The Princess in the Tower (Schooled in Magic Book 15) Read online

  But at least they don’t look like a Prince Consort and a Combat Sorcerer, she thought, stumbling towards the front of the wagon. She remembered her own disguise and scowled. Or a kept woman, for that matter.

  She peered into the bright sunlight, one hand covering her eyes. Jade had stopped beside a copse of trees, planted to mark the boundaries between one set of common-held lands and the next. A set of bodies hung from the trees; their throats were slashed, blood staining their clothes and pooling on the ground. Flies buzzed, their hum somehow ominous in the warm air. The wind shifted, blowing the stench towards them. Emily had to fight not to cover her nose as the smell of decaying bodies washed over the wagon. The bodies had clearly been dead for days.

  “Tax farmers, at a guess,” Cat said, from behind her. His voice was very calm. “Or perhaps the local noble’s functionaries, plotting to enclose the fields and turn the peasants into serfs.”

  He nudged Jade. “I thought you were meant to be doing something about this.”

  “Very few complaints ever reach the king,” Jade said, tartly. “And when they do, you can rest assured that he always rules in favor of the nobleman.”

  “And so the commoners take matters into their own hands.” Cat waved a hand towards the bodies. “Who do you think they work for?”

  Emily shrugged. The bodies wore a lord’s colors and badge, but she didn’t recognize the livery. Yellow and black, with gold trim...it was probably a middle-ranking nobleman. She didn’t want to go any closer to the bodies, even though it was possible one of them was carrying something that might give her useful intelligence. The smell alone was off-putting, but the prospect of the murderers having booby-trapped the bodies was worse. Sergeant Miles had told her, more than once, that peasant uprisings were always savage. The peasants knew little of the laws of war and cared less. Besides, it wasn’t as if they could expect any mercy either.

  She looked away, her eyes sweeping over the checkerboard fields. They would be held in common, if she recognized the signs correctly; an entire village of peasants would work them collectively, giving half of their crop to their local nobility and keeping the rest for themselves. Tiny canals ran between the fields, so dry that only a trickle of water remained. The fields themselves looked abandoned, save for a handful of scarecrows. She was no expert, but it didn’t look as though they were being regularly tended. The peasants seemed to have vanished, leaving the fields behind.

  They might not have had a choice, she thought, looking back at the hanging bodies. If the lord was planning to enclose the fields...

  Her heart clenched. The nobility wanted to enclose the fields, claiming that larger fields would produce more crops. And they were right, she supposed. She’d seen the figures when it had been proposed at Cockatrice. It would be more efficient. But it would also turn the peasants into serfs, destroying what little freedoms they had left. She’d banned the practice in Cockatrice. Other aristocrats were far less concerned about the rights and freedoms of their tenants, let alone their traditional way of life.

  “We’d better be going.” Jade cracked the whip and the horses started to move. “I don’t want to be around when someone comes to take down the bodies.”

  Emily nodded in agreement as she settled back on the hard, wooden seat. The air outside was foul, but it was better than trying to sleep in the back of the wagon. She checked her headscarf, just to be sure her hair was still concealed, then looked down at the loose shirt and trousers she wore. She looked like a camp follower, a woman who served two mercenaries in exchange for protection...part of her found it humiliating, if only because Jade and Cat would have to treat her as a servant when they met other travelers, but she had to admit it was a good disguise. Between the headscarf, the clothes, and the dust on her skin, it was unlikely that anyone would draw a connection between her and the Necromancer’s Bane.

  “We’re not moving fast enough,” Jade muttered. “We’re not going to be in Alexis for another week.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Cat said, from where he was sitting in the back. “Unless you want to change your mind and teleport...”

  Jade made a rude sound, but Emily didn’t miss the worry and desperation in his voice. “You know better than that,” he said. “We can’t risk being detected.”

