“You’re running out of time,” she said. “Are you going to talk to your families, run off together...or what?”
“You could talk to our families,” Melissa said. “I’m sure they would listen to you.”
Emily rather doubted it. Fulvia didn’t seem the type to be impressed by her reputation, while Marcellus would suspect she had deeper motives. And besides, Fulvia had too much tied into marrying Melissa to Gaius to surrender easily, even if Emily truly lived up to her fearsome reputation. She couldn’t hope to keep Melissa from having to face her great-grandmother, at least one final time.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think you have to make up your own minds — and fast.”
Markus swallowed. “My father would not be pleased,” he said, “but I think he would let me have my head.”
“I hope so,” Emily agreed. “But your brother is too young to take up the reins, if something happens to your father.”
“There are others,” Markus said. “I don’t think my father would hesitate to name someone from one of the cadet branches to take over, if I happened to go.”
Emily looked him in the eye. “Are you willing to go?”
“Yes,” Markus said, simply.
“It’s easier to consider running than facing my family,” Melissa admitted.
“You may not have a choice,” Emily said. “Your family — both families — could make your lives very difficult, if they chose.”
“I know,” Markus said. “But there are limits.”
Emily shrugged. Markus could find employment anywhere, given both his qualifications and his obvious skills. There was a shortage of trained combat sorcerers, according to Sergeant Miles; Master Grey or one of the others might be quite willing to take him on as an apprentice, even if he was in bad odor. But it wouldn’t be easy. People who would happily have loaned him money, knowing he was part of the Ashfall Family, would be reluctant to extend the cash if he was alone.
And Melissa might have to leave Whitehall before completing Fourth Year, Emily thought, morbidly. Part of her wouldn’t be sorry to see the girl go; part of her knew that Melissa would find it even harder to live without her family. She wouldn’t have any real qualifications to her name.
“You should be careful,” Emily said.
“And what,” Melissa demanded, “is the alternative? Giving up—” she waved a hand at Markus “—and marrying Gaius?”
“Put that way,” Emily said, “you may have a point. I...”
She paused as Janice stepped back into the room, carrying a folded piece of paper. Emily took the paper and scanned it, scribbled a response on the bottom, and passed it back to Janice. It would have been good news, under other circumstances; Imaiqah’s father was finally ready to show off some of his top secret work in a location several miles from Cockatrice. But now...she wasn’t sure if she dared leave the castle and go anywhere, other than the Faire. Who knew what sort of disaster would strike the moment she turned her back?
But I have to go, she thought. They can’t keep the engineers here indefinitely.
“Please ask the coachman to prepare my carriage,” she said. “And ask Frieda to join me in one hour.”
“Yes, my lady,” Janice said.
Emily waited until she was gone, then looked back at Melissa. “You do have a point,” she admitted. “But you also have to be prepared to take the consequences.”
“I will,” Melissa said.
Emily met her eyes. “You may be kicked out of your family,” she said, flatly. “If so, will you be able to stay at Whitehall for Fourth Year?”
“I don’t know,” Melissa admitted. “My fees are paid until Sixth Year — my father organized them when it became clear I would develop strong magic — but that isn’t my money.”
Emily sighed. In some ways, she was richer than Alassa, even though Alassa was heir to the throne. Alassa’s wealth was tied up in Zangaria; she couldn’t use it as ready money, even if it produced money over the long term. Melissa...how much money did she have in her own name, and how much did she have tied to her role as the Ashworth Heir?
“The Matriarch might claw it back,” Emily said. It wasn’t hard to imagine the Matriarch being so vindictive. She vividly recalled her stepfather carefully counting his change and demanding to know where a handful of missing cents had gone, then questioning each and every item on the bill. “Or something else might happen.”
“The Grandmaster might not resist,” Melissa said. There was a hint of sullen bitterness in her voice. “He doesn’t favor everyone like he does you.”
“He doesn’t favor me,” Emily said.
“He does,” Melissa said. “Anyone else would have been kicked out of the school after some of the stuff you’ve done.”
Emily considered it. She knew Master Tor had demanded her expulsion, but the Grandmaster had overridden him. Anyone else...it was hard to see why she might have been favored, apart from being allowed to enter Martial Magic without any prior preparation. But she hadn’t asked for it. She’d always assumed that Void had insisted on it, pointing out that Emily would need to learn to defend herself as quickly as possible.
“If that’s true,” Emily said, “I’m sorry. But I didn’t ask for any of it.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Melissa said.
Markus touched her hand. “We will decide how to proceed,” he said, formally. “And we would like to know we can count on your support.”
“I don’t know what else I can give you,” Emily said. “This isn’t Whitehall. There’s no way to squash a fight before it can turn lethal...”
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? There was a way to do it.
I’d need to embed the spell first, she thought. Battling Nanette had been difficult enough; she’d need something much bigger if there were more people involved. And then I will need to test the spell...
“Just don’t make matters worse,” Markus said. He met her eyes for a long moment. “My father would be reluctant to start a fight here.”
