Fantastic Schools, Volume 3

by Emily Martha Sorensen

  “Work on this,” Master Landis said, finally. “Let me know if you can make it work.”

  I took the parchment and stared at it as Master Landis and Lilith returned to their brewing. The spell notation was odd, strangely imprecise ... I glanced at them, unsure who’d actually prepared the parchment. The very first section was so badly aligned with the rest that I found it hard to believe they’d been written by the same person. Matt had made some howlers, when he’d started his apprenticeship, but nothing as bad as this. I allowed myself to hope that Lilith had prepared the parchment, as I started to straighten it out. Fixing the first section ...

  My heart sank. Fixing the first section threw the rest of the spell out of alignment. I was suddenly entirely sure that Lilith had sketched it out. She had the power to hold it together long enough to make it work ... to make it do whatever it was supposed to do. Anyone else ... I shook my head. It felt more like a very crude piece of spellwork than anything else. I honestly couldn’t tell what it was intended to do. No matter how I looked at it, there just didn’t seem to be any reasonable endpoint.

  I waited for Master Landis to finish his brewing, then cleared my throat. “I can’t figure out what it’s meant to do,” I said. “The first section draws on a great deal of power, but the second and third sections pull in different directions. What is the spell trying to do?”

  “It was devised to split the potion in two, then brew each section separately before allowing them to recombine,” Master Landis said. “Does that make it any easier?”

  “No.” I was too puzzled to pay proper respect. “Wouldn’t it be better to brew them in separate cauldrons?”

  Lilith snickered. “What an idea!”

  I glared at her. “And what’s wrong with the idea?”

  “Tell him,” Master Landis said.

  “Of course.” Lilith smiled at me. It would have been sweet if it had been anyone else. “The first part of the brew needs to be perfectly balanced. That means you cannot brew two separate batches, even if you make it as precise as possible. You have to produce one batch and split it into two. And then you have to let them merge as equals, once you have prepared the second stage. You cannot simply pour one into the other. You have to let them blur as equals.”

  I scowled as Master Landis gave her an approving look. It was the sort of explanation, I felt, that only made sense to magicians. What did it matter if one batch was poured into the other? Why did it matter if they were equals? What happened if they weren’t? And wouldn’t it be easier, the nastier part of my mind wondered, if the cauldron was designed with a physical partition? One could separate the two batches without using magic, thus avoiding the risk of accidental contamination. Or was there something I was missing? I had no way to know.

  Make a note of it, I told myself. The spell was an order of magnitude more complex than anything I’d seen in the old shop. Master Pittwater had never used anything like it. And follow up on it later.

  I looked back at the spell notation, feeling my heart sink once again. There was no way to tighten it up, not really. It needed to be cast by someone who was perfectly attuned to both the potion and the spell ... a magician, a very experienced magician. There was no way I could even begin to make it work. I could fix the problems so someone else could cast the spell ... no, I realised suddenly. I could only make them worse.

  “It can’t be fixed,” I said, pushing my notes aside. “I mean ... it’s cumbersome and stupid, but there’s no way to improve upon it without making it impossible to brew the potion. It simply cannot be done.”

  “No,” Master Landis agreed. “Well-spotted.”

  I didn’t need to look at Lilith to know she was sneering. She knew I hadn’t really done anything. Hell, all I’d really done was waste time. I’d thought the problem could be fixed ... if not by me, then by someone. But ... I shook my head. There was always a cost. One couldn’t make money without spending money, as Master Pittwater had said. It hadn’t taken me long to realise it applied to magic too.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Master Landis nodded and turned away. Lilith snapped her fingers at me. I felt a burning pain on my hand, as if I’d splashed myself with hot water. She smirked at me as I glared helplessly at her, daring me to do something. I knew there was nothing I could do. She could freeze me in my tracks, or worse, before I could lay a finger on her.

  “Prepare me some Kava,” Master Landis ordered. “And then you and Lilith can go on your tour.”

  Lilith smiled. “Prepare me some, too,” she said.

