all the stories about the Final Prison, about how it was the last port of call for men sentenced to death. If someone went in a prisoner, they didn’t come out again. Panic gave her strength: she stamped on her captor’s foot as hard as she could, then ran to the embankment. The river had dwindled over the last few months, as summer had started to bite, but if she could get into the water she could swim down to the distant lands beyond the walls. They wouldn’t expect her to be able to swim. Countrywomen learnt as a matter of course, but cityfolk regarded the idea of women swimming as perverse. It was...
“Stop,” someone shouted. “Now!”
Constance jumped... and realized, too late, that she’d misjudged. The river had shrunk too far. She was plummeting towards jagged rocks and the remains of sunken ships, not waters that might hide her long enough to let her escape. She thought, suddenly, of her parents. Would they ever know what had happened to her?
In truth, she feared they would never know. 

Prologue II

When she’d become Queen, Alassa had instituted a very simple rule.
She was not to be disturbed, she’d told her courtiers, between dinner and supper. Not unless the matter was urgent. Truly urgent. She’d made it clear, and backed it up, that anyone who disturbed her without very good reason would be spending the next week as a frog in the royal frog pond.  It wasn’t something she was proud of, and she was uncomfortably aware she might miss something important because the messenger was reluctant to interrupt her, but it was vitally important for her sanity. A reigning monarch had so little time to herself that she had to do whatever it took to make sure she got it. 
It irked her, more than she would willingly admit to anyone, that she hadn’t realized just how much her father had to do until she’d inherited his throne. The king had risen early and worked from dawn till dusk, the men of his bedchamber - his inner councilors - feeling free to interrupt him whenever they pleased. The one advantage of being a Ruling Queen, Alassa had discovered, was that she didn’t have to keep her inner council so close, but it hadn’t taken long for her courtiers to reason out that they could send their wives, sisters and daughters instead. Alassa would have preferred to banish them permanently, but there was no way to send them away without causing massive offense. The last thing she needed was their husbands, brothers, and sons plotting revenge. She had enough troubles already.
She kept her face under tight control until she stepped into her inner bedchamber, then allowed herself to relax as the wards shimmered around her. It was hard, very hard, not to sag as she leaned against the door. Winning the war had been easy. Winning the peace, it seemed, was a great deal harder. She had to find a balancing point between factions that detested each other, factions that would hate and detest her if she showed the slightest hint of favoritism to their enemies. It felt as if she were stirring an unstable cauldron, the brew within permanently on the verge of exploding. There were times when she was tempted to grab her husband and daughter, empty the royal treasury and go into exile. In hindsight, she wondered how different her life would have been if she’d stayed at Whitehall instead of returning to Zangaria.
Gathering herself, she walked past her year-old daughter’s bedchamber - Princess Emily was sleeping, her nursemaid sitting beside the cot - and into her bedroom. Jade was seated at the desk, reading the reports from the royal spies. They’d made sure to pick up the remnants of King Randor’s spy network and build their own, in hopes of preventing another coup or another aristocratic uprising. Alassa thought she understood, now, why her father had gone mad. There was never any shortage of disturbing reports, but how many of them were anything more serious than a slighted aristocrat venting to his friends? She didn’t know.
Jade stood and gave her a hug. “Bad day?”
“I had Lord Hardin, again,” Alassa said. It was hard to hide her disgust. “He wants to marry his ward.”
“Bastard,” Jade agreed. “Want me to kill him?”
Alassa was tempted. Lord Hardin had played his cards very well, somehow managing to remain on King Randor’s good side without alienating either the Noblest or Alassa herself. He’d certainly not taken any part in the civil war, ensuring that he evaded the sanctions Alassa had handed down to her father’s more open supporters. It helped, she supposed, that Hardin’s territory was right on the edge of the kingdom. It gave him a ready-made excuse for not sending anything more than thoughts and prayers. But it also made it hard for her to squash him like he deserved.
She sat on the bed and rubbed her forehead. Lord Hardin’s ward was too young for a betrothal, let alone a marriage. And yet, Hardin thought he could bind her to him - and ensure permanent control over her lands - before she grew too old to object. Alassa allowed herself a flash of cold anger. She knew how she would have felt, if her father had announced her betrothal before she reached her majority. It might have been years before the marriage was solemnized, but everyone would have treated it as a done deal from day one. If she’d had a brother...
“I might need you to go look at her lands, to see how he’s ruling them,” she said. She hated the idea of sending Jade away for a few days, but there were few people she trusted completely. And besides, Hardin wouldn’t be fool enough to give Jade a hard time. If he did... Jade would smash him flat well before word reached Alexis. “Perhaps even to provoke a fight.”
Jade nodded as he sat next to her. “How much do you want me to provoke a fight?”
“Only a little,” Alassa said. She wanted an excuse to take a swing at Hardin - or, at the very least, to park a garrison in his lands - but it had to look legitimate. “I don’t want to push him so blatantly everyone takes his side.”
She leaned into Jade’s arms, allowing him to hold her tightly. It was a display of weakness she could never allow herself in front of the court, not when half of them already believed Jade gave her orders in private and the other half thought he should. Bastards. It hadn’t been that long since they’d been slated for execution, if they fell into Randor’s hands. A little gratitude was not too much to expect, was it? It probably was. Courtiers had short memories. And now there was an infant princess, she’d bet her crown that some of them were considering the advantages of having a monarch who couldn’t talk.
And if I die early, she thought, Jade will take Baby Emily and run.
Jade kissed her, lightly. Alassa lifted her lips to his, enjoying the sensation. His hands started to roam her body, fiddling with the clasp behind her back. The dress was designed to be difficult to take off in a hurry, something that Alassa had once found a little amusing. It wasn’t so funny now. The unmarried ladies of the court might have reason to wear a chastity belt, or something that served the same purpose, but she was a married woman. And she was the queen...
The wards jangled. Alassa jumped, swallowing a curse. Whoever had disturbed her was going to regret it. Whoever... she reminded herself, sharply, that she needed to hear the messenger out before she did something unspeakable. No one would dare enter her chambers unless it was urgent. She stood, straightened her dress and gave Jade a meaningful look. He headed for the secret passage that ran beside the reception room. King Randor had used it to conceal guards, when holding meetings with untrustworthy aristocrats. Alassa preferred to use it to allow her husband to listen to the meetings, without making his presence obvious. It was yet another compromise she’d had to make between what the court expected of her and what she had to do to maintain her sanity.
She raised an eyebrow as she stepped through the door and saw Mouse waiting for her. The young woman - she was practically a commoner, although her father had been knighted long ago - was loyal. She had to be. Alassa had rewarded her for her services by elevating her over the countless noblewomen - and men - who thought they should be Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber. It had made her enemies, but... Alassa tried not to grimace. Mouse was loyal to her personally and that was all that mattered. And besides, she wasn’t anything like as hidebound as the rest of the court. She didn’t waste time trying to turn her queen into something she wasn’t.
“Your Majesty.” Mouse curtsied. Her face was pale, fearful. “Prince Hedrick has arrived.”
Alassa blinked. “Prince Hedrick of Alluvia?”
Mouse nodded. Alassa’s mind raced. Prince Hedrick had wanted to marry her, years ago. He’d attended her wedding, but then... she didn’t recall hearing much of anything about him. Hedrick was a second son. He wouldn’t be promoted over his brother... hell, there was a very real chance he would be sent into de facto exile. If he had... why had he come to Zangaria? Alassa couldn’t think of a good reason. It wasn’t as if she was obliged to give him more than the time of day.
“He just galloped into the courtyard,” Mouse added. “He requests an immediate meeting.”
“I see.” Alassa was tempted to tell Hedrick to wait. And yet, he wouldn’t have broken protocol so blatantly unless the situation was dire. What was it? “Please have him shown to the blue room. I’ll speak with him there.”
She glanced at the walls as Mouse turned and hurried out of the room. Jade would make his way down to the next cubbyhole, while Alassa moved through the monarch’s private corridors. She thought fast, trying to determine why Hedrick had galloped all the way to Zangaria... even using the portals, it was a hell of a long way. If he’d come to pledge his love... she snorted at the thought. It would be preferable, she supposed, to a bid for his kingdom’s throne. That would be a major diplomatic headache.
I suppose I could tell him to get lost and swear blind I didn’t see him, she thought, as she stepped into the blue room. But too many people will have noticed his arrival.
She took a seat and waited, folding her hands on her lap as the door opened. Prince Hedrick stepped into the room - he’d lost the swagger, part of her mind noted - and bowed deeply to her. There was no hint of reluctance, no suggestion he thought he should be bowing to a king instead. And yet, as he straightened, he looked nervous. His eyes flickered from side to side, as if he expected assassins to teleport into the chamber and jump him. His magic felt barely leashed. Alassa hadn’t intended to offer refreshments, let alone alcohol, but she was tempted to do just that. Hedrick looked like someone who needed a drink.
He was handsome enough, she supposed. The unfinished cast to his features she recalled from his unsuccessful courtship was gone. His face suggested a strong character, his short blond hair suggesting a martial mindset. Or, perhaps, martial ambitions. Hedrick was old enough to have fought in the last battles of the war, but Emily hadn’t mentioned him in her letters. His father might not have let him go. Losing one prince would be bad. Losing both would be a disaster.
“Your Majesty.” Hedrick didn’t stumble over the words. “On behalf of my father and brother, I must plead for your help.”
Alassa’s eyes narrowed. She would have understood the younger generation rebelling against the elder. She would have understood Hedrick waging war on his father and older brother. But... asking for help on behalf of both of them? What had happened? And why was he so fearful?
“Your Majesty, I...” Hedrick swallowed and started again. “There has been an uprising in the streets. We have lost control of Jorlem City and many smaller cities. The rebels have my father and stepmother prisoner, along with my half-sisters and many others. I... I barely escaped with my life. The Crown Prince is assembling his troops to retake the cities, but... we need help.”
Alassa kept her face carefully blank. Zangaria was quite some distance from Alluvia. It would be tricky to assemble troops and dispatch them to the other kingdom, even if it wasn’t politically impossible. She knew there were factions within her government that would flatly refuse to send help, and others that would use it as an excuse to demand crackdowns at home... hell, just sending troops would cause problems with other kingdoms. The Necromantic War was over. Alassa was uncomfortably aware that the Allied Lands were starting to fracture, as old grudges came back to life. She didn’t regret the end of the war, but... she had to cope with the problems of victory. 
“Zangaria is a long way from Alluvia,” she said, carefully. “Why do you require my help?”
Hedrick looked down. “The rebels claim to have been inspired by one of your noblewomen,” he said. “The rebellion is in her name.”
Alassa raised her eyebrows. “Emily.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hedrick said. “They claim to have risen in her name.”
“Emily would not have set out to trigger a rebellion,” Alassa said, flatly. “She’s been... busy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hedrick repeated. “And yet the rebels claim to have risen in her name.”
Alassa wasn’t sure how seriously to take that. Hedrick was describing literally world-shaking events. Alassa should have heard something, beyond vague rumors, well before the younger prince arrived at her door. Alluvia was a long way away, but still... she sighed, inwardly. The tale had probably grown in the telling. Emily wouldn’t have set out to overthrow a kingdom, but...
“I will discuss the matter with my trusted advisors and then get back to you,” Alassa said, slowly. “I do not believe, however, that she is behind your rebellion.”
“They claim she inspired them,” Hedrick said. “Our councilors advised us to request that you bring her to heel.”
Alassa hid her amusement. Emily was, technically, a liegewoman. She was supposed to support her queen in all things. But Emily didn’t really accept the responsibilities - or half of the rights - of a liegewoman. She didn’t even understand them. Alassa knew Emily couldn’t be pressured into doing anything. King Randor had tried and the result had been an utter disaster. She could see how Hedrick, and his advisors, might think Alassa could control her...
Which means I might get the blame, if Emily is credited with starting the uprising, Alassa thought. Shit.