“I will do my best,” Emily promised. She finished her breakfast, and stood up. “You can stay here for as long as you like, if you wish. Just...be careful.”
Melissa smiled. “In this room, or in the castle?”
Emily shrugged. She might have mellowed a little towards Melissa, but she didn’t like the other girl enough to want to keep her around indefinitely. On the other hand, she could think of at least two jobs she could hire Markus to do if he wound up looking for employment. A skilled magician would be very helpful.
“We will see,” she promised.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“SO...WHERE ARE WE GOING?”
“Somewhere,” Emily said, as she played with Yodel’s device. They sat together in the carriage, driving out towards an isolated farm on the edge of the Craggy Mountains. “It’s a place we selected for some important research and development.”
Frieda looked puzzled. “What sort of research and development?”
“Technology,” Emily said. “The type of technology that shouldn’t be developed anywhere near towns or cities.”
Frieda snorted. “Be cryptic, why don’t you?”
“I’d like to see what you make of it,” Emily said. Being in the countryside seemed to relax Frieda, a little. “I need your first impressions.”
She smiled as the carriage came to a halt and the coachman opened the door so they could climb out of the vehicle. The Craggy Mountains rose in front of them, peaks hidden behind dark clouds that threatened rain in the very near future. Emily took a long look, remembering the coal and iron seams running through the mountains, and turned towards the cluster of buildings at the base of the mountains. There had been few people living nearby until after Baron Holyoake had been executed, she recalled. Now, thousands of would-be miners flooded the area.
But we haven’t come here to see the mines, she thought, as she led the way towards the central building. We’ve come to see something much m
ore interesting.
A cold wind blew down from the mountains as they approached the building. Emily couldn’t help shivering, despite the warm fleece she’d thrown over her dress. She shivered again a moment later, touching an aversion ward that would keep away almost anyone without business at the site. She took Frieda’s hand and led her through the ward, right up to the door. It opened moments later, allowing them to walk straight into the building. Inside, it was mercifully warm.
“Lady Emily,” a familiar voice said. “Welcome to Powder Mill.”
Emily smiled at the speaker. Paren, Viscount Steam, was a short brown-haired man with a shrewd face and generous smile. It was clear where Imaiqah got her looks from, Emily recalled thinking the first time she’d met her friend’s father, although it was clear that Imaiqah had picked up something from her mother too. Behind him, Imaiqah stood, holding a tray of warm drinks in her hand. She seemed relieved to see Emily.
“Take one of these before we go out in the cold again,” she said, holding out the tray. “I think you’ll need them.”
“You will,” Paren confirmed. “Have you been looking forward to this trip?”
“A bit, yes,” Emily said. She took a mug and passed it to Frieda, then took another one for herself. “How have you been coping with the project?”
“Growing better as we learn more and about the...scientific method,” Paren said, pronouncing the words as if they were a foreign concept. “There are some very skilled artificers involved in this work, Lady Emily. I have a feeling it won’t be long before we see rival installations dotted around the world.”
Probably, Emily thought. Whoever gained a copy of her notes, the notes Nanette had stolen, would have a leg up on their competition. Paren might be in the lead, at the moment, but that wouldn’t last. The scientific method worked for everyone, not just magicians or trained engineers. Given time, everything born in Zangaria would spread around the Nameless World.
“We’ve been producing several barrels of gunpowder per day,” Paren said, as they walked into a small lounge. Behind them, Frieda chatted quietly with Imaiqah. “Some of it was used to make the fireworks you saw at the Faire, some was used to help blast through the rock for the miners...and some was used for the other project. So far, there hasn’t been that much interest from the king, but that will probably change.”
“Undoubtedly,” Emily said. She sat down on one of the chairs and motioned for Frieda to sit next to her. “Once he understands the potential, everything will change.”
Paren nodded. “There were a great many accidents, Lady Emily,” he said, “but we finally worked out a suitable design for guns and cannons. They are crude, I think, and there is a great deal of space for improvement...”
“You have no idea,” Emily said. She didn’t expect anything better than blunderbusses and cannons, but she knew there were many improvements to come. “Give them time.”
“Of course, Lady Emily,” Paren said.
He took a sip of his drink before he continued. “I have prepared a demonstration, as you asked,” he added. “We can watch them fired after we’ve finished our drinks.”
Emily nodded, and changed the subject. “How is your family coping with the move out here, Viscount?”
Paren sighed. “I’m not doing too badly,” he said, “but the kids are having problems. They don’t fit in with the grandees and they don’t fit in with the merchants. Where are they supposed to go?”
“I wish I knew,” Emily said.
She cursed the feudal system under her breath. Merchants regarded noblemen and aristocrats as enemies, while aristocrats looked down on anyone who hadn’t been born and raised among the nobility. It wouldn’t be easy for Paren and his family to fit in, even though Imaiqah was Alassa’s close personal friend. They would be caught between two very different worlds, fitting into neither. Perhaps Imaiqah’s children would have it easier, Emily thought. She was a magician as well as the princess’s friend.