  I made a face as I turned and headed into the kitchen. It was surprisingly big, the walls lined with cupboards crammed with everything from powered grains to potion ingredients and supplies. I lit the fire under the stove, filled the kettle with water and started to dig through the cupboards for supplies. A handful of inactive potions rested above the sink, including one I knew from the shop. Inactive dogbreath potion was useless, unless it was given to a magician ...

  The kettle started to boil. I took it off the stove, poured water into the mugs and added the grains, then hesitated. I’d had more than enough of Lilith’s attitude, but my apprenticeship was at stake ... I took a little of the potion and added it to her mug. I’d pay for it, I was sure, but it would be worth it. If nothing else, it might teach her a lesson.

  I took the mugs back into the workroom and passed them out. Lilith sneered as she took hers and drank. I watched, wondering if she could taste the potion. It wasn’t supposed to taste of anything, but everyone knew magicians had a sixth sense for magic. I waited, sipping my own drink. Master Landis said something to Lilith ...

  ... And she started to bark.

  I couldn’t help myself. I sniggered. Lilith glared at me, a stream of barks and growls coming out of her mouth. Master Landis seemed unconcerned. She glanced at him, then raised a hand and pointed it at me. I got ready to jump to one side. Maybe I could make my escape before she managed to zap me into a frog or something equally humiliating. Or ... traditionally, a master couldn’t punish an apprentice if the apprentice had already been punished. It dawned on me, too late, that the rule might not hold fast here.

  Master Landis cleared his throat. “Lilith, you are obliged to give Adam the tour,” he said, curtly. He dug into his pocket and produced a handful of coins. I tried not to notice he’d just given Lilith more money than I’d ever earned in a week. No wonder she was such a spoilt brat. “Take him for lunch in town, then show him around.”

  Lilith growled and barked. Master Landis passed her a vial. She drank it, then scowled at me. I tried not to smile. She looked murderous. I’d embarrassed her in front of her master.

  “And behave,” Master Landis added. His eyes moved to me, then back to Lilith. “Both of you.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  Lilith just glared.

  Chapter Four

  There’d been times, when I’d been younger, when going for a walk with a pretty girl had been fun. Everyone had understood that it was a way to be alone without ever quite being truly alone. The girl could talk to her suitor without compromising her virtue or—if the suitor proved to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing—being in a position where he could compromise her beyond repair. Normally, I might have enjoyed going for a walk with a pretty girl. But now ...

  I was all too aware of Lilith’s brooding anger as we walked through the university—she showed me the dorms, the library, the lecture halls and the small studies—and out of the main doors. The air outside was uncomfortably hot, the tang of sand and tainted magic brushing against my tongue. It smelt as if something wet was burning, a stench that lingered long after the fire was out. If Lilith noticed, or cared, she gave no sign. I did my best not to glance at her too openly as we started to walk down the road. It looked like a well-beaten dirt track, with people and carts hurrying up and down. I would have enjoyed it more if the air hadn’t smelt so bad.

  Lilith let out an angry snort. I decided I didn’t want to know what
she was thinking, although it seemed he was trying to devise something truly horrible to do to me. King Randor had put his enemies through a series of tortures so unpleasant I found it hard to believe any of them had survived the first stage. Lilith probably thought that turning me into a slug and stepping on me was too good for me. Or something. I shivered, trying not to edge away. Back home, girls were vulnerable. Everyone knew it. Here, I was the vulnerable one. It didn’t sit well.

  The strange smell grew stronger as Heart’s Ease came into view. It was a sprawling mass of a town, expanding so rapidly it probably counted as a small city. I hadn’t seen many cities, beyond my hometown, but ... I couldn’t help thinking Heart’s Ease looked odd. It struck me as ramshackle, as if it had been thrown together without any forethought. Old buildings, marked by time, stood next to rickety-looking apartment blocks and tents large enough to hold a whole circus. I saw row upon row of smaller tents, with men sleeping on the streets or lining up outside the more solid-looking buildings. A row of signs invited me to seek employment as everything from a craftsman to an ironmonger or a shop assistant. I wondered, morbidly, if I could find a job here. The air was so full of energy that it was easy to ignore the smell.

