She put it to one side and worked her way through the pile, silently counting the books as she sorted them out. It was a mess. Dua Kepala had been studying mirror magic, but... he clearly hadn’t released a Manavore. He wouldn’t have survived if he had, not unless... she shook her head. The necromancer couldn’t have kept ahead of the Manavore long enough to bait a trap. He’d leaked magic so badly there was no way he could hide.
“Wow.” Jayson entered the room, his face breaking into a smile. “Treasure!”
Emily smiled back. “There are a hundred and fifty volumes here,” she said, indicating one of the piles. “I can’t read thirty-seven of them. Can you?”
“Perhaps.” Jayson knelt beside her and started to go through the books. “Some of them, yes.”
“But not all of them.” Frieda sounded perplexed. “Should we call the others?”
“Praxis might know,” Jayson said. “Master Highland... we can ask, at least.”
“Yeah.” Emily let out a long breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Master Highland what they’d found. She was dreading what he’d say when he realized she hadn’t told them about the carvings. “We can see what he makes of them, if he wishes...”
She sighed, inwardly. If any of the books were on the banned list, Master Highland could cause trouble for her... hell, she wouldn’t even know she had a banned book until he or Jayson pointed it out. But... she shook her head. She was being selfish. The information in front of them might be the key to recovering Caleb and removing the mirrors. But... what did the mirrors have to do with Manavores? What idiot had had the idea of turning a Manavore into a mirror in the first place? Didn’t they know they were doing something stupid?
And all the great discoveries sound stupid until someone actually tries, she reminded herself, dryly. For all we know, everything worked perfectly until the necromancer attacked.
Putting the thought out of her head, she opened the first book and started to read.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SLOWLY BUT SURELY, A PICTURE BEGAN to emerge.
Emily read through the texts, trying to parse out what she was reading and compare it to what she’d seen. The engineers who’d tapped the nexus point had been fascinated by mirrors... although she wasn’t sure why. There were vague references to Whitehall, none of which quite made sense, and long and complicated equations relating to pocket dimensions and mirror magic. Reading between the lines, she suspected they’d started by trying to duplicate Whitehall’s dimensionally transcendent nature—the school was bigger on the inside—but they’d taken their research in a very different direction. Instead of finding a way to craft a giant pocket dimension, they’d forged links into the mirror dimension. And then...
It made a certain kind of sense, she thought. They’d started with spells designed to hide things in mirrors—and use two mirrors as portals—and woven them together to craft a mirror dimension. An alternate school, one only accessible through the mirrors; a network of tunnels that most staff and students would never know existed, let alone be able to enter. They’d locked it all in place and...
... And then what?
Something had gone wrong, that much was clear. But what? And where had the Manavores come from? She tried to figure it out, but drew a blank. Was the mirror dimension a higher dimension? Had they accidentally poked a hole into... into wherever the Manavores came from? Or... and why had they turned one into a mirror? More than one, perhaps. Who knew?
“Two mirrors are meant to resonate together, like portals,” she mused. “They messed with the spells, so you could set your destination before you stepped into the mirror. Did one of them start resonating with its counterpart in a different universe?”
“Perhaps.” Jayson looked tired. “There’s a bunch of references to fishing in this book, but...”
“Fishing?” Emily glanced up, sharply. “Fishing for what?”
“Good question,” Jayson said. “It doesn’t say. They left out a lot of details.”
Emily stood, brushing down her robe. “I think we’re going to have to take the books upstairs and see what everyone else makes of them,” she said. The air still smelt foul, although she’d gotten used to it. “And then we’re going to have to decide how to proceed.”
“There’s a reference here to a power source,” Jayson said. “But... it doesn’t sound like the nexus point.”
“Odd.” Emily put two and two together. “Did they go fishing for Manavores to turn them into a power source?”
“Maybe,” Jayson said. “How old is Heart’s Eye?”