She stood, signaling that the interview was over. She’d have to discuss the matter with Jade - and then Emily herself. Emily’s last letter had said she was going to Laughter Academy... quite some distance from Alluvia. That was meaningless, of course. Emily could teleport. And she’d figured out how to craft an enchanted device that allowed anyone to teleport, too...
“Your Majesty!” Hedrick looked stunned. “I appeal to you...”
Alassa bit off a sharp response. Hedrick didn’t appeal to her, not really. Instead, she summoned Mouse and directed her to show Hedrick to the guestroom. The servants would take care of him - and, also, keep an eye on him. It would be useful to know just what sort of person he was, although... Alassa shook her head as he followed Mouse out the door. He’d just dropped a massive hot potato in her lap...
... And, for the first time in far too long, she was unsure how to handle it.
Chapter One

“Lady Emily,” Master Lucknow said. His voice was very cold. He never took his eyes off Emily. “In the name of the White Council, and the Allied Lands, I am placing you under arrest.”
Emily stared at him, caught completely off-guard. She could sense powerful wards shimmering into existence, surrounding the inn. Wards designed to stop her from teleporting, wards designed to confuse her and conceal the enemy positions... her mind raced as she looked at Master Lucknow. There were four combat sorcerers facing her... four potential enemies and Jan. Her boyfriend hadn’t moved. He was caught between her and his master, unable to take sides without alienating one or both of them.
She held herself at the ready, unsure of what to do. There had to be more sorcerers outside, casting the wards. She hoped they’d had the sense to evacuate the surrounding area, although she feared they hadn’t bothered. And yet, they’d managed to taint the food. Had they hoped she’d sedate herself? Or poison herself? It was a common trick, when faced with newborn necromancers and dark wizards. If she’d eaten the food, would she have woken up in a cell? Would she have woken at all?
“Master?” Jan’s voice broke through the silence. “What are you doing?”
Master Lucknow directed a sharp look at him. “Shut up.”
Jan audibly swallowed. “Master...”
“I said, shut up,” Master Lucknow snapped. “Lady Emily, you are under arrest.”
Emily found her voice. “On what charge?”
“The charges will be discussed at your hearing,” Master Lucknow informed her. He removed a vial from his belt and held it out. “Drink this, then prepare for teleport.”
“I need to send a message to my master,” Emily said. She tried to remember what little she’d been taught about prisoner rights. There weren’t many. The Mediators had powers of arrest, if a warrant was issued by the White Council... her mind raced. They couldn’t demand a warrant without word reaching Alassa, or Melissa, or Void himself. Emily couldn’t believe her friends wouldn’t warn her. And that boded ill. “I also want to see the warrant.”
“You can do both, once you drink the potion,” Master Lucknow said, flatly. “Once you are in custody, you can send messages to whoever you like.”
Emily gritted her teeth. The Mediators were obligated to carry the warrant and show it upon demand. She didn’t recall much from Master Tor’s classes on law, but she recalled that. There were just too many kingdoms, estates and city-states that disliked the idea of international police forces throwing their weight around. In fact... she wondered, suddenly, if Duchene had been so quick to get rid of her because she knew the Mediators were on their way. The Headmistress of Laughter was Pendle’s ruler, to all intents and purposes. The Mediators should have informed her before the arrest began.
Her heart sank. If the Mediators were unwilling to produce the warrant, it suggested they didn’t have one. They couldn’t have one, not without summoning the whole council. And that meant... she looked at the vial, wondering what it really contained. Did they intend to arrest her first and invent the charges later? Or did they intend to kill her before the rest of the council, and her friends, could object?
She took a step back. “I need to send a message first,” she said. She disliked the thought of running to Void, or anyone, to beg for help, but she doubted she had a choice. “And then I will...”
“Drink the potion,” Master Lucknow ordered. He produced a pair of shackles from his belt and held them at the ready. “Now.”
A memory burst into her mind... Emily is kneeling on a stone floor, her hands and feet chained with cold iron. The spectators are booing loudly as her judges close in, joining hands in a fearsome ritual that will destroy her magic...
The flash of memory, of the demonic vision, was so strong Emily almost fainted. The world around her seemed to fade, just for a moment. She shivered, suddenly very aware she was on the cusp of disaster. If they took her... would they seek to destroy her power, to strip the magic from her, or simply kill her? She looked from face to face, reading grim determination in their eyes. They were ready to fight, ready to take her by force. And if they didn’t have a warrant... she swallowed, hard. She couldn’t let herself go with them.
“No.” Emily faced them, readying herself. “I want to see the warrant.”
One of the combat sorcerers made a gesture. Emily sensed a shimmer of magic, a webbing that - if it took shape and form - would trap her until she drained herself dry. Master Lucknow took a step forward, raising his hand. The netting centered on him, growing stronger and stronger with every passing second. She couldn’t let herself be trapped. It would be the end of everything. She was grossly outnumbered, but she didn’t have to beat them all to win. She just had to get clear of the wards and teleport out.
She summoned a wave of raw magic and directed it into the netting. The spellwork shattered, bits of magic splintering in all directions. She didn’t hesitate, generating a blinding flash of light that should have been enough to disorient them. Master Lucknow had enough presence of mind to counter the spell, but it bought her a few seconds. She cast a bigger spell of her own, yanking up every chair and table in the inn and hurling them at the sorcerers. It wouldn’t kill them, if they reacted quickly, but it would buy her a little more time. She saw Jan throwing himself towards the rear door as she darted backwards, without looking back. She didn’t blame him. He’d wind up in real trouble if he turned against his master.
One of the sorcerers grunted, tumbling to the ground as a chair struck him in the chest. He’d be fine, Emily was sure, but the impact should put him out of the fight. The others had raised their wards, smashing the tables and spraying sawdust in all directions. Emily summoned a wind, blowing the sawdust towards them. It might just get in their eyes. She turned and blasted the wall behind her, feeling a twinge of guilt. The innkeeper and his family were long gone, but they were going to come home to a pile of rubble. She made a promise to herself that she’d pay for repairs, if she survived. The surge of magic behind her suggested the combat sorcerers were angry.
She ran through the gash in the walls, into an alleyway. It was disturbingly empty. The wards buzzed against her mind as she glanced up and down, then drew on her magic and flew down the alleyway. Going too high would be a good way to get killed, but as long as she stayed low she should be able to put enough distance between herself and the wardcrafters to teleport out. She glanced up at Laughter as she flew past a taller building, wondering if she should try to get to the school. It might provide refuge... she shook her head. Duchene had plenty of reason to want Emily out of the way for a while. Going there might just get her arrested.
A force snapped around her legs, cancelling the spell. Emily fell, drawing on more of her magic to cushion the landing. The ground seemed to explode around her, turning rapidly to animated mud... she rolled over and over, catching sight of a magician roaring and chanting as he directed his spell. Ingenious, part of her mind noted. He’d turned the ground into a bog, charming the water to wear down her magic. It would have worked, too, if Void hadn’t taught her how to drain the magic from liquid. The sensation was thoroughly unpleasant, but... she sucked the magic out and directed it back at the caster, channeled into an overpowered stunning spell. His eyes went wide, an instant before he tumbled to the ground. He was still twitching, still trying to throw off the spell, as she ran past.
That might have been a mistake, she thought, numbly. She didn’t have time to kick him in the head. Hopefully, he’d be distracted long enough to keep him out of the fight even if the spell didn’t put him to sleep. Overpowering spells is a necromancer trick.
She reached out with her senses as she picked up speed, trying to determine the nearest edge of the wards. It wasn’t easy. The wards were constantly shifting, as if they were centered on her. She looked around, then - kicking herself for the oversight - up. A pair of magicians were clearly visible, staring down at her. She could see the threads of their magic, blurring together into the wards. As long as they could see her, they could trap her. And direct their fellows to her. She reached for her magic, then stopped herself. If she cancelled the spells holding them in the air, they’d plunge to their deaths. She didn’t want to kill them.
A force picked her up and hurled her right across the street. She had a brief impression of eyes watching from behind the curtains, which vanished as she hit the ground. The townspeople had to be panicking as they watched living gods tear their town apart, caught in the middle of a violent conflict... she shuddered, wondering what would happen to anyone who was injured in the crossfire. Nothing good, probably. Pendle had been overshadowed by fear for the last month and even though the source of the fear was gone, it would be a long time before everything returned to normal. None of the townspeople were going to help her. They’d turn and run to avoid being caught in the storm.
Just like Jan, she thought. Where did he go?
She pulled herself to her feet and sprinted into an alleyway. A robed magician stood in her path and she rammed her fist into his gut without thinking. He bent over, coughing and spluttering. He’d thought to wear leathers, but not charmed armor. Another stepped out, holding a wand in one hand and a battery in the other. Emily cursed under her breath as she sensed the magic in the wand. A simple cancellation spell, linked to the battery... every spell for hundreds of meters around would be cancelled. She had to admire the trick. They would cancel her magic, then overpower her by main force and pour the potion down her throat. It would work. She was tough, but Master Lucknow was probably tougher. He didn’t need all of his comrades to beat her into submission.
Her hand dropped to the pistol at her belt. She drew it, pointing the barrel at the magician. His eyes went wide... he was probably a veteran of the war, someone who knew what a pistol actually was. There were sorcerers who didn’t know what a gun did and wouldn’t recognize the threat if one was shoved into their mouths. He hesitated, visibly. If he activated the battery and triggered the spell, he’d render himself defenseless as well. The bullet might not be fatal, but he’d be seriously injured. Pistols weren’t very accurate, yet... they were at point-blank range. She doubted he would want to gamble his life on her missing...
She heard shouts behind her and altered her pose, pointing the gun at the battery and pulling the trigger. The blast was deafeningly loud in the confined space, the bullet striking the battery and sending it crashing to the ground. Weird sparks of light darted out of the containment ring, magic surging like water spewing from a balloon. Emily wasn’t sure what would happen, when a battery lost containment completely, but she didn’t want to stick around and find out. She shoved a force punch at the stunned magician, denting his wards enough to drive him back, then threw herself past and started to run again. Behind her, there was another surge of magic. She hoped - prayed - it hadn’t killed anyone.
Her legs started to ache as she burst onto the street and raced down to the edge of town. There was no one in view, but she heard the men behind her. She glanced at a hastily-abandoned fruit stall, then cast a levitation spell and hurled tons of fruit at the hovering magicians. The impacts wouldn’t cause them to fall - probably - but they would make it harder for them to keep the wards in place. They were still centered on her, damn it. She wondered, suddenly, if she should try to knock them out of the sky anyway. Their comrades might catch them before they hit the ground.
A sorcerer crashed into her, his magic tearing and blurring into hers. Emily winced at the onslaught, so crude and yet so effective, then turned into the attack. Magic crackled around her as she pushed forward, shoving her way through the storm. She could feel the sorcerer’s confusion as she yanked the magic aside, then punched him in the face. Whatever he’d been expecting, he hadn’t been expecting that. Emily felt her head start to pound as the magic began to fade, her vision blurring for a second. Void was going to scold her for trying that in a real fight. It could easily have gone the other way.
The wards started to shimmer and weaken. Emily pushed herself forward, leaving the dazed magician behind as she hurried to the edge of the wards. She felt drained, but... she thought she could teleport back to the tower. Void could sort out the mess... at the very least, she could recuperate while the Mediators insisted on her surrender. The pain grew stronger, to the point she honestly wasn’t sure she could teleport. Perhaps if she got into the woods, she could hide long enough...
“Emily!” Master Lucknow appeared, right at the edge of her wards. For a moment, Emily honestly thought he’d managed to teleport despite the interference. He’d used a concealment spell to hide from her, hidden in the corner of her eye. She’d been too distracted to notice. “You...”
Emily had no time to react before he caught hold of her hair and yanked, hard. She stumbled back, nearly losing her footing. Void had argued she should cut her hair short, perhaps even wear a wig if having long hair was so important to her. In hindsight, she suspected he’d been right. Master Lucknow had his hands wrapped around her hair, hurting her so badly she could barely think... she allowed him to drag her as she gathered herself, then cracked the back of her head into his nose. She heard it break with a very satisfying crack - she felt warm liquid drip into her hair - but he didn’t let go. A moment later, a force punch sent her spinning through the air. Her scalp hurt so badly she was sure he’d scalped her. 
