Cold anger shot through her. The trial was a farce. The whole affair was a farce. She hadn’t intended to cause chaos... she certainly hadn’t set out to upset the balance of power. And yet... a dozen arguments ran through her mind, each unlikely to convince the jury. They’d used her, they’d praised her... and now they were planning to discard her, after all she’d done for them. It wasn’t her fault that her innovations had been misused. She’d certainly never anticipated how the chat parchments could be turned into weapons...
She clasped her hands behind her back and addressed the jury. “You ungrateful bastards.”
The words hung in the air. She almost smiled as shock rippled around the chamber. It wasn’t something she would normally say, but... logic and reason wasn’t going to get her out of this mess. There was no hope of convincing anyone to uphold the law. She knew from watching King Randor - and even Alassa - that the law was flexible, if someone with enough power wanted to bend it to his will. But if she reminded them of everything she’d done...
“Seven years ago, back when I came into my magic, the situation was dire,” she said, pressing on before anyone could intervene. “The necromancers were pressing against the Craggy Mountains. Shadye and his predecessors had already made several attempts to smash through Whitehall and rampage through the Allied Lands. Two kingdoms further to the east had fallen, with the necromancers slowed by geography rather than a stout defense. Dua Kepala was on the far side of the Desert of Death, exploring Heart’s Eye and laying the groundwork for an invasion of Tarsier. And other necromancers - and dark wizards - were popping up regularly on the northern side of the mountains.
“It was just a matter of time before the end.”
She paused, wishing she could gauge their reactions. But it was impossible. All she could do was press on and hope for the best.
“I went to Whitehall for my first year, when Shadye attacked for the final time. I killed him. I saved the school. I saved Alluvia and the kingdoms beyond. The next year, I killed another necromancer, one who could have turned the Cairngorms into her personal slaughterhouse if she hadn’t been stopped. Two years after that, I killed yet another necromancer and recaptured Heart’s Eye.
“And, only a few short months ago, I devised a way to beat them permanently.
“I am twenty-three years old. There isn’t a person in this chamber who isn’t old enough to be my father. How can you forget, so quickly, that you were staring Armageddon in the face? How can you forget that it was just a matter of time before the necromancers came for you? How can you forget that they were finally on the verge of grinding through the mountains and winning the war? How can you condemn me for saving you from a fate worse than death?”
She allowed her voice to rise, just a little. “You say that I am to blame for my inventions being misused. But how can that possibly be true? I am responsible for what I do, but not for the actions of others. There is no reasonable way you can blame me for what someone else does with my work. And if you think I should never have invented the batteries, ask yourself this: What would the world be like, right now, if I’d never so much as devised the concept, let alone turned it into reality?
“I’ll tell you. The necromancers would still be alive. They would still be a serious threat on the far side of the mountains. And they’d just have to get lucky once to crush you.”
Master Lucknow cleared his throat. “No one is denying that you saved the world,” he said, bluntly. “But we cannot deny the consequences either. You have upset the balance of power. Reigniting the nexus points alone...”
Emily cut him off. “No one, including yourself, so much as raised the possibility that reigniting the Kuching nexus would reignite the other dead nexus points. You were there at the planning meetings. Did anyone raise it as a practical concern?”
“Objection,” Master Lucknow said. “The defense is not allowed to ask questions of the prosecution.”
“True enough,” Master Tor agreed. “However, there are no other witnesses to those planning sessions on hand. Answer the question.”
“The concern was never raised,” Master Lucknow said, coldly. “However, the fact remains that she upset the balance of power...”
“By accident,” Emily said.
“Then, perhaps,” Master Lucknow conceded. “But by inventing gunpowder?”
“If I hadn’t introduced gunpowder,” Emily said, “what would have happened when the orcs charged our lines?”
She winced, inwardly. She hadn’t set out to turn the world upside down, by introducing earthly innovations, but she’d known it was going to happen. Gunpowder alone put the power to kill in the hands of anyone who could obtain a gun... hell, it wasn’t as if gunpowder was difficult to produce. The formula had leaked out years ago. She’d heard rumors that every blacksmith was converting his forge into a gunsmith’s factory and trying desperately to devise the next generation of guns, putting them into production before they become outdated. And gunpowder was only the big - obvious - invention. English letters and Arabic numbers - and paper - would be just as disruptive in the long run.
“We would have held the line,” Master Lucknow insisted.
“No,” Emily said. Archers were terrifying, but they couldn’t match musketmen. “The archers could not have stopped the charge.”
Master Lucknow changed his tack. “And what do you say to the charge you broke the Compact?”
“I am a magician, part of the magical community,” Emily said.
