E MILY AWOKE, WHAT FELT LIKE moments later.
The wards were jangling, an alert that yanked her out of her slumber and sent one hand into a casting pose while the other reached for the nearest weapon. Her mind caught up with her a moment later, realizing the wards were signaling the presence of a maid outside her suite. She rubbed her forehead and released the charms, allowing the young woman into the suite to light the fire. The poor girl couldn’t go back to her supervisor and report that she hadn’t been able to enter the rooms, forcing her to leave the fire unlit. She’d probably be whipped even though it hadn’t been her fault.
She forced herself to sit upright, stand and step into the antechamber. The maid was already piling up the wood and coal, preparing to light the fire. She started, the moment she heard Emily, and spun around, nearly tripping over herself as she stood, dropped a hasty curtsey and then seemed to move in two directions at once as she realized she wasn’t sure what she was meant to be doing. Emily felt a pang of guilt. The poor girl was too young… she didn’t know if she should return to the fireplace, even though it meant turning her back on Emily, or if she should stay where she was until the aristocrat was gone. There was no easy answer. She could get in trouble for doing either.
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said. Alassa recruited her servants from the lower orders, on the grounds they tended to have fewer outside loyalties, but they also tended to be far more vulnerable than highborn girls. “Light the fire now, if you like.”
She took a coin from her pocket and held it out. The girl took the money warily, bit the coin to check it was real, then hid it in her dress. Emily hoped she’d have the sense not to mention the tip to her supervisor, or the other servants. She was too young to keep it, if they realized it was there. Emily turned away, feeling her heart twist as she made her way into the bathroom and warded the door. There were millions of young girls like her, living in grinding poverty, and there was no way she could help them all. She knew she’d done well, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be.
The poor you always have with you , she reminded herself. It was ironic. She’d been poor, when she’d been in her old world, but compared to the poor here, she’d been rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Hot and cold running water, medical treatment… technology had made the world better for everyone, from the rich to the poor. But they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives groveling in the dirt, or begging for change…
She checked the time, then undressed and showered quickly before changing into clean clothes and heading back into the antechamber. Alassa ate breakfast at eight bells, every morning, and Emily had a standing invitation to join her, an honor extended to very few beyond the queen’s own family. It was lucky, Emily supposed, that Alassa’s mother and uncle rarely chose to appear at court, or they would have to be invited too. The little maid was gone, after leaving a fire burning merrily in the grate. Emily sighed inwardly. She had never been comfortable with servants, and she’d resisted all suggestions she should hire a maid for herself… particularly after Silent had turned out to be Nanette. The older girl could have put a knife in her at any moment, if she’d wished. They might now be allies, of a sort, but they were very far from friends.
The wards hummed around her as she left the chamber and made her way down to the regal quarters, passing a handful of early-morning petitioners. The guards steered them into the royal antechamber, where they would wait until Alassa was ready to see them, but let Emily enter without comment. Emily felt the wards opening up around her as she stepped through the door and into the small – relatively small – royal dining chamber. Alassa and Jade were already there, the latter balancing Princess Emily – Millie – on his knee. Emily felt her heart twist as she saw her namesake. She’d never been particularly maternal, but she was honest enough to admit she wouldn’t mind a child of her own.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Alassa said, waving to a chair. “It was too late to warn you off.”
“I survived,” Emily said. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for her mood. “What does it say about me that I’d rather walk into a necromancer’s lair than attend a feast?”
“That you have a working brain?” Jade made a show of wincing as Alassa elbowed him. “Can I join you, next time?”
Alassa giggled. “If they’re attending my dinner parties, they are not plotting,” she pointed out. “And discontent is already on the rise.”
“Lord Colicos was complaining about his farmhands fleeing his lands,” Emily said. “You probably need to inspect his estates for compliance with the Great Charter.”
“I wish.” Alassa looked as if she’d bitten into something sour. “Right now, he’s one of my biggest backers. Switched sides quickly enough, during the war, to secure his position…”
“You mean he took one look at our army and decided it would be better to join us,” Jade corrected. “He would have switched sides again if your father won.”
“Yeah,” Alassa said. “But it still makes it very hard to do something about him.”
She met Emily’s eyes. “The council isn’t too pleased with your treatment of Earl Wilfred’s brats, but I am. It’s a neat little solution.”
“They’re going to cause problems in the future,” Emily predicted. “It never crossed their mind that they might be interrogated under truth spells. If Edmund had managed to actually kill his brother…”
“It would have had to look very convincing,” Jade agreed. Accidents happened… particularly when they were made to happen. If Harry had died, his brother – the one who stood to gain – would be interrogated, just in case. The truth would come out, and he would be executed… probably. He certainly couldn’t count on being allowed to live, let alone inherit. His whole plan had been fatally flawed, right from the start. “I don’t think he could have gotten away with it.”
