M ARAH WAS CONFLICTED .
Emily’s words hung in her mind. She tried to think about what she was doing, and why, but it was hard to think clearly. Her emotions were a storm, demanding release; she feared what would happen if she looked too closely at them, if she thought too much about what she was doing, and yet she knew she had no choice. She stared at the dark walls, wanting to go out for a walk to clear her head, or… she wasn’t sure what else she could do. Her fingers touched the teleport gem around her neck, resting neatly between her breasts. It would be easy to trigger it, to go back to Zugzwang, and…
And what? Marah gritted her teeth as the question echoed through her head. And then what?
She watched Emily write on a parchment, feeling torn between two different sets of loyalties. Virgil had saved her life and taught her how to use magic and shown her how unjust the world could be… she knew he was right, to fight the aristocracy and their lapdogs, even though it had nearly gotten her killed. He’d sent her to her death… she wanted to believe he’d been planning to save her, and she knew it was just the sort of deed that would fit his reputation, and yet there was a quiet nagging doubt in her mind. The prince had intended to rape her to death, to slowly violate every last part of her body until she finally gave up the ghost. And Virgil hadn’t intervened.
Her eyes lingered on Emily. Emily had also saved her life, and taught her how to use magic, and… and yet, Virgil’s charge hung in Marah’s mind. Emily was no better than Lord Coalsack, or any of the other lapdogs who wanted to become part of the system rather than tear it down and forge a new order. She had enough power to change the world, and she had, but she hadn’t changed it enough . She had fought for a queen’s right to rule. She had honored a young nobleman’s absurd demands. She had… she had shielded Prince Jeremy, and his cronies and lapdogs, from the justice they deserved. And… and she had treated Marah as a pet, rather than a proper apprentice. She had taken Marah as an apprentice on a whim – she could drop her at any moment, when the next shiny thing came along. And…
And she intended to use me to hunt down Virgil , Marah thought. It had hurt, when Emily had asked for her help. But…
She knew better than to think Emily had any real concern for her, when Emily had seen Marah being tortured. Feminine solidarity was a myth. Marah’s stepfather had beaten her arse bloody and yet her mother had done nothing, preferring to let her husband vent his anger on her daughter rather than herself. The other women in Lubbock had done the same, choosing to turn a blind eye rather than stand up for a young girl in trouble. The idea that Emily might have been moved by Marah’s suffering, that she would have recoiled in horror at what Prince Jeremy had intended to do to her, was ridiculous. If she had been so against the prince, why not let him die? Emily could have sworn blind she’d done all she could and no one could have gainsaid her, and…
Virgil promised Emily wouldn’t be hurt , Marah reminded herself. The promise seemed both flimsy and unbreakable, vapor-thin and yet as solid as rock. If she’s held prisoner long enough for the revolution to tear the system down, and build something new…
She gritted her teeth, trying to force herself to think logically. It wasn’t easy. She owed Virgil. She owed Emily. She had no idea which of them was right… and part of her wanted to believe they were both right. And yet… Emily had saved a monster’s life, while Virgil had tried to kill him. Her emotions sparked, a grim reminder that it was still hard to think clearly. She wanted to trust Virgil…
Why?
The thought hung in her mind, refusing to budge. Why did she want to trust him? Why could she trust him? He had lied to her… her thoughts ran in circles, making excuses for him… excuses, she admitted freely, that had a certain degree of validity. She had needed to be made useful as quickly as possible, and if that meant teaching her quickly… she wanted to believe he had intended to teach her how to use magic without a wand, and the fact Emily had done it proved it could be done. And yet…
He convinced you to lead Emily into a trap , she reminded herself. Why do you even think it’s a good idea?
Her raging emotions made it hard to think clearly. She bit her lip again, calming herself. It was perfect. Emily would be neutralized, held prisoner long enough for the revolution to come and go, then be set free. Marah wouldn’t have to betray her… not really . She would take whatever punishment Emily felt she deserved, afterwards. And yet…
She swallowed, hard. It was just so difficult to think .
Think about what you’re doing , she thought. And why .
She forced herself to look up. “Why?”
Emily glanced at her. “Why what?”
Marah had to force herself to meet Emily’s eyes. They were soft and brown, so different from her own green orbs… or her stepfather’s cold blue eyes. He had the same eyes as Virgil… she felt a frisson of discontent, something that burned through her mind. Her stepfather had sold her into slavery, in all but name, and… he’d betrayed her, and her mother, and everyone else, including his own children. The memory gave her an odd kind of insight… Virgil might keep his word, or he might betray her. Or…
She fought the urge to look down. “Why don’t you do more?”
