“We saw some of the riot,” Jade said, stiffly. “What happened?”
Mouse took a breath. “A handful of bars ran out of alcohol. The drinkers blamed the soldiers and attacked. Things grew worse from there.”
Emily glanced at Cat. She had no difficulty in believing that people could and would do stupid things under the influence–her mother had married her stepfather, after all–but when they were deprived of drink? It made no sense…she shook her head. Drinking was probably the only thing that kept most of the dockyard workers, the ones who were the lowest of the low, from realizing just how badly their lives sucked. They always went to the bars after work, drinking their pay away…
“I see,” Jade said. His voice was very flat. “And how are things this morning?”
“Quieter,” Mouse said. “Master Abrams said the streets were very quiet, but…but there are a lot of soldiers patrolling the dockyards.”
“Unsurprising,” Jade muttered. He cleared his throat. “It’s a shame we’re not ready to move now.”
Cat shrugged. “I doubt they’ll have moved any soldiers from”–he glanced at Mouse–“our primary target.”
“Probably,” Emily agreed. “Did the king make any promises about shipping in more alcohol?”
“No,” Mouse said. She flushed. “Ah…not as far as I know.”
Emily frowned. Randor probably wouldn’t be too concerned by a riot in the docks, certainly not one that hadn’t been too violent. He might even regard it as a victory. A number of soldiers were dead, she thought, but they would have been joined by a great many more rioters. She made a mental note to ask Alicia, when–if–she started to write in the parchment. Alicia would be in a good place to hear the king’s reaction.
And the king will not take her seriously, Emily told herself, firmly. It will never cross his mind that Alicia might be betraying him.
“He’d be foolish not to ship in some more,” Jade commented. “Merely putting his soldiers to work patrolling the docks would make it harder for them to secure the walls.”
“If someone decides to attack the city,” Cat countered. “Just how far is it to hostile territory?”
“They could probably sneak a small army into striking distance, if they were careful,” Jade said. “The real problem will be taking the king’s castles.”
Emily nodded as Jade dismissed Mouse. Randor had a network of castles scattered across the kingdom. Officially, they were designed to secure the roads, suppress banditry and defend the borders; practically, they made it harder for the barons to mass their forces against the king. She’d heard that Randor had been strengthening their defenses for years, ever since he’d crushed the last coup attempt. The barons would have real problems overwhelming them and mounting an offensive against Alexis at the same time.
But if they take out the king, game over, Emily thought. Alassa was a prisoner. They’d be able to capture the Tower and take her too. They win.
She visualized a map of the country, trying to remember what Sergeant Miles had told her. A daring strike might win the war in a stroke, but it was also very risky. If it failed, the attacking force would be destroyed and the king would have a major victory to his credit, something he could use to convince his wavering allies to stand with him. And the nobles would have to patch up their alliance in the wake of the recriminations which, she was sure, they’d hurl around like snowballs after the failure. She didn’t think they had enough men and material to write off enough force to take and hold the capital.
A city might fall to an outside force with inside help, she mused. The Levellers wouldn’t help the nobles, not willingly. But actually taking the city without a fifth column on the inside might be tricky. They’d need overwhelming numbers and a great deal of luck.
Cat nudged her. “Emily?”
Emily flushed. “What?”
“Some of our spies have located a man who works at the Tower,” Jade told her, as she looked up. “He has a…habit of drinking at an expensive establishment during his time away from work.”
“I see,” Emily said. That was a stroke of luck. “And who is he?”
“Taliesin Witt,” Jade said, slowly. His lips curved into something that couldn’t really be called a smile. “I know him, vaguely. He was one of the guards attached to Alassa before Sir William took control of her personal armsmen. My guess is that he worked for the king all along.”
Emily cocked her head. “And he works at the Tower?”
“Apparently so,” Jade said. “I’m pretty sure he’s not the guy in charge, not unless he’s turned his life around since I knew him, but I suspect he’s one of the senior guardsmen. And he goes drinking every weekend at a certain place I happen to know.”
“Let me guess,” Emily said. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. “It’s a brothel.”
“It’s a very high-class brothel,” Jade said. “There’s nothing remotely common about it. And if you called it a brothel, they’d throw up their hands in horror.”
Cat leaned forward. “And you think he can tell us something useful?”
“I’m sure of it,” Jade said. “The real question, of course, is can we make him talk?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
JADE HADN’T BEEN JOKING, EMILY DECIDED, about just how high-class the high-class place actually was. On the outside, it was just another building off the Royal Mile; inside, it was a surprisingly tasteful bar and restaurant that catered to nobles and officers of all stripes, regardless of their bloodline. She could even see a handful of magicians sitting at a table, chattering happily away as they drank their way through an entire barrel of wine. Emily just hoped they wouldn’t get drunk and start turning the rest of the clientele into frogs.
Her eyes surveyed the room as subtly as she could, moving from face to face. A handful of guests were recognizable, although she couldn’t always put a name to the face. Hopefully, none of them would take too close a look at her. It wasn’t the sort of place aristocratic women frequented, at least as long as they had money or wealthy relatives, but it was marginally more likely that someone would recognize her here than down at the docks. The noblemen in the room might well have seen her during Alassa’s wedding.
But they wouldn’t be expecting me to wear anything like this, Emily thought, looking down at her dress. Not a Baroness who rules in her own name.
It was a sour thought. The red dress was surprisingly modest, revealing hardly any bare flesh below the neckline, but it left no doubt that the only asset she had was her body. The costume–and it was a costume–hinted rather than revealed, drawing the eye without–quite–satisfying the viewer. Jade had been so clear on what the outfit meant that Emily had been reluctant to put it on even though she was decently covered. She’d worn more revealing clothes after schooling at Whitehall. But the mere act of wearing it indicated that she was looking for a patron and she didn’t care much what she had to do to get one.
“Look confident,” Jade hissed. “You’re not meant to look ashamed.”
Emily resisted the urge to glare at him. Jade had–somehow–talked her into wearing the dress and serving as the bait for his friend. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do it. She’d played bait before, during Martial Magic, but never using her own body…no, she corrected herself, she’d never used her sexuality. Her stomach churned at the thought. The risk of being eaten by a wild animal or captured by thugs suddenly seemed less terrifying than being cornered by a man who thought she wanted to trade her body for money and protection. Jade might claim there was a difference between a high-class courtesan and a prostitute, but Emily couldn’t see one.