“I’m glad I don’t have a sibling,” Emily said.
Alassa’s lips tightened, just for a second. She had a half-sibling, her father’s illegitimate son. The poor kid would be safer never knowing who’d fathered him. His bloodline would make him a natural focus for opposition, once he was old enough to be manipulated. Alassa tolerated his existence, for the moment, but that might change…
“Be that as it may, the matter has been resolved successfully,” Alassa said. “Harry can flit from country to country, while Edmund can go take his frustrations out on the Blighted Lands. That said, I need to ask you another favor.”
Emily felt her heart sink. She’d intended to return to Void’s Tower, after passing through Cockatrice and Heart’s Eye, and search Void’s personal files for anything regarding the Hierarchy. She hadn’t been able to glean very much when she’d been at Whitehall, beyond a number of contradictory rumors and a firm insistence – on the part of many older magicians – that the Hierarchy simply didn’t exist. Emily might have taken their word for it, if the myth hadn’t been surprisingly prevalent. She didn’t recall anyone ever telling her about it, but nearly all the older magicians – particularly those from a magical background – knew the name. After everything that had happened, she was convinced there was a kernel of truth buried under all the rumors.
“It depends,” Emily said, carefully. “What do you want?”
Alassa took Millie from Jade and balanced the child on her lap. “Have you ever been to Valetta?”
Emily shook her head. Valetta was a city in Valadon, a small kingdom – more like a princedom – to the west of Alluvia, protected more by rough terrain and international agreements than force of arms. She vaguely recalled hearing that the New Learning had taken off there, leading to the rapid development of an industrial center to rival Heart’s Eye or Cockatrice, but she hadn’t paid much attention. In hindsight, perhaps that had been a mistake.
“The kingdom is in an increasingly perilous position,” Alassa said, bluntly. Jade left the table and returned with a map, which he unfurled in front of her. “Unrest is spreading rapidly, aided and abetted – we think – by the revolutionaries in Alluvia. The king is attempting to keep control of his kingdom by hiring mercenaries and preparing for war, but I don’t believe he can fight and win if his whole kingdom rises against him…”
She paused, significantly. “Or if the revolutionaries invade from the east.”
Emily studied the map for a long moment. Alassa had a point. The border between Alluvia and Red Rose was being heavily fortified, but if Valetta fell to the revolutionaries, they’d be able to outflank the defenses and advance north… or, for that matter, keep heading west. The kingdoms wouldn’t be able to defend themselves without embracing the modern world, and that was the one thing they didn’t want to do. And that meant they were going to be at a serious disadvantage.
“The good news, such as it is, is that we have been able to convince the king to hold talks with the… ah, dissidents,” Alassa said. “He wasn’t too keen on the idea of conceding some power to his people, but the risk of ending up like King Jorlem – his head mounted on a spike, his family scattered or dead – has concentrated his mind. If he can strike a deal with the moderates amongst the dissidents, he might be able to prevent a full-scale uprising and invasion.”
“Might,” Jade added.
“I see your point,” Emily mused. The bigger kingdoms didn’t have much in the way of nationalism. The smaller ones did . It was possible Valetta would fight if their kingdom was invaded by Alluvia… if they saw it as an invasion, not a liberation. The torrent of revolutionary propaganda might convince the locals it really was a liberation, particularly if the revolutionaries behaved themselves. She feared they wouldn’t. “And what does this have to do with me?”
“There are two separate issues,” Alassa said. “We have been asked to appoint a mediator, someone who can sit at the table and help the two sides work through their differences; I would like you to be that mediator.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Me?”
“You are one of the very few people everyone respects, even if they don’t like you,” Jade pointed out. “You have lands and titles, making you an aristocrat; you have considerable power and one hell of a reputation, ensuring few will trifle with you; you started the New Learning, which has changed the world and – hopefully – will convince the dissidents to listen to you.”
“That didn’t work out too well in Alluvia,” Emily pointed out.
“No,” Alassa agreed. “But – so far – there’s been no revolution in Valetta. There’s room for a compromise, if both sides feel they can afford to back down – a little – before it explodes and all hell breaks loose. The king is hiring every mercenary he can get his hands on, while the rebels are importing arms from Alluvia and steadily pushing the king’s authority back… sooner or later, probably sooner, there is going to be an explosion. And that will undermine all our attempts to contain Alluvia.”
“I see your point,” Emily said. She doubted any compromise was possible, even after King Jorlem had lost his head. The least the dissidents could accept was far more than the most the king could reasonably give them. “I can try, but…”
“The second problem is potentially just as serious,” Alassa said. “There have been odd reports of children going missing in Valetta, children from magical bloodlines or known to have magical potential. At least nineteen, from what we’ve heard; the figure could actually be considerably higher. If they’re being kidnapped… why?”