She hit the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Master Lucknow landed on top of her, his weight holding her down. She sensed his magic brewing, readying itself for another blast. This close to her, he’d have no difficulty tearing apart what remained of her defenses or simply knocking her out. She ruthlessly bit down on her panic as his blood pressed against her bare skin. Channeling power through the blood was difficult and dangerous, yet...
GET OFF, she thought.
Master Lucknow rolled off, his arms and legs flailing madly. The compulsion had been almost irresistible. He’d certainly not realized she could use his blood to control him... when it wasn’t touching her fingers. Emily smirked - there was nothing in the books on blood magic that suggested she had to use her fingers - then forced herself to stand on bruised and battered legs. Master Lucknow glared at her, his gaze suggesting he was setting up barriers in his mind. Her control was already weakening... she knew it would only be a few seconds before he broke free and came for her. She didn’t know why he’d wanted to arrest her - she’d thought they were allies, during the war - but he wanted her dead now. She’d pushed the limits as far as they would go.
She heard the sound of running footsteps and forced herself to stagger down the street. Her legs were sore... too sore. Too much had happened... her vision was so blurred she could barely see. Anything could be in front of her. She sensed a flicker of magic, too late. The tangle spell struck her legs and she tripped over herself, landing back on the ground. The sorcerers advanced, their power building as they wove a net of magic. Emily would have laughed, if she hadn’t been so badly hurt. She was too drained to continue the fight. They could grab her by the neck, force the potion down her throat and then march her off to...
A surge of magic pulsed through the air. It wasn’t directed at Emily, but it was strong enough to batter against what remained of her defenses. The sorcerers were knocked backwards, like trees caught in a gale; Emily took advantage of their sudden confusion to draw on what little remained of her power, trying to clear her eyes. Her eyes felt dry as dust, but - slowly - they started to clear. A nexus of power had formed in front of her. Void stood there. And Jan was right behind him. 
Void’s voice was quiet, but it echoed on the air. “I do trust that you have an explanation for this?”

Chapter Two

Emily almost fainted with relief.
She’d known she was alone. She’d known she was doomed unless she fought her way clear long enough to escape. She’d known... and she’d been wrong. Jan had possessed the presence of mind to fetch Void, rather than standing against his master openly or turning on Emily... she felt a stab of sympathy, driven by the grim awareness that Jan had probably just lost his apprenticeship. Betraying one’s master wasn’t a harmless little prank. Even the sorcerers who thought Jan had done the right thing would hesitate to take him on.
Master Lucknow stumbled to his feet. “We are placing your apprentice under arrest by command of the White Council,” he said. “This matter does not concern you.”
Void raised his eyebrows. “I think you’ll find it does,” he said. “Emily is my daughter, as well as my apprentice. Anything that concerns her concerns me as well.”
Emily felt a rush of naked affection. Void had effectively adopted her, but... she wondered, suddenly, if this was what it was like to have a real father. To have someone who put you first, to have someone who came to your rescue when you found yourself in a mess you couldn’t handle... she wanted, suddenly, to give him a hug. He’d saved her when...
She gritted her teeth. There were at least eight other magicians facing them. She was in no state to continue the fight. Void was extremely powerful and yet... she didn’t know if he could fight off eight magicians long enough to escape. And even if he could... the town was going to be devastated. She forced herself to stand up, brushing down her dress. Better to run then kill hundreds, perhaps thousands, of innocent people.
Master Lucknow stared at Void. “The White Council has commanded...”
Void cut him off. “The White Council has an obligation to inform the patrons and allies of anyone charged with a crime,” he said. His voice was mild, but Emily could sense the roiling anger under his tone. “In this case, the... accused... is an apprentice, which adds a certain requirement to inform the apprentice’s master as well. There is a process to demand the apprentice be surrendered, that the apprentice be formally disowned and cut off from her master’s support. The process has not even been started.”
His lips curved into a smile. “Believe me, I know.”
“She was condemned by a special committee,” Master Lucknow said, coldly. “In times of emergency, normal procedures can be suspended.”
“A special committee can only be formed with the clear permission of the White Council,” Void countered. Emily wondered, suddenly, if he was stalling. Stalling for what? “Again, the council was not informed that a committee was being proposed. It certainly did not grant approval.”
“The special committee was formed to handle the post-war chaos,” Master Lucknow snapped. His eyes slipped to Emily, who stared back as evenly as she could. “The remit is wide enough not to require any further authorization.”
“Indeed?” Void seemed unimpressed. “I was unaware that your remit included snatching an apprentice, an apprentice with ties to some of the most powerful magicians and aristocrats in the Allied Lands, off the streets. The council is unlikely to accept such a precedent.”
“The charges are quite severe,” Master Lucknow said. “I believe...”
“You never listed the charges,” Emily said, sharply. “And you refused to show me the warrant.”
“He doesn’t have a warrant,” Void said. “Presenting one’s warrant is a legal requirement.”
Master Lucknow drew himself up to his full height. “The special committee has the legal right to summon anyone it wishes for questioning,” he said. “And when it believes the subject will decline to appear, it also has the right to compel their attendance.”
“And it has the obligation to make a good faith attempt to invite the subject to appear first,” Void said. “You certainly should not have shown up at her table and tried to place her under arrest.”
“Really?” Master Lucknow seemed oddly amused. “I seem to recall you snatching someone off the streets, twenty years ago.”
“Someone who was trafficking in the darkest of magics,” Void said. “Are you accusing my apprentice of doing the same?”
Master Lucknow didn’t rise to the bait. “I am doing my duty,” he said, stiffly. “I am defending the Allied Lands against those who would threaten them. We have been allies in the past, when it comes to protecting our people. Please do not stand in my way now.”
“And am I not obliged to protect my apprentice from those who would do her harm?” Void shrugged. “This... process... is not legally justified. Standard procedure was not followed.”
Void leaned forward. “Very well. We’ll have a hearing. An immediate hearing. I assume you have Resolution Castle prepped for her arrival?”
“The inquiry must proceed...”
Void smirked. “Is that a no?”
“The White Council is currently scattered,” Master Lucknow snapped. “I intended to place her under arrest before the full council was recalled.”
“An interesting legal twist,” Void observed.
“Time is of the essence,” Master Lucknow insisted.
“And that is why we will have an immediate hearing,” Void said. “Emily and I will make our way to Resolution Castle. You will arrange for someone to tend to her wounds, while recalling the council and preparing the charges. I dare say you should be able to arrange matters so we can hold the hearing in a couple of hours. If not... we can do it properly. We will await the formal summons with great interest.”
Emily frowned as Master Lucknow looked from Void to her and back again. She didn’t quite follow the legal arguments, but she was fairly sure that whatever Master Lucknow had done here wasn’t particularly legal. At best, Master Lucknow had tried to arrest her before getting the warrant, in hopes of presenting the council with a fait accompli. At worst... had he been trying to get her tried, convicted and punished before anyone realized what he’d done? If Jan hadn’t gone for Void, she would have lost the fight and been dragged away. Void wouldn’t have known anything had happened until it was far too late.
She felt a sting of betrayal. Master Lucknow had fought beside her, only a few months ago. The batteries had unnerved him... she wondered, morbidly, if she’d accidentally convinced him she was a deadly threat. She supposed he might be right, from his point of view. The batteries - and gunpowder - were shaking the world. The guns that had stopped an orcish charge could, just as easily, tear their way through a magical estate. And, combined with the runes she’d had carved on the bullets...
“She is a flight risk,” Master Lucknow said, breaking into Emily’s thoughts. “We have to ensure she cannot escape.”
“Are you suggesting I cannot keep her in my tower?” Void didn’t move, but his presence seemed to grow. “Or that I would deliberately let her go?”
The words hung on the air for a long moment. Emily tensed, readying herself to drop to the ground if the sorcerers started hurling curses at each other. Master Lucknow had crossed a line. The suggestion a master couldn’t control, and discipline, his apprentice was a deadly insult. Void had every right to take offense and it was unlikely anyone would suggest otherwise. Even if they believed Emily was Void’s daughter, they’d still expect him to keep her under control.
“Your choice,” Void said. “We can have the hearing now. Or I can take her home and you can follow standard procedure.”
Master Lucknow’s eyes flashed murder. “We shall proceed to Resolution,” he said, curtly. “The hearing will be organized as soon as possible.”
Emily glanced at Void, who nodded shortly. Behind him, Jan looked pale. Emily didn’t envy him. His master was going to be pissed. Master Lucknow would be looking for someone to bear the brunt of his anger. And if Jan hadn’t fetched Void, the plan would have worked perfectly. Emily hoped Jan had the sense to cut off his apprenticeship and go. He already knew enough to make a decent living. He didn’t have to stay with his master.
Void took her arm. “Brace yourself,” he said. “This is going to be bumpy.”
“And you, go back home and wait,” Master Lucknow said to Jan. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Emily wanted to say something, although she had no idea what, but she felt Void’s power building and hastily closed her eyes. The ground lurched violently under her feet, a storm of magic billowing around her before slowly fading. Her body ached, as if she’d been hit repeatedly without any clear memory of it. She staggered against Void, nearly losing her footing as the ground lurched again. She had the uneasy sense they’d just crashed through a pair of wards intended to keep them out.
Her eyes snapped open. They were in the center of a dimly lit chamber, barely illuminated by light that had no visible source. Powerful wards surrounded them, confusing her senses even though they didn’t seem to be focused on them specifically. She thought she sensed the beating of a nexus point in the distance, but it didn’t seem to be linked to the wards. It was hard to be sure. She tried to reach out gingerly, to study the wards, but it was like staring into a blinding light. It was impossible to pick out the details, let alone start planning to crack the wards from the inside.
“Resolution Castle,” Void said, as he let go of her arm. “Home of the Order of Mediation.”
Emily nodded, looking around with interest. They were alone, trapped in a chamber that looked very much like a prison. A line of doors stood in front of her, each heavily warded. There was no one else in view, but her instincts insisted she was being watched. She glanced at the doors, wondering if anyone was behind them. There were no visible peepholes, but that proved nothing. Peepholes weren’t useful if the victim knew they were there.
That doesn’t prove anything either, Emily reminded herself. Some peepholes and observation spells are designed to be obvious, just to convince the victim they’ve found and blocked them all.
Void chuckled, humorlessly. “Their taste in interior design leaves something to be desired.”
Emily looked at him as he cast a pair of privacy spells. “What happened?”
“Good question.” Void spoke quietly, despite the spells. “They certainly didn’t follow standard procedure.”
He looked her up and down, thoughtfully. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Emily said. Her body ached. She hadn’t felt so sore since the first time she’d taken Martial Magic. It was hard to believe, even in hindsight, that Sergeant Harkin had gone easy on her. “Sore and drained.”
“You did well,” Void said.
Emily frowned. “How much of the fight did you see?”
“There were eight combat sorcerers and a dozen apprentices in the area,” Void said. “If you hadn’t done well, they would have taken you prisoner with ease. You could have done more, though...”
“I didn’t want to kill people,” Emily said. She thought about the townspeople she’d met over the last few weeks and shivered. None of them deserved to be tormented by the witches, let alone killed because they’d been caught in the middle of a full-scale fight. “I thought...”
“Sometimes, you have to make that choice,” Void said. “Trying to snatch you off the streets... that’s not good. Lucknow’s practically thrown his career to the dragons.”
Emily frowned. “I thought he was on your side. Your team.”
“No one is ever truly on another person’s side,” Void said, shortly. “People work together because they have common interests. When those interests diverge, so do the people.”
“And why...?” Emily shook her head. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss it here, in the middle of the castle. “Where is he?”
“Probably running around, trying to make arrangements,” Void said. He chuckled, darkly. “He was always very good at planning the immediate steps, but his long-term planning often leaves something to be desired.”
