Emily cursed under her breath. She knew, all too well, that she couldn’t help everyone, but surely something could be done. It wouldn’t be hard to feed the poor, or arrange jobs; the cripples could be healed and put to work. And the children...they didn’t deserve to be trapped in such poverty. But there was nothing she could do for these people.
“Countless thousands leave the land and come in search of a better life in the cities,” Lady Barb said, very quietly. “But few of them find a decent job that lets them earn a good living.”
Emily stared at her. “But...there are thousands of people working in Cockatrice.”
“Your taxes are a bit lower,” Lady Barb said. “Here...well, anyone who hires someone from outside the city can expect to be paying extra on his taxes.”
She pulled up outside the guardhouse, spoke briefly to the guards and then drove through the gates into the city itself. Emily wasn’t impressed by the walls - they looked too long to be easily defended, while the slum buildings were perched against the stone - but inside the city was very different. It looked cleaner, yet the population seemed sullen and armed soldiers patrolled the streets. There were very few people doing anything more than buying the bare necessities, she noted, and they were almost all men. The only woman she saw on the streets as they drove past a line of inns was escorted by two tough-looking men.
“It’s under occupation,” she breathed.
“So it would seem,” Lady Barb said. They passed a building that had been burned to the ground, leaving only a pile of blackened embers in its place. A pair of soldiers stood on guard outside, although Emily couldn’t help thinking it was pointless. There was nothing left to steal. “But the soldiers are local, Emily. The aristocracy is nervous.”
Emily nodded. The soldiers seemed in control, but every time they looked away one of the handful of people on the streets would make a rude gesture or simply give them a bitter, helpless glance. There was naked hatred in their gazes, a hatred so powerful that it sent shivers down Emily’s spine. Swanhaven was on the verge of exploding into a revolution against the aristocracy. And how much of it, she asked herself silently, was her fault?
She gagged as a thoroughly unpleasant stench wafted across her nostrils, then looked to the left. A dozen bodies hung in the stocks, dead and starting to decompose. Even the soldiers were keeping their distance, she noted as she hastily cast spells to allow her to breathe. They understood the dangers of dead bodies that weren’t promptly buried or cremated, at least, but they’d left them there anyway. She averted her eyes as the carriage rolled past and up the road to the brooding castle. Thankfully, the remainder of the stench died away as they rode up the hill.
“I haven’t seen that for years,” Lady Barb said. She sounded disturbed. “Putting someone in the stocks for a few days isn’t uncommon, but leaving them to die and then just watching the bodies rot away...”
Emily shivered, then composed herself as the carriage reached the gatehouse. A line of armed guards - including two magicians - stepped forward, staring at her when Lady Barb presented their credentials. The gates were opened rapidly, allowing them to drive into the courtyard, while an oily functionary hurried out of a side door and hastily prostrated himself in front of Lady Barb. He barely seemed to pay any attention to Emily.
“I’m not the Baroness,” Lady Barb said, as Emily clambered out of the carriage. She sounded amused, rather than angry. “You’re bowing to the wrong person.”
The functionary started, then hastily spun around until he was prostrated in front of Emily instead. He muttered apologies, but he spoke so quietly that she could barely pick out one word in four. The guards, judging by the ill-hidden smiles, found his embarrassment amusing. Emily had to fight the temptation to reach out, haul the functionary to his feet and shake him. She had a feeling she could have kicked him as hard as she wanted and he would merely have asked for more.
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “Please would you show us to the guest chamber, then inform the claimants that Lady Emily, Baroness Cockatrice, has arrived,” she said. “She wishes to speak with them separately.”
The functionary stood, bowed deeply and backed away towards a large set of doors. Emily and Lady Barb followed, the latter shaking her head in dismay. The functionary somehow managed to negotiate his way through the corridors without looking where he was going; he showed them to a fine washroom, bowed so deeply his nose scraped the floor and backed out of the room. Lady Barb closed and warded the door, then turned to Emily.
“That’s a bad sign,” she said, bluntly. “If someone as important as him cannot keep his dignity, no one can.”
“It must be a bad place to work,” Emily said, as there was a knock on the inner door. “The people outside didn’t look happy.”
Lady Barb opened the door. A pair of maids appeared, both looking downcast. They didn’t say a word as they helped Emily to undress, wash with warm water and don a long green dress that clashed oddly with her hair. Lady Barb washed her face, but didn’t do anything else. She, it seemed, didn’t get a new dress.
“They think I’m your servant,” Lady Barb said, once the maids had withdrawn. “And that makes you look fearsome.”
Emily nodded. King Randor had a small army of servants, but his attendants were almost all young noblemen who competed for the handful of posts. It was a status symbol, of course; Randor was powerful enough to have blue-blooded aristocrats serving him, rather than commoner servants. And if someone had a combat sorceress as a servant...
“I don’t think I want to meet them,” she muttered.
“Nor do I,” Lady Barb said, briskly. “But you should at least try to figure out what’s going on here.”
The functionary waited for them outside, looking slightly more stable. “My Lady,” he said, addressing Emily. “Lord Hans wishes to speak with you first. The Lady Regina is currently occupied and will not be free for an hour.”
