Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic #12)

“IT’S GROWN,” CALEB SAID, AS THEY entered the station. “It was much smaller, the last time I visited.”

Emily nodded. Beneficence Station was larger than she’d expected, a combination of platforms, sheds for rolling stock, and roving salesmen trying to sell everything from shares in the railway to food and drink. Uniformed conductors walked everywhere, supervised by a fat man in a top hat and black waistcoat. Emily was disappointed to realize that people couldn’t get onto the platforms themselves without a proper ticket, although she understood the problem. There were too many spectators for it to be safe.

She looked from side to side, shaking her head in amusement. Vesperian had covered almost everything with his giant ‘V,’ save for a handful of advertisements and a giant portrait of himself. Almost all of the advertisements were for guildmasters, urging guildsmen to vote for free trade candidates. Emily wondered, absently, if Vesperian had banned any other candidates from advertising in his station. She rather suspected he had. Someone more inclined to raise trade barriers would not find favor with him.

Frieda nudged her. “Here it comes!”

Emily smiled at the note of excitement in Frieda’s voice – and the crowd’s intake of breath – as the steam engine slowly came into view. Steam billowed up from the south, growing closer and closer until the locomotive itself appeared, half-hidden in a cloud of smoke. The whistle blew as the train roared past and headed into the station, pulling four large carriages to the platform. Emily had to admit that steam technology had improved over the last couple of years. Earth had taken decades to make the same leap.

But they didn’t have my half-remembered diagrams to point them in the right direction, she thought, as the train came to a halt. They had to progress by trial and error.

The whistle blew, again. She tilted her head, watching as the doors were opened from the inside and the crowd poured out. Most of them looked like merchants, but a number were clearly peasants from Cockatrice. The idea of going on a holiday, even a mere two hundred miles from home, would have been alien to them, once upon a time. Now…she wondered, absently, just how many of them would never go home. There was always work for willing hands in the big city.

“It’s impressive,” Caleb said. “And there’s no magic in it at all.”

Emily shrugged. Some of Paren’s early designs had included a spell to keep the boiler from bursting, if the steam ran right out of control. She had no idea what Vesperian – or his designers – had included. A handful of simple runes might make the difference between success and failure. She heard a grinding sound and turned to watch, just in time to see the engine moving away from the coaches. Unless she missed her guess, there would be a set of points – further into the station – that would allow the driver to turn the engine around and move it around the coaches. The engine practically vanished in another whoosh of steam as the driver moved it away, quickly. Seconds later, another engine appeared on the far side and was quickly hooked up to the coaches. It looked as though there were quite a few engines in the sheds.

“It is impressive,” she agreed. There was so much energy in the station that it was easy to believe Vesperian’s Track could reach all the way to the Iron Hills. Young men lined up in front of a recruitment office, clearly hoping they’d win one of the coveted driver positions. There were even a couple of young women! “But can it make money?”

They walked through the station, allowing her a chance to look around. Prices were relatively low, something that puzzled her until she realized that most of the first investment had already been sunk into the infrastructure. Besides, low costs would encourage more travelers. Large placards talked about how the track’s expansion would bring a new era of economic development to Beneficence, a boom that would never stop. Emily knew that was a lie, even if all the political and financial barriers suddenly vanished. There were limits to how far the boom could go.

Here and there, she spotted people who looked…concerned. They hid it well, but their faces were pale and they spoke in low voices. Others muttered angrily, seemingly unconcerned about listening ears. She picked up enough to know that matters weren’t as settled as Vesperian had suggested, although she wasn’t sure of the details. There were costs and cost overruns and unanticipated side effects…

She heard the engine puffing out of the station behind her. She didn’t look back.

“You could probably get a tour,” Frieda said. She jabbed a finger towards another line of youngsters. “They’re getting a tour.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t think we’d be told anything useful.” Her name could probably get them a private tour, if Vesperian still thought she might loan him money. “I’d be astonished if they talked about any problems.”

A young woman materialized in front of her, carrying a large manuscript book. “I’m selling notes,” she said, giving Caleb a sweet smile. Emily felt her hackles rise in irritation. “We’re offering sixteen for twelve, repayment due in two years.”

“Two years,” Frieda said. She smirked. “And what happens then?”

The woman’s mask dropped, just for a second. She looked younger, probably no older than Frieda herself. Emily felt a stab of pity, despite her earlier annoyance. Unless she missed her guess, the woman was only paid in commissions. Vesperian – intentionally or otherwise – had created a pyramid scheme.

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