“Master Highland is giving me a hard time about having mundanes in the building,” she said, putting her thoughts aside. “And he has a point.”
“Does he?” Jayson didn’t sound so sure. “The most dangerous lies are the ones that have a kernel of truth.”
Emily nodded, slowly. “Do you think he’s right?”
“They’re setting up a printing press downstairs,” Jayson said. “There isn’t a glimmer of magic in it—I checked—but it’s wonderful anyway. The thought of hundreds of copies of a particular book... I can’t wait. It will do wonders for research and development. And that’s a mundane invention. No magic at all.”
“Yeah.” Emily looked down at her hands. “But, at the same time, mundanes are vulnerable here.”
“They’re always vulnerable.” Jayson shook his head. “Everyone is vulnerable, in the right time and place. Or the wrong time and place, I suppose. You can bash a magician’s head in while he’s sleeping, if you try.”
“If the magician doesn’t think to use magic to protect his bed,” Emily pointed out. “Or if he’s stupid enough to go to sleep somewhere unsafe.”
“True,” Jayson agreed.
“And the environment itself is dangerous,” Emily added. “The school is full of traps...”
“I never went to school,” Jayson reminded her, “but was it really true you couldn’t take a step without triggering a booby trap?”
“No,” Emily said.
“Exactly.” Jayson waved a hand at the nearest wall. “This isn’t a normal environment, even for a magic school. It’s a place that was desperately trying to fend off a necromancer before it fell. The regular schools aren’t death traps.”
Emily’s lips quirked. “I know a few students who’d disagree with you.”
Jayson smiled. “Point is, Lady Emily, this isn’t a normal environment. This isn’t one of those ancient tombs Hoban opens for a living, the ones where touching the wrong thing can unleash a deadly curse. And when the last of the traps are removed, it will be a great deal safer.”
“Just Emily, please.” Emily didn’t really like being called Lady Emily. “But how are the mundanes going to cope sharing rooms with magicians?”
She met his eyes. “How did Cabiria cope?”
Jayson let out a long breath. “She had defenders,” he said. “Her siblings and cousins often got into trouble for defending her. Hoban... well, you can ask him what he did. I won’t tell you that story, just that he was defending her. The handful of people who thought it would be funny to pick on her never made the same mistake twice.
“But Cabiria... everyone thought she should have magic. She was regarded as the family shame, even though her family accepted her. And then...”
His voice trailed off. He swallowed and started again. “She didn’t find it easy. You know how hard it is to avoid a trap, if you don’t have magic. Her father did a lot of work in the manor to let her live there, safely. It helped that she had a blood tie to the place. She could be steered around the more dangerous places, when the spells guarding the sections refused to let her pass unmolested. I don’t think you could do that here.
“But then, you’re not expecting any of your mundanes to have magic. And their lack of it doesn’t reflect badly on you.”
Emily nodded, remembering a story about a young girl born to a magical family... without magic. She hadn’t had an easy life. And she hadn’t had the option of moving to the mundane world and leaving the magical side of her family behind.
“It will take time for people to accept it,” Jayson said. “But they will. Given time.”
“I don’t know if we have time,” Emily said. “Or am I just whining about something I can’t help?”
“Yep.” Jayson laughed. “Sorry, was I supposed to lie there?”
“No,” Emily reassured him. “I just...”
She shook her head, slowly. “People are having disagreements about the slightest things and... it happened to me too. What’s going on?”
“People have disagreements all the time,” Jayson said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does when they’re about to go to blows over it,” Emily said. “And when both of them are convinced they’re in the right, it’s hard to say who’s in the wrong. Last time... no one was in the wrong.”
“Ah, the worst sort of headache.” Jayson nodded, sagely. “Both sides think they’re right. Both sides are right. And compromise is impossible because each side thinks the other is acting in bad faith.”
“Pretty much.” Emily shook her head. “And then things blow out of all proportion.”
“People are hot and irritable,” Jayson said. “Things will get better when they have somewhere to blow off steam. Aren’t there merchants supposed to be going to Heart’s Ease?”
“We don’t have enough of a population—yet—to support them.” Emily remembered the maps she’d seen and frowned. “Heart’s Ease was always closely linked to Heart’s Eye. It would have failed even if the necromancer had left it strictly alone.”
“Offer good terms for anyone who wants to set up shop there,” Jayson suggested. “A pub or two, a cafe for more... upmarket students, perhaps a brothel... you can offer good terms now, knowing that...”
“A brothel,” Emily repeated. She knew there was a brothel in Dragon’s Den, but she’d never visited. She’d studiously refrained from asking about it. “You think...”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about it either. “I don’t want to be involved.”
“If you’re not setting the rules, someone else will set them for you.” Jayson shrugged. “And that person might not have your best interests at heart.”
“I suppose,” Emily said.
Jayson cleared his throat. “Why don’t you use the wards to scan for booby traps?”
“They’re not precise enough to scan the school properly, not yet.” Emily scowled. She’d already had that discussion with Master Highland. “We can detect active magic, sure, but not a lurking booby trap until its actually triggered.”
