Master Highland followed her as she walked into the sitting room. She had no idea what it had been originally—if the building really was a temple, all of the icons and statues had been removed long ago—but now it was a surprisingly comfortable chamber. There were no actual chairs, beyond a pair of folding chairs that had probably been liberated from the army, yet the apprentices had scattered cushions around to give people a place to sit. Caleb, Frieda and the Gorgon sat on one oversized cushion. Yvonne sat on another, looking oddly amused. A wiry man with almond eyes and pale skin sat next to her.
“Lady Emily,” Yvonne said. She indicated the man next to her. “Please allow me to introduce Enchanter Praxis.”
“Charmed.” Praxis stood. “Yvonne and I are old friends.”
Emily thought she heard Master Highland sniff in disapproval, behind her. She ignored it. “It’s good to meet you,” she said. She knew she should have met everyone yesterday, but she’d just been too tired. “I’ve heard good things about you from Zed.”
“He was interested in moving out here,” Praxis said. “But he thought he’d moved enough for the next few years.”
And that was my fault, Emily thought. It hadn’t been entirely her fault that Zed had had to leave Dragon’s Den, but she’d been the one who’d started the ball rolling. He probably doesn’t want to stay close to me, even if he wants to give up Mountaintop.
“He would be welcome, if he changes his mind.” She looked at Master Highland. “Master Highland, allow me to introduce you to Senior Craftswoman Yvonne.”
For a moment, she was sure Master Highland was about to refuse to show any respect to Yvonne. She was clearly not a magician, even though she had magical friends. That would put the cat amongst the mice... she braced herself, ready to say something, although she wasn’t sure what. Master Highland didn’t seem the type of person to be thankful when someone told him his behavior was offensive. He seemed more likely to take it personally.
“A pleasure.” There was no pleasure in Master Highland’s voice. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake hands?”
“Of course,” Yvonne said, archly. It was clear she knew perfectly well how rude Master Highland was being. “You never know what might be on someone’s hand.”
“Senior Craftswoman Yvonne will be on the board, representing the craftsmen,” Emily said, before the air could turn any colder. “She will also be in charge of setting up the workshop, the factories and anything else we might happen to need.”
“I’ve already started looking at ways to build a railway to Farrakhan,” Yvonne said. “Laying tracks on the dunes will be a challenge, but there are ways around the problems if we work at them. Once the railway is in place, we can move people and supplies in and out of the school quicker than carrying them by foot.”
Or by relying on slave labor, Emily thought.
“And how do you intend to pay for it?” Master Highland sounded as if he’d smelt something disgusting. “How big is our budget?”
“It will last for a while,” Emily said. She’d put most of her resources into the school’s bank account. Budgeting was going to be a pain, but they could cope. “However, the railway line will have unexpected costs.”
“Quite.” Master Highland shot her a challenging look. “Didn’t one of them bankrupt an entire city?”
“Only because some idiot was selling promises he couldn’t keep in a desperate bid to raise money,” Caleb said, quickly. “He lied to everyone and...”
“That’s my point,” Master Highland said. “Can we afford to build the line without bankrupting ourselves?”
“Perhaps,” Emily said. In some respects, it would be easier. They’d be negotiating with the city fathers alone, not a multitude of competing noblemen. “It’s a long-term plan, not something we’ll be doing immediately.”
“We need to do it quickly,” Yvonne warned. “Bringing supplies into the school is going to be a problem.”
“That’s why we have portals.” Master Highland sneered. “Once they’re set up, we can bring everything we need into the school.”
“Maybe,” Emily said. She’d once looked into Whitehall’s logistics. It was astonishing how much food was physically delivered to the school from nearby farms, rather than simply shoved through a portal. “If we can set up a portal.”
“With a nexus point powering it, we should have no trouble,” Enchanter Praxis said. “But Yvonne is right. A railway would be useful too.”
“Bah.” Master Highland shook his head. “Who needs it?”
“The people who don’t have magic,” Emily said, quietly. Railways would change the Nameless World in all kinds of ways. Who knew where that would end up? “And we don’t want to grow used to using slave labor.”
Master Highland looked at her as if she’d started speaking in tongues. Emily concealed her annoyance with an effort. He probably thought slavery was perfectly normal. Hell, he probably worked his apprentices to death in exchange for their training. Emily hoped Cirroc would have the sense to walk away if his studies weren’t going anywhere. If he could... his oaths might not let him. She wondered what she’d do when her time came to swear the oaths.
“We will see,” Master Highland said. He sat on a cushion, as far from Yvonne as he decently could. “Lady Emily, the apprentices have taken the liberty of preparing a meal. Will you and your companions join us?”
Treating this house as your own, Emily thought, amused. She wondered, absently, at what point occupation translated into ownership. There wasn’t any authority in Heart’s Ease that could comment, not yet. But if you want a house here... does it matter?
“We would be delighted,” she said. “And then we can get an early night’s sleep.”
“And go to the school in the morning,” Master Highland said. “I’ll inform the others to meet us after breakfast.”
