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

metaphor,” Emily admitted. She thought for a moment. “The landowners own the land and consider their serfs property. The serfs work the land and consider it to be theirs by right. If the landowners are right, then the serfs are stealing by repossessing the land and making it their own. The landowners should be compensated. But if the serfs are right, the landowners are effectively thieves and paying compensation is effectively paying for the return of your property. And even if they wanted to pay, can they?”

Lady Barb nodded, shortly. “How did they solve the problem on your world?”

“Poorly.” Emily could think of a dozen attempts to square the circle, from Revolutionary France to Reconstruction and Palestine. None had ended very well. “If the aristocrats gave up their claim to the land...”

She shook her head. What was an aristocrat without lands and titles? She’d seen hundreds of landless aristocrats infesting King Randor’s court, clinging desperately to what little they had left - even if it was effectively worthless - in hopes of remaining one step above the commoners. That wasn’t going to happen, not here. The rebel government wasn’t going to pay pensions to aristocrats. There’d be outrage if they so much as hinted at paying for stolen lands.

“They both have a point,” she said, sourly. “And there’s no compromise one side can offer that the other will accept.”

Lady Barb frowned. “So the mission is a failure?”

“The first part of the mission is a failure,” Emily said. “The second part... I don’t know.”

She took another sip of her drink. “The revolution happened too quickly,” she said. “The rebel leadership was too well-prepared to take advantage of a sudden collapse in law and order. They had some reason to know the collapse was coming...”

Her eyes narrowed. The kingdom had been in trouble long before the end of the war. It wasn’t impossible to guess that something would happen, even if one didn’t know precisely when. Hell, the rebels could have been planning to spark something themselves in a bid to bring the cityfolk onto the streets. And yet, in her experience, the longer the gap between the planning and execution, the greater the risk of a conspiracy being uncovered and the plotters being sent to the gallows. Perhaps Althorn and his comrades had planned to light the tinderbox as soon as they were ready.

Or they sparked off the rebellion themselves, then claimed it was spontaneous, she thought, grimly. They might have planned everything from Day One.

Her mind raced. “The king got some very bad advice from Councilor Triune,” she said, nodding to the walls. It wasn’t lost on her that Triune owned the house the rebels had loaned to her. She made a mental note to search it again, just in case. “And the queen thought he’d sent them into a trap.”

Lady Barb frowned. “How involved was the queen?”

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. King Randor had never consulted his queen, as far as she knew. Alassa consulted Jade, but never publicly. It wouldn’t do to have her courtiers thinking Jade was the real power behind the throne. Too many of them already thought she was her husband’s puppet. “She might not have known what was really going on.”

She considered it for a moment. The queen had insisted the royal sorcerers had been poisoned. The blame had been put on a maid. Believable, perhaps, but... odd. Emily could imagine a mistreated maid finding a way to strike back, yet... she’d been executed far too quickly. Any sane monarch would want to interrogate the girl, to find out who’d given her the command to kill. Hell, most sorcerers were careful what they ate and drank. It was hard to believe a simple serving maid could have found an alchemical poison that would be difficult, if not impossible, to detect. And yet, she had.

“Triune might have executed the poor girl to cover his tracks,” she mused, sourly. He might have gotten away with it too, if everyone in the castle was running around like a headless chicken. “By the time everyone calmed down, it would be accepted wisdom that she killed the sorcerers and was executed for it.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Barb agreed.

“And he was the one who blamed everything on me,” she said. “Why?”

“It’s always easier to blame someone else for your own failings,” Lady Barb pointed out, dryly. “Triune wasn’t popular. He might have come up with the story to avoid being executed himself.”

Emily nodded, slowly. It made sense. Kings generally selected their advisors from the lower aristocracy, people who had no independent power base of their own and no friends or family who might protest their execution. They were loyal - they had to be loyal, because no one liked or trusted them - and they could be tossed aside or turned into scapegoats if government policy went badly wrong. Triune was right to fear the worst. The king wouldn’t have hesitated to have him executed if the mob demanded his head.

“He somehow got away,” she said. She knew she was missing part of the story. “Did he ride with the king...?”

“He might not have done,” Lady Barb offered. “Or he could simply have been on horseback and galloped away. Or...”

“Or he teleported away,” Emily said. “If he was a magician...”

She shook her head. Triune’s house didn’t feel like a magician’s home. And yet... what did that mean? She wanted to believe... she wasn’t sure what she wanted to believe. Triune had clearly been involved in politics right up to his neck, including negotiating a prospective match between Crown Prince Dater and Princess Mariah, but that didn’t prove anything. He could have blundered badly, when he realized just how dangerous the uprising had become. She’d met quite a few people who’d made a bad situation worse when it dawned on them they were losing control. Triune could simply have panicked.

Yes, her thoughts mocked. And he could have been taking bribes from Red Rose.

“It may no longer be important,” Lady Barb said. She looked