Emily looked away as a door started to rattle before opening, revealing a grim-faced man in a suit of charmed armor. It looked absurdly fragile, but she knew from experience that it could deflect or absorb enough spells to give its wearer a chance to deal with the caster before it was too late. The man’s face was oddly blurred, suggesting he was using a charm to hide his identity. She supposed it made a certain kind of sense. The prisoners might want revenge on their gaolers if - when - they were released.
The man stepped up to her and stopped. “Lady Emily,” he said. He moved with a delicacy that suggested he’d been wounded in his youth and the damage had never fully healed. Rare, for a magician. She thought, just for a second, that he might be a homunculus. “Please come with me.”
“I will be accompanying her to the cell,” Void said. His tone made it clear it wasn’t a request. “And you will be held solely accountable for her treatment.”
Emily shivered. The gaoler didn’t show any visible reaction. Instead, he turned and led the way through the door. The corridor beyond was cold, but nowhere near as dark and dank as King Randor’s cells. Indeed, there was something oddly sterile about the arrangement. She didn’t see a single person, apart from themselves, as they moved through a maze of corridors. The wards pulsed around them, remaining oddly consistent. It was hard not to feel as though the corridors were constantly changing, that the castle was designed to ensure that anyone who tried to escape only went deeper and deeper into the building. She shivered, again. Were they being led into a trap?
Void looked impassive as they walked through an arch and into a mid-sized chamber. The door ahead of them was clearly part of a cell, with a barred window allowing the gaoler to peer inside. Emily gritted her teeth as the gaoler opened the door, revealing a surprisingly luxurious room. It wouldn’t have been out of place in Whitehall. There was a bed, a washroom, a desk and a chair... it might have been a room in an inn, if it weren’t so clearly a cell. The wards were growing stronger, pressing down on her. She felt as though her head was being stuffed with cotton wool.
They’re designed to sap my will to escape, she thought, numbly. It would be easy, almost terrifyingly easy, to sit on the bed and just... wait. She’d seen all sorts of spells designed to trap the victim, by lulling them into a daze, but this one was an order of magnitude more powerful. Knowing it was there wasn’t enough to deflect it. The moment I lose my concentration, I’m doomed.
She frowned as she spotted the food waiting. It looked to be of good quality, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t safe to eat. Someone could easily spike the food with potion and render her powerless - or worse. The jug of water would be harder to spike, but it could be done. She knew a dozen spells to check if something was safe to eat, yet the wards were pressing down so hard she wasn’t sure she could make the spells work safely. Or if she could trust the results. She cursed under her breath. Sooner or later, she’d have to drink something. She knew she couldn’t hold out forever.
Void touched her shoulder. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” he said. “Don’t be downhearted.”
The gaoler motioned for her to step into the cell. Emily hesitated, feeling as though she was stepping into a trap. She trusted Void and yet... she felt abandoned. They could go back to the tower and... and what? She sighed. If they - if she - went on the run, it would be taken as a confession of guilt. And she was in no state to go on the run. She nodded stiffly and walked into the cell. The wards - somehow - managed to get stronger. She closed her eyes for a long moment, drawing on what remained of her magic to build shields in her mind to protect herself. They wouldn’t last forever, not with the wards constantly grating on her, but...
She flinched as the door closed behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a cell, but... she shook her head in irritation. Randor’s cells had been designed to make it very clear that the prisoner was in deep shit. The unfortunate inmates had been chained to the walls and forced to share their bread and water with the rats. Here... it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security. The room could easily have passed for a standard guestroom. There was even a small shelf crammed with books. Emily took one and glanced at the title, then frowned. Basic Council Law. She wasn’t sure if someone was trying to give the accused a chance to defend themselves or engaging in sadistic torture. She’d read the book years ago. The legalese was almost impossible to comprehend. 
A sense of despondency overcame her as she peered into the washroom, then sat on the bed. Void had come to her aid, but... she found herself looking at the door, praying he’d return soon. He’d left her alone. He’d left her alone and...
Master Lucknow’s gone mad, she told herself. The rest of the council will refuse to go along with him.
But, as she waited for something to happen, the thought provided no consolation at all.

Chapter Three

It had never really occurred to Emily, not even when she’d been at Whitehall, that making someone wait for punishment was part of the punishment. She’d never had a problem with being alone, even when she’d been told to stay in her room and not come out. And yet, as she started to lose track of time, she found herself wishing Master Lucknow would just get on with it. He’d clearly not bothered to lay any of the groundwork for obtaining a warrant and arresting her, let alone putting her on trial. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. She knew she had enemies, but how many of them were prepared to set a precedent that could - that would - come back to bite them? 
Maybe he thought he could arrest me and execute me without anyone realizing what he’d done, Emily thought. She couldn’t see how Master Lucknow had intended to pull it off, not when he’d had a small army under his command, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. If he swore them all to secrecy, the truth might never come out.
She shook her head. Master Lucknow had never struck her as stupid. A plan that relied on everyone keeping their mouths shut was a very stupid plan indeed. And yet... what had he had in mind? What was he playing at? Did he think he could condemn her without dragging her in front of the entire council? Or was he gambling he could dispose of her before anyone interfered? Was he prepared to die himself to ensure that she died, too?
Her body ached, dully. She pulled up her shirt and frowned at the bruises. She’d taken several nasty blows when she’d hit the ground. Her scalp hurt... she touched her hair, realizing it was still matted with Master Lucknow’s blood. He wasn’t going to forgive her for using blood magic against him, not in a hurry. She’d crossed a line there... her fingers tingled as she felt the blood, tasting his magic. That trick probably wouldn’t work twice. If she was any judge, he’d have cut the link as soon as he realized it existed.
There was a knock on the door. She looked up, wondering - absurdly - what would happen if she told the newcomer to go away. She was in a prison cell. It was unlikely anyone would give much of a damn about her orders, if she demanded privacy. The door rattled and opened, revealing Mistress Kyla. Whitehall’s Healer nodded to her, then drew a wand from her belt and waved it in the air. The wards faded slightly. Emily smiled in relief. 
“Emily,” Kyla said. She looked older than Emily remembered, wispy white hair curled around an ancient face. “It’s been a while.”
Emily nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“They thought you needed a Healer,” Kyla said. “And I was asked to attend upon you.”
“I see.” Emily felt a flicker of suspicion. “What did I ask you about, after the school nearly collapsed in on itself?”
Kyla didn’t hesitate. “You asked for advice on contraceptive charms,” she said, bluntly. “I told you that potions were better, then taught you how to cast the charms.”
Emily flushed, despite her relief. The majority of students learnt such charms from their parents or their older siblings, when they didn’t choose to rely on the potion. She’d had to ask the healer herself, when she’d started her relationship with Caleb... no one else, not even her closest friends, knew. The woman in front of her was the healer, not someone wearing her face. It wasn’t easy to pose as someone else, not when talking to someone who knew them, but it wasn’t impossible. Someone might easily have assumed that Emily didn’t know Kyla that well.
“I have to check up on you,” Kyla said. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Emily said. She stood and allowed the healer to wave the wand around her. Magic tingled up and down her spine. “What did they tell you?”
“About you?” Kyla shrugged as she started to run through a pair of healing spells. “They just said you needed a healer. That was it.”
Emily took a breath, feeling the aches and pains slowly fading away. She’d have to pay for it, later on, but... hopefully she’d have time to get through the hearing before she collapsed into bed. She wished, grimly, that Master Lucknow had let Void take her back to the tower. It would have been so much easier to trust the food... she glanced at the water jug, practically calling to her. Her throat felt parched. And yet... she didn’t dare touch the drink.
A thought struck her. “Is the water safe to drink?”
“It should be.” Kyla finished casting spells on Emily and turned away, inspecting the jug and its contents. “There’s no magic within the liquid.”
Which doesn’t prove anything, Emily thought. A mundane drug - a simple sleeping draught or something far worse - wouldn’t trip the spells. There could be anything in there.
“You need a shower,” Kyla informed her, curtly. “And then I advise a good night’s sleep.”
Emily had to laugh. “And what will happen to me while I sleep?”
Kyla said nothing, but dug her hand into her pouch and removed a vial. “A basic nutrient potion,” she said. “It won’t keep you going forever, but it should give you a few more hours before you have to eat the food here.”
“I... thank you,” Emily said. She wasn’t blind to the risk the healer was running, just by giving her the potion. Master Lucknow would not approve. Healers were hard to punish, but not impossible. Kyla could lose her post at Whitehall if Master Lucknow made a fuss. “I don’t know how long they’re going to keep me here.”
“They didn’t tell me,” Kyla said. “But I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Emily wasn’t so sure. Master Lucknow had gone too far for a simple misunderstanding and that meant... what? What was he planning to do? Get the council together and ask them to retroactively approve Emily’s arrest? Or find a fig leaf that would allow him to let her go without losing too much face? She was surprised he hadn’t bothered to lay the groundwork properly, which suggested... what? He wasn’t careless, any more than he was stupid. He’d probably had some idea for handling her, once he had her in custody.
Unless his real plan was to lock me up and milk me for ideas, she thought. The thought was alarmingly plausible. If he put me in a cell like this, I might never get free.
“I can remain here for a few moments longer, if you would like to take a shower,” Kyla said, calmly. “I can clean your dress while you wash.”
Emily hesitated. She was certain - very certain - that the cell was under close observation. It was what she would have done, if she was dealing with a very dangerous prisoner. She certainly didn’t want to get undressed and shower in front of unseen eyes and yet... she was grimy and covered in someone else’s blood. Her skin crawled at the thought. There was no point in trying to save the blood. By now, it would be useless. Master Lucknow would have made sure of it.
“I’ll look more impressive if I wash,” Emily said. She opened the vial, put the glass to her lips and drank. The potion tasted ghastly, but she felt a surge of energy rushing through her as she started to undress. The healer looked away, politely. “Thanks.”
She stepped into the washroom, turned on the water and clambered into the shower. The water was hot enough to make her relax, just a little. She was tempted to remain under the water, even though she knew Kyla couldn’t spend much longer with her. Emily’s eyes narrowed. Why was she even here? It was unlikely in the extreme that she’d been the closest healer. Resolution Castle was a long way from Whitehall. There had to be at least a dozen healers who could have been summoned instead.
The thought nagged at her as she turned off the water and dried herself with a couple of spells. Her scalp still ached... she conceded, ruefully, that Void had had a point when he’d advised her to cut her hair. Perhaps she should have replaced it with a wig. Master Lucknow would have looked a fool if he’d yanked on her hair, only to have the wig come free. She smiled at the thought, then stepped back into the chamber. Her clothes waited for her on the bed. Kyla averted her eyes, again, as Emily dressed. The healer had seen it all before - she looked old enough to have known Void as a child - but she understood the need for privacy. 
“Thank you for coming,” Emily said. “Could you take a message for me...?”
“I’m afraid not,” Kyla said. “Healers are required to be neutral.”
Emily grimaced. “I am allowed to write letters...”
“Healers are required to be neutral,” Kyla repeated. “I can inform the staff that you want to send a letter, if you like, but I cannot carry it myself.”
“I see.” Emily gritted her teeth in frustration. She’d known that healers weren’t allowed to take sides, but... there was no point in arguing. Kyla’s magic wouldn’t let her do anything that broke her oaths. “Please let them know.”
Kyla nodded - her face was a mask, suggesting she was concealing her true feelings - and stepped through the door. Emily was morbidly certain that she wouldn’t be able to open the door, let alone leave the room. Not without permission, in any case. She sat on the bed and tried to project an image of despondency, all the while reaching out to touch the wards. They were incredibly complex, layer upon layer of spellwork designed to make it impossible for a magician to escape. She had to admire the design, even though it was keeping her under control. She’d never seen anything quite like it. They definitely weren’t drawing power from the nexus point.
She closed her eyes, studying the wards thoughtfully. It would take hours, perhaps days, to crack them. Someone would notice. There was a wardmaster attached to the wards or she knew nothing about magic. And that meant... she inched her thoughts into the spellware, trying to locate the controlling mind. The wards were so old that she doubted the wardmaster had actually created them. That had probably been a team effort.