He nodded to Cirroc, who turned and left the room. Emily felt a flicker of pity. Cirroc was the same age as she was, a year younger than Caleb, but he would have to serve them dinner as his master commanded. He wouldn’t enjoy himself. Emily was surprised Master Highland hadn’t given him permission to take the night off. It would have been the decent thing to do.
Cirroc returned, carrying a large tureen on a tray. “Cooking facilities here are somewhat limited,” he commented, as he placed the tureen on the floor and opened it. “I made beef and potato stew.”
“We will import proper cooks soon enough,” Master Highland said. It was hard to tell if he was trying to reassure his apprentice or take a jab at Yvonne. “They’ll do the cooking for us.”
“I learnt to cook in Martial Magic,” Cirroc said. “It’s no trouble at all.”
Caleb snickered. “Oh dear.”
Emily had to hide a smile as Master Highland scowled. She’d been taught to cook in Martial Magic too, but she’d never been very good at it. Sergeant Miles had been ruthlessly practical, teaching his students to put nutritional value ahead of taste. The stew smelled better than she had any right to expect—Cirroc might not have paid that much attention in his lessons—but she doubted it would taste good. She told herself, firmly, it didn’t matter. She was lucky to be eating at all.
And eating beef, rather than rabbit or hedgehog, she reminded herself. She’d been taught how to forage for food, how to trap small animals or determine which plants were safe to eat, but she’d never enjoyed it. Killing a hedgehog had left her feeling guilty for days. It could be a great deal worse.
“It tastes better than I expected,” Caleb said. “Did you actually cook this?”
“I had it simmering all day.” Cirroc sounded amused, rather than angry. “It’s really just meat, potatoes, some vegetables and a lot of water. And some herbs.”
Emily nodded. “You weren’t paying attention in class, were you?”
“Of course not.” Cirroc laughed. “I think the sergeant didn’t grade taste when he sampled our stews. He just muttered something about having to fend for ourselves one day.”
&nb
sp; “And then you did,” Caleb said. “Didn’t you?”
“A few years ago,” Cirroc said. “They dumped me somewhere and told me to make my way back home. It wasn’t easy.”
“That never happened to me,” Emily said. “Why not?”
“I think you had Master Grey at the time,” Cirroc said. “Killing your teacher is probably an instant pass.”
“I have bad news for you.” Master Highland sounded more human, now he had some food in him. “Killing your tutor will land you in jail. And trying to kill your tutor—unsuccessfully—will land you in hot water.”
Praxis laughed. “You never wanted to kill your tutor?”
“Of course not,” Master Highland said. “I wanted to learn from him, not kill him.”
Emily had to smile. “And afterwards?”
“He wanted to sail west and see what was out there,” Master Highland said. “He never came back.”
“No,” Caleb agreed. “Anyone who sails west is never seen again.”
There’s something over the water, Emily thought. She’d seen old maps that hinted at a third continent on the other side of the world. But no one who goes there ever comes back.
She leaned back against the cushion as the conversation rolled around the room, everyone talking about what they wanted to do after the university had been opened. Yvonne and Praxis had ideas for combining magic and science, something Master Highland seemed to find appalling; Emily suspected Yvonne’s teachers would feel the same way. Caleb chatted about learning everything he could; Jayson talked about the old library and putting it back in shape; Hoban told horror stories about what traps they might encounter once they stepped off the beaten path. It was a good evening, the best Emily could remember for quite some time. She was almost disappointed when it was time to go to bed.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Master Highland said. He stood and nodded to his apprentice, then bowed to Emily. “And then, the school.”
“The school,” Emily agreed. “Good night.”
Chapter Five
THE FOLLOWING DAY, THEY ROSE EARLY and walked to the outer edge of the wards.
“You did a good job,” Master Highland said. “I couldn’t find a way to enter the school without you.”
Emily rubbed sleep from her eyes as she gingerly touched the wards. She hadn’t slept well, even though she’d had a private—and warded—room. The nightmares had been thoroughly unpleasant... she’d drunk several cups of Kava in the morning, but she still felt half-asleep. She would have suggested waiting until the afternoon if she hadn’t known everyone was impatient to enter the school. Master Highland and his people wouldn’t wait forever.
You could have made them wait, her thoughts mocked, but you would have paid a price for it.
“They’re quite impressive,” Master Highland commented. “I was wondering where you learnt to construct them.”
“Whitehall,” Emily said. It was technically true, although Master Highland wouldn’t catch the double meaning. “They’re based on Whitehall’s wards.”
Master Highland raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised the Grandmaster let you make a study of them.”
“He was always looking for new perspectives.” Emily kept her voice carefully flat. Master Highland wouldn’t believe her, at least at first, if she told him she’d learnt from Lord Whitehall himself. And if he did believe her... better he thought her a fantasist—or even a liar—than he started to experiment with time travel himself. She didn’t think he’d succeed, even with a nexus point, but she’d been wrong before. “And I learnt a great deal when Whitehall nearly collapsed in on itself.”
“So I heard,” Master Highland said. “I notice you only picked magicians for this venture.”
