The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22), Christopher Nuttall [books to read romance TXT] 📗

emptied, clerks and soldiers carrying boxes of paperwork into the courtyard and transporting weapons to the castle. Emily guessed they intended to burn the paperwork, just to make life harder for the royalists if they won the war. The rebels might have wanted to destroy everything even if they won, just to ensure the tax system would have to be rebuilt from scratch. It would probably lead to a fairer system.

Althorn met them as they stepped onto the roof. He looked tired, but there was a gleam in his eye that bothered Emily in a manner she couldn’t quite put into words. Beyond him, she saw the remaining councilors staring over the city. She could see fires on both sides of the wall as the fighting surged back and forth. The sound of gunfire was almost overwhelming. She didn’t know why they’d decided to hold the council on the roof.

“The king’s forces are rebelling,” Jair said, with heavy satisfaction. He let out an odd little laugh. “His army is dissolving even as we speak.”

Emily wondered if he was right. Althorn had claimed the rebels had allies amongst the king’s forces. The agitators might have had more luck than she’d expected, particularly if the royalists had overplayed their hand. Experienced soldiers would blanch at thrusting into a heavily-defended city, particularly at night. Denied a quick and cheap victory - and the spoils of war - they might choose to desert or mutiny instead.

“And we have armies in the field now,” Sergeant Oskar added. “It is only a matter of time before the king has to surrender or withdraw.”

“We have worse problems,” Aiden said. Her voice demanded attention. “Bajingan was a traitor.”

She outlined everything that had happened, giving Emily a chance to probe the rest of the council for signs of compulsion spells. There was nothing, save for Storm’s inherent magic. She hoped - prayed - that Bajingan had been the only one. It beggared belief that whoever was behind the whole affair could have enchanted everyone. Even getting Bajingan had required a great deal of luck, as well as careful preparation. They had to have embedded enough flexibility into their plan to account for surprises, particularly as they couldn’t have expected the necromantic war to end so quickly.

“What a remarkable story,” Jair said, when Aiden had finished. “And I suppose you expect us to believe it?”

“Think about it,” Aiden said. “The attacks, the strikes on our food and gunpowder stores... they couldn’t have happened without inside help. And who was in charge of providing passes to our troops? Bajingan. The terrorists had barrels of gunpowder assigned to them, perfectly legitimately, and used it against us. He who controls the paperwork controls everything.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Althorn looked surprisingly composed for someone who’d been told his closest ally had been a spell-controlled traitor. “There’s fighting all along the walls. The king’s forces are crumbling. If he keeps feeding them into our defenses, we’ll chew them to ribbons, breaking the only major army the royalists have in the field. If he withdraws, we’ll have a victory and time to take the field ourselves. Bajingan’s treachery is no longer important.”

Jair glowered at Emily. “Were you not told to leave the city?”

“Bajingan insisted on it,” Aiden reminded him. She cleared her throat loudly as she looked from face to face. “Perhaps it is time to rethink that policy.”

Emily frowned. Master Lucknow wouldn’t shed a tear, she was sure, if she was killed in the middle of the fighting. A stray shot, a complete accident... it would be very hard for anyone to find her killer if the shooter didn’t know what he’d done. Master Lucknow would write a nasty obituary and go back to... to whatever he was doing. And yet, Bajingan had ordered her out. Had he been staying in character? Or... or what?

Another series of explosions echoed over the city. She turned to see a string of fireballs on the far side of the river, casting an eerie light over the scene before they faded into the darkness. She wondered, morbidly, what had just exploded, how many people had died in the blast. The rebels and the royalists were locked in a death match now, a war that would rage on until one side was utterly destroyed and the other exhausted beyond all hope of a speedy recovery. Dater would inherit a broken kingdom, if he won. He’d have to become subordinate to Red Rose and... maybe that had been the plan all along. She shook her head in tired disbelief. How many people were going to die to see the plan, whatever it really was, through?

“You might be wise to leave,” Althorn said. He sounded sympathetic. “I’m sorry your mission failed so badly. I had hoped the Crown Prince would see reason.”

Emily said nothing as she saw another explosion, far too close to the palace for comfort. The guards below shouted in alarm, some of them firing into the shadows. She had no idea what they’d seen, or what they thought they’d seen. She tensed, reaching for her magic as the madness raged on. People were dying below and yet... she felt oddly disconnected from the whole scene. She knew Althorn was right. She should go back to the house, collect Hedrick and Silent, and teleport out. It was her duty. And yet, she didn’t want to go.

Perhaps you could assassinate the royalist leadership and blame it on their subordinates, a nasty little voice whispered at the back of her mind. The aristocrats are known for being short-sighted. Killing their monarch as he commands their armies would hardly be out of character.

But it would just make the killing worse, another voice pointed out. Red Rose and the other kingdoms won’t leave a republic - or a dictatorship - alone. Even Alassa will have qualms. They’ll move to crush the rebellion and, just incidentally, carve up the kingdom amongst themselves.

“Ah,” Althorn said. “A message...”

Emily tensed, feeling an odd little prickle running through the air