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

disgust. The river was rapidly turning into a breeding ground for disease. She wasn’t even sure it was navigable any longer. There were certainly no boats making their way up and down the waters.

“Those poor kids,” she breathed. “Is there nothing we can do for them?”

“They’re orphans, mostly.” Aiden’s voice was grim. “Unwanted kids, abandoned by their parents... they were often sent to the workhouses, if they were lucky. The unlucky ones were picked up by the punters and put to work, scooping up horseshit or picking pockets or worse. I... we killed a bunch of the bastards, after we took power. The kids are free. Right now, they can sell whatever they find and keep the money for themselves.”

She turned away, hiding her face. Emily felt her heart twist in pain. It was easy, all too easy, to imagine growing up on the streets. She’d wanted to run away, more than once... here, she’d have been lucky if she’d lasted more than a day or two. It was hard to believe, looking at the kids, that the rebels had made their lives much better. And yet, even having the chance to save some money might help in the long run. If they survived...

“My father grew up here,” Aiden explained, as they left the bridge behind. “He said he’d do anything, no matter how humiliating, to avoid coming home.”

Emily nodded in understanding. The streets were faded, the buildings looked as if they were permanently on the verge of falling down, the people on the streets were largely thugs or streetwalkers... it looked like a place that never let anyone go. She frowned as she spotted a trio of prostitutes making eyes at potential customers... if she’d escaped, she wouldn’t want to fall back into the morass either. The rebels might make it better, if they tried, but it wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t even sure where they should begin.

They stopped at a stall to eat a very suspicious looking sausage in a bun - she didn’t want to think what sort of meat might have gone into the sausage, although her spells insisted it was safe to eat - and then kept walking until they reached a modest-looking apartment block. Aiden led the way inside and down a long, dark corridor, footsteps echoing in the quiet. Emily couldn’t help feeling a little claustrophobic. She muttered a night vision spell under her breath and instantly regretted it. The corridor was so dilapidated that it was a minor miracle the entire building hadn’t collapsed.

Aiden led her up two flights of stairs, passing through a cobweb of subtle wards that were barely noticeable, then stopped in front of a solid-looking door and tapped once. It was opened by a young girl who glanced at them both, eyes widening when she saw Emily. Aiden leaned close and whispered something in her ear, then beckoned Emily to follow her into the apartment. It was larger than she’d expected, gashes in the walls and ladders leading upwards suggesting the owners had turned several smaller apartments into one big one. A couple of flickering lanterns provided light as they clambered up the ladder. The windows were open, but night was falling rapidly.

“Lady Emily,” Aiden said. There was a brief exchange of silent hand signals. “Please allow me to present People’s Voice, Voting Right and Speaker to Power.”

Emily hid her amusement. The three men wore cloaks that hid their faces... she wondered, suddenly, if they were men. Two of the three had nondescript builds, so completely average that they could easily be women instead. She could have walked past them without so much as noticing. The third was so strikingly muscular he could have passed for an orc in bad light. She was fairly sure he was a man, although... she shook her head. She’d just have to bear in mind that she didn’t know much of anything about them.

“Lady Emily,” People’s Voice said. His voice was as nondescript as his appearance. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And you,” Emily said. The other two nodded agreement. “I don’t think we have much time.”

“Perhaps not,” Voting Right agreed. His voice was bland. “There are troops on the streets everywhere now.”

Emily spoke bluntly. “If you don’t mind, we need to come right to the point.”

“Agreed,” People’s Voice said. “Our position is as follows. The council is becoming mad with power. Althorn will either take regal power for himself, shortly, or be replaced by someone else - Jair, perhaps - who will. At the same time, the monarchy has proved itself dangerously untrustworthy. We are unprepared to put our fates in either pair of hands. Accordingly, we feel we should propose a compromise.

“We will accept a power-sharing agreement in line with Zangaria. In particular, the assembly having a say in how taxes are raised and spent, the right to bear arms, freedom of the press and a complete and total end to serfdom. The estates that have already been seized will be retained by their new owners, save for the manors themselves; the unoccupied estates will be left with their aristocrats, but their serfs will be released from the land.”

Emily nodded, slowly. On paper, it was a reasonable compromise. The aristocrats would keep their lands, but they’d have to treat the commoners a little better - a lot better - if they wanted to keep the commoners working the land. Serfs could be underpaid - if they were paid at all - because they had nowhere to go, unless they wanted to take the risk of running away. Freemen, on the other hand, could go where they liked. She wondered, idly, if the aristocracy would notice the problem until it was too late. They were just too used to seeing the serfs as nothing more than property.

“I can present your proposed compromise to Dater,” Emily said, carefully. “Why didn’t you suggest it to the council?”

“We did,” People’s Voice growled. “The council rejected it on the grounds it left