“It’s younger than Whitehall,” Emily said. The references in the textbooks proved that, if nothing else. “But not much younger.”
She frowned as they collected the books. Heart’s Eye had something to do with Manavores. That much was certain. If the school had been founded when Manavores had walked the world, hunting magicians... the school might have been trying to find a way to hit back. Or to find a way to put the creatures to work. Horses could be dangerous—she had never liked riding and never would—but they’d still been domesticated. She wondered, grimly, if whoever had founded Heart’s Eye had found a use for Manavores. Did the mirror dimension rest on them?
It might, she thought, numbly. And, if so... what do we do about it?
She turned a handful of possible ideas over and over in her mind as they made their slow way back up the corridors. Perhaps, if she was unique, she could find a way to breach the mirror dimension herself. Or... perhaps she could try to determine if there was a link between Alt-Caleb and his home... his home dimension. She frowned, remembering some of the rituals the books had described. They’d involved blood, if she recalled correctly. They were linked to some of the charms she’d used to produce the chat parchments.
Blood calls to blood, she recalled. And it knows where it came from.
“Call Praxis and Master Highland,” she said, once they were in the office. She dumped the books on the table with a sigh of relief. “Tell them to work their way through the books too.”
Frieda grinned. “Do you think they’ll listen to me?”
“Tell them you’re passing my words to them,” Emily said. “I need to have a word with Alt-Caleb.”
“Of course,” Frieda said. She sobered. “What happened to him?”
“I wish I knew,” Emily said. “He’s scared of everything now.”
She turned and walked up the stairs. Alt-Caleb had been given a room to himself, where he was constantly guarded by two apprentices. They stood outside the door, maintaining the charms that gave him an illusion of privacy while actually keeping him under close surveillance. Emily hoped they were doing the right thing. Alt-Caleb had panicked so badly, when he’d seen them, that leaving him alone seemed the best option. There was no other way out of the cell.
Unless he knows how to use the mirrors, she mused. But if he goes too close to them, he’ll be stunned.
She braced herself, then opened the door and stepped inside. Alt-Caleb was lying on a blanket, staring at nothing. A tray of food sat next to him, seemingly untouched. Emily wasn’t surprised. Alt-Caleb was practically skin and bones, as if he’d been kept on starvation rations for years. That was worrying. Caleb hadn’t been anywhere near as muscular as Cat, but he hadn’t been fat or unhealthy either. Magic burned up so many calories that few magicians were ever really fat. She couldn’t help wondering if Alt-Caleb hadn’t been allowed to practice magic. He hadn’t tried to use any spells in all the time he’d been held prisoner. He hadn’t even tried to warm or cool his room.
Alt-Caleb looked at her, his eyes wide with horror. His entire body started to shake, as if he was too scared to move. Emily felt her heart go out to him, even though she couldn’t imagine her Caleb being so terrified of... of everything. Very few people were truly fearless, she knew, but... very few people were completely terrified either. Alt-Caleb was on the brink of madness. He looked like someone who had been beaten so often that all he could expect was anothe
r beating.
She kept her distance, holding up her hands to show that her palms were empty. It was meaningless—and she was sure he’d know it was—but she hoped he’d understand that she was trying to show she had no bad intentions. An abused soul—and Alt-Caleb had clearly been abused—needed time to relax, time to realize that it was safe to relax. Emily herself had had problems, when she’d been younger. Caleb—her Caleb—had been very patient with her. She could do no less for his counterpart.
Carefully, very carefully, she reached out with her magic. Alt-Caleb’s body was covered in traces of magic: some eerily familiar, some completely alien. She didn’t think any of the spells were still active, but it hardly mattered. A spell could be used to insert a post-hypnotic command and then cancelled, leaving no trace for anyone to detect. Alt-Caleb trembled like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked as if he expected her to lash out at him at any moment.
“Hello.” Emily tried to keep her voice gentle, as if she was talking to a child. “My name is Emily...”
