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

a handful of lanterns surrounding the castle and a couple of glowing orbs near the magical quarter. She braced herself, then drew on her magic and launched into the air. Flying was a skill she’d only recently mastered, and she was all too aware it would be easy for even a weak magician to send her crashing to the ground, but it would allow her to evade the spies on the street. Lady Barb would cast a handful of illusions to make sure they thought she was still in the house.

The night air was disturbingly warm, smelling of something unpleasant as she flew over the river and dropped towards the merchant quarters. Jair had founded his office there, Aiden had said when she’d shown Emily the city. He even slept in an apartment on top of the office block, rather than seizing an aristocratic manor for himself. Emily wasn’t sure that was a good sign. She could understand the urge to be humble - Jair didn’t seem inclined to spend money on conspicuous consumption - but if he was a magician, if he’d taken the time to weave protective spells into his home, he wouldn’t want to move in a hurry. If... she held herself in the air, looking down at the newspaper office below. It didn’t look heavily defended.

She lowered herself to the ground, cast an obscurification charm around herself and headed to the building. She’d probably be taken for a streetwalker, if someone managed to spot her in the darkness, but she didn’t dare try to land on the building. If it was heavily warded... her eyes narrowed as she reached the wall and peered up. There were a handful of protective wards, but none were complex. She tested them carefully, then opened a gap wide enough to allow her to slip through and into the building. The physical lock proved more of a barrier than the wards. She allowed herself a moment of relief she’d spent so much time learning to pick locks.

The sense of... unease... grew stronger as she inched her way into the building. It smelt of paper and ink and something she couldn’t quite place, but was strikingly familiar. She could hear people talking in low voices as she made her way up the stairs, altering the charm a little before she peered into a large room. A gaggle of apprentices, female as well as male, were laying out the blocks for the morning’s papers. Emily was mildly surprised Jair had recruited girls. Outside Heart’s Eye - and Cockatrice - female apprentices were relatively rare.

She felt a pang of guilt as she resumed her creep up the stairs. If she was right, if Jair really was up to something, she was going to put the apprentices out of work. They’d have useful skills, but... she grimaced. They’d be lucky to survive if the city fell to the royalists. This time, there would be no mistakes. Privately-owned printing presses would be banned, newspapers would be censored and nothing would be published without the court’s approval. Who knew? Perhaps the New Learning would be banned completely...

The shadows seemed to lessen as she reached the top of the stairs. She leaned forward, reaching out with her senses. There was one guard, standing behind a thin wardline. She inched forward, using her magic to open the wardline and shoot a freeze spell at him. He jerked, then froze. Emily muttered a spell to confuse his memories - she didn’t think he’d gotten a good look at her, but there was no point in taking chances - and then walked past him. The rooftop apartment - she couldn’t help thinking of it as a penthouse - was right in front of her. It was surprisingly small. It made her wonder why penthouses in big cities cost millions of dollars.

Location, location, location, she thought, as she checked the wards. They were strikingly thin, barely enough to keep out the average thief. The people who bought the penthouses wanted to be near the action.

She pushed her way through the wards, starting to wonder if she’d made a mistake. A magician who wanted to conceal his powers might set up very basic wards, if he had the money to hire a wardcrafter, but Jair was cutting it fine. It wouldn’t be easy to set up strong wards around the building itself, if only because too many people had to come and go at all times, but why would he leave himself so defenseless? She opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Jair was lying in the bed, snoring. He was alone.

And defenseless, Emily thought. She wouldn’t have left herself so unprotected. She didn’t know any magician who would have taken such a dumb risk. What are you doing?

She muttered a spell to keep him asleep, then strode around the room. The penthouse was really one small chamber, two walls lined with bookshelves. There wasn’t even a washroom, just a chamber pot under the bed. She grimaced as she continued her search, careful not to touch anything. If Jair was a traitor, it was hidden very well. The papers on his desk suggested nothing, but a dedicated newspaper editor and a loyal - her lips quirked - rebel. The only items of concern were a handful of notes from sources within the enemy army... not enough, she reflected, to be proof of anything. It was becoming clear she’d made a mistake.

He could have been manipulated, if he isn’t the one doing the manipulating, she thought. Or he could have been co-opted...

She scowled as she looked at his sleeping form. The aristos hadn’t killed Jair. Why? Had they thought they could use him? Had they thought they had something on him? A piece of blackmail information that was still useful, even after the revolution? She could believe Jair might have been on their payroll... she shook her head. Jair seemed determined to push the issue until the royalists backed down completely or went