“And at that point, it’s too late.” Jayson frowned, then smiled. “Give it time, Emily. Good things come to those who wait.”
“So they say,” Emily said. She stood and paced towards the pile of books. “When do you think you’ll be ready to open for business?”
“I don’t know,” Jayson said. “I’ve opened a second room for broadsheets, magazines and textbooks, but... we’ll probably have to wind up ordering copies of books we already have, only we don’t know we have them...”
“I understand,” Emily reassured him. She picked up a book—a textbook on magical plants and where to find them—and frowned. “Could the librarians have had an emergency protocol?”
Jayson looked up at her. “How do you mean?”
Emily slotted the book onto the nearest shelf. “Whitehall’s librarian had a plan to shove the books—perhaps the entire library—into a pocket dimension if the school fell,” she said. “Could it have happened here, too?”
“It’s a possibility.” Jayson didn’t look convinced. “They could craft a massive pocket dimension if they used the nexus point for power, but the nexus point died. I’d expect the books to be expelled back into our dimension, unless”—he frowned—“unless they blinked out of existence with the pocket dimension itself. Or... they might still be there, but inaccessible if no one knows where to look. You might want to ask Master Highland.”
“He might not know,” Emily said. “Or...”
She looked up as Frieda hurried in. “Emily!”
Emily felt her heart sink. “What now?”
“It’s good news,” Frieda said, quickly. “Yvonne wants you to come to the workshop.”
“See you later,” Jayson said. “I’ll get back to work.”
“See you,” Emily said. She followed Frieda out the door. “Is it really good news?”
“Yvonne thinks so,” Frieda said. She nudged Emily. “Are you and he getting together?�
��
Emily flushed. “No.”
“You should.” Frieda grinned at her. “It’s nice to have someone, isn’t it?”
Emily blinked in surprise. That was unlike Frieda. “Is Hoban that good?”
“Yes.” Frieda smiled. “We’ve been very busy.”
“Just be careful,” Emily warned. “You don’t want to get pregnant before you leave school.”
Frieda colored. “We’ve been careful,” she protested. “My father used to say my mother tricked him into marrying her.”
Emily didn’t know what to say.
The workshop seemed busier now the tables were covered with tools, supplies and pieces of equipment in various stages of construction. A handful of apprentices buzzed around, performing incomprehensible tasks; their masters stood at their tables, slowly demonstrating their skills to watching eyes. Emily looked from side to side, frowning inwardly as she realized there were only three magicians in the chamber. Praxis stood next to Yvonne, who was examining a colossal printing press. None of the others had come to see the device take shape.
Yvonne looked surprised to see them, but smiled anyway. “Lady Emily,” she said, formally. “I present to you the very first printing press of Heart’s Eye.”
Emily smiled back, then turned her attention to the printing press itself. It was immense, easily large enough to print four or six pages at once. She couldn’t help thinking that it looked more like a clothespress than a modern printer, although it would likely be centuries before the Nameless World developed computers and laser printers itself. A pair of apprentices were carefully placing the printing blocks into the device, then inspecting each other’s work to be sure there were no mistakes. Emily had to smile at the spelling. It was phonetic, rather than standard... her standard. She supposed it made it easier to spell.
We’re going to have to come up with a dictionary, sooner or later, she thought, as the press clunked into life. The apprentices placed sheets of paper beneath the blocks, then inked the blocks. And quickly, before we end up with a dozen different ways to spell the same word.
The press clunked, loudly. Emily watched as the apprentices lifted the press and removed the printed pages. It was cumbersome, but—compared to what they’d had five years ago—practically miraculous. She’d read about craftsmen who’d devised ways to print rolls of paper, rather than sheet by sheet. It sounded like something out of a novel about a demented scientist, but they swore it was practical. Yvonne had actually brought a very basic printing press to Heart’s Eye.
We can’t afford something more experimental, not now, Emily thought. It might fail.
“Our first newsletter,” Yvonne said. “What do you think?”
“It’s a little bare,” Emily said, dryly. “We just haven’t done that much.”
“That will change,” Yvonne said. She motioned towards a set of tables at the rear of the room. “We’re already preparing our first textbook. It just needs to be printed, bound and distributed.”
Frieda grinned. “A blue book?”
“We are trying to focus on printing textbooks,” Yvonne said, stiffly. “Blue books are quite unnecessary.”
Emily held up a hand. “What sort of textbook are you printing?”
“Basic spells,” Yvonne said. “We’re also working on a compendium of potions ingredients. Dram wrote it. We’ll print it.”
“Once you set out the blocks,” Emily said. She was surprised that Dram had embraced the new technology, but... perhaps she shouldn’t be. Alchemists ran into problems—frequently—because their textbooks were relatively rare and very expensive. Now... if students had easy access to textbooks, they’d have far less trouble mastering the art. “How long do you think that’ll take?”
“I don’t know,” Yvonne said. “But once we have the blocks sorted, we can roll off as many copies as you like.”