  Emily nodded, remembering the day they’d sat down in Dragon’s Den and hashed out the possibilities. King Randor, whatever else could be said about him, was far from stupid...and he had magicians in his service. Teleporting into Alexis–or even into the countryside near the city–risked detection, bringing the king’s army down on their heads. And while they could teleport into Beneficence, Emily had checked with Markus and he’d told her that anyone who crossed the bridge into Cockatrice was subjected to a careful examination. King Randor lacked the tools to carry out a real check–computers and databases were far in the Nameless World’s future–but his guards would know to watch for any inconsistencies. Or maybe they just used truth spells.

  It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take.

  “We’ll be there in time,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture of affection she would never have normally allowed herself. But she trusted Jade. “The king won’t hurt Alassa until she gives birth.”

  “Hah,” Jade muttered. “He has a bastard son, you know.”

  Emily looked away. Jade was right. Randor’s son might be a bastard–and the mother married to someone else–but the king wouldn’t have any difficulty proving that he’d fathered the child. And, in the absence of any fully-legitimate heir, he could probably convince the nobility to accept the child as his successor. Enough noblemen had been concerned about the prospect of a Ruling Queen–and about Alassa taking the throne–to make it hard for anyone to dissent.

  “He won’t risk hurting a woman,” Cat said. “The nobility wouldn’t stand for it.”

  Emily glanced into the darkened rear. “They have no qualms about beating and raping and even killing their maidservants,” she pointed out, sharply. “I’ve seen fathers complaining about the treatment of their daughters while beating their wives bloody. Why would they question the king?”

  “Because Alassa is a noblewoman, even if she is removed from the line of succession,” Cat pointed out. He ignored Jade’s snort. “They’ll be reluctant to condone the king abusing a noblewoman, whoever she is. They like to think of themselves as chivalrous.”

  Emily rolled her eyes at him. On the face of it, Cat was right; knights and noblemen did like to think of themselves as the protectors of the gentler sex. And yet, she couldn’t help noticing that their chivalrous conduct had the unintentional effect of making noblewomen practically helpless. They couldn’t protect themselves, they couldn’t speak for themselves, they couldn’t even dress themselves. Everything was done for them by their small army of servants. As children, they were little more than dress-up dolls; as adults, they were expected to have babies–after their marriage was arranged for them–and nothing else. Legally, they were effectively children–and property.

  It does have some advantages, she conceded. It was vanishingly rare for a noblewoman to be executed, whatever the crime. Hell, she’d heard of noblewomen deliberately running up vast debts which their husbands were legally liable to pay. But I would find it maddening.

  “They may make an exception in Alassa’s case,” she said, finally. Alassa had been the Crown Princess...she still was, as far as everyone knew. She was hardly some decorative bauble of a noblewoman. Her magic alone made her dangerous to men who thought that women simply couldn’t make the hard decisions. “And they certainly will in Imaiqah’s.”

  Her heart clenched again. King Randor hadn’t just arrested Alassa, if Jade’s source was correct. He’d arrested Imaiqah as well. Emily didn’t know why he’d arrested both of her best friends, but she had a very nasty idea. Paren–Imaiqah’s father–had betrayed his monarch, which meant a certain death sentence for his entire family. None of the nobility would have any qualms about arr
esting a common-born sorceress.

  And we don’t even know if they’re still alive or not, she thought. Jade was sure that Alassa was still alive, but there was no way to be confident. Their marriage bond wasn’t as intense as Melissa and Markus’s. And there is definitely no way to be sure about Imaiqah.

  “She is a noblewoman,” Cat said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  Emily sighed, inwardly. She knew that wasn’t necessarily true. She needed to have a talk with Jade and Cat, sooner rather than later, about what Paren had done. Jade wouldn’t be happy when he heard the truth, even though he liked Imaiqah. He’d accuse Emily of ignoring a time bomb that had blown up in Alassa’s face. And he wouldn’t be wrong, either.

