Lady Barb cleared her throat. “What are you thinking?”
“I could intervene,” Emily said. A dozen madcap schemes ran through her head. It would be tricky to make a magically-binding contract that would affect Dater, but... she could do it. Perhaps. And yet, it would be hard to close all the possible loopholes. “I could force the two sides to discuss peace or throw my weight behind one side...”
“And that would be a serious breach of the Compact,” Lady Barb pointed out. “This isn’t Zangaria. You’re not a baroness here. If you meddle openly, Master Lucknow will have all the excuse he needs to take another swing at your neck. And this time it will be a great deal harder to stop him.”
Emily shook her head. “Thousands of people are going to die.”
“Yes,” Lady Barb agreed, coldly. “But they’re going to die no matter what you do.”
“No,” Emily said.
“Yes.” There was nothing but sympathy in Lady Barb’s eyes. It didn’t make her words any easier to hear. “Emily, there’s no way you can bring the two sides together. The hatred and suspicion has been building up for decades. It started well before you were born. The rebels know they cannot surrender, for they will be destroyed as soon as the royalists regain their power; the royalists know they cannot concede anything, because the rebels will take advantage of any concessions to take the rest. There’s no single enemy to defeat, not here. You’re struggling against the pressure of history itself.”
“And the consequences of the war,” Emily said.
“Perhaps it would be better to let the two sides fight it out,” Lady Barb said. “Let them fight now, rather than waiting a generation or two, and then deal with whoever comes out on top.”
She held out the letter. “Things are growing increasingly unsteady everywhere. There’s been a string of bombings and shootings right across the Allied Lands. A king was nearly blown up, a prince really was blown up... a couple of aristocrats have been gunned down by commoners carrying pistols. So far, the magical communities have been largely spared, but it’s just a matter of time before the chaos spreads there, too. I don’t think anyone can put the brakes on now.”
“Unless we uncover the plotter,” Emily said. “We know someone is pulling strings.”
Lady Barb shook her head. “It may not matter,” she said. “The tinder has been building up for years. Catching the person who tossed the fireball into the kindling won’t stop the fire.”
“It might cause everyone to take a breath and step back from the brink,” Emily said, stubbornly. She didn’t want to fail. If she could prove Master Lucknow - or someone - had been behind the chaos, perhaps she could slow things down long enough for the conference to devise a more permanent settlement. “I have to try.”
“And I have to go,” Lady Barb said. “Emily, understand this. If you stay, you will be alone. You will have no formal credentials, no diplomatic immunity, no nothing. King Dater has already ordered you out of the kingdom. He’d have every right to kill you if he catches you in his kingdom after midnight. And the rebels would be within their rights to order you out, too.”
“They haven’t,” Emily said. She could go underground, if she had to. “I have to try.”
Lady Barb nodded, curtly. “Be careful, then,” she said. “I’ll need an hour or so to pack. I suggest” - her tone made it clear it was an order - “that you advise Prince Hedrick and Silent to accompany me. I’ll teleport them both to Dragon’s Den. They really shouldn’t stay here.”
Emily said nothing as the older woman stood and walked through the door, closing it behind her. She hated feeling so... helpless, so convinced that no matter what she did, it would make everything worse. Much worse. She almost yearned for a necromancer. There’d be no doubt, then, who had to be stopped. She wondered, briefly, if she could manufacture a threat to force both sides to work together, then shook her head. It wouldn’t work, outside a novel with a friendly writer. The threat would have to be creditable to be convincing and that meant she’d have to kill people...
She put the thought aside as she stepped into the kitchen. Prince Hedrick was still reading his book. The nasty part of Emily’s mind wondered when he’d learnt to read. Hedrick wasn’t exactly an idiot, but he’d come of age before she’d introduced the phonic alphabet. She doubted he’d bothered to learn more than the basics of the new writing, or more than he needed of the old. He had far more important things to do with his time.
A thought nagged at her, a connection that refused to come into the light, as she glanced into the kitchen. Silent was standing in front of the sink, washing pots and pans. Emily felt a stab of guilt and shame. She was no aristocrat, born with a silver spoon. She should have helped the maid, even though it wasn’t her job. She promised herself she’d make sure Silent had a long holiday when she got back to the tower. The maid deserved a great deal more than just piles upon piles of work.
Emily cleared her throat. “Silent? Can you join us in the kitchen?”
Prince Hedrick put his book aside as Emily returned. She wondered, suddenly, if he knew what had happened. Lady Barb could have told him... technically, she should have told him. The rebels hadn’t cancelled the safe conduct - not yet - but it was just a matter of time before they did. And even if they didn’t, Hedrick had no shortage of enemies. It was quite