Which means there will be cracks in the design, she told herself. It’s just a matter of finding them.
It wasn’t easy to determine if she should be trying to escape or not, but studying the wards was a way to pass the time. Emily didn’t see anything new in the design, yet she had to admit their structure was capable of keeping her trapped unless she threw caution to the winds and pushed everything she had into the effort. And then... she might break the wards only to discover she couldn’t muster the energy to escape. She was vaguely aware that time was ticking past, but... it didn’t matter. Poking threads of her awareness into the wards and trying to gain a sense of who - or what - was nearby...
The door rattled. Emily started, her awareness crashing back into her mind. Her head spun as she struggled to gather herself, feeling as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Whoever was coming had nearly caught her... she sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t as if she’d gotten anywhere, not really. She’d barely managed to extend more than a trace of magic into the wards. Hacking the spellware would take much - much - longer.
She forced herself to sit upright as the door opened, then stared in astonishment as Grandmaster Gordian stepped into the room. He hadn’t changed in the eighteen months or so since she’d last seen him. He was a tall and dignified man, wearing robes that flowed around him. Emily felt a twinge of resentment. Gordian and she had never been friends. He hadn’t wanted her at Whitehall and, eventually, he’d gotten his wish.
“Grandmaster,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Gordian seemed oddly irresolute. “I’m sorry to see you here,” he said. “If things had been different...”
Emily swallowed her anger with an effort. Gordian could hardly be blamed for not being the previous Grandmaster. Void’s brother had been a born leader. When he’d spoken, everyone had listened. And he’d been powerful - and knowledgeable - enough to enjoy a high degree of autonomy. He’d certainly known where all the bodies were buried. Gordian just wasn’t anything like him. Emily knew, all too well, that he was a weak reed. He simply didn’t have the power and prestige of his predecessor.  Master Lucknow had probably steamrolled him into giving the proceedings a faint veneer of legality.
“If things had been different,” Emily repeated. “Why am I here?”
Gordian took a seat and stared down at his hands. “The White Council is deeply divided,” he said. “It may even be on the verge of complete collapse. No one sees any need to keep it, not now the necromancers are gone. They have to do something to reassert their control.”
“Control they never really had,” Emily commented, sardonically. The White Council had never had the power to push the kingdoms, or the magical families, around. It had little in the way of military power... hell, it couldn’t even tax its lands. The council was entirely dependent upon outside funding. and if that dried up… “Is that the point? Have they decided to arrest me in hopes of reasserting their control?”
Gordian looked uncomfortable. “They have to be seen to be doing something,” he said. “Far too many people hate you.”
“Including you,” Emily said, flatly.
“I do what I have to do.” Gordian didn’t meet her eyes. “My priority is preserving the school.”
“Which is suddenly a great deal easier, as the necromancers are gone,” Emily said. She couldn’t hide her anger. “You’re welcome.”
Gordian gave her a sharp look. “We’re not ungrateful for what you’ve done,” he said. “But that doesn’t absolve us of having to deal with the consequences.”
“Really?” Emily tried not to snort. “And what would have happened, Grandmaster, if Shadye had crushed Whitehall? Or if Rangka and his comrades had actually carved their way through the Craggy Mountains? Would there not be worse consequences then?”
“Yes,” Gordian conceded. “But we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.”
Emily allowed her eyes to bore into him. “And so you have allowed Master Lucknow to try to arrest me in the middle of a crowded town,” she said. “What were you thinking?”
She didn’t wait for him to reply. She knew the answer. Gordian was a weak man - politically, if not personally. He hadn’t been able to oppose Fulvia, let alone Master Lucknow, without paying a high price. She had no doubt Master Lucknow had promised the sun and the moon - or, more practically, a guarantee there would be no further demands, if Gordian signed off on the warrant. The non-existent warrant... perhaps that had been the plan all along. Gordian might find himself holding the bag, after Emily’s arrest and execution. Certainly, no one would come to his defense. 
And Master Lucknow can claim he was only following orders, she thought. It would excuse everything, if the orders came from a legitimate source. Bastard.
“If this is how you repay me for saving you from a world-ending threat,” she said instead, “I’d hate to see how you punish your enemies.”
Gordian stood. “I regret the necessity of arresting you,” he said. He didn’t sound as though he meant it. “However, my personal feelings are immaterial. The council must assert its power or risk losing everything. The problem you present must be handled as quickly as possible, before the sparks of fire and fury along the borders lead to a full-scale war. You have already caused quite enough trouble, Emily. Perhaps it is time to put an end to it.”
Emily scowled. “And can I expect a fair trial?”
“Of course,” Gordian said. “But the charges against you are quite serious.”
“And no one has told me the charges,” Emily said. She looked him in the eye, resisting the urge to stand. “Your decision - the court’s decision - must stand the test of time. If it looks as though you judged me guilty, before so much as giving me a chance to defend myself, what will history think of you? What will the council as a whole think of you?”
Gordian hesitated. Emily pressed her advantage ruthlessly. “You know I have friends and allies,” she said. “What will they say, if you put me in front of a biased court?”
“History is written by the victors,” a new voice said. Master Lucknow was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “And by those who survive.”
Emily cursed under her breath. Gordian was a weak man. Master Lucknow was not.
“Come, Lady Emily,” Master Lucknow said. “It is time to face the court.”
“My... my father hasn’t returned,” Emily said. How long had it been? She wasn’t sure. “We need to wait for him.”
“Your father has abandoned you,” Master Lucknow said. There was something in his voice that suggested he wasn’t lying. “Come with me. Or do you want to be dragged?”

Chapter Four

Emily felt as though she was walking to her own execution.
They hadn’t shackled her, or placed her under a compulsion spell, but she was grimly aware escape was impossible. The castle was so heavily warded she didn’t have a hope of getting out, not even if she had all her magic. Master Lucknow walked beside her, close enough to grab hold of her arm and yet not close enough for her to take offense. She knew, without looking, that Gordian was behind them. She wished, for a bitter moment, that he could live up to his predecessor’s reputation just once. Grandmaster Hasdrubal would have crushed Master Lucknow for daring to talk down to him.
A shiver ran through her as they walked down the corridor. Where was Void? She couldn’t believe he’d abandoned her. He could have done that a long time ago, if he hadn’t cared for her on some level; he could have simply ignored Jan if he hadn’t wanted to intervene when Master Lucknow had tried to arrest her. He was a strange person, with many secrets, but it was impossible to believe he meant her harm. He’d certainly had no shortage of opportunities to hurt or kill her if he’d wished.
She glanced at Master Lucknow. “What... what have you done to Jan?”
Master Lucknow’s voice was frosty. “That is none of your concern.”
Emily refused to be cowed. “He was only trying to help...”
“Jan’s fate is none of your concern,” Master Lucknow snapped. “When this is over, he will be dealt with.”
Emily winced. Jan didn’t deserve that.
The corridor widened as they walked into the courtroom. Emily had expected something akin to Alassa’s courtroom, where her father’s supporters had been tried for war crimes, but the magical courtroom was quite different. The room was so dark that large swathes of it were cloaked in shadow. Seven hooded figures sat at a desk, facing her; an eighth man had his hood pulled back to reveal his face. He looked oddly familiar, as if she’d crossed paths with him at some point over the last few years. She couldn’t place him. A tall man stood on the near side of the desk, his face carefully blank. Emily shivered as she recognized Master Tor. He’d told his class, once, that he practiced law in front of the White Council. She hadn’t really understood what he’d meant until now.
Gordian walked around her and took a seat beside the hooded figures. Emily sucked in her breath. Nine jurymen... if she recalled correctly, a simple majority would be enough to convict. She tried to pick out the faces under the hoods, but it was impossible. Master Tor had explained the reasoning, a long time ago. The individual jurymen, drawn from the White Council, had no power as individuals. It was only as a group they could convict people bought before the Shadow Chamber. She shivered, again, as she realized that she’d been brought before the chamber. Some of her classmates had argued it didn’t exist, that it was little better than a rumor. She knew better now.
Master Tor snapped his fingers. A low chime echoed through the air. “The Shadow Chamber is now in session,” he said. “Emily, Daughter of Void, has been brought before us to answer charges.”
His eyes moved to Emily. “How do you plead?”
Emily kept her temper under firm control. “I cannot plead,” she said. Master Tor might look like Jean-Luc Picard, but he didn’t have the starship captain’s passion for justice. “I have not been informed of the charges.”
Master Tor looked impassive. “The Prosecutor will read the charges.”
Master Lucknow stepped forward. “There are a number of separate charges filed against Lady Emily,” he said. “Breaking the Compact, by accepting an aristocratic title, destabilizing the balance of power and inciting rebellion.  Introducing dangerous and potentially forbidden techniques, ranging from gunpowder and steam engines to batteries. Interfering in the affairs of her betters, including the operations of no less than three magical schools. Challenging a tutor to a duel and killing him in cold blood.”
Emily leaned forward. “And how many of those are actually crimes?”
“The accused will be silent,” Master Tor said, flatly.
“It is true that many of the offenses are relatively minor,” Master Lucknow said. “However, two of them are extremely serious. It cannot be denied that Lady Emily’s innovations, the so-called New Learning, have had an extremely disruptive effect on society. The new method of writing alone has put the ability to communicate in the hands of everyone, including people who lack the maturity and perspective to handle it. We have seen kingdoms shake, even fall, because of her innovations. This is a clear breach of the Compact, even if it was not intentional. She had a duty to consider what her innovations might do before she released them.
“Furthermore, Lady Emily is deeply involved in the politics of Zangaria while trying, at the same time, to present herself as both a humble apprentice and a champion of the Allied Lands themselves. She is a baroness, with immense personal power; she is, after fighting for the queen in a civil war, practically the greatest aristocrat in the kingdom. She did not have to involve herself so deeply and, practically, she could have declined the honors showered upon her by two successive monarchs.  Again, this is a clear breach of the Compact.”
He paused for effect. “The most disturbing aspects of her innovations, however, are the magical ones. She has devised a means of long-range communication, private communications, that can be easily abused. Chat parchments have been used to break down wards and sneak through mental defenses, as we saw - only a few short days ago - in Laughter. Worse, she has devised a means of permanently storing magical power. She has, in a single stroke, upended our society. What can be done - what cannot be done - by a person with a battery and bad intentions?
“It is a point of law, of course, that an inventor cannot be blamed for the effects of their invention. The alchemist who first devised a basic lust potion cannot be held accountable for what someone else does with the recipe. But there is a certain responsibility, on the part of the inventor, to ensure it doesn’t fall into unsuitable hands. They should take all reasonable precautions to ensure the recipe isn’t stolen. Lady Emily did not. In some cases, she practically ensured that everyone in the community knew how to duplicate her innovation. In others, she did not take anything like enough precautions to protect her designs. The only reason I can talk freely now, about the batteries, is that the secret is out and spreading. My oaths no longer bind me.”
Emily let out a breath. She’d done everything she reasonably could do to keep that secret from getting out. And yet... she gritted her teeth. There was no way any reasonably impartial court could blame her for someone copying the chat parchment spells, turning them into weapons and putting them into use.  Hell, the secret wasn’t wholly hers. It had been Aloha who’d come up with the final version. She decided not to point that out. There was no point in getting both of them in trouble.
“It cannot be denied that Lady Emily has done great things,” Master Lucknow said. “But it is also clear she’s dangerous. She’s shown a willingness to interfere in matters that are none of her concern, to the point she tries to push around people vastly more experienced than herself. She meddles in situations she does not understand, throwing the established order - both magical and mundane - into chaos. The crisis we are facing now is a direct result of her meddling. She must answer for her crimes.”
Crimes, Emily thought, sarcastically.
“The prosecution believes the charges cannot be answered,” Master Lucknow said. “There is no dispute over the facts. Accordingly, we request that the court moves immediately to judgement.”