  She leaned her shoulder against the wooden railing and watched the countryside go by. A handful of scattered farmhouses and peasant hovels came briefly into view, half-hidden in the fields, but they looked deserted. Two were little more than burned-out shells, their occupants either dead or long gone. There was no sign of the sheep, pigs or chickens that most farmhouses would keep as a matter of course. She shuddered as she realized yet again that Zangaria was on the brink of war. The tensions had been rising for years, but now...now they were on the verge of exploding into violence.

  No, she told herself. The violence has already started.

  Emily heard snoring from behind her and smiled, despite herself. Cat had the gift of being able to sleep whenever and wherever he wanted, a gift Emily rather wished she’d managed to master. Sergeant Miles had urged her to try, but she simply hadn’t had the time. Too much had happened in the last few months for her to concentrate on developing her magic. She should be back at Whitehall...

  She felt a bitter pang, mingled with the grim understanding that she’d finally outgrown the school. Whitehall would always feel like home, she thought, and maybe one day she’d be back, but she’d never be a pupil again. She had a life outside the school now. And it hadn’t been the same since Grandmaster Hasdrubal had died. Grandmaster Gordian simply wasn’t his equal. She hoped he’d keep his side of the bargain and look after Frieda. There was no way she could visit her younger friend while she was trying to rescue Alassa and Imaiqah.

  At least I got a chance to say goodbye, she thought. To her and to Lady Barb.

  The sun was slowly starting to set as a small town came into view. Jade guided the cart down the road, eyes flickering from side to side as he watched for signs of trouble. It wasn’t uncommon for footpads to jump carts and wagons when the drivers thought they were safe, although Emily doubted they’d mess with a pair of sellswords. Too much chance of getting killed for too little reward. And if the footpads realized they were attacking three magicians instead...

  We need to keep our magic concealed, she reminded herself. The word was out. King Randor was hiring–and sometimes conscripting–every magic-user in his kingdom. Or we’ll find ourselves enlisted in his magic corps.

  Her eyes narrowed as the town came closer. It was surrounded by a wooden palisade, a sign that it was a free town, but someone had been piling up earth to make it stronger. Emily didn’t think it would keep out a determined attack, let alone a magician, yet it might just deter bandits. Law and order had to be breaking down. Free or not, a town wasn’t supposed to build defenses that might actually keep the local lord from asserting his authority. The mere fact that the townspeople had managed to get away with it was worrying.

  “Watch my back,” Jade muttered, as he pulled the wagon to a halt. A set of guards were walking towards them, looking nervous. Emily had seen enough fighting men to know that the guards didn’t have any real training at all. Their weapons were probably more dangerous to their wielders than the enemy. “Cat, get up!”

  Emily heard Cat standing behind her, but she didn’t look back. Jade jumped down from the wagon, careful to keep his empty hands in view, and walked towards the guards. Emily kept a wary eye on him, feeling a flicker of annoyance at how the guards barely glanced at her before dismissing her as unimportant. She knew she should be grateful to be ignored, particularly if Randor had any idea that she was accompanying Jade, but still...

  “They’re taking their time,” Cat whispered. “What are they doing?”

  “No idea,” Emily whispered back. It wasn’t uncommon for gates to be firmly closed after dark and not opened again until morning, no matter who demanded entry, but it was barely twilight. “Talking, it seems.”

  Jade turned and hurried back to the wagon. “We’re not allowed in the town,” he said flatly, as he scrambled back onto the seat. “But there’s an inn on the far side, outside the walls. They’re playing host to a great many sellswords.”

  “You’d think they’d want to hire us,” Cat said. “Did you see the way that idiot was holding his sword?”

  “He came pretty close to unmanning himself.” Jade cracked the whip and the horses started to move, circling the palisade. “But we don’t want employment here, do we?”

  “They wouldn’t want sellswords in their town at all, if it could be avoided,” Emily pointed out. “We’re about as welcome as wolves amidst the flock.”