“Very well,” Emily said. She had a feeling that meant the functionary actually worked for Lord Hans. “Lead us to him.”
The functionary bowed again, then led the way through a maze of corridors that seemed designed to confuse potential attackers. They probably were, Emily reminded herself; every castle she’d seen, even Whitehall, had a similar design. She silently tested the air for magic as they approached a large pair of doors and found nothing, save for a handful of very basic wards. It didn’t look as though either of the claimants had been able to secure the loyalty of a powerful wardcrafter.
Or they can’t until they’re the sole ruler, Emily thought, as the functionary threw open the doors. They would be treading on their rival’s toes.
“Baroness Emily of Cockatrice,” the functionary said. He swept a low bow towards a long dark table. “My Lady, Lord Hans of Swanhaven.”
He bowed and withdrew as Lord Hans rose to his feet and held out a hand in greeting. Emily shook it gently, studying him; he would have been handsome, she considered, if he weren’t twitching so badly. Or if his face weren’t so badly lined. His short black hair matched the black outfit he wore; he had a sword at his belt, but even she could tell he wasn’t wearing it properly. A poseur, then...or, perhaps, someone trying to give an impression of incompetence. His grip wasn’t firm and his eyes didn’t seem to focus on her. It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself she wasn’t actually there.
“Baroness Emily,” he said. His voice was light and breathy. “Please. Be seated.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She sat, silently glad that Lady Barb was right behind her. “It is a pleasure to be here.”
“It is, of course,” Hans said. He sat facing her, but he seemed to be staring at the wall. “It’s good to see a sensible person, Baroness Emily. There are enemies everywhere.”
Emily frowned. It was never easy to judge someone’s age on the Nameless World, but she would have put Hans at around thirty. He was the sole survivor of the previous Baron’s purge - the sole male survivor, at least - and he’d probably
been under suspicion until the Baron had been beheaded. It had clearly left scars on his soul.
“You can hear them, talking in the shadows,” he continued. “The commoners are no longer quiet. I had to have an example made of the loudest. They dared to speak against my right to rule this place!”
The people who died in the stocks, Emily thought. Lord Hans was, at the very least, unhinged. He wasn’t the sort of person who should be given power and allowed to use it without restraint. How many more will die before he meets his maker?
“And my cousin,” Lord Hans hissed. “She dares to speak against me! She plots and plans and thinks I don’t notice, but I hear everything!”
The door banged open. “I apologize for the delay, Baroness Emily,” a new voice said. “My invitation was unaccountably delayed.”
Emily turned and saw a tall woman wearing a long white dress that set off her dark hair to best advantage. She reminded Emily of Alassa at her worst, but while Alassa had been mischievous the newcomer was malicious. The way she swept towards the table, careful to keep Emily between her and Hans, suggested that she expected trouble. And she’d barged into the meeting, abandoning whatever she’d been doing when Emily had arrived.
“Lady Regina, I presume,” Emily said as she rose to her feet. “I was intending to speak with both of you.”
Lady Regina nodded, gave Emily a very brief embrace and dropped into a chair. “I am, of course, at your disposal.”
“You’re at the king’s disposal,” Lord Hans sneered.
“Alas, not,” Lady Regina said. “But as his Baroness, I would be at his service morn and night.”
Emily kept her face impassive with an effort, even as Lord Hans dropped his hand to his sword. Lady Regina was goading Hans, a dangerous move if he was even the slightest bit skilled with his sword. King Randor might disapprove if Hans murdered his distant cousin in cold blood, but executing Hans would leave him without a proper heir for Swanhaven. And it would cause a great deal of resentment if he put one of his cronies in place.
Or she might have hidden defenses, Emily thought. There was no hint of magic surrounding Lady Regina, but that proved nothing. Does she have some magic of her own?
“There were people put in the stocks to die,” she said, careful not to aim the question at either of them. It would be interesting to see who answered. “Why did you sentence them to death?”
“They were questioning the very basis of our rule,” Lady Regina said, delicately. “We are the blessed, chosen to rule by the gods, and yet those...commoners asked why they should not rule. They were condemned by the words they wrote that undermined our system. Their sedition could not go unpunished.”
“They wrote their leaflets and passed them around,” Lord Hans hissed. “And they spread discontent through the city.”
Emily groaned, inwardly. Last year, King Randor had shown her a handful of seditious pamphlets that had been written using English letters and produced on printing presses, then spread around the kingdom. Ideas were spreading faster than ever before, including the radical notion that aristocratic birth shouldn’t lead to political power. And now Lord Hans and Lady Regina had created a whole new crop of martyrs.
“The city is not safe,” Lady Regina insisted. “Only two days ago, a soldier was separated from his regiment and beaten to death by an angry mob.”
And now everyone in the city is sullen, Emily thought, recalling the soldiers marching through the streets. And on the cusp of a violent uprising.
“We need to take preventive measures,” Lord Hans insisted. “When I am confirmed as baron, I will crush the upstarts and restore order.”
“You were so very brave when Baron Swanhaven ruled,” Lady Regina mocked. “I don’t believe you did anything of note. King Randor knows that I can handle the peasants.”