Emily looked back at her, evenly. “In what way?”
“You could do so much more,” Marah said. She fought to put her feelings into words. “You could deal with the aristocracy permanently. You could force the warlords to make peace. You could convince the companies to give their workers a fair deal. You could…”
She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. “You saved Prince Jeremy.”
Emily said nothing for a long moment. “I told you,” she said, finally. “I’m not God.”
“You could have let him die,” Marah insisted. “Why…?”
“I didn’t have time to think about it,” Emily said. “But tell me… what would have happened if I’d let the Wild Fox kill him?”
“The prince is planning to invade the Coalsack,” Marah pointed out. “Would the king be able to do anything worse ?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Her lips twisted. “I don’t know what would have happened, if the prince had been assassinated,” she added. “It might easily have been worse.”
She leaned forward. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”
Marah looked down. “Why don’t you fix everything?”
“I can’t,” Emily admitted. “I have power and influence, true, but I am neither omnipotent nor omniscient. I can’t fix everything, and if I tried I would destroy what I was trying to save.”
Marah blinked. “How?”
“I could sit on my throne and tell everyone what I wanted them to do,” Emily said. “But it wouldn’t work for long, if at all. I would lose touch with the realities of the world very quickly, missing the little details because I am looking down from on high rather than being closely involved with… with whatever’s going on. It would be easy for my subordinates to manipulate me, by carefully fiddling with the reports I saw, or for me to issue orders that led – inevitably – to disaster. I would make mistakes, and those mistakes would mount up rapidly.”
She paused. “I would become a tyrant.”
“No,” Marah said. Emily didn’t have the mindset to be a tyrant. “You wouldn’t…”
“I would,” Emily said. “Oh, I wouldn’t mean to. I wouldn’t set out to glorify myself at everyone else’s expense. But the outcome would be no different.”
Marah swallowed. “How?”
Emily shrugged. “Could you trust someone to run your life? Could you trust someone who doesn’t even know you to run your life? And do it at the same time as running the lives of everyone else in the village? The town? The city? The kingdom?”
She paused. “Everyone has to wear the same outfits, no exceptions,” she said. “It makes sense; everyone will have the same average requirements. Except half the population will walk around in baggy clothes and the other half will be bursting out of their clothes. Some will have tight bras, others will have bras that are far too big for them. There’ll be shirts designed for people who don’t have breasts and underwear designed for people who don’t have penises… and everyone who does, who’ll have to wear them anyway, will be uncomfortable. You can’t make decisions for everyone , beyond a certain point. And… sometimes, when someone offers you the pen and tells you where to draw the line, you should just refuse to take the pen.”
Marah stared at her. “But…”
“I crafted the rules, in Cockatrice and Heart’s Eye, to ensure a degree of fair play,” Emily said. “If people can move freely from job to job, their employers will have to improve or keep losing their best people to their competitors. If people can speak freely, without fear of punishment for unpopular opinions or simple bad news, problems can be discussed openly and be addressed, rather than turning poisonous because no one dares acknowledge the elephant in the room. I created a situation in which people could make decisions for themselves, based on their self-interest, rather than my interest.”
“You’re also preserving the old order,” Marah charged. “Why?”
“I’m changing it, slowly and organically,” Emily said. “If you try to force someone to change, they dig in and resist even when change is in everyone’s best interests… including theirs. Let the change happen slowly and gradually, let them come to realize they need to change, and it will happen…”
“Slowly,” Marah said. A flash of something ran through her mind. “Why not just do it?”
Emily pointed a finger at the east wall. “Alluvia overthrew the monarch and slaughtered the aristos, those who didn’t get out in time,” she said. “They tore down the old system, murdering everyone who made the kingdom work and… and what? It didn’t lead to a new heaven and a new earth, but a new tyranny. Tearing down the system only leaves a vacuum, one that rapidly gives way to the rule of the strong. Moving quickly…”
“So the oppressed masses should stay in bondage, because freeing them will shake the system beyond repair,” Marah said. “Why would the masses like that?”
Emily flinched. Marah suspected she’d struck a nerve. She tried not to flinch too. Her stepfather had always reacted badly when someone had touched his nerves, and Emily could mete out worse than a simple beating. She could…
“They shouldn’t,” Emily said. “But tearing down the system will not automatically make them better off.”
Marah didn’t believe it. No, she didn’t want to believe it. There would always be a demand for coal, now the factories were up and running. Destroying the company that ruined so many lives wouldn’t destroy the need for coal… the miners could take control of the mines for themselves, then sell the coal at a fair price. And yet, would her stepfather and his ilk be any better than the company? She wasn't sure. The bastard might have been kinder to her if he hadn’t been so powerless, everywhere else, but… what if being in power only made him worse? What would he do if he had the power to torment an entire town?
