The door opened. Emily turned, just in time to see the messenger enter and take a knee. He was a young man, barely entering his teens. The messenger service preferred young boys to grown men, claiming that the former didn’t wear down the horses so much. Emily suspected they also didn’t have to pay young men so much, despite the laws she’d enacted. They simply had less clout than their fathers or older brothers.
“You are to take this message directly to Markus, at the Bank of Silence,” Emily said, as she took a notepad and scribbled out a handful of lines. Randor’s troops on the bridge had scattered as soon as Swanhaven fell, allowing normal passage between Beneficence and Swanhaven once again. “Once you get there, wait for a reply unless he sends you home at once.”
“Yes, My Lady,” the messenger said.
“And don’t try to open the note.” Emily added a charm to the paper, just to make sure he couldn’t. Markus would have no trouble opening it, but the messenger would find it impossible. “It would not be safe.”
She sealed the note, then held it out. The messenger took the note, and a silver coin, then bowed his way out of the room. Emily smiled to herself. A young man with a silver coin could find all manner of distractions in Beneficence, if he had the sense to tell Markus that he’d be back in a few hours to pick up the reply. Or he could save it…the Bank of Silence, and the Bank of Cockatrice, had no qualms about allowing commoners to open accounts with very reasonable interest rates. Thankfully, the banking crisis hadn’t completely destroyed faith in the banks.
It could have been a lot worse, she reminded herself. A lot worse.
“Markus may not help,” Imaiqah said. “The City Council might not be willing to take a stand.”
“I know,” Emily said. Markus could help fund the war effort, if he wanted, but Beneficence was vulnerable. Randor probably couldn’t cut the city off from the sea–he didn’t have that many ships under his direct control–yet he could set up a land blockade if Swanhaven and Cockatrice fell. “We have to ask.”
And hope he sees the importance of having Alassa, instead of Randor or the Noblest, as neighbors, she added, silently. Randor won’t forget Beneficence in a hurry and, if he wins, he’ll have the power to bring the city to heel.
Bryon returned, looking tired. “Lord Cat is currently taking command of the city’s volunteers. What can I do for you now, My Lady?”
“Bring us the records,” Emily ordered. “We need to go through them with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Bryon said. He bowed, stiffly. “Might I also recommend that you formally cancel the laws your…ah…replacement enacted? The merchants and industrialists would be most grateful.”
“Of course,” Emily said. “Bring me those laws as well.”
She hadn’t expected Randor–or his appointed man–to support free enterprise, but even she was shocked by the new laws. They would practically crush free enterprise or drive it underground, if anyone actually tried to enforce them. New taxes, limits on what could be produced…a strict ban on hiring runaway peasants and even citizens of the nearest city-state…she shook her head in disbelief, then hastily wrote a note repealing the laws. She rather suspected she had no legal authority to repeal anything, but it didn’t matter. If Alassa won the civil war, Emily would have the authority; if Randor won, Emily and Cockatrice would have a number of far worse problems. Randor would put the city to the sword, his men raping and murdering their way through the population. No one would call him to account either…
Everyone here is a rebel now, she thought. Her blood seemed to freeze. And none of them can expect mercy.
They spent the next few hours going through the books, barely pausing to eat sandwiches for lunch. Emily was surprised–and relieved–to discover that her replacement, currently cooling his heels in the dungeons, hadn’t actually tried to loot the barony’s coffers. He’d probably expected to remain in power indefinitely, ensuring that he didn’t feel any need to steal from himself. Her lips twitched at the thought–the bastard might have done a great deal more damage if he had stolen her money–before she dismissed it. Cockatrice’s wealth didn’t lie in gold and silver.
But it doesn’t hurt to have gold and silver, she reminded herself. You have to spend money in order to make money.
Bryon cleared his throat. “My Lady…what do you want me to do with your…replacement?”
“Keep him in the cells, for now,” Emily said. Her cells were actually civilized. They weren’t very pleasant, but at least there was no risk of random brutality, sexual assault or death. “We can decide what to do with him later.”
The rest of the day passed quickly. She inspected the castle, spoke briefly to a handful of envoys from the city, all of whom seemed pathetically grateful to see her. It cost her a pang, even though she knew she should be pleased. The barony shouldn’t need her to keep running smoothly. But a single bad ruler could turn everything upside down.
Bryon seemed to expect that they would have a big welcome dinner, once night started to fall, but Emily vetoed the idea. She was too tired for a formal affair, particularly one where she was technically the host. Besides, too many people were starving all over the country. She wouldn’t have felt right eating and drinking to her heart’s content–and feeding vast numbers of powerful or wealthy guests–while others were starving. It wasn’t something she could put off indefinitely–too much of local politics involved pressing the flesh–but for the moment she wanted something simpler.
“You have a lot of enthusiastic followers down there,” Cat said, as they sat down to dine in her quarters. The food was simple–the cooks had learned her tastes, at least–but there was plenty of it. “They have a lot of learn, it seems, but they’re keen.”
Emily had to smile. “Did you have any problems taking command?”
“Not once I proved I knew what I was doing,” Cat said. He made a face. “You do realize that I have never commanded anything larger than a platoon?”
“Yeah,” Emily said. She’d seen Cat at Farrakhan–and during Martial Magic. “Does Jade know that?”
“He should,” Cat said. “I’ve found a few veterans amongst the population, men who can help organize the troops, but we’re going to be doing a lot of learning by doing.”
“There are more veterans in Beneficence,” Imaiqah pointed out. “You can probably recruit some of them.”
“Jade’s looking into it,” Cat said. He sounded doubtful. “But quite a few of them have good reason to think they won’t be welcome here. We may have to offer quite considerable bounties in advance.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. Randor and the aristocrats had always seen trained soldiers, particularly short-termers, as a two-edged sword. They might have fought for the king, but they might–later–fight against the king. They had skills the aristocrats didn’t want the peasants to learn. Some became mercenaries, some found jobs outside the country…and some just sank into drunken despair. Randor didn’t care about them once they had outlived their usefulness.
They finished their meal in silence, then Imaiqah stood. “My rooms have been left untouched,” she said. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Emily watched her go, then fiddled with the wards to lock the door. “I mean to ask,” she said, as she stood. “How did you replace the executioner?”
“He has a little room he uses to get ready,” Cat told her. “Had, I should say. I sneaked inside, cracked him on the head and stole his clothes. And then I just played my role until the time was right.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “You saved my life.”
Cat smiled. “Well, we were hardly going to abandon you,” he said. “Jade and Alassa were very insistent that you be rescued. We were quite frantic when we heard you were going to be beheaded. If the Noblest hadn’t been attacking the city at the same moment…”
“Bad luck for Randor,” Emily agreed. She couldn’t help noticing that he was downplaying his own contribution. “The timing was really quite appalling.”
“But he apparently survived,” Cat said. He stood, brushing down his shirt. “And I doubt he lost that many troops during the fighting. I suspect the Noblest weren’t ready for gunpowder weapons.”