Alt-Caleb threw himself back, slamming into the stone wall. Emily nearly ran to him, barely stopping herself in time. He was terrified, utterly terrified... but of what? There was no threat in the room. Or was there...? She looked at the mirror, then down at herself. Was Alt-Caleb scared of everything? She couldn’t figure it out.
“We need to talk,” she said, although she wasn’t sure they could. “This isn’t your world.”
“Let me go.” Alt-Caleb’s voice was almost a scream. “Let me go!”
Emily held up her hands. “I’m not touching you...”
“Haven’t you done enough?” Alt-Caleb’s voice rose. “Haven’t you...?”
He collapsed. Emily hesitated, then inched forward. He’d fainted. It crossed her mind that he could be shamming, that he could be trying to lure her within arm’s reach, but no... he wasn’t shamming. He’d... fainted. He’d simply collapsed. She arranged him as comfortably as she could, then started to examine him. It had been over a year since she’d seen her Caleb naked, but he hadn’t changed that much. Alt-Caleb, on the other hand...
She shuddered. Alt-Caleb wasn’t just skin and bones. He was practically suffering from scurvy. It was the worst case of malnutrition she’d seen outside the Cairngorms, where Frieda had been born... Frieda, for all that she’d been mistreated and abused, hadn’t been starved so badly. Emily pulled up his shirt, feeling her gorge rise as she saw his chest. It was covered in scars, from physical bruises to hex marks. He looked as if he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life, healed by someone who didn’t know what they were doing and then beaten again. He was so thin that Emily had no trouble seeing his ribcage. She thought several of his ribs had been broken and set, sometime in the past. It looked as though they hadn’t been put back together properly either.
Dear God, she thought, numbly. Who did this to him?
She shuddered. King Randor had had no qualms about torturing suspects—he’d had scores of eager young sadists ready to practice their arts on the king’s enemies—but it had been torture with a purpose. This... this was worse. This was torture for the sake of torture, making someone hurt purely to hear them scream. She shuddered, again. A necromancer wouldn’t bother torturing someone. He’d just sacrifice them for power. But whoever had tortured Alt-Caleb...
His body quivered. She rested her fingers against his temples, muttering a sleep spell. It should have plunged him into an easier sleep, but he resisted... somehow. She had to repeat the spell twice before it took effect. His breathing became easier, his face relaxed... slightly. There were lines on his skull she’d never seen on her Caleb. Alt-Caleb looked several years older than his counterpart. But that might be something to do with the abuse... on impulse, she cast a detection spell she’d learnt from Lady Barb. The long-term spell damage was so extensive. Alt-Caleb wasn’t likely to survive another year.
And I have to ask myself if I’m prepared to send him back home, she mused, so we can get our Caleb back.
She stared at her hands. Could two people—two counterparts—share the same universe? Or was there only room for one Caleb? She didn’t know. Logically, there should be room for both; emotionally... she didn’t know. The fiction she’d read gave all sorts of answers, but... it was fiction. None of her favorite writers had ever seen an alternate world, not a real one. They no more knew the truth than Emily herself. And who knew what would happen if she was wrong? One book had even suggested that transferring a relatively small amount of matter from one universe to another would result in complete disaster. One or both universes would be utterly destroyed.
And I can’t rely on a helpful scriptwriter giving me the answer, she thought. Or saving me from the consequences of my own stupidity.
She stood and looked down at him. Could she send him back? Would her Caleb choose to stay, if it was the only way to save his counterpart from a slow and thoroughly unpleasant death? Or... or what? She thought she might have stayed, if she’d been swapped for her counterpart, but Caleb... Caleb didn’t have the chance to make the choice for himself. And she wanted him back. She didn’t want to condemn him to endless agony and death...
“Sending you back would be wrong,” she said, addressing the sleeping body. “But keeping you would also be wrong.”
