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

believed that. Aiden was acting like a young man taking a girl out for the first time, yet... Emily was sure it was something more. She’d certainly done nothing to draw attention to them, let alone reveal her true identity to the crowd. Emily’s thoughts churned as they passed a row of carts, selling fruit and veggies. There were no marked prices, but - judging by how displeased the customers looked - it was clear the prices had been going up. Silent had said as much, Emily remembered. It was good to know the maid had been right.

She felt her frown deepen as her eyes drifted over the stalls. Some of them were piled high with items stolen - liberated, perhaps - from wealthy households. She spotted a collection of older books that would have been worth thousands of crowns before the revolution. Now... the stallkeeper couldn’t so much as give them away. Emily was tempted to take them herself, although she knew they might be of little more than academic interest. Older books had always appealed to her. They certainly wouldn’t have been produced if someone didn’t see value in them.

Aiden indicated a pile of paper certificates, lying on one of the stalls. “Last night, a loan shark’s house was invaded and the records of who owed what were seized. Most of them were burnt, but a handful remained to be put on sale. Apparently, the bastard was loaning money to a bunch of snooty toffs. Anyone who buys the paperwork would have a claim on the debt.”

“Perhaps,” Emily said. She wasn’t so sure that would actually work. The new owner would have to prove the debt existed, then that they had a right to call it in. She was fairly sure the aristocracy would take advantage of the chaos to hide their debts, even those to the king. The records in the palace had been destroyed weeks ago. “I don’t know...”

The air flashed with light. A hammer crashed into her wards. Emily stumbled back, knocking over Aiden as a thunderclap sent them both to the ground. She rolled over, hastily strengthening her wards. She’d been careful to weave some protection against physical attacks into her personal defenses - most sorcerers didn’t take them seriously until it was far too late - but they’d been pushed to the limits. Whatever had hit her... she swallowed, hard, as she pulled herself to her feet. Aiden had been lucky she’d been behind Emily. Emily’s wards had taken the brunt of the blast.

She cursed under her breath as she realized she was wrong. The blast hadn’t been directed at her personally. The entire marketplace had been devastated. Stalls had been wrecked beyond repair, wares strewn in all directions; carts had been picked up and tossed across the street... she shuddered, helplessly, as she saw the wounded and dead on the ground. A steaming crater sat at the center of the destruction. She racked her brains in hopes of remembering what had been there, before the explosion. A cart... a covered cart, perhaps crammed with gunpowder. And someone had lit a match...

Aiden stood, looking battered. Her little cloth cap was gone, lost somewhere in the devastation. Her hair was threatening to spill out of the net. Emily looked her up and down, checking for wounds. She looked stunned, but largely unhurt. They’d been lucky. The others had been caught in the open, unprotected by magic. Emily knew Master Lucknow wouldn’t approve if she helped, but... she didn’t give a damn. She wasn’t going to walk away, leaving the wounded and dying behind.

“Get some chirurgeons out here,” Aiden shouted. Her voice sounded a little more high-pitched than usual. Emily hoped the listeners would take it for fright. “Hurry!”

Emily stumbled forward and checked the first body. The woman - she couldn’t be more than a year or two older than Lady Barb - was beyond all help. The blast had driven a fragment of wood into her chest, killing her outright. Emily pushed the body aside and moved to the next victim. A young boy had a broken leg. She healed him quickly, then directed him to assist the others as more and more people arrived to help. Aiden took charge, snapping orders in a manner that was decidedly masculine. Emily reflected, rather sourly, that many of the onlookers would have ignored her if they’d known her gender.

She knelt in front of a whimpering teenage girl and cursed under her breath as she realized the girl’s leg was beyond repair. A proper healer could have saved it or simply grown a new one, perhaps, but all she could do was stem the bleeding and hope the chirurgeons could fit her with a wooden replacement. It wouldn’t restore what she’d lost. Emily directed a pair of young men to carry the woman out of the blast zone, then turned to the next victim. She wished she’d spent more time learning to heal. Lady Barb...

Emily kicked herself for forgetting Lady Barb. She caught a runner’s eye, ordered him to take a message to Lady Barb, then turned to the next victim. The man might have been lucky - he’d been sheltered from most of the blast - but he probably didn’t feel lucky. Splinters of wood had embedded themselves in his skin... Emily shuddered as she did what she could and then passed him to the chirurgeons. Things were getting more organized, she noted as she stepped through a pile of rotting fruit and mended a child’s arm. Dozens of rebel soldiers had arrived and were sweeping through the devastation, their enthusiasm making up for their lack of experience. Behind them, dozens of civilians were assisting with the wounded. She thought she saw Jair speak to a handful of others before the crowd swept him away. But she wasn’t sure.

“The royalists did it.” The rumor spread through the crowd. She could practically see it rippling from person to person. By the end of the day, it would