  She shook her head. Their cover story made sense. King Randor had put out a call for sellswords, as had most of the nobility. But it carried its own risks. Mercenaries were not loved, even during wartime. They were regarded as locusts; no, worse than locusts. She’d heard stories of sellswords being caught away from their bands and being brutally murdered by peasants who wanted to strike back at their unwanted guests. Jade had been insistent that they find a place to stay every night, even though it meant slowing their journey. The risk of being attacked if they camped in the open was too great.

  “I took a look through the gate while they were talking,” Jade said. “I didn’t see any young men, save for a cripple. They were all old.”

  “Conscripted,” Cat said.

  “Or they’ve taken to the hills,” Jade said. He pointed towards the rolling tree-covered hills in the distance. They were part of the Royal Forest, if the map was to be believed, and technically forbidden to peasants, but the locals had never paid much attention to unenforceable laws when their livelihoods were at stake. “You could hide and feed an entire army in there if you wanted.”

  Emily shrugged. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Zangaria was going to explode. All the grievances that had been neglected for decades, perhaps centuries, were about to tear the entire country apart. It wouldn’t be long before the urge to start settling grudges turned into a demand for wholesale reform...

  “There’s the inn.” Jade pointed to a long wooden building, positioned temptingly beside the Royal Road. A small statue holding a lantern stood in front, inviting passing travelers to rest their weary heads in a proper bed; behind, she could see–and smell–the stables. “Shall we go see if they have a room for us?”

  “Hopefully, one without too many tiny visitors,” Emily said. She’d never stayed in an inn that hadn’t had everything from rodents to insects running around. The food would need to be tested carefully or they’d be laid up for days with stomach cramps. “Or will that cost extra?”

  “Probably,” Jade said. “But we’re only going to be staying there for one night.”

  “We should be able to get some news too,” Cat pointed out. “Right now, we don’t know enough to make a plan.”

  “True,” Emily agreed. The inn didn’t look very inviting, but they were short of choices. It was probably too much to hope for a bath, or anything remotely resembling a shower. There would be buckets of cold water for washing and chamberpots under the bed. And that was if they were lucky. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  Chapter Two

  “BUSY PLACE,” CAT COMMENTED, AS THEY drove up the driveway. “I can hear the drunken singing from here.”

  Emily nodded, tersely. The inn seemed to grow larger with every passing second, large enough to pass for a hotel on Earth. Someone had paved the drive with cobblestones–she was amused to note that they’d paid more atte
ntion to their drive than the Royal Road–but it was clear that hundreds of horses and carts had passed through in the last few days. The sound of music–and glasses clinking–was growing louder too. She felt a lump form in her stomach as she looked up at the forbidding building. It felt...unsafe.

  Stout heart, she told herself, as Jade pulled the wagon to a stop. You’ve been in worse places.

  “Ho!” She looked up and saw a young boy, around ten years old, running towards them. “I...welcome!”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. The boy was young, wearing a cap, a brown jerkin and loose trousers that seemed to be a size or two too big for him. No, for her. The disguise was a good one–and Emily probably wouldn’t have seen through it if she hadn’t had plenty of experience with women dressing as men–but it wasn’t good enough. The clothes were just a little too loose for peasant garments that could be resized on the fly. She wondered, as the girl reached the cart and bowed deeply, if Jade or Cat had seen through it too. She’d known plenty of people who’d see someone dressed as a boy and assume ‘he’ was a boy.

  “Ho,” the greeter said, again. She wouldn’t be able to pass for a boy for much longer, not if her voice didn’t grow deeper. “Rooms for three?”

  “Yes,” Jade said. He jumped down to the cobblestones and motioned for Cat to pass him the trunk. “And a place in the stables for our horse and wagon.”

  The girl bowed, again. “My mother will handle the details inside,” she said, pointing to the door. “I’ll take your horses to the back now.”

  Emily watched her scramble up with all the ease of youth, feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Children in the Nameless World were different. They were expected to make themselves useful from a very early age. It still felt odd to see children with adult responsibilities, but she had to admit it was the making of them. The kind of psychosis that had been all too common back home, where children were not allowed to grow up until the appointed time, was rarely seen on the Nameless World.