She forced herself to turn and walk to the door. No matter what she did, she’d hate herself afterwards. If she swapped Caleb for Alt-Caleb... or if she left Caleb wherever he was... if, of course, he could be recovered. For all she knew, Alt-Caleb was just a reflection of the real Caleb, no more real than someone’s reflection in a mirror...
Her lips curved into a humorless smile. It wasn’t funny. Here, a reflection could be very real.
The Gorgon met her outside. “Did you learn anything from him?”
“No.” Emily shook her head. “Did you?”
“He doesn’t have long to live,” the Gorgon said. “I’m not an expert, but I think it’s just a matter of time. His internal organs are collapsing as we speak.”
“I saw the damage,” Emily said. “I hadn’t realized it was that serious.”
“He let me work on him,” the Gorgon said. “But... there was nothing I could do. The mere act of trying would probably kill him.”
The operation was a success, but the patient died, Emily thought. If he’s going to die anyway...
She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache starting to pound. She wanted—she needed—a chance to sit down and think. But she knew she wasn’t going to get it. Caleb was lost, trapped in hell... the hell of it—her lips twitched at the thought—was that that was the best possible option. If he’d simply blinked out of existence when the collapsing quantum waveforms gave birth to Alt-Caleb...
I must be tired, she thought. She felt a flicker of amusement, even though it wasn’t particularly funny. I’m making up technobabble on the fly.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. She looked terrible. “I don’t know how to find Caleb, I don’t know how to get him back and... I don’t know what to do with his counterpart if I do.”
The Gorgon’s snakes hissed. “He’s going to die soon,” she said. “There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“We could put him in stasis,” Emily said. She was clutching at straws and she knew it. “Or...”
“And then he’d die when we brought him out of stasis.” The Gorgon’s voice was very flat, utterly toneless. “He will die.”
“And so you think we should send him back?” Emily was too tired to be outraged. “To pain and suffering and death...”
“He will die,” the Gorgon repeated. Her voice didn’t change. “And when he does, what happens to our Caleb?”
Emily nodded, slowly. Once, years ago, she’d read a book where a girl swapped places with her counterparts, triggering a reaction that had swapped all of her counterparts. They’d all been quite happy with the change, if she recalled correctly. Everything had worked out perfectl
y. But here... she shuddered. The Gorgon had a point. It wasn’t one she wanted to think about, but a point nonetheless. There was nothing she could do for Alt-Caleb.
“We’re going to be experimenting with the mirrors.” Emily’s stomach growled, reminding her it had been hours since breakfast. She hadn’t had anything to eat for... longer than she cared to think about. “And then...”
She glanced at the closed door. “Try and see if you can spot anything... different about him,” she said. “Anything that we could use to find his home... his home timeline. I’ll get the others to have a look at him too. We need to figure out how to navigate through the mirror dimension and get to his homeworld.”
“Of course.” The Gorgon dropped a mock-curtsy, her fingers brushing her short skirt. “Is there anything else you wanted, My Lady?”
“...Sorry.” Emily felt herself flush. She was talking to the Gorgon as though she was a servant. There were more even-tempered people who’d take that very badly. “It’s been a long day.”
“Get some proper sleep before you go spelunking through alternate dimensions,” the Gorgon said. Her almond eyes narrowed, suddenly. “Tell me something... when are you expecting to start your apprenticeship?”
“I’m not sure,” Emily said. Void hadn’t been very clear, the last time they’d spoken. “He told me he’d come for me.”
“When Mistress Irene arrives, go on holiday,” the Gorgon urged. She rested a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You’re in no state for an apprenticeship, not now. I know you’ve been through hell, but...”
She shook her head. “You need to be at the top of your game when you start your apprenticeship. If you do poorly, he’ll kick you out.”
“Probably.” Emily had no idea what Void would do, but she had a feeling the Gorgon was right. He wouldn’t be happy if Emily was tired all the time when she was supposed to be learning. “I just can’t stop.”
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 27