Emily shuddered. The simplest explanation was a newborn necromancer, but necromancers tended to be very noticeable. It was rare for one to remain undiscovered long enough to gain some control over his powers, although control was relative when necromancers were involved. Even the ones who could speak and put together long-term plans tended to be insane, prone to lashing out or throwing away their plans at the drop of a hat. If there was a necromancer in the city, one who had drained the life of nineteen children, he’d be impossible to miss.
And yet, kidnapping magical children is asking for trouble , she thought. The magical community protected its children. Their parents would use their shared blood to find and free them… then do something unspeakably horrid to the kidnappers. The only people who would dare are powerful magicians, strong enough to hide the children or defeat their parents when they come calling .
“In the old days, the White Council would send Mediators to investigate,” Alassa said. “These days… the Mediators are mostly gone, and the kingdoms have been reluctant to allow the few that remain to enter their territories. Father” – her lips thinned, just for a moment – “was never keen on allowing anyone to overshadow him, certainly not outsiders who thought they didn’t have to respect his authority. King Frederick apparently feels the same way. We suggested he allow an investigator to enter his country – I even offered to send Jade – but he refused. His Royal Guard are apparently carrying out the investigation themselves.”
Emily grimaced. Guardsmen tended to be careful around magicians, with reason. She had no idea how capable King Frederick’s men were, but they wouldn’t want to go looking for a possible necromancer for fear they might find him. A normal magician was quite bad enough – a guardsman who was insufficiently respectful might be turned into a toad, hopefully only for a few short hours – yet a necromancer… no, they couldn’t handle one of those. If they stumbled across his lair, they wouldn’t have time to run before it was too late.
“It may be nothing,” Alassa said, “but history suggests that’s unlikely.”
“And you want me to figure out what’s really happening?” Emily had beaten necromancers, but only through a combination of luck and careful preparation. And cheating. “That may not be easy…”
“Particularly as you have to be covert about it,” Alassa said. “You’re going as a diplomat. You cannot afford to be seen to take a side, or openly defy the king’s wishes, or…”
Emily frowned. The king might not give a damn about his common-born subjects – Emily hadn’t met many aristos who did – but ignoring a possible necromancer was asking for disaster. Was he the one behind the missing children? Or did he know who was taking them? King Randor had embraced necromancy, at the end, and it was quite possible King Frederick might be foolish enough to follow in his footsteps. It was easy, she’d been told, to convince yourself that you , and you alone, were strong enough to resist the madness… and discover, too late, that you were wrong. The king might already be wavering, if he’d taken the risk. If.
“So I have to carry out a secret investigation while trying to convince the king that he needs to make concessions now, before he gets overthrown,” Emily said. “And this king might be a necromancer himself.”
“The thought has crossed our minds,” Alassa admitted. “If he really is a necromancer, you should be able to sense it and deal with him.”
Emily nodded, sourly. She’d been accused of being a necromancer herself, after she’d killed Shadye, although the Grandmaster had felt otherwise and – over time – the suspicions had faded away. It was ironic, she felt, that being a good and kind person – and giving away many of her innovations – had been seen as a sign of madness, albeit a more productive kind than the terrifying rages that overwhelmed necromancers. Alassa was right, she supposed. If King Frederick was a necromancer, Emily was the only person who could take him down without devastating the entire area and killing hundreds – perhaps thousands – of people.
If , she thought again.
Alassa met her eyes. “Will you go?”
Emily said nothing for a long moment, although – in truth – her mind was already made up. If she could convince King Frederick to make some concessions, and convince the dissidents to accept what they got, she might be able to prevent a broader conflict. She had few illusions about the regime in Alluvia, or how it would either collapse into civil war or seek to expand the revolution across the northern continent. There was just too much hatred and resentment for the regime to evolve into something more sensible, let alone a modern democratic state.
And there may be a necromancer involved , she thought, tiredly. I thought I was done with them .
“Yeah,” she said, finally. “I’ll go. And I’ll see what I can do.”
“Splendid.” Alassa clapped her hands. “I’ll see about arranging an escort…”
“No need.” Emily shook her head. Void had never needed an escort, as he would just use a display of his personal power that had put vast armies and colorful courtiers in the shade to get them to back off. She could do it too. “I’ll teleport to the kingdom, after I collect some supplies from Heart’s Eye.”
“And see Caleb,” Alassa teased. “What sort of supplies do you want, I wonder?”
“That too.” Emily felt her cheeks heat and sighed. Her relationship with Caleb was… complicated. “I’ll leave after breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Alassa said, serious again. “There are already far too many flashpoints in the Allied Lands, or what’s left of them. If we can quell this one…”
Emily nodded. “If.”