He shook his head, magic crackling around him. “You can argue that human history is driven by problems caused by the solutions to the last set of problems,” he added. “There’s no such thing as a perfect solution to anything. The ungrateful bastards should know there was no way to end the war, let alone do everything else you’ve done, without creating new problems. And, as bad as they are, they’re better than the ones we had last year!”
Emily nodded. “I know,” she said. “It’s just that...”
“They’re up to something,” Void said, cutting her off. “They want to hold a conference to discuss the future of the Allied Lands, now we have a future. And what’s the first thing they do? They put you on trial, practically guaranteeing the conference is going to fail. Idiots.”
“The ritual Simon wanted the girls to use, at Laughter, was designed to fail, too,” Emily mused. “I think that was the point. He wanted a disaster. And someone was backing him. Simon didn’t even leave Dragora until after I kicked him out, years after the charmed book was inserted into the school. Someone is pulling strings... why? And if that same person has also triggered a revolution...”
“It’s always comforting to believe that someone is against you,” Void said, neutrally. “To think your misfortunes can be blamed on someone you can find and kill, or even to impose a story on a series of unconnected events. It’s also possible that you’ll waste a great deal of time hunting for someone to blame, instead of looking in the mirror. Alluvia was in trouble a long time before anyone had ever heard the name Emily. It was only a matter of time before it blew.”
He stepped back. “I take it you accept my conditions?”
Emily nodded.
“Then go to bed,” Void ordered. “I’ll write to Lady Barb myself.”
Chapter Eight
EMILY SLEPT POORLY.
She was tired, achingly so, and her body clock was completely out of sync. The sunlight streaming through the windows confused her and, even after she slammed the curtains shut, she felt weirdly keyed up. Her awareness seemed to slip in and out of an endless series of nightmares, grim reminders of what could have happened. She tossed and turned time and time again, as though she was being dragged down into a nightmarish world she couldn’t escape. It was a relief, almost, to be woken by a sharp knock on the door.
“What?” Emily sat up in bed, hair spilling over her shoulders. Her scalp still ached. She wasn’t sure if Lucknow had actually managed to pull out some of her hairs. “What is it?”
Silent stepped into the room. “The master wishes you to awaken,” she said. “I have breakfast laid out in the next room.”
“Thanks,” Emily said, sourly. She kicked herself a moment later - a word from her could have Silent’s career destroyed in a heartbeat, even one spoken in jest - but the maid showed no reaction. “Is there anything else?”
“There are also letters and reports for you,” Silent said. “The master has commanded me to pack our bags, once you have had your breakfast.”
“Just a basic bag,” Emily said, firmly. She was not, and never would be, a clotheshorse like Alassa. “A pair of dresses, some underwear and a couple of notebooks.”
And a selection of magical supplies, she added, silently. She’d have to pack those herself. Who knows what I’ll need in Jorlem City?
Silent curtsied. “I’ll see to it, My Lady,” she promised. “We’ll be ready to leave as planned.”
Emily smiled. “We have a plan?”
“The master says you’ll be leaving this evening,” Silent said. “I believe he intends to speak to you first.”
“Good,” Emily said. There was no point in arguing with the maid. She was simply carrying out Void’s orders. There was no way she could disobey her master, even if Emily requested it. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to ask. “Let me get up and dressed, then you can pack.”
Silent dropped another curtsey, then withdrew as soundlessly as she’d come. Emily stood up and stumbled into the bathroom, wishing - again - that she had time for a long soak. The room was dark now. It looked like late evening, from what she’d seen when she looked out of the window, but it would be night in Dragon’s Den. Void probably intended her to get ready now, then teleport to the town before morning. She grimaced as she undressed, turned on the shower and stepped into the warm water. It was strange to realize that magicians operated on a global scale, that they had to take time zones into account when the vast majority of the population didn’t even know they existed. Even Alassa didn’t really need to worry about time zones while she was ruling her kingdom. They just didn’t matter on such a small scale. Zangaria was little bigger than Texas.
She showered quickly, dressed and then stepped into the main room. Her breakfast was waiting under a stasis spell, as Silent had promised. Emily wondered idly who’d cast the spell for her - she didn’t think any of the maids had a talent for magic - then shrugged, dismissing the thought. It was probably the cook. The woman was oddly thin for someone in her profession. Sergeant Harkin had once warned her never to trust a thin cook. She frowned as she cancelled the spell and started to eat. There was a huge pile of letters and reports on her desk, just waiting for her. Emily made a bet with herself that only a handful would say anything new.
And most of them will be repeating rumor as fact, she thought. Alassa had once complained that half her agents overheard something in the marketplace, missed half the context and presented what little they’d heard as hard data. It was an easy way to mislead someone without ever meaning to do it. There’s no way to be entirely certain