We could stop him , she told herself. Lubbock hadn’t cared about a beaten stepdaughter – too many men beat their wives and children; too many others had problems of their own to worry about – but a mining director drunk on power was a different story. We could deal with him, in a way we can’t with the company’s men.
“We can try,” she said, stubbornly.
“Many have,” Emily said. There was an academic slant to her tone, as if the matter was purely of theoretical interest. It grated on Marah’s nerves. “It rarely works.”
She looked up. “I should probably have discussed this earlier, but… do you want to hear something my master told me?”
Marah wasn’t sure but nodded anyway.
“There’s no solid definition of dark magic,” Emily said. “Some spells are regarded as inherently dark, because they are designed to cause pain and suffering; others are dark depending on how they’re used. A spell to levitate someone into the air isn’t dark, but if you slam them into the ceiling with murderous intent – or flip them over so everyone sees their underwear – then that is dark. A great deal depends on just what you intend to do, and why, when you cast the spell.”
She paused. Marah said nothing.
“The problem with dark magic is that it promises to make everything easy ,” Emily continued, her voice almost emotionless. “You want power? You can get it, if you embrace dark magic. You want someone out of the way? You can, if you cast a dark spell to blast them to dust or turn them permanently into a frog. You want the hot boy who won’t look twice at you? You can get him, with a dark spell to twist his mind until he wants you – and you alone.”
Marah swallowed. In her experience, she didn’t need magic to attract boys. Being young and female was enough. It was far harder to get rid of them. But she took the point.
“It looks easy, doesn’t it?” Emily met her eyes. “You can take whatever you want, when you want it. You can rationalize it too, if you try. So easy, so simple. And every time you cross that line, you’ll find it easier to cross it again, and again, until you become a monster.”
She shook her head. “The revolutionary movement has the same problem,” she said. “It wants change now, but it is focused on the simple concepts and not thinking about the practicalities of effecting permanent change.”
Marah scowled. “That’s easy to say if you’re wealthy and powerful.”
The words hung in the air. Emily was safe , safe in a way so few were. She had enough power and money to make someone think twice about bothering her, even an outright sadist like Prince Jeremy. She could retreat to her tower, batten down the hatches, and wait for the storms sweeping over the world to subside. She was disconnected, with the freedom to treat the whole affair as an academic exercise. Marah had no such freedom. And nor did anyone else in the city. Not now.
“I know.” Emily conceded the point with a nod, showing none of the anger Marah had half-expected and feared. “But destroying the whole system isn’t going to automatically make everything better.”
“You can’t be sure,” Marah said. “It might work here…”
Emily shrugged. “There was a kingdom, a very long way away, where the monarch was a moron ruling over an absolutist system that ground everyone else into the dirt. That kingdom got into a war, which exposed all the flaws in the system and united just about everyone against it and led to a massive revolution.”
“Good,” Marah said.
“The revolutionaries then started fighting each other,” Emily added. “They became more and more extreme, more and more like their old foes, as they battled for supremacy. And when the dust settled, the revolutionaries who’d won were even worse than the old order. They were good at holding onto power, but not so good at making things better.”
Marah looked away, unsure what to make of it. Virgil had promised… but what if he was lying? Or… what if there were other rebels who didn’t want to take the risk of letting Emily go? Or… she stared down at her hands, paying no attention as Emily fiddled with her bag, pulling out a handful of devices and stowing them in her pocket. She wanted to believe Virgil, she really did, but… what if…?
It was hard to decide, hard to say a word. She wanted to confess, to tell Emily everything that had happened, and yet she feared what would happen if she did. It was one thing to face punishment herself, quite another to betray the rebels. Virgil hadn’t lied about the suffering of the common folk, how workers were worked to death and then cast aside to die in the gutter. The prince was a monster, but it wasn't just him . The whole system was guilty. It needed to burn…
And yet, if she was wrong, she was leading Emily to her death.
She reached for her bag and dug through her supplies, a grim resolve coming over her. She’d give Virgil his chance, she promised herself, as she slipped the battery into her pocket beside her money pouch. If he did as he said, she wouldn’t try to stop him, and she’d face the consequences afterwards. If not…
I will do what I must , she promised herself. She wasn’t sure how she’d fight a full-fledged sorcerer, but it wasn’t in her to simply give up. The knife felt heavy, dark and deadly against her palm. And I won’t let anyone take advantage of me ever again .