Emily glanced back. Caleb, Cirroc, Hoban and Frieda were standing some distance from the wards, just in case something went wrong. She’d insisted on keeping the first group as small as possible, although it had been impossible to refuse either Master Highland or his apprentice the chance to join the first group. Master Highland, at least, remembered the school in its glory. He’d be able to tell them what had changed over the years. A necromancer pacing the halls for a decade was bound to leave a mark.
“Yes.” She kept her voice flat. “I felt it was for the best.”
“A wise choice,” Master Highland said. “A mundane would be unable to sense any traps until it was too late. The danger to their safety is quite great.”
Emily scowled. She was tired—she had to be, or she would have noticed what he was driving at earlier. Master Highland had given up trying to convince her that mundanes shouldn’t be allowed in the university because of tradition, and had moved on to arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed for their own safety. The hell of it, she conceded ruefully, was that he had a point. Her brief stint of being powerless, in a high-magic environment, had been a grim reminder that mundanes could easily get themselves into trouble and not notice until it was far too late. The prank spells she’d seen used—that she’d used herself—as a first year were terrifying when deployed against mundanes.
“They know the risks,” she said, tartly. “And anyone who comes here will be bound by the rules.”
Master Highland snorted. “And did you keep the rules when you were at Whitehall? Were there no teachers you would have hexed, if you thought you could get away with it?”
“I challenged Master Grey to a duel,” Emily reminded him, as her temper began to fray. It wasn’t entirely accurate, but it would do. Besides, it was the official version of the story. No one seemed to believe that she’d been pushed into saying or doing something Master Grey could have taken as a challenge. “And if you don’t mind, I have to think.”
She took a moment to calm herself before she touched the wards again. Master Highland did have a point, damn him. She wouldn’t have dared hex a teacher in Whitehall, but... they’d all had magic. None of them would have any trouble blocking the hex, tracing it back to the caster and caning the idiot in front of the entire class. But if the teacher had no magic... there had been teachers on Earth she would have cheerfully hexed if she’d thought she could get away with it. Yvonne was clever as well as competent, but she couldn’t defend herself against magic. It would only take one student to turn her into a frog.
And then that student will be expelled, Emily thought. Magic schools were designed, at least in part, to allow students to work their way through their baser instincts in a place where no one could be permanently hurt. Her university was going to be different. I’ll expel the bastard personally, if I have to.
Her mind brushed against the wards, tentatively. She hadn’t had any trouble bonding with them last time, but now... the wards responded, welcoming her to Heart’s Eye. It didn’t look as if anyone had managed to get into the school, although it was impossible to be completely sure. The wards wouldn’t have recorded anyone who’d somehow managed to bypass them. Emily was fairly sure it was impossible for someone to perform a blood rite without her presence—or at least some of her blood—but there were other possibilities. And there were people who would do whatever it took to gain control of a nexus point.
She opened her eyes, then beckoned to the others as she stepped across the wardline. Master Highland looked discomfited—it struck her, suddenly, that he must be lost in memories—while the others seemed a little disturbed. Emily made a mental note to ask them why, later. Whitehall’s wards were far gentler, but Whitehall had the Warden. She wondered if she should try to construct one for herself, even though generations of students would curse her name. It would be easier—and safer—than letting the Schoolmaster dominate the wards.
It would be difficult to get permission to construct a homunculus, even one that doesn’t look particularly human, she reminded herself. And we might have to pay a high price.
The air seemed drier, somehow, as they made their way towards the doors. Master Highland said nothing, his expression grim. He’d told stories last night about Heart’s Eye, back in the
day. It had been a vibrant school, he’d claimed; the castle had glowed with life and light. Now... it was a drab building, as dull as a sandcastle. Emily wondered, suddenly, if the castle had been literally built out of sand. A nexus point would have more than enough power to hold the sand in place indefinitely. The whole school could have been summoned into existence by a single mind.
She touched the doors lightly. They swung open, revealing darkness... darkness broken by faint glimmers of light that seemed to flicker and fade at the corner of her eye. She tensed, half-expecting something to jump out of the darkness. It seemed almost a living thing... she reached out with her senses, trying to tell if there was magic in the air, but... there was nothing. Except... there was something, right on the edge of her awareness. Emily couldn’t put her finger on it. She honestly wasn’t sure it was really there. It might have just been her imagination.
Master Highland muttered a pair of words in a language she didn’t recognize. Nothing happened. The older magician grunted, the bitter sound full of regret. Emily eyed him questioningly, but he merely looked away. There was something in his posture... she felt a stab of pity, even though she didn’t like him. She wouldn’t enjoy seeing Whitehall in ruins either.
Although I would have cheered if someone had blown up my last school on Earth, she thought, morbidly. She knew, intellectually, that hundreds of children and teenagers would die in the blast, but... she’d hated the place so much it was hard to care. I went in with no hope and I would have left with no hope.
She cast a light spell. The hallway came to life. Things moved in front of her. She tensed, before realizing that she was looking at their reflections. The mirrors were still there, still intact... Master Highland let out a long sigh. Emily stepped forward, looking around with interest. The floor was covered in dust, billowing around their feet. There should have been footprints from the last times she’d visited the school, but they were gone. She wondered about that as she beckoned the others into the building. It hadn’t been that long since she’d last visited.
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 5