“And Lindsey doesn’t fit in very well, either,” Paren added. “But she does love living in a larger home.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” Emily said. Imaiqah’s mother had been a merchant’s daughter, she recalled absently. She would be used to living with other merchants, not the nobility. “But it does help your family.”
“Yes,” Paren said. “However, I don’t get to sit on the City Council any longer either.”
He finished his drink and rose. “Let me show you what we’ve done,” he said. “I think you’ll be impressed.”
Emily nodded him to lead them out the back door and into a large, open field. A cannon was placed just outside, its barrel pointing towards a set of targets at the far end of the field. Two young men, both apprentices, were sitting on top of the weapon; they jumped to attention as soon as they saw Paren, and hastily bowed to Emily. Emily nodded back, and watched as one of the apprentices produced a case and opened it, displaying a large musket.
“This is the Mark-VII,” Paren said. He’d taken her handful of half-remembered notes and given them to his engineers, who’d turned them into a set of solid concepts. “It does have a tendency to jam if not cleaned regularly, but it does work. The accuracy, however, leaves something to be desired.”
“Volume of fire might be more useful than accuracy,” Emily said, recalling the early gunpowder wars on Earth. “You could break a charge of mounted horsemen with enough firepower.”
“The grandees will love that,” Imaiqah muttered.
Emily nodded. The aristocracy had had a fit when stirrups had been introduced, if only because they made it much easier for anyone to learn to ride a horse. What would they say, she wondered, when they realized that horsemen would become outdated soon enough, once there were enough cannons and guns to go around? They’d probably press for a ban on gunpowder weapons, only to discover that anyone could produce gunpowder or reason out the principles behind the weapons.
“Yes,” she said. The Charge of the Light Brigade might have been magnificent, she quoted mentally, but it hadn’t been war. “They will utterly adore the new weapons.”
Paren raised his voice. “Prepare to fire the cannon,” he ordered. “Lock and load!”
Emily smiled as the apprentices opened the breech at the rear of the cannon, then loaded in the cannonball and a large bag of gunpowder before closing the breech with a surprising gentleness. It puzzled her until she realized that a single spark would set off the cannon and cause an explosion that might maim or kill the gunmen.
Paren caught her eye and motioned for her to move back, along with Imaiqah and Frieda, as the apprentices aimed the cannon and lit the fuse. Emily covered her ears...
There was a deafening explosion as the cannonball was hurled towards its target.
“My ears are ringing!” Frieda shouted. “That was loud.”
Emily nodded. The sound had been far louder than she’d expected, even though she should have known better. She knew more about gunpowder warfare than anyone else on the Nameless World, although she expected that to change in short order. The apprentices ran forward and opened the gun, hastily clearing out the residue despite the smoke, and prepared to fire a second cannonball. Minutes later, there was another explosion; this time, the cannonball struck its target.
“Impressive,” Emily said. “But what are you going to do about the smoke?”
“We’re still searching for the correct formula for smokeless powder,” Paren said. “Do you know how to proceed?”
Emily shook her head. It had been sheer luck she’d remembered, with the aid of a few memory charms, enough to start them on the path towards gunpowder. And even then, she was all too aware of just how many people had been injured, or killed, before they had worked out a stable formula. There was no way she could recall the precise details of smokeless powder. They would have to work it out for themselves.
“Magic will help protect us from the smoke,” Imaiqah said. “But it isn’t really enough.”
“No,” Emily
agreed. The study of basic chemistry, as opposed to alchemy, was in its infancy, but she knew it would eventually solve the problem. “We will solve it one day.”
She sighed, inwardly. If she’d known she would be spending the rest of her life on the Nameless World, she would have memorized as many textbooks as possible on everything from medicine to military technology and tactics. Even looking at a page for a moment would be enough to create an impression she could dig up with a memory charm and put to use. But all she had was her very limited knowledge. Given time, the problem would be solved, yet she had no idea how long it would take. Earth had taken centuries to move from basic cannons to machine guns and nuclear bombs.
But I built a small tactical nuke, she thought. Someone else could do the same.
“Take aim,” Paren ordered, as the apprentice lifted the musket and pointed it towards the target. “Fire!”
The apprentice fired.
Emily watched as he hastily reloaded his weapon — it wasn’t remotely automatic, not yet — and fired again. She’d read that the Duke of Wellington divided his soldiers into two ranks, one firing while the other reloaded, but she hadn’t understood why until now. For all of her talk about how the day of the horseman was over, a savage charge could break a line of infantrymen while they were busy reloading. And yet, if they fired enough bullets, it wouldn’t matter if they needed to reload. The horsemen would be wiped off the field.
“No hits,” Imaiqah said, quietly.
“It won’t matter, if there’s enough of them,” Emily said. A memory surfaced in her thoughts, something to do with rifled barrels. She would need to meditate and see what came out if she concentrated on the thought. “But how strong will the impact be?”
The apprentice carefully cleaned his weapon, then turned to Paren. “My Lord,” he said. “Will you have need of me later?”
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