“I look forward to reading them,” Emily said, seriously. She picked up one of the newly-printed sheets of paper and examined it. The type was smaller than she’d expected, but perfectly understandable. She had no trouble reading it. “You’ve done well here.”
“This isn’t difficult,” Yvonne said. She waved a hand at the printing press. “There’s nothing new here. We’ll have more trouble when we try to come up with something new.”
“But you will.” Emily had no doubt of it. “And everyone will benefit from your inventions.”
“Everyone,” Yvonne repeated. “Except, of course, the people we’re putting out of business.”
“They don’t get to put the clock back,” Emily said. “And they can adapt to the new world, if they wish.”
She knew it wouldn’t be easy. The Accounting Guild had abused its position and power for too long. When she’d made them unnecessary by introducing a whole new system of numerals, she’d made them all redundant. That wouldn’t last, she thought—it wasn’t as if accounting was dead on Earth—but it would be a while before the guild managed to regroup and rebuild. They’d alienated too many of their possible customers. And, she supposed, people who would have become accountants, if things had remained unchanged. Why spend years mastering an outdated system when one could master ten digits practically overnight?
“They’ll try,” Yvonne said. “One of my apprentices already thinks he can improve on my work.”
“And if he can, good for him.” Emily allowed herself a smile. “And if his idea doesn’t work out in practice, don’t rub it in too much.”
“Of course not,” Yvonne said. She looked as if a holiday had come early. “That would be unfair.”
Emily met her eyes as they moved into a smaller workroom. “Have you had any other problems?”
“Just an endless spat of disagreements,” Yvonne said. “And not all of them were with the sparkling toffs.”
“Wonderful,” Emily said, sarcastically. It hadn’t been that long since a demon had slipped into Whitehall’s wards. People had acted oddly then, too. But... nothing like what she was seeing now. And she couldn’t figure out how it could have happened this time. “Did they have anything in common?”
“Just one,” Yvonne said. “Every time it happened, it happened near an uncovered mirror.”
Emily glanced around the tiny workroom. The mirror in the corner had been covered with a cloth. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Yvonne met her eyes. “Whatever is happening, it’s something to do with the mirrors.”
Emily cursed under her breath. Yvonne was right. There had been a mirror in the room when she and Caleb had gotten their wires crossed...
“I think we need to inspect the rest of the mirrors, quickly,” she said. How the hell had they missed that? The mirrors had become part of the background, damn it. “And figure out just what they actually are.”
“And cover the rest of them,” Yvonne added. “Before something else happens.”
Chapter Nineteen
“IF THE MIRRORS ARE CONFUSING US,” Caleb said as they made their way down the corridor, “why does covering them make the effect go away?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Why were people hearing things near the mirrors? And why did covering the mirrors make the effect go away? She made a mental note to write to Gordian—and Zed—and ask for any books they had on mirror magic. Gordian might say no, and refuse to have anything to do with her, but at least she would have tried. “Perhaps everyone involved really was telling the truth.”
Caleb gave her an odd look. “I thought you used a truth spell.”
“I did.” Emily clarified her point. “They both thought they were telling the truth because they were telling the truth.”
She looked around, warily. The mirrors really had faded into the background, but—once she started looking for them again—it was clear they were everywhere. Covering them all was going to take time, time they might not have. In hindsight... she shook her head. There was no point in worrying about what might have been. If she’d understood the dangers, she might have made different choices...
And I can’t change tack now for fear of being thought weak, she thought. She understood—now—why some people preferred to ride their plans and go down in flames, rather than admit they’d failed and do something else. Admitting a mistake would be seen as a confession of weakness by some. Worse, there was no assumption that someone might learn from a mistake, openly admitted. If we send the mundanes away, it won’t be easy to get them back in.
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Caleb said. “How do the mirrors affect our behavior?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She recalled what little she knew about mirror magic. Mirrors had been used to store things, once upon a time. But the spells had rarely been used outside demonstrations because it was so easy to smash the mirrors. Those mirrors, at least. “It’s possible that they distort reality, somehow. Or just...”
She frowned as she caught sight of her reflection, again. “Where I come from, there was a theory about alternate universes. The theory said that a new universe would be created every time someone made a choice.”
Caleb glanced at her. “How would that even work?”
“I’m living proof that alternate worlds exist,” Emily reminded him. “But...”
She shook her head slowly. “This world is very different from mine. The geography, the culture, the magic... it’s all different. The theory stipulated that a new world would be created for each minor choice.”
“It makes no sense,” Caleb said. “Are you saying that the mere act of putting on a different pair of briefs would be enough to create a whole new world?”
“That’s the theory,” Emily said.
“But the world wouldn’t be that different,” Caleb pointed out. “What difference does it make if I wear one pair of briefs or the other?”
“Very little.” Emily let out a long breath as they passed another mirror. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
She frowned as she studied her reflection. It looked identical to her, as far as she could tell. Was a hair out of place? Did she have a speck of dust on her dress? She couldn’t tell. Cold logic told her she was looking at nothing more than her reflection, but once she’d had the thought it wouldn’t go away. Was she looking into a world that was—in almost every detail—practically identical to her own?
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 18
