Karan looked down at the table. “Yes, mother.”
Emily watched Sienna go, feeling a stab of sympathy for Marian. Sienna didn’t seem the type of person to bother trying to find out why her daughter was so upset. And yet, she didn’t blame Sienna for being concerned – and angry -- that her youngest daughter had deliberately put herself in danger. The rioters who’d attacked her on the streets would have no trouble tearing Marian to pieces, if they’d caught her instead.
“Change into trousers,” Caleb advised, when they’d finished their breakfast. “You might have to run.”
“Good thinking,” Frieda said. Emily shot her a sharp glance. “Or we could just teleport home.”
Caleb looked back at her, evenly. “Can you teleport?”
“Emily can,” Frieda said.
“Then you’d better be prepared to run.” Caleb sounded as though he was trying – hard – to keep himself under control. “Because, you know, you might get separated in the crowd.”
He cleared his throat. “Emily, you can’t teleport into Sorcerers Row,” he said. “If you have to teleport out, aim for somewhere on the far side of the river.”
Emily nodded. There were enough wards surrounding the house to make teleporting extremely dangerous, if not fatal. She was fairly sure it would be fatal. Lady Barb and Void had warned her that teleport spells were easy to disrupt, even by low-power magicians. A lucky magician might just realize the danger in time to abort, but the timing would have to be terrifyingly precise. She doubted she could handle it.
“I’ll be careful,” she promised. “What happened last night?”
“She wasn’t with her friend,” Caleb said, flatly. “I don’t know where she was.”
“Ouch,” Emily said. Alba had sneaked out too, she recalled. But Marian was too young for a boyfriend, wasn’t she? “Is she going to be all right?”
“Probably.” Caleb smiled, humorlessly. “At her age, getting grounded is a fate worse than death.”
Emily nodded as they hurried back up the stairs to change. Marian didn’t have a computer, let alone the internet; she didn’t even have television or a radio. Being locked in the house would probably feel like going to prison. There were books, of course, but Emily suspected Sienna would confiscate any novels Marian owned. By the end of the day, Marian might be begging for something – anything – to do. Maybe her sister would put her to work cleaning the house. God alone knew what had happened to the maid.
She changed into her borrowed trousers and a shirt, then hurried downstairs. Sienna stood at the door, speaking to a young man Emily didn’t recognize. He nodded politely to her, then hurried away as Caleb and Frieda joined them. Caleb had changed, but he still looked tired and wan. Frieda looked surprisingly neat in a black shirt and trousers. Sienna flickered her eyes over the shirt – a size or two too tight, Emily noted – and then looked away. Emily was silently glad her shirt wasn’t so daring.
“The meeting will be held in the Square.” Sienna waved a hand in the air, adjusting the wards before she opened the door. “We have to hurry.”
Emily took a breath as they stepped into the morning air. A faint taste of ashes hung over the city; glancing north, she saw a plume of smoke rising into the air. Vesperian’s mansion was still burning, then. She wondered, absently, what spells had been used to make the blaze impossible to subdue. There were several that needed specific countermeasures to stop, if she recalled correctly. Or maybe the firemen had lost money too and simply decided to let the building burn to the ground.
The streets were crowded with hundreds of people making their way towards the Guildhall, some carrying weapons and wearing armor. Emily couldn’t help staring at a man who carried a sword almost as big as himself, wondering how he managed to swing the blade. Someone had probably charmed it, she decided. Sergeant Miles had taught her a great deal about charmed weapons, although he’d always been careful to point out that a charmed blade didn’t make the bearer invincible. A blade could be charmed to cut through anything, or weigh as much as a feather, but a crafty magician could always undo the spell at the worst possible time.
“Too many people on the street,” Frieda muttered, as they turned into the square. “Is the entire city here?”
“No.” Caleb glanced from side to side, his eyes grim. “But it will certainly feel that way.”
Emily nodded. The square – just in front of the Guildhall – was crammed with people, from wealthy merchants, industrialists, and priests in fine robes to commoners wearing clothes that had clearly been handed down from generation to generation. Many of the latter carried pieces of paper bearing the stylized ‘V’ – their notes, Emily realized. Others held weapons or muttered angrily to their neighbors as rumors sped through the crowd at terrifying speed. She couldn’t recall seeing commoners carrying so many weapons before, but Beneficence wasn’t Zangaria. Anyone who wasn’t actually a slave could carry a sword, if he could afford it.
“That’s Speaker Janus,” Caleb said, as Sienna led them towards the small gathering of dignitaries outside the Guildhall. “He’s talking to father.”
Emily followed his gaze. A tall, thin man, with dark hair and a goatee that reminded her of Disney’s Jafar, stood next to General Pollack, speaking to him. The red robe he wore was identical to the robes worn by his followers, save for the gold trim around the hood. Emily glanced around, noting that there were nearly thirty Hands of Justice within eyeshot and probably many more out of sight. She couldn’t help thinking that they were waiting for something. But what?
“Lady Emily,” a voice said. She turned to see Harriman, wearing a grey suit that matched his personality. “I trust you slept well?”
“Well enough,” Emily lied.