Emily opened her mouth to object, but Master Tor spoke first. “The accused has a right to respond to the charges,” he said. Emily could have kissed him. “Lady Emily, the floor is yours.”
Master Lucknow stepped back. Emily composed herself with an effort. Nine jurymen... one too weak to stand against her enemies. Another weirdly familiar, as if she knew him from somewhere... the remainder strangers. Had Master Lucknow rigged the jury selection? She didn’t know. From what little she recalled, the process was supposed to be random. And yet, there were plenty of ways to influence the outcome if things had to be done in a rush. Master Lucknow would certainly try, she was sure. He wasn’t the type of man to leave things to chance if it could be avoided.
Cold anger shot through her. The trial was a farce. The whole affair was a farce. She hadn’t intended to cause chaos... she certainly hadn’t set out to upset the balance of power. And yet... a dozen arguments ran through her mind, each unlikely to convince the jury. They’d used her, they’d praised her... and now they were planning to discard her, after all she’d done for them. It wasn’t her fault that her innovations had been misused. She’d certainly never anticipated how the chat parchments could be turned into weapons...
She clasped her hands behind her back and addressed the jury. “You ungrateful bastards.”
The words hung in the air. She almost smiled as shock rippled around the chamber. It wasn’t something she would normally say, but... logic and reason wasn’t going to get her out of this mess. There was no hope of convincing anyone to uphold the law. She knew from watching King Randor - and even Alassa - that the law was flexible, if someone with enough power wanted to bend it to his will. But if she reminded them of everything she’d done...
“Seven years ago, back when I came into my magic, the situation was dire,” she said, pressing on before anyone could intervene. “The necromancers were pressing against the Craggy Mountains. Shadye and his predecessors had already made several attempts to smash through Whitehall and rampage through the Allied Lands. Two kingdoms further to the east had fallen, with the necromancers slowed by geography rather than a stout defense. Dua Kepala was on the far side of the Desert of Death, exploring Heart’s Eye and laying the groundwork for an invasion of Tarsier. And other necromancers - and dark wizards - were popping up regularly on the northern side of the mountains.
“It was just a matter of time before the end.”
She paused, wishing she could gauge their reactions. But it was impossible. All she could do was press on and hope for the best.
“I went to Whitehall for my first year, when Shadye attacked for the final time. I killed him. I saved the school. I saved Alluvia and the kingdoms beyond. The next year, I killed another necromancer, one who could have turned the Cairngorms into her personal slaughterhouse if she hadn’t been stopped. Two years after that, I killed yet another necromancer and recaptured Heart’s Eye.
“And, only a few short months ago, I devised a way to beat them permanently.
“I am twenty-three years old. There isn’t a person in this chamber who isn’t old enough to be my father. How can you forget, so quickly, that you were staring Armageddon in the face? How can you forget that it was just a matter of time before the necromancers came for you? How can you forget that they were finally on the verge of grinding through the mountains and winning the war? How can you condemn me for saving you from a fate worse than death?”
She allowed her voice to rise, just a little. “You say that I am to blame for my inventions being misused. But how can that possibly be true? I am responsible for what I do, but not for the actions of others. There is no reasonable way you can blame me for what someone else does with my work. And if you think I should never have invented the batteries, ask yourself this: What would the world be like, right now, if I’d never so much as devised the concept, let alone turned it into reality?
“I’ll tell you. The necromancers would still be alive. They would still be a serious threat on the far side of the mountains. And they’d just have to get lucky once to crush you.”
Master Lucknow cleared his throat. “No one is denying that you saved the world,” he said, bluntly. “But we cannot deny the consequences either. You have upset the balance of power. Reigniting the nexus points alone...”
Emily cut him off. “No one, including yourself, so much as raised the possibility that reigniting the Kuching nexus would reignite the other dead nexus points. You were there at the planning meetings. Did anyone raise it as a practical concern?”
“Objection,” Master Lucknow said. “The defense is not allowed to ask questions of the prosecution.”
“True enough,” Master Tor agreed. “However, there are no other witnesses to those planning sessions on hand. Answer the question.”
“The concern was never raised,” Master Lucknow said, coldly. “However, the fact remains that she upset the balance of power...”
“By accident,” Emily said.
“Then, perhaps,” Master Lucknow conceded. “But by inventing gunpowder?”
“If I hadn’t introduced gunpowder,” Emily said, “what would have happened when the orcs charged our lines?”
She winced, inwardly. She hadn’t set out to turn the world upside down, by introducing earthly innovations, but she’d known it was going to happen. Gunpowder alone put the power to kill in the hands of anyone who could obtain a gun... hell, it wasn’t as if gunpowder was difficult to produce. The formula had leaked out years ago. She’d heard rumors that every blacksmith was converting his forge into a gunsmith’s factory and trying desperately to devise the next generation of guns, putting them into production before they become outdated. And gunpowder was only the big - obvious - invention. English letters and Arabic numbers - and paper - would be just as disruptive in the long run.
“We would have held the line,” Master Lucknow insisted.
“No,” Emily said. Archers were terrifying, but they couldn’t match musketmen. “The archers could not have stopped the charge.”
Master Lucknow changed his tack. “And what do you say to the charge you broke the Compact?”
“I am a magician, part of the magical community,” Emily said. “But I was also ennobled by King Randor of Zangaria, in a manner I could not refuse. It was his duty to reward me and mine to accept the reward.”
“After you meddled in his kingdom’s affairs,” Master Lucknow said. “And you have the nerve to call us ungrateful.”
Emily flushed, angrily. “I was invited to Zangaria by then-Princess Alassa, one of my closest friends. I could not have turned my back on her, when the coup began and she needed help. And by restoring her father to power, one could say I restored the status quo.”
“You broke the Compact,” Master Lucknow charged.
“She was - she is - my friend,” Emily countered. They’d had a rough start, but she would risk her life for Alassa... and she thought Alassa would do the same for her. Besides, they’d had years to complain about her ennoblement and hadn’t said anything. “Would you have urged me to abandon her?”
Master Lucknow said nothing. Emily wondered what was going through his mind. A magician, certainly one taking her first steps away from her family, was meant to support her friends. Leaving Alassa in the lurch - or even dragging her back to Whitehall - would have reflected badly on Emily. She was mature enough to realize there were times when the best thing you could do was turn and walk away, if someone made unreasonable demands, but it wasn’t easy. And here, it would have made her look bad.
Another chime echoed through the air. “It is time for the prosecutor to sum up his case,” Master Tor said. “And then the defendant may make her final reply.”
“I will not mince words,” Master Lucknow said. “Lady Emily has done great things. That cannot be denied. But she is also dangerous. She has upset the balance of power... no, she has smashed it beyond repair. The chaos sweeping over a dozen kingdoms, the disruption plaguing all of the magic schools... they all stem from her and her innovations. It is the desire of many a king and nobleman, of patriarch and matriarch, that she be rendered unable to do further harm.
“But, putting that aside, the White Council must seek to take control and direct the storm. It is incumbent upon us to handle the matter, to ensure that Lady Emily can do no more damage to our position. Yes, we have reason to be grateful. Yes, we have reason to pile rewards and titles on her until she is squashed flat. But we cannot let gratitude get in the way of doing the right thing. It is the will of many a councilor that Lady Emily be... removed. I ask you to put your emotions aside and consider the practicalities. What is the right thing to do? What will stem the tide of chaos?”
Killing me won’t stem the chaos, Emily thought, coldly. Sweat prickled down her back. Her hands were starting to shake. She clasped them tightly, refusing to show even the slightest hint of fear. It’ll be taken as a sign of weakness, not strength.
“If we do not act now” - his words hung in the air - “do we even have a council?”
“That is a matter of opinion,” a familiar voice said. A rustle ran through the chamber. “And these proceedings are illegal.”
Emily turned and smiled. “Alassa!”

Chapter Five

Alassa glowed as she stepped into the chamber, her white dress seeming to banish the shadows. She looked strikingly regal, her golden crown standing atop her blonde hair, which fell in waves down her back. Jade, Lady Barb and Void stood behind her, but they were practically lost in the glow. Emily heard gasps and felt her smile grow wider. It was easy for her to forget that Alassa was a monarch. The jurymen didn’t have the luxury of knowing her as a person.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Alassa said, in a tone that would have landed her in hot water at Whitehall. “My invitation evidently went astray.”
Master Lucknow looked, just for a moment, shocked by Alassa’s appearance. “You are not a member of this court, Your Majesty,” he said. “Your name wasn’t drawn during the selection...”
“The court was legally obliged to inform me when it started considering proceedings against one of my aristocrats,” Alassa said. “I heard nothing. To my certain knowledge, the matter was never discussed with my ambassador, let alone me.”
Her eyes swept the room. “And, I might add, such a proceeding carried out without my input is of questionable legality. The majority of the ruling monarchs will agree with me on this point.”
“It was determined that we needed to act as quickly as possible,” Master Lucknow told her, curtly. “The committee believed it had to arrest Lady Emily before...”
“The committee’s very formation is also of questionable legality,” Alassa pointed out, mildly. Emily knew her well enough to know she was grinning inside. “The White Council did not - cannot - grant such authority without the consent of the councilors. It was never discussed with me or my representative. I do not believe it was discussed with anyone else.”
There was a hint of triumph in her eyes. “It is a long-standing legal principle that all interested parties have their say,” she added. “Emily is one of my aristocrats, as well as a close personal friend. I’d say I count as an interested party.”
Master Lucknow looked irked. “Your judgement is suspect, Your Majesty.”
“So is yours.” Alassa’s tone was artfully bland. “Arresting her without a proper warrant? Rushing her from a holding cell to a courtroom without presenting the charges, let alone giving her time to consider her response, recruit a defender or summon witnesses? My, my... if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get her convicted and executed before anyone could react.”
Her voice sharpened. “It is a good thing I do know better, isn’t it?”
Master Tor’s eyes narrowed. “The committee believed it needed to move fast...”
“So it has been said,” Alassa said. “And yet, moving without the agreement of the movers and shakers sets a very dangerous precedent. Are you sure the remainder of the council will support you when the matter is placed before them?”
She winked at Emily. “Let me be blunt. Emily has her enemies. I’m sure, reading between the lines, that you cherry-picked the councilors to ensure that her jury was packed with her enemies. But she also has her supporters, both magical and mundane. They would not have stood for a hasty arrest and execution. They certainly will not stand for a failed attempt to conclude matters before they had a say. Emily is not alone. And you know it.”
Emily felt a deep, unaccustomed warmth at Alassa’s words. She’d felt alone, as she’d stood before the court. She’d feared the worst as it became increasingly clear that the court didn’t care about her defense, let alone the legalities. And yet, Alassa and her friends had come to her aid. Void stood behind them, his face carefully blank. Emily was suddenly sure he’d summoned everyone, just to make sure the court remembered she had allies. 
Master Lucknow took a step forward. “Do you believe she has enough supporters to protect her, if the matter is put before the full council?”
Alassa smiled. “I believe enough councilors will support her to make it impossible to convict her.”
She allowed her voice to harden. “The White Council was born out of compromise. One of those compromises was that its powers would be very strictly limited. The council has no right to issue a warrant, let alone carry out an arrest, without the agreement of the councilors and the governments they represent. The evidence should have been presented, in session, and debated before a vote was taken. The price for us surrendering a little authority to the council, as you may be aware, was that we would have a say in how the authority was used. But we weren’t even told, so how could we be outvoted? We weren’t consulted at all.
“It is not just her supporters who will vote in her favor. It is the monarchs and patriarchs and city fathers who will feel that they cannot allow such a precedent to stand. If you can arrest and threaten to execute a powerful noblewoman, without even a pretense at consultation, who can’t you threaten? Do you believe, for one moment, that anyone would allow you to create a precedent that could - that would - be used against them? Even her detractors would refuse to support you.”
“The emergency committee was pulled together to handle an unprecedented situation,” Master Lucknow said, coldly. “It will be dissolved the moment it is no longer necessary.”
