Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (19 page)

“Diplomatic reasons,” Alassa grunted. She didn’t look too happy, even though she still managed to look beautiful. “And to keep the rest of the world guessing until the truth is finally revealed.”

“True,” Lady Barb agreed. “Viscount Nightingale is currently meeting with the King’s advisors, discussing their planned terms for a marriage treaty. King Randor will consider them all carefully before he makes his final decision.”

Emily winced. Alassa was a royal princess, the only heir to the throne they had–and she wouldn’t have the final say in who she married. Her father would make the decision for her, although Emily hoped that he would at least consult his daughter before signing her over to another man. But then, Alassa would be queen! An unhappy marriage could be disastrous for the kingdom. And she would certainly have
some
magic to use if her husband proved a poor choice. It could all end really badly.

The maids came into the room and helped Alassa into the washroom, leaving Emily and Lady Barb alone. Emily wondered if Lady Barb would lecture her further on security, but instead the woman just seemed content to study her, saying nothing. Her blunt stare was unnerving; in some ways, it felt worse than Sergeant Harkin’s fury when his students made avoidable blunders. It hadn’t been until after his death that Emily had realized that most of his anger was feigned. The sergeant had never really lost his temper with any of them.

“I need to ask you something,” she said. “Can I carry a weapon?”

Lady Barb lifted her eyebrows, politely. “You are a sorceress who defeated a necromancer in single combat,” she said, coolly. “What do you want with a
weapon
?”

Emily flushed at her tone. “I want something I can use as a last resort,” she said. “And perhaps some armor. This dress”–she pulled at the material with her hand–“isn’t designed to repel blades.”

“Guests wearing armor and carrying weapons would be a breach of etiquette,” Lady Barb said. “Besides, I have no suit of armor in your size. Have you even
used
armor?”

“Yes,” Emily said, flatly. “I have.”

The sergeants had provided all kinds of different armor for their students; they’d laughed at the concept of combat sorceresses wearing chainmail bikinis and nothing else. Emily had experimented with the armor, although it hadn’t been as good as armor in the movies. She’d ended up black and blue after practice bouts. Some of her fellow students had been less lucky and had needed to go to the infirmary.

They’d also taught her the basics of weapons mastery. She’d used swords, daggers, bows and arrows and a number of other weapons, although it took years to qualify as a full weapons-master and very few soldiers ever did. A fully-qualified weapons-master could command his own salary, carrying out missions that ranged from outright assassination to bodyguard duties. And they were almost unbeatable by lesser warriors.

But magic will kill one stone dead
, she thought, and scowled. She knew a handful of killing spells, thanks to Sergeant Miles. But she’d also been warned not to use them unless there was absolutely no other choice.

“And what,” Lady Barb asked, “would your…would the grandmaster say if you carried a blade?”

“I think he’d be relieved that I was learning from experience,” Emily said, tartly. Had she been about to refer to Void? “What happens if I am stripped of magic? It has happened before.”

Lady Barb eyed her for a long moment, then bent down and retrieved a dagger from her boot. “I carry several concealed blades, but I’m a bodyguard,” she said. “You are both a guest and a lady with…a dubious pedigree. It is unlikely that the various monarchs will casually accept you carrying weapons openly.”

Alassa carries a weapon
, Emily thought, but she said nothing. Lady Barb might not
know
that Alassa had a knife, or perhaps as long as it was concealed people could pretend to ignore it. Besides, after the first assassination attempt, Alassa carrying a weapon was fully justified, even though she
was
a magician.

“I shall find you a knife you can carry, but do not use it unless there is great need,” Lady Barb added. “Carrying a weapon into the King’s presence without his permission could result in a whipping, if you were lucky. Some kingdoms would want to put you to death.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “Do you still want to carry a blade?”

Emily nodded.