  Lilith guided me through the edge of town and past a string of stalls. People seemed to be buying and selling everything from paper books—lots of books—to food, drink and basic potions. I blinked in astonishment as I saw a fishmonger, his prices so high that I couldn’t believe anyone would even look at his shop. And yet he had customers ... I stared, remembering—suddenly—that we were hundreds of miles from the sea. The nearest kingdom was almost completely land-locked. A sign in front of the shop informed his customers that the fish was fresh. I doubted it. Unless the fish were preserved by magic, they would probably be on the verge of going rotten ... I looked away and stared as a man led a line of wild pigs down the street. No one seemed to care.

  The sense of life only grew stronger as we reached the centre of town. It was bustling with activity, from people running around to horses and carts pushing their way through the crowd. A steam engine tooted in the distance, coming into view briefly as it made it way along the tracks, I stared, remembering just how bumpy the ride had been. It was hard to believe the railway line was remotely solid.

  “There are too many people here,” Lilith said. She sounded uncomfortable. “How do they live like this?”

  “They don’t have a choice,” I said. I’d heard stories from people who’d fled the aristocratic estates and made their way to the cities. Their new homes weren’t perfect, but at least the locals weren’t slaves. “Where were you born?”

  Lilith gave me a sharp look as she led me into a small cafe. I took one look at the prices and blanched. It would cost me nearly everything I had to eat there. I wanted to suggest we went elsewhere, but Lilith was already heading to a table. The waiter eyed her nervously. I had the feeling she’d made a name for herself and not in a good way.

  “Order what you like,” she said, curtly. “He’s paying.”

  I glanced at the menu, feeling my heart skip a beat. Master Pittwater hadn’t been poor, but he couldn’t have afforded to eat at the cafe. I didn’t know anyone who could ... no, that wasn’t true any longer. I eyed Lilith as she ordered without looking at the menu. How could she afford to spend so much money on a single meal? I could have kept myself fed for an entire month on what she was insisting we spend.

  “I don’t know what to order,” I said. The menu was useless. I didn’t recognise any of the names. “What should I have?”

  Lilith shrugged. I scowled and picked something at random, then looked around as the waiter collected the menus and hurried off. There weren’t many other customers in the cafe and the handful I could see looked older and richer than anyone I’d encountered back home. They didn’t seem remotely interested in us. A man wearing colourful livery, suggesting he was the sworn servant of a king or powerful aristocrat, was having dinner with a man in magical robes, Two rows down, there were three women in fancy dresses that showed off their breasts. I found it hard not to stare. Anyone dressed like that, back home, would almost certainly be a whore.

  “The town gets bigger every time I come,” Lilith said, darkly. It struck me, suddenly, that she might be agoraphobic. One of Master Pittwater’s apprentices—he hadn’t lasted long—had never managed to adapt to city life. He’d found crowds terrifying. “They put up new buildings overnight, and then wonder why they fall down.”

  I stared at her. “Do they really fall down?”

  “Yes,” Lilith said. “This place isn’t called the Desert of Death for nothing. The storms are nasty. Those tents out there? If they’re not charmed just right, they’ll be picked up and thrown all the way to the Great Ocean when the wind blows. Those buildings? They’re too big to be safe. And most of them aren’t anchored properly either. The gods blow, and they come tumbling down.”

  I shivered, then looked up as the waiter returned with a tray of food. I’d ordered lobster with butter, boiled potatoes and green peas. I shook my head—my mother could have cooked a dozen lobsters for the price of one—and started to eat. It wasn’t cooked very well. Lilith snorted, just loud enough for me to hear, then tore into her own meal. She had something with meat, rice, and strange-smelling sauce.

  “You can find anything here,” Lilith said, between bites. “People are coming from all over the Allied Lands. Students, craftsmen, traders ... and people who want to get rich scamming them. You can find a place to eat anything you like, if you go poking around in the right places.”

  I smiled. “Isn’t this place scamming us?”