“My father said the same, when he implemented laws to deal with social unrest.” Alassa rested her hands on her hips. “Those laws remained on the books, and enforced, until I took the throne. I do not believe the committee, once it has tasted power, will agree to dissolve calmly. Even if I did, it might be a long time before the emergency goes away. It might even become the new normal.”
She smiled, coldly. “Let me be blunt. I am a ruling monarch. It is my belief that this process is not only illegal, but wholly unjustified. I demand, as is my right, that you state the charges against her, that you list the evidence against her, that you let her speak in her own defense and, most importantly of all, that you put the decision to the full council.”
Master Lucknow took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Let me be equally blunt,” he said, icily. “The precise charges are immaterial. Emily is responsible for unleashing social unrest - including in your kingdom, Your Majesty - and introducing dangerous techniques that have upset the balance of power. It is the considered opinion of many powerful people, the ones who signed off on the emergency committee, that Emily needs to be rendered harmless as quickly as possible. The events in Alluvia alone...”
“I did not sign off on the committee,” Alassa reminded them. “I was not even consulted. And that alone is enough to render the committee, and whatever judgements it makes, highly illegal. One might even go so far as to call it judicial murder.”
“And yet, many of your peers disagree,” Master Lucknow said. “If you brought the matter before the full council, which way would they really vote?”
“They would not allow such a precedent to stand,” Alassa said. “And even her enemies would vote for her, against you.”
“This argument is going in circles,” Lady Barb said. She stepped forward, her armor glinting oddly under the light. Dark rings were clearly visible around her eyes. “Let me ask you a question. If you rendered Emily harmless, as you put it, would it solve the current problem? Or would it just make you look as though you were doing something without actually doing anything?”
Master Tor levelled his eyes at her. “I do not recall granting you permission to speak.”
Lady Barb gave him a sharp look. “You’re the legalistic one,” she said. “Are these proceedings remotely legal?”
“There are precedents for secret sessions,” Master Tor said.
“And also precedents against them,” Lady Barb added. “If you felt you could justify a trial, let alone conviction and punishment, you would do it in the cold light of day. You would not need to hide in the shadows, without oversight from the council. I am disappointed in you.”
She looked at Master Lucknow. “Answer the question,” she said. “Suppose you execute Emily. Right here, right now. Would that do anything, anything at all, to solve your problem?”
“It would keep her from creating further problems,” Master Lucknow said. “And that in itself would be a good thing.”
Except you’d make me a martyr, Emily thought. How is that a good thing?
Lady Barb snorted. “How long ago was it,” she asked, “that we were on the verge of total defeat?”
Emily had to smile. She’d asked the same question.
“You were there,” Lady Barb said. “We knew we were doomed. It was just a matter of time before the necromancers broke through the mountains and came for us. And then Emily saved us.  Without her, we would all be dead. You want to convict her? Really? What next? If you stumbled and started to fall off a bridge, and someone caught you to save your life, would you demand punishment because they dislocated your arm in the process? Or would you accept the pain as the price of saving your life? How many other people will try to save your life in the future, if you make it clear you’ll punish them for doing it wrong?
“Could things have gone better? Of course they could. But they could also have gone worse. Emily saved us all. And I think you’ll discover that the vast majority of the population will be furious if you convict her.”
“The mundane population doesn’t matter,” Master Lucknow snapped.
“There are hundreds of sorcerers who’ll support her,” Jade said. “And some of them have seats on the council.”
Markus and Melissa, Emily thought. There’s no way they’d get enough votes to convict.
“They may think twice, when they realize what she’s unleashed,” Master Lucknow pointed out. “The guns alone...”
“The guns saved us during the war,” Lady Barb said. “You were there, were you not?”
She smiled, coldly. “Killing Emily will not put the demon back in the bottle,” she said, bluntly. “It will just make the situation worse. And I believe it is quite bad enough already.”
“We are attempting to gain control,” Master Lucknow said. “And...”
“What a splendid idea,” Lady Barb said, sarcastically. “Next time, perhaps you can try to cool a boiling potion by pissing in it.”
Master Lucknow showed a flash of anger at the crudity, but Lady Barb spoke over him. “Are you actually trying to make the situation explode? Because this is a pretty good way to do it.”
Emily wondered, suddenly, if Lady Barb was right. Master Lucknow had never struck her as stupid. Stupid magicians rarely lasted long enough to become combat sorcerers. He had to know he’d staked everything on one throw of the dice, on a desperate bid to have her tried, convicted and executed - or stripped of her powers - before her allies returned. And now... he was caught between pressing on anyway or a humiliating surrender. She would have felt sorry for him, if he hadn’t done it to himself. There were better ways to deal with the post-war chaos.
“There are times when we have the luxury of being able to consider each and every possible option before we act,” Master Lucknow said. “This is not one of them.”
“And why do you believe you needed to act now?” Alassa’s voice echoed in the air. “Why did you feel matters were so desperate you acted without authority? It is not always easy to gain forgiveness, if one did not ask for permission first. And this is very much the textbook example” - her eyes lingered on Master Tor, just for a second - “of a situation where one must get the legalities in order before acting. Where is your proof, I ask you, that the situation was so desperate you resorted to arresting her in broad daylight? What was she doing at the time?”
“Having lunch with my boyfriend,” Emily said. She nodded to Master Lucknow. “His apprentice.”
A ripple of amusement ran around the chamber. Master Lucknow looked ready to kill her on the spot. Emily tensed. No one became a combat sorcerer without having very good self-control, but Master Lucknow’s plan - whatever it had been originally - had spectacularly failed. He’d made himself look like a fool as well as a failure. He might have gotten away with it if he’d caught Emily doing something illegal, or something that could be made to look illegal, but eating lunch with her boyfriend? That wasn’t going to shake the world.
“She was having lunch with your apprentice,” Alassa repeated. “Did that pose any sort of threat? Anything at all?”
She grinned, openly enjoying Master Lucknow’s discomfiture. “Let me sum up, for the record. You put together a team to arrest her without a legal warrant. You did not approach me, in my role as monarch of Emily’s lands, and you did not approach her master. You fought a pitched battle in the middle of a town, posing a serious risk to everyone in the vicinity... a battle that was ended by Emily’s master, who insisted you should hold a formal hearing. Instead of waiting, instead of giving her the time to consider the charges and respond, you rushed her into a courtroom and tried to convict her as quickly as possible.
“All this would be quite bad enough. But, between her supporters and councilors who won’t want to set any unfortunate precedents, there is no way she will be convicted. They won’t stand for it. All you have done, I’m afraid, is undermine the authority of the White Council at the worst possible time and possibly triggered the chaos you’re trying to avert. Worst of all, even a successful conviction would accomplish nothing.”
The avalanche has already started, Emily thought, wryly. It is too late for the pebbles to vote.
“You have broken a whole string of written and unwritten laws, for nothing,” Alassa concluded. “Have I missed anything?”
She folded her arms under her breasts. “I believe it is time to consider alternatives,” she said, after a moment. “And that these proceedings should be placed in recess.”
Master Tor frowned. “Lady Emily, will you accept Queen Alassa as your spokeswoman?”
Emily glanced at Alassa, who nodded. “Yes.”
“Then this session is hereby brought to an end,” Master Tor said. “Queen Alassa, we will be in touch.”
“We will talk in twenty minutes,” Alassa said. “I gave orders for a room to be prepared. I’ll see your spokesman there.”
Master Lucknow looked displeased, but he said nothing. The jurymen stood and filed out of the chamber, Gordian bringing up the rear. It was hard to be sure, but he looked thoroughly unhappy. Emily guessed he was going to have a hard time explaining himself to his patrons, when the news leaked out. Master Lucknow shot her a nasty look, then turned away. Emily silently prayed he wouldn’t take his defeat out on Jan. His apprentice deserved better. She wondered, idly, if she could do something about it. Perhaps she could write to Jan, as soon as she was out of the castle, and urge him to break the apprenticeship and run. She could recommend him to Melissa. Or Cat...
Perhaps not Cat, she thought. That might end badly.
“This way,” Void said, quietly.
Emily felt tired, tired and old, as she followed them down a corridor and into a brightly-lit sitting room. Alassa sat on the sofa, Jade beside her. They looked very much in love... Emily felt a sudden twang of jealously, mingled with a grim awareness that it might be a long time before she was free to find love herself. Jade and Alassa had always had a hard core of pragmatism, of practical understanding, that Emily knew she lacked. They could be cold-blooded about love and marriage. She found the thought of being so calculating hard to take.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” Alassa said. She squeezed Emily’s hand in a gentle display of affection. “This caught me by surprise.”
“Me, too.” Emily sat on an armchair and gingerly reached out with her senses. The wards didn’t seem designed to spy on them, but it was impossible to be sure. The walls were covered in carvings so pointless she was certain they were designed to conceal peepholes. There could be a dozen people spying on them in a dozen different ways. “What happened?”
“I didn’t hear anything about this, not even a hint,” Alassa said. Her lips twisted. “I’m going to have words with my ambassador. He should have informed me that something like this was in the works. Even if he didn’t know the target...”
She leaned against Jade, her eyes grim. “They should have sought my permission before arresting you,” she said. “That they didn’t...”
Emily nodded, silently, as Lady Barb passed her a mug of Kava. Master Lucknow hadn’t expected her to come quietly. He’d brought a small army of sorcerers with him, enough trained magicians to wear down her defenses and take her alive. She’d been holding back, but she had the feeling they’d been holding back, too. Had he wanted to provoke an incident, then claim she’d been killed resisting arrest? It would certainly save him from having to justify the arrest to a hostile council.
“What now?” Emily wanted to ask Void to do something for Jan, but she didn’t quite dare in front of everyone else. She had a feeling Alassa was going to ask her about Jan, the moment they were alone. Her friend had offered good advice when she’d been dating Caleb. “If the trial is over...”
“Now?” Alassa shrugged. “They’ll try to make a deal.”

Chapter Six

“There’s no room for a deal,” Lady Barb said, crossly. “These proceedings are blatantly illegal.”
Alassa shrugged, again. “Master Lucknow wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did without some support,” she said. “He’d need several powerful figures on his side. They’ll want to climb down, now the trial turned into a farce, but that won’t be easy if they stand to lose face. They’ll want something before they fold their cards, a fig leaf to conceal the collapse of their case. And... whatever they said the case was about, I highly doubt it was the truth. Or the complete truth.”
Void leaned against the stone wall, casting privacy spells with his fingers. “I imagine they blame you for a great many things,” he said. “And they went along with the trial in hopes of punishing you.”
Emily looked down at her hands. “And they really thought it would get them somewhere?”
Alassa let out a heavy sigh. “A couple of years ago, everyone knew the rules. They lived and died within a framework that everyone understood. It was both good and bad... depending, I suppose, on who you were. A person born into a community would be bound by the rules of that community... whatever they happened to be. There were even ways for individualists to leave the community and strike out for themselves.”
She looked up. “You’ve changed all that, for better or worse. My father went mad because he couldn’t handle the world you created... no, the world the innovations you introduced created. All of a sudden, things are different. Everyone is feeling unsure of themselves. And the events in Alluvia might have pushed them into doing something desperate...”
Emily stared at her. “What happened in Alluvia?”
“We’ll discuss it later.” Alassa stood, brushing down her dress. “Right now, I have to go argue your case.”
“An uprising,” Jade said, as Alassa left the room. “And it’s being blamed on you.”
“It is not your fault,” Lady Barb said, tartly. “There were cracks in society long before you came along. The problems sweeping over the Allied Lands existed well before anyone so much as knew your name. Prince Jock of Hazendel wouldn’t have been targeted for assassination if he hadn’t been a complete asshole to each and every person he met - the fact he was killed by a pistol-wielding commoner is beside the point. The demands for better treatment and even a say in how taxes are spent aren’t new either.”
“Prince Jock was a right little...” Jade cleared his throat. “I have never met anyone viler and I’ve come face to face with necromancers.”
Emily blinked. “When did you do that?”