Once the maids had finished readying Alassa for breakfast, they walked out of the room and down into a small chamber. Princess Mariah was waiting for them there; she stood up, ran over to Alassa and hugged her tightly. Emily found herself momentarily uncertain of the correct protocol for greeting a princess–she doubted that King Rupert would be very happy if she met Mariah the same way she’d met Alassa–but the princess caught her hand before she could do anything and squeezed it tightly.

“I’ve heard all of the songs about you,” she said, as she led them to the table. “How much of them are actually true?”

Alassa giggled; Emily flushed bright red. Even Lady Barb seemed amused.

“Very few of them,” Emily said, finally. The only one that was anywhere near the truth, ironically enough, was one that praised Sergeant Harkin as a willing sacrifice. She would have liked it more if the songwriter hadn’t gone on to suggest that Emily had somehow used a form of necromancy to win. But it was still better than the ballads that claimed she’d won through complicated sex rituals. “And the ones written by adolescent boys are the worst.”

“Sit, eat,” Mariah said. “The men won’t be coming, I’m afraid. They never share breakfast with the women. Tradition.”

Lady Barb smiled. “Most of the different kingdoms preserved the original customs of the Empire,” she said, “at least at first. Later, some of them started to invent their own traditions, just to be able to claim an individuality in certain matters. But the kingdoms remain remarkably similar. Many social protocols are effectively identical.”

Emily nodded. She’d loved history on Earth and, if she’d had the time and freedom, she would have loved to study the history of her new world in detail. The strange blend of medieval technology and magic had produced some very odd results, while the cultural hegemony of the Empire had produced others. Almost everyone spoke the same language, at least as a second tongue. And many of the ‘individual’ languages were actually nothing more than local dialects. Given time and the presence of so many translation spells, the languages would probably continue to fragment…it would be a fascinating study. Maybe she could join the History Monks when she graduated.

But the monks don’t interfere
, she reminded herself, and scowled.
I don’t have that option
.

They ate their breakfast while Mariah bombarded Alassa with questions about Whitehall. It wasn’t clear yet, it seemed, if Mariah had magic or not–and she might not be allowed to actually learn to do more than control it. As a young girl with three older brothers, it was unlikely that she would ever inherit the throne, which meant that her role in life would be to serve as part of a marriage treaty. Her husband might not like the thought of his wife being a skilled magician. Emily had a feeling that some of Alassa’s suitors felt the same way, but there was nothing they could do about it. Alassa needed to be her own Court Wizard.

Alassa told the girl some stories about Whitehall, although she glossed over her own early months at the school. Mariah giggled when Alassa talked about the time when they’d rigged up a transfiguration spell in Melissa’s door, keyed to activate the next time someone touched the wood. She
didn’t
mention the fact that Melissa, after spending nearly an hour as a frog, had retaliated by casting a spell on Alassa’s clothes that turned them transparent at unfortunate moments, or that after one exchange of spells that had got out of control they’d all been sent to face the warden and had spent the night lying on their chests.

“I hope I am allowed to go,” Mariah said, her eyes shining. “If I were a magician, who knows what I could do?”

“I’m sure you could go,” Alassa said. “Magic can be a very useful tool.”

Mariah turned her gaze on Emily. “And you have to tell me how you defeated Shadye,” she added. “A full necromancer…how did you do it?”

“Carefully,” Emily grunted. She couldn’t risk telling anyone, even Alassa. Her friend had duties to her kingdom. If Emily told her the truth, Alassa might decide she needed to use the knowledge in defense of Zangaria. “And Whitehall was devastated.”

The grandmaster had hinted that the number of people applying to come to Whitehall for the next term had fallen. Emily wasn’t sure if that was just a statistical hiccup–new first-years arrived all the time, like Emily herself–or if people were actively staying away from the school after Shadye had nearly destroyed it. But Shadye had been beaten and Whitehall had been rebuilt…surely, the necromancers wouldn’t risk a second attack without knowing just what had happened to Shadye. Or maybe people were scared of
her
.

