Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (35 page)

“You could have poisoned him,” Emily said. “Why didn’t you?”

“Another necromancer was heading towards him,” Lady Barb said. “I hoped that one of them would kill the other, so I slipped away. And then their fight tore up the environment so badly that I had to throw caution to the winds and
run
.”

They reached the top of the stairs and stopped in front of a blank wall. “The tunnel entrance is covered with a charm that ensures no one who isn’t already clued into the secret will notice it, even when it opens,” Lady Barb explained. “Still, those tricks have their limitations so don’t do anything to attract attention. The king will not be happy if he has to seal up this tunnel.”

She smiled, grimly. “And
don’t
bring any male friends here.”

Emily realized where the tunnel had to come out just before the stone wall slide to one side, revealing white marble walls. She stepped through the gap and into the shrine for the crone goddess. No one seemed to be around, but she could hear voices muttering in the distance as the tunnel entrance closed behind them. Lady Barb winked at her, then led her down the corridor and into a larger room. A tall woman dressed in white robes looked up and nodded to them, before giving Emily an almost maternal smile. Emily found herself liking her on sight.

“Use the side door,” the woman ordered. “And don’t forget to tell her about the sisterhood.”

“I won’t,” Lady Barb promised.

They walked out the side door and into the streets. Emily wrinkled her nose at the smell, although it was better than some of the other cities. No one seemed to take any notice of a pair of women coming out of the temple, which didn’t seem too surprising. In a society where worship was largely a matter of personal choice, why would anyone feel the urge to monitor who worshipped where? One idea Emily had no intention of introducing was religious war and genocide.

The buildings clustered closer and closer together as they walked into the outer reaches of the inner city. Emily rapidly found herself becoming lost, despite all that the sergeants had taught her–although she was sure she could have walked back to the castle, if necessary. Some of the darkened alleyways looked as threatening as they had on Earth, despite the presence of men in the uniforms of city guardsmen. They didn’t look quite as corrupt as the guardsmen of Dragon’s Den.

“The buildings here are small and expensive,” Lady Barb commented. “Even renting a tiny apartment can cost upwards of ten gold coins a month. But few people would seriously consider renting an apartment on the other side of the wall, even if it
was
cheaper.”

She nodded towards a shop. It was larger than Emily had expected, with great boxes of fruit and vegetables outside, allowing passers-by to inspect them. Emily felt her mouth opening into a smile when she saw Imaiqah sitting at the counter inside. A moment later, she ran inside and gave her friend a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”

Imaiqah smiled back. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, as she hugged Emily in return. Her accent still sounded faintly rustic, despite Alassa’s tutoring. “Come and meet my father.”

T
HE BACKROOM OF THE STORE WAS
crammed with boxes, a pair of tables and something that looked like an insanely large abacus. Several smaller ones sat on the tables, surrounded by pieces of paper covered with scribbled notes. A young man–two years older than Emily, if she guessed correctly–waved shyly to her and then returned to his counting. Emily recognized the bookkeeping system and smiled to herself. The Accounting Guild would never be able to rebuild itself now.

Imaiqah led her through another door and into a small dining room. It was tiny, compared even to Alassa’s private room, but it felt much more comfortable. A short and rather stout woman turned to grin at Emily, before picking up a large bowl of soup and putting it on the table. Imaiqah’s mother, Emily guessed; they shared the same basic features, even though Imaiqah’s were somewhat diluted by her father. Both of them looked vaguely Arabic, but her mother’s features were sharper, hinting at her character.

“Imaiqah has told us a lot about you,” Imaiqah’s mother said. She half-bowed to Emily, as if she were unsure of Emily’s precise standing. “You may call me Lin.”

“And I am Paren,” a deeper voice said, from behind them. “We owe you a great deal.”

Emily turned and smiled at Imaiqah’s father, liking him on sight. He had a shrewd face, with a short beard and twinkling brown eyes. And he wore a long silver chain that hung around his neck, glittering under the light. Imaiqah had told Emily that her father had been appointed to the City Council; Emily guessed that the chain was his badge of office. It wouldn’t be long before he became wealthy enough to merit a promotion to lower nobility, if it were possible. If sons of wealthy merchants could marry daughters from noble houses, why not have a rich man raised to the nobility?

“Thank you,” she said. She hesitated, then remembered her manners. “Lady Barb is waiting outside. If you could…”

“Of course we can invite her,” Lin fussed. “Johan, go tell the lady that she is welcome to join us.”

Another young man–one of Imaiqah’s older brothers, as he shared the same basic features–stood up and walked outside. He returned a moment later to report that Lady Barb seemed to want to stay outside, rather than join them for dinner. Lin shrugged and started to hand out bowls for the soup, while barking orders at her sons to cut the bread.
She
didn’t seem to consider herself automatically inferior to the men.

Emily sensed Imaiqah’s embarrassment as her father bombarded Emily with questions, some of them alarmingly perceptive. He’d built up a business from almost nothing a long time before he’d ever heard of Emily, or realized what she could offer him. Paren was very far from stupid and Emily suspected that the only thing stopping him from pushing any further was concern about Emily deciding to take her ideas elsewhere. If Alassa could deduce that Emily was importing mature concepts rather than inventing stuff for herself, no doubt Paren could draw the same conclusion. And he would have been right.

She brushed aside another question that came too close to the truth and countered with one of her own. “How did you become a councilor?”

“It’s really very simple,” Paren said.

Emily and Imaiqah shared a glance. Professor Thande said the same thing almost every lesson, generally before launching into a complicated explanation that left his students more confused than ever. Emily understood that following theory was important if she wanted to progress further, but it would have been easier if the theory had been broken down into bite-sized chunks. Once the printing presses were a mature technology, she intended to have proper textbooks produced for Whitehall. Even having a second copy of some of the books in the library would have been a great advantage for the students.