“Apart from Randor?” Jade smiled. “Master Grey thought that poking the necromantic hive was a good way to get experience. It also nearly got me killed.”
“Master Grey was pretty vile himself,” Emily muttered. “I...”
She looked at Void. “Thank you for coming...”
“You’re welcome,” Void said. “I couldn’t let him condemn you without a fight. If he’d held a proper hearing...”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” Lady Barb said. “There just weren’t any legal grounds to condemn her.”
“They could have tried for a Bill of Attainder,” Void said. “The council itself might have gone along with it. Legally, it would be fine. Practically...”
Jade winked at Emily. “You’re not alone,” he said. “You’ll always have a place with us.”
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “And while we’re waiting,” she said, “you can tell us what happened at Laughter.”
Emily gave her a sharp look - she could tell when someone was trying to distract her - but she knew she’d have to talk about it sooner or later. It had been Lady Barb who’d asked her to go to Laughter, in the hopes Emily might be able to determine what was going wrong at the school. Emily composed herself, then started to talk. She still didn’t know who’d been behind Simon. Someone powerful, clearly. And, perhaps, someone with a grudge against her. 
Nanette is the most logical suspect, Emily thought. She hadn’t seen anything of Nanette since the brief encounter in Zangaria, when Alassa’s wedding day had nearly ended in her death. What has she been doing all this time?
The thought mocked her. Nanette was dangerous. And yet, where was she? It wasn’t like the girl Emily had met to let the grass grow under her feet. Was she training with dark wizards? Was she working for her enemies... Emily wondered, suddenly, if Nanette was working for Master Lucknow. Or had she given up the feud entirely? It wasn’t impossible. Nanette could have taken ship to the Southern Continent or simply travelled into the former Blighted Lands. Cat wasn’t the only one setting up a kingdom of his own. There were hundreds of others trying to settle the unclaimed territory.
“Interesting,” Lady Barb said, when she’d finished. “The plot was underway a long time before the end of the war.”
“Yes.” Emily had wondered about the timing. The unknown person or persons behind Simon could not have known what was going to happen.  She wondered, idly, if they’d changed their plans when the war came to an end. And yet... it seemed as if they’d thrown away their best chance to take the school to ensure the conference went off the rails. “I don’t understand it.”
“Not everything involves you, whatever Master Lucknow may say,” Void said. “That you were there, in place to stop the plot, might just be bad luck.”
Emily nodded. Given time, the plotters could have claimed the entire school. They could have hacked their way into everyone’s mind, twisting their perceptions until they became unwitting slaves. And yet, they’d thrown the opportunity away. It nagged at her mind. What had they been thinking?
She glanced at her master. “How long do we have to wait?”
“As long as it takes,” Void said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice. “Alassa is a formidable negotiator. It may not take that long.”
Jade cleared his throat. “I have a question,” he said to Void. “You have enough power to make them back down. Why did you ask Alassa to take the lead?”
Void showed no sign of being surprised by the question. “I could have intimidated them,” he said. “I could have cowed them. I could have called on favors from a hundred councilors and had the proceedings brought to a halt. It would have worked, in the short term. But in the long term it would have been utterly disastrous.
“Combat sorcerers have egos. Big egos. They would have hated and resented me if I’d crushed them. They would have told themselves that they were still in the right, that they still had right even though I had might. They would have convinced themselves, eventually, that I was just a father defending his daughter, that I was acting out of emotion rather than cold reason. They would have felt so humiliated that they would have refused to consider, let alone accept, that I might have been right. They would certainly never have forgiven me for pushing them around.”
He smiled. “Alassa, on the other hand, is a ruling monarch. She can speak for an entire kingdom. Her mere presence is a sign that not every aristocrat is going to go along with the council. She can present them with an argument they cannot ignore so easily, an argument that warns them that vast numbers of people, powerful people, will stand against them. And it is easier for them to back down in the face of such opposition. They can present it as a rethink, rather than a complete surrender.”
“Alassa is also Emily’s friend,” Jade pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter,” Void said. “Alassa wields a very different power than I do. And it is a power that is far harder to... ignore, once you take precautions. They’d have to convince a vast number of councilors to vote against their best interests, if they want to ignore Alassa.”
“Which is pretty much impossible,” Lady Barb said.
“Correct,” Void said.
Lady Barb snorted. Emily rubbed her forehead. Void and Lady Barb had never gotten along, ever since Lady Barb’s apprenticeship with Void had ended disastrously. Emily wished her adoptive mother and father would get on a little better, although she doubted either of them would ever unbend enough to accept the other. They’d both had good reasons, or thought they had, for doing what they’d done. And yet, it had resulted in a lifelong feud.
The door opened. Alassa stepped into the room. Her face was a blank mask, suggesting she was annoyed and yet unwilling to show it. Emily wished, suddenly, that she’d been the one to handle the negotiations. She trusted Alassa, but she would have been happier being the one making the deal. Alassa might get the blame if the deal fell through. Emily wasn’t blind to the price Alassa had paid, challenging the committee in their castle. It might come back to haunt her.
“Emily,” Alassa said. She sat next to Jade. “They’ve agreed to back down.”
“Really?” Jade glanced at her. “What was the price?”
Alassa elbowed him, hard. “Two things,” she said. “First, the conference is back on. They want to hold it at Whitehall now, rather than Laughter. I guess that explains the Grandmaster’s interest in the whole affair. They want you to stay well away from the school and its lands during the conference.”
“That’s... odd,” Emily said. She hadn’t been planning to attend the conference at Laughter, before it had been cancelled. She’d certainly never been invited. “Why do they want that?”
“I don’t know,” Alassa said. “But it isn’t all they want.”
Emily tensed. “What else do they want?”
Alassa sighed. “They want you to mediate the situation in Alluvia, on the grounds you might be the only one everyone involved will listen to.”
“I...” Emily stared at her. “What situation in Alluvia?”
“You don’t know?” Alassa leaned against Jade. “You really don’t know?”
Emily looked from one to the other. “No,” she said. She’d heard vague rumors, while she’d been at Laughter, but none had really caught her attention. “What happened?”
“There was an uprising,” Alassa said. “A big one. A bad one.”
“And...?” Emily was sure she was missing something. “I haven’t been to Alluvia for... months. Not since the end of the war.”
“They’re blaming the rebellion on you,” Alassa said, quietly. “I think - I don’t know - that some of Master Lucknow’s backers believe it.”
“I didn’t,” Emily said. She stared at her friend. “I’ve been in the tower, then Laughter...”
“I know,” Alassa said. “But how many people do believe it?”
Emily made a face. “What do they want me to do? And what’s actually happening?”
Alassa leaned back against the sofa. “According to Prince Hedrick, my spies and a handful of reports that have been passed down to me, the kingdom has been suffering severe social unrest since the end of the war. A lot of tiny riots, a handful of manors being attacked and burnt... matters weren’t helped, apparently, by a major crop failure. The country has been dangerously dry, on the verge of famine. And then there was a bread riot in the capital that turned into a full-scale revolution.”
She took a breath. “The king, the queen and a handful of courtiers attempted to escape. They were caught and, apparently, taken prisoner by the rebels. This sparked off additional riots, with the net result that most of the country - including all the major cities - are in rebel hands. Crown Prince Dater - I believe you know him - has taken command of what remains of the army, but it isn’t clear if he can actually retake the capital and save his family. Prince Hedrick” - her lips twisted in distaste - “asked for my help personally.”
Emily blinked. “Your help?”
“Mine,” Alassa confirmed. “Hedrick was the one who informed me that you were being blamed. He appears to believe it.”
“I see.” Emily vaguely recalled the younger prince, but her memories weren’t very clear. He’d tried to court Alassa... then nothing. He hadn’t taken part in the war. “And what do they expect me to do?”
“I don’t know,” Alassa said. “I don’t think they know.”
“They’re setting you up for failure,” Void said. His voice was cold and hard. “Whatever you do, whatever the outcome, you’ll be blamed. You shouldn’t agree to these terms.”
Emily suspected he was right. The rebels would be foolish to just back down and return to... to whatever they’d been doing before the revolution. There was no shortage of horror stories about monarchs making tactical compromises, perhaps sending a handful of unpopular advisors to the gallows, while preparing the force to crush the rebels, hang the leaders and make it brutally clear to everyone else that rebellion was not going to be tolerated. They were committed now. They’d laid hands on a monarch, his wife, and a bunch of noble hangers-on. Emily knew Dater personally. She highly doubted he’d let that pass.
Her mind raced. There was little hope of brokering a compromise that would please everyone - or even a majority. Neither side could surrender... she wondered, suddenly, if she should advise Dater to go into exile. But she knew he wouldn’t listen. And even if he did... the other monarchs would not be pleased. Even Alassa would have her doubts about a land that had overthrown the king. There were plenty of people who’d take note if the revolution led to a better world.
She felt her heart sink. There were no good answers. Void was right. Whatever she did, whatever happened, there was going to be blood. The neighboring kingdoms would move to crush the rebellion, if Dater and his men couldn’t do it for themselves. They wouldn’t want to let such a precedent stand. And even if they didn’t give a damn about the king, the opportunity to lay claim to disputed borderlands would be irresistible. The southern border of Alluvia pressed against the Craggy Mountains. The remainder of the borderlands would be up for grabs if the king’s power evaporated.
“Ask them for something else,” Lady Barb said. “They don’t need Emily to sort out the mess in Alluvia.”
“We need a solution before all hell breaks loose,” Alassa said. There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “The remaining monarchs are already considering their options.”
“Then they can do it without Emily,” Void said, sharply. “Tell them she’s going back to my tower to complete her apprenticeship. She’ll stay out of the way of the world...”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger, mingled with a trace of resentment. She was his apprentice. God knew she’d pushed the limits as far as they would go, when Lady Barb had asked her to go to Laughter. He was quite within his rights to demand she return to the tower and complete her apprenticeship, before leaving to strike out on her own. And yet...
She looked at Alassa. Her friend was worried, deeply so. She’d always been more plugged into the surrounding world than Emily herself, honing her talents at Whitehall before deploying them in the service of her kingdom. If Alassa was concerned... she must have reason. Zangaria might have found a precarious stability in the wake of the civil war, but the rest of the Allied Lands hadn’t gone through the fire. And if a general revolution - or even a war - broke out... she thought, suddenly, of everything she’d founded over the last seven years. She couldn’t risk watching helplessly as it died in fire.
“I have to try,” she said, bluntly. She knew better than to disagree with her master in public, but there was no choice. “If the revolution turns into an all-out war...”
“And what will you do?” Void’s eyes bored into hers. “Convince King... King Whatever to give up his power? Convince the rebels to put down their arms and go back home? There is no middle ground, not here. Whatever you do, you will make enemies. You will be blamed for the outcome. Let them kill each other, if that’s what they want to do. It does not concern you.”
“It does,” Emily said, quietly. She knew what the really big wars had been like. It wasn’t just the fighting, although that had been bad enough. Armies had crashed through civilian lands, looting the towns, raping the women and burning the fields. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, would die, through everything from simple violence to starvation. “I can’t let it happen.”
“Whatever you do, it will happen,” Void said. “And you will be blamed.”
“I have to try to calm everyone down,” Emily said. “Not for their sake, but for the sake of everyone caught in the middle.”
“And they won’t thank you for making matters worse,” Void said. “They’ll find you a convenient excuse for their failures.”
“For once, I must agree,” Lady Barb said. She sounded as if she didn’t believe what she was saying. “This is a set-up. It’s a trap.”
“And yet, it’s one I have to spring,” Emily said. Perhaps Void was right. Anything that he and Lady Barb agreed on had to be right. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”
“We shall see.” Void stood. “We’ll go back to the tower. All of us. We’ll discuss it there and, if you decide you still want to go...”
Emily frowned, wondering what he wasn’t saying. It wasn’t like Void to keep his opinions to himself, even when they had an audience. He’d certainly had no qualms about insisting the whole affair was a trap. “I have to try.”
“So you keep saying,” Void said. “But Emily... what if there’s nothing you can do?”
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