“A girl cannot rule,” Lord Hans thundered. “You do not have the strength to do what must be done!”
Lady Regina smiled, as if she’d scored a hit. Or if Lord Hans had managed to hit himself.
Which he has, Emily thought. If Lord Hans won because a woman could not inherit the title or wield the power, it would call Emily’s own position into question. His words had neatly undermined any incentive Emily might have to support him - and it didn’t look as though he realized it. But I don’t like her very much either.
“Tell me something,” Emily said, flatly. She didn’t like either of them very much. “What would you do for the Barony?”
“Put everyone in their place,” Lord Hans said. His face twitched as he slammed his fist into his palm. “There would be no more questioning of the way things are, merely everyone where they belong.”
“I would, of course, seek to ride the wave of change,” Lady Regina said, smoothly. “But it is vitally important that we stay in control. Who knows what will happen if these ideas continue to spread?”
“You’re weak,” Lord Hans accused. “You are too fearful to strike at the heart of our enemies.”
Lady Regina smiled, in a manner that reminded Emily of a snake poised to strike. “There is great wealth in exploiting the new ideas.”
“At the cost of power,” Lord Hans snapped. He thumped the table, hard. “And once we give up power, where are we?”
Emily looked from one to the other. Lord Hans was definitely unhinged, but she had a feeling that Lady Regina was worse. She was more calculating, more manipulative...hell, Emily couldn’t help wondering if she had tried to seduce the king. And while Lord Hans was likely to cause an uprising, Lady Regina might be worse in the long run.
Emily rose to her feet. “Thank you for your time,” she said. “We’ll continue our journey to Alexis today.”
Lady Regina blinked, surprised. “You’re not going to stay?”
“The king wishes me in Alexis as quickly as possible,” Emily said. It was true enough, although Randor had suggested she might want to spend two or three days in Swanhaven. “I have a wedding to attend there.”
She nodded to them both - technically, she was their social superior - and strode out of the room, Lady Barb following her. The functionary looked astonished when he saw them; he hastily snapped to attention, then threw himself to the floor. His behavior made a great deal more sense now that Emily had met Lord Hans. Anyone who worked for him did so at risk of his life.
Lady Barb caught her arm. “Leaving so soon?”
Emily nodded. “There’s no point in staying,” she said, keeping her voice low. “They will both lead the Barony to disaster.”
Chapter Eleven
EMILY HAD HALF-EXPECTED LADY BARB to give her a lecture as soon as they left the city and started driving to the portal, but the older woman merely smiled at her as they overtook several large carts making their way to the nearest farms. She honestly wasn’t sure if she’d made the right decision - like Randor, they’d probably expected her to stay for much longer - yet she knew she couldn’t have tolerated either of the claimants for long. No matter which one became the sole ruler of the Barony, it would be bad for their subjects.
She contemplated the problem silently as Lady Barb drove them through the portal and towards Alexis. Lord Hans had looked as though he would behead anyone who disagreed with him, as if the merest hint of disagreement was outright treason; Lady Regina, on the other hand, had callously ordered the deaths of over a dozen people whose only crime had been standing up for themselves...and, instead of a simple execution, she’d sentenced them to one of the most cruel and humiliating deaths imaginable. And there was no way she could reject the right of people to question their rulers. What, apart from blood, did qualify either of the claimants to rule the Barony?
King Randor could put someone else in the castle, she thought, but that would cause other problems for him later.
She looked down at her hands and sighed, inwardly. King Randor had made her a Baroness - but there hadn’t been any other surviving claimants to the Barony, as far as she knew. The baron had been beheaded, along with his sole surviving son.
And everyone had agreed he needed to reward Emily in some way. A Barony was a small price to pay for the salvation of his throne. But Emily hadn’t wanted the Barony - or the headaches it brought with it.
“The crowds are celebrating,” Lady Barb said, dryly. “Do you want to join them?”
Emily looked up. They had passed through the gates and entered Alexis, which seemed to have come alive. Crowds of people thronged the streets, laughing and dancing as they drank from huge mugs of ale and toasted their king and his sole daughter. A large portrait of Alassa - Emily was amused to note it was surprisingly close to reality - hung from one wall, Jade standing behind her as if he were in her shadow. She had a feeling Jade wouldn’t be pleased to see that, although she understood the symbolism. Alassa, daughter of the king, was the senior partner in the marriage. Jade wouldn’t have any power of his own.
Except he will, Emily thought, as she studied the portrait. Jade seemed to have been idealized; he’d always been handsome, in a rough-hewn kind of way, but the artist made him look like the reincarnation of He-Man, complete with muscles on his muscles and an outfit that showed them off to best advantage. He’s a combat sorcerer.
She shook her head in droll amusement as she tore her eyes away from the portrait. No one would be able to recognize Jade if they saw him in the streets, which might have been the point. Absent cameras and video recorders, hardly anyone really knew what anyone looked like, even King Randor himself. Jade could change his clothes and stroll through the crowds, completely unrecognizable. And, if he was going to be doing undercover missions for his wife and queen, it would be very useful indeed.
Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) Page 11