“There are twenty-five districts in the city, twenty inside the walls and five outside,” Paren explained. “Everyone who pays taxes gets a vote. I urged my fellow merchants to vote for me–or, if they lived in other districts, to stand for election. In the end, we won around nine seats. We would have had more if the nobility hadn’t started bribing the voters.”

“They tried to bribe us too,” Johan said. He seemed torn between staring at Emily and half-shying away from his sister. “You told them that you couldn’t be bribed.”

Emily had to smile. “And what do you intend to do with it?”

Paren smiled back. “Well, the five councilors from outside the walls are willing to work with us in exchange for some help,” he said. “So we have a majority on the council, which allows us to push through new laws and–more importantly–cancel some previous legislation. Right now, we’re funding a project to clean up the outer city and spread education as far as possible, as well as building up the City Guard. There were just too many footpads on our streets.”

He shrugged. “The Great Charter allows the king the right of veto, but so far His Majesty has done nothing,” he added. “We can’t decide if he is supporting us, or simply doesn’t care about stopping us.”

Emily shrugged. On one hand, the City Council wasn’t actually very powerful, not when compared to King Randor and the aristocracy. But on the other hand, someone with ambition and determination–and money–could turn it into a power base, complete with its own military force. Fighting crime on the streets was a good excuse for building a police force that was stronger than anyone would realize, at least until it was too late. And that force would be loyal to its paymasters, rather than the King.

She mulled it over as Imaiqah chatted about her life in the city. It seemed her parents didn’t really believe in school holidays; they’d put her back to work the moment she’d stepped out of the portal, either working at the front counter or doing the accounts. By now, Paren owned several shops and had hundreds of people working–directly or indirectly–for him, but he seemed to want to keep his first shop in the family. Emily couldn’t help wondering if it gave him some legal advantage, or if he merely wanted to keep his daughter where he could see her. But then, Imaiqah was the only magician in her family. What would he do if she decided she wanted to live elsewhere?

The soup was simple–and tasted far better than much of the food she’d eaten on the journey to Zangaria. Sergeant Miles had made snide comments about anyone who developed expensive tastes, but Emily hadn’t really understood; she’d simply never had the money to develop expensive tastes before coming to Whitehall. And now, naturally, most of the expensive foods she’d admired on Earth were beyond her reach. She took another bite of the bread and thought she understood what he’d meant. Expensive tastes sometimes overshadowed good food.

“I have to show you the workshop,” Imaiqah said, as soon as they were finished. “Father, can I take her?”

“Of course,” Paren said. “Johan can mind the store for you.”

There was no sign of Lady Barb as they emerged onto the streets. Emily glanced around, seeing only a handful of pedestrians, before Imaiqah led her off towards the riverside. Most of the citizens didn’t seem to be taking any specific interest in her, although they did seem to be glancing at Imaiqah. But then, her father was wealthy; they probably considered her to be above their station. Or maybe they just knew that she had magic and wouldn’t be safe to court.

“Johan used to bully me,” Imaiqah admitted, as they walked. “I was the youngest and the only girl, so he picked on me. And when I came home, I turned him into a frog.”

Emily had to smile. When she’d first met Imaiqah, she’d been picked on daily by Alassa, unwilling to lift a hand against her tormentor. Now, Imaiqah seemed to have picked up more self-confidence as well as magical knowledge. Turning a bullying brother into a frog might have turned her into a bully herself, but she seemed to have avoided that fate. In some ways, Emily had to admit, Imaiqah was more mature than either Alassa or Emily herself.

The smell of saltwater–and fish–grew stronger as they walked down towards the waterside. Hundreds of boats, most of them small fishing boats, bobbled in the water, avoiding the handful of larger sailing boats with ease. A number of bigger ships were positioned in the middle of the river, with smaller boats transporting their crews to and from the shore. Hundreds of birds flew overhead, sometimes darting down to snatch a fish from the boats or right out of a fisherman’s hands. Emily ducked as one almost brushed through her hair after scooping up a piece of fish from the ground.

“My oldest brother went into fishing,” Imaiqah said. “He used to bring us all fish, back when I was a child. It was all that kept us alive. Now, he has a small fishing fleet under his command and plenty of people following him.”

Emily nodded. Scraping together the funds to buy a fishing boat would be difficult for a newcomer in the field; most of them would have a boat passed down from their parents, or try to hire on to one of the bigger boats and earn enough money to buy a share. But if someone loaned the fisherman the money to buy a boat, then allowed them to repay it over years…they would have a good investment and a great many friends. And, best of all, it
hadn’t
been one of Emily’s suggestions. They’d thought of it for themselves.

“And now he wants to build the world’s largest fishing ship,” Imaiqah added. “But I ran the math and it would be too expensive to build and maintain, particularly if he doesn’t find a buyer. He was talking about something bigger than those boats out there.”

“And is he going to build it?” Emily asked. “Or…”

“Father said that he could fund it for himself,” Imaiqah said. She giggled. “That shut him right up.”

She pointed to a long set of low buildings just behind the docks. “Those warehouses normally belong to traders,” she said. “They use them to store goods for transhipment to the rest of the Allied Lands. Now, however…”

They walked up to a door and Imaiqah pressed her hand against a panel. There was a click and the door opened, allowing them both to step inside. The sound of screeching metal blasted Emily’s ears before she managed to cast a protective charm to block it out. Imaiqah shrugged, her lips moving soundlessly. It took Emily two tries before she could widen the charm enough to hear her friend’s words.

“I built the wards,” Imaiqah admitted, once they could hear each other again. “Father thought that if we placed the main factory here, fewer people would come visit. So he told me to construct wards to keep our work hidden.”