She finished the bowl of fruits and oatmeal she’d been offered for breakfast, then watched as Alassa and Mariah headed off to chat about being princesses. Alassa seemed remarkably patient with the young girl, although perhaps it wasn’t too surprising. They
did
have a great deal in common, even though Alassa would probably have denied it if Emily had pointed it out. Mariah would never inherit the throne. Perhaps she would see it as a relief.

Lady Barb escorted Emily into a second chamber, where King Rupert sat on a modest throne. Emily blinked in surprise; she hadn’t realized that King Rupert might want to talk to her, instead of Alassa. But then, he clearly
knew
Alassa–or chose to pretend that he did. Emily hastily curtseyed and went down on one knee as Lady Barb withdrew, leaving her alone with the King. He looked rather more serious than he had on their last meeting.

“You may rise,” he said. His lips twitched into a smile, although there was no humor in his eyes. “And you may be seated.”

Emily stared at him. Offering her a seat was a
major
concession in any form of royal audience, suggesting that he considered her of very high status indeed. But she wasn’t–officially, she was a commoner, or a bastard. And yet she
had
defeated Shadye…was he worried that she might be offended by being refused a seat? Her mind spun while she retrieved a small stool and sat down on it, facing King Rupert.

“You’re a Child of Destiny,” King Rupert said, flatly. “You have already changed the world.”

There was a long pause. “Many of your innovations have already reached my kingdom,” he added. “Tell me…where is it leading us?”

Emily swallowed, wondering just how he’d drawn the link between Emily and the innovations pouring out of Zangaria. Maybe he’d been spying on her…or, more likely, he’d been spying on King Randor. And Alassa’s father knew where the innovations were coming from. There was no point in trying to pretend ignorance.

“To a better world,” she said. It was true, although not all of the nobility would agree. What would happen when wealthy commoners started objecting to taxation without representation? Or, for that matter, when everyone could read and newspapers were printed without government censorship? “And one that can resist the necromancers more effectively.”

The king leaned forward. “You are a very strange person,” he said. “If your father was not who he was, you would be dead.”

Emily shivered, seeing–for the first time–the ruthless monster underneath the jovial exterior. King Rupert’s first priority was maintaining his power, whatever the cost, just so he could pass his kingdom down to his eldest son. And if he hadn’t been scared of Void, he might have ordered Emily’s death, just to see if Destiny could be cheated.

“Be careful,” King Rupert added. “Your…
innovations
are raising up a storm. It may destroy you.” He smiled. “You may go.”

Emily left, feeling as if she had barely escaped with her life.

E
MILY WAS STILL MULLING OVER KING
Rupert’s words when the small procession–now joined by two princes and their guards–made its way out of the Red Castle and down towards the portal. He’d
threatened
her, effectively warning her that others might also want to kill her…of course, she’d upset their kingdoms merely by introducing new elements. Emily had known that it might happen, but it had still been a nasty shock. And he’d effectively admitted that if she hadn’t had Void as a guardian, she might have been killed by now.

She couldn’t decide what to do about it. Tell Alassa? Her friend might understand–and then cause a diplomatic incident. Or, perhaps, she wouldn’t even believe Emily. King Rupert seemed like a jovial uncle to her, a man who seemed to accept her as a young girl first and a princess second. She might not want to believe anything bad about him. And besides, if Rupert had wanted to kill Emily, he’d had opportunity. There hadn’t been any threat at all in the Red Castle.

Eight more kingdoms to go
, she thought, dully.
Eight more threats
?

But King Jorlem hadn’t threatened her. His son had discussed the innovations without ever mentioning that he held Emily personally responsible for them–but then, he might not have realized the truth. After all, as far as most people knew, Emily was nothing more than a powerful sorceress-in-training who had defeated a necromancer. There was no obvious connection between her and the innovations, unless one happened to have inside knowledge of Whitehall
and
Zangaria. That had been how
Alassa
had deduced the truth, after all.