The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) by Christopher Nuttall (ebook pc reader .txt) 📕

held herself at the ready, unsure of what to do. There had to be more sorcerers outside, casting the wards. She hoped they’d had the sense to evacuate the surrounding area, although she feared they hadn’t bothered. And yet, they’d managed to taint the food. Had they hoped she’d sedate herself? Or poison herself? It was a common trick, when faced with newborn necromancers and dark wizards. If she’d eaten the food, would she have woken up in a cell? Would she have woken at all?

“Master?” Jan’s voice broke through the silence. “What are you doing?”

Master Lucknow directed a sharp look at him. “Shut up.”

Jan audibly swallowed. “Master...”

“I said, shut up,” Master Lucknow snapped. “Lady Emily, you are under arrest.”

Emily found her voice. “On what charge?”

“The charges will be discussed at your hearing,” Master Lucknow informed her. He removed a vial from his belt and held it out. “Drink this, then prepare for teleport.”

“I need to send a message to my master,” Emily said. She tried to remember what little she’d been taught about prisoner rights. There weren’t many. The Mediators had powers of arrest, if a warrant was issued by the White Council... her mind raced. They couldn’t demand a warrant without word reaching Alassa, or Melissa, or Void himself. Emily couldn’t believe her friends wouldn’t warn her. And that boded ill. “I also want to see the warrant.”

“You can do both, once you drink the potion,” Master Lucknow said, flatly. “Once you are in custody, you can send messages to whoever you like.”

Emily gritted her teeth. The Mediators were obligated to carry the warrant and show it upon demand. She didn’t recall much from Master Tor’s classes on law, but she recalled that. There were just too many kingdoms, estates and city-states that disliked the idea of international police forces throwing their weight around. In fact... she wondered, suddenly, if Duchene had been so quick to get rid of her because she knew the Mediators were on their way. The Headmistress of Laughter was Pendle’s ruler, to all intents and purposes. The Mediators should have informed her before the arrest began.

Her heart sank. If the Mediators were unwilling to produce the warrant, it suggested they didn’t have one. They couldn’t have one, not without summoning the whole council. And that meant... she looked at the vial, wondering what it really contained. Did they intend to arrest her first and invent the charges later? Or did they intend to kill her before the rest of the council, and her friends, could object?

She took a step back. “I need to send a message first,” she said. She disliked the thought of running to Void, or anyone, to beg for help, but she doubted she had a choice. “And then I will...”

“Drink the potion,” Master Lucknow ordered. He produced a pair of shackles from his belt and held them at the ready. “Now.”

A memory burst into her mind... Emily is kneeling on a stone floor, her hands and feet chained with cold iron. The spectators are booing loudly as her judges close in, joining hands in a fearsome ritual that will destroy her magic...

The flash of memory, of the demonic vision, was so strong Emily almost fainted. The world around her seemed to fade, just for a moment. She shivered, suddenly very aware she was on the cusp of disaster. If they took her... would they seek to destroy her power, to strip the magic from her, or simply kill her? She looked from face to face, reading grim determination in their eyes. They were ready to fight, ready to take her by force. And if they didn’t have a warrant... she swallowed, hard. She couldn’t let herself go with them.

“No.” Emily faced them, readying herself. “I want to see the warrant.”

One of the combat sorcerers made a gesture. Emily sensed a shimmer of magic, a webbing that - if it took shape and form - would trap her until she drained herself dry. Master Lucknow took a step forward, raising his hand. The netting centered on him, growing stronger and stronger with every passing second. She couldn’t let herself be trapped. It would be the end of everything. She was grossly outnumbered, but she didn’t have to beat them all to win. She just had to get clear of the wards and teleport out.

She summoned a wave of raw magic and directed it into the netting. The spellwork shattered, bits of magic splintering in all directions. She didn’t hesitate, generating a blinding flash of light that should have been enough to disorient them. Master Lucknow had enough presence of mind to counter the spell, but it bought her a few seconds. She cast a bigger spell of her own, yanking up every chair and table in the inn and hurling them at the sorcerers. It wouldn’t kill them, if they reacted quickly, but it would buy her a little more time. She saw Jan throwing himself towards the rear door as she darted backwards, without looking back. She didn’t blame him. He’d wind up in real trouble if he turned against his master.

One of the sorcerers grunted, tumbling to the ground as a chair struck him in the chest. He’d be fine, Emily was sure, but the impact should put him out of the fight. The others had raised their wards, smashing the tables and spraying sawdust in all directions. Emily summoned a wind, blowing the sawdust towards them. It might just get in their eyes. She turned and blasted the wall behind her, feeling a twinge of guilt. The innkeeper and his family were long gone, but they were going to come home to a pile of rubble. She made a promise to herself that she’d pay for repairs, if she survived. The surge of magic behind her suggested the combat sorcerers were angry.

She ran through the gash in the walls, into an alleyway. It was disturbingly empty. The wards buzzed against her mind as she glanced up and