  “It’s fancy,” Lilith said. “Of course, it’s expensive.”

  I smiled. It seemed to annoy her. She honestly had no idea how much things were actually worth. I was sure she wouldn’t last a week on the streets. Traders would see her coming and mark up their prices, sure she wouldn’t lower herself to haggle. The lobster in front of me had been marked up so badly ... maybe it had been transported hundreds of miles. It was still massively overpriced.

  “I think we’d better eat somewhere else, next time,” I said. “There have to be cheaper places.”

  “But none so important,” Lilith said, firmly. “And what makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

  That effectively killed conversation, at least until we’d finished our meals and headed back outside. The air had grown even hotter, somehow, but the crowds hadn’t abated. If anything, they’d grown worse. I tried not to look too closely at the buildings as we walked past, dreading the thought of having to live in them. Lilith might have been a witch—as well as something that rhymed with witch—but she was right. The majority of buildings looked as if they’d been thrown together in a hurry. I had the feeling they weren’t remotely secure. The railway line didn’t look as if it had been solidly pinned either. I supposed the desert wasn’t the easiest place to lay railway tracks.

  Lilith led me on a long walk around the town. I followed her, staring at all the life. Giant warehouses, each one thrown up so quickly they looked about as solid as the housing. The Foundry was a massive complex of factories and industrial facilitates that pulsed with light. I saw a steam locomotive, gleaming dully under the sunlight, chugging out of the shed and into the lines for the first time. In the darkness, I saw three more in various stages of construction. The craftsmen milling around them looked happy and confident and certain, very certain, that they were important. I knew they were right. A trained craftsman was worth his weight in gold.

  A man ran up to us and shoved a leaflet into my hand. I read it as he hurried away again, frowning. The very first line read LEVELLER MEETING, 2100 HRS. I glanced through the rest of the text, including promises that a number of prominent Levellers would be there and quotes from others, including Lady Emily herself. I’d known Levellers back home, but I’d never paid too much attention. It was harder for them to gain a following in a city where everyone, at least in theory, could influence
the council.

  “They think we’re all equal,” Lilith commented, sardonically. “And that we are all one and the same.”

  I glanced at her. “And you don’t think so?”

  Lilith gave me a cold smile. “Do you know what I could do to you?”

  “Yes,” I said. A shiver ran down my spine. Matt had told me students played horrible pranks on each other. If a freeze spell was a first-year spell, nothing more than a joke, I shuddered to think what might be considered genuine malice. “It doesn’t make you better than me.”

  “Keep dreaming.” Lilith snorted. “If it makes you feel any better.”

  She didn’t bother to lower her voice as we walked back towards the town. “If you had something I wanted, I could just take it. Who could stop me?”

  “My sister is weaker than me,” I said. “She still nearly broke my jaw.”

  Lilith ignored me. “The Levellers can protest all they like. They can build all the fancy toys” —she waved a hand at the steam engine, sitting on the track— “they like. It won’t make any difference. If they cause too much trouble, we’ll crush them like bugs.”

  She paused,then looked into my eyes, “We’ll turn them into bugs and crush them. So what if they’re smarter? So what if you’re smarter? I still have power beyond your comprehension.”

  I winced, She grinned. “You have no power over me, and we both know it. Your sister is on the same level as you. I am so far above you that the gap simply cannot be put into words.”

  “The last time I heard someone say something like that,” I said, “he took a massive pratfall because of his overconfidence.”

  “But my overconfidence is justified,” Lilith pointed out. “Was his?”

  I tried not to clench my fists. The idiot had bragged he could kick my ass at Strategy. He’d been so overconfident that I’d wiped him off the board, after he’d committed the sort of mistake no one would make when facing someone with half a brain. Or even a working knowledge of the rules. Lilith ... sure, I could beat her on the gameboard. She could still slap me down any moment she wished. I wondered, suddenly, if she was connected to someone powerful. Or if she was more powerful than I’d thought. It was hard to believe that any magician would put up with her, if there wasn’t a very good reason. Master Pittwater had certainly not put up with arrogant or snooty apprentices.