Gwen swallowed, hard. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. She couldn’t help feeling that she was in over her head, but it was too late to back out now. “I am.”
The King rose to his feet. “Then kneel,” he commanded, “and give me your hand.”
Gwen held out her hand and the King took it in a surprisingly strong grip. “Do you, Lady Gwendolyn Crichton swear to serve Us all your days, to uphold the laws of Our Kingdom and defend it against Our enemies, whoever they may be? Do you accept the position of Apprentice to the Royal Sorcerer, to do him honour and obey him in all matters, to learn from him and eventually take his place when God calls him home?”
“I do,” Gwen said. It struck her suddenly that it reassembled a marriage ceremony and she had to fight down an insane urge to giggle. “I swear before God.”
The King held her eyes for a long moment, and then he stepped back, releasing Gwen’s hand. Gwen, unsure of what to do, remained on her knees. There was a long pause and then Master Thomas stepped forward. His large hand took Gwen’s and shook it, firmly.
“I accept you as my apprentice,” he said. “I vow before God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost that I will educate you, clothe you and prepare you for the day when you take my place.”
He released Gwen and motioned her to her feet. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said. “We will begin training tomorrow.”
The King motioned Gwen forward and removed a ring from his finger. “We hereby invest you with Our ring,” he said. Gwen took the ring and held it. It was too large to fit on her fingers. “Should any question your fitness for the position, you may show them Our ring as an expression of the confidence We place in you.”
Gwen found herself unable to move until Master Thomas nudged her, gently. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “I will do you honour.”
“See that you do,” the King said. “You are dismissed.”
Outside, Gwen found herself almost dizzy on her feet. She had been rushed forward, without any time to think. Master Thomas caught her and steadied her before she could fall over. “If you wish some refreshments,” he said, “we can find something to drink in the Palace before we return to Cavendish Hall...”
“No, thank you,” Gwen said. What she really wanted was a chance to sit down and reflect on the day’s events, but she had no idea how she could say that out loud. The butler’s constant presence behind them was a reminder that anything they said would be reported back to the King. Her mind caught up with him and she stopped. “The Palace is connected to Cavendish Hall through the tunnels?”
“There are always broadsheet writers outside the gates,” Master Thomas said. He sounded vaguely disgusted. “We bring people in through the tunnel network if we don’t want them noticed and written up in the newspapers.”
He looked up as the butler passed him a sheaf of papers. “Thank you, Edmund,” he said. He led Gwen back to the stairwell and paused at the edge of the steps. “Please advise your master that we will keep him informed of progress.”
Gwen said nothing until they were back in Cavendish Hall. The magical barrier seemed to have vanished, or perhaps it only affected people who were trying to break into the Palace. Master Thomas led her up four flights of stairs and into a large set of rooms. One of them was dominated by a four-poster bed; the others with empty bookshelves, empty tables and one of the largest bathtubs Gwen had ever seen. A maid who was busy cleaning was unceremoniously invited to leave the room. Gwen stopped dead as she saw a set of familiar suitcases. Her mother had already packed for her – or, more accurately, she’d ordered the family’s maids to pack for her.
“These are your rooms, Lady Gwen,” Master Thomas said. “I suggest you spend some time resting and preparing yourself, then you can join us for dinner at six and then catch an early night. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”
“Yes, Master,” Gwen said. It struck her suddenly that she’d sworn to obey him in all matters. He had effectively taken her father’s authority over her for himself, simply by taking her as his apprentice. It was far from uncommon among the lower orders, but for a nobly-born woman? “Are we going to start learning about magic?”
“You have a great deal to learn,” Master Thomas said. “But you’re very bright. I’m sure you will pick it up in no time.”
Gwen could only hope that he was right.
Chapter Three
Gwen’s first lesson on magic began early the next morning.
She hadn’t been sure of what to expect, so she’d dressed herself as simply as she could, wearing the dress she’d worn when running outside in the country. Breakfast had been a subdued affair, with a handful of magicians staring at her and wondering – clearly – what she’d done to deserve the position of apprentice to Master Thomas. They’d all been male, she’d noted, all young. She was going to be more isolated than she had thought.
Master Thomas had escorted her into the classroom personally. It was somewhat disappointing to her eyes, a stone room with a set of tables, rough wooden chairs and a handful of maps hanging on the walls. A bowl of water dominated one corner of the room, reminding her of the bowls they’d used to dunk for apples during one of her birthday parties, before she’d come into her magic. The teacher, who had been introduced as Doctor Norwell, had looked equally unprepossessing. He was a grey man wearing a grey suit and wig; one of those men who had been born old. Master Thomas identified him as a theoretical magician, a person who studied magic, but without any actual talent of his own. If his subject hadn’t been so fascinating, Gwen knew that she would have started playing tricks on him within seconds.
“The first important thing to remember about magic,” Doctor Norwell started, in a fussily precise voice, “is that most of what the common folk know about magic is wrong. More nonsense has been written about the subject of magic than any other subject, even though magic has only been seen as a subject of...ah, legitimate study since Professor Cavendish first documented its existence. A popular book of magic, distributed despite the ban, states that one can summon demons by dancing naked in the forest at night. That is, quite simply, untrue. Many magicians come to study with us and wind up having to unlearn a great deal before they can proceed.”
He paused, long enough to fix Gwen with a pale stare, before continuing. “The second important thing to remember about magic,” he said, “is that the study of magic is only in its infancy and there are a great many things that even the Royal College of Sorcerers doesn’t know about how it works. We have isolated a number of magical talents and attempted to put them to use serving the Crown. There may be other talents as yet undiscovered. There may be facets of the known talents that are poorly understood. Every year, scientists attempt to find a unifying theory that would link all the talents together. None of them have even come close to success. Some talents seem simple and easy to understand. Others make little sense.
“What we do know is that magical talents breed true. The children of a magician or a person with an undeveloped magical talent will generally have magical talents of their own. However, this seemed to follow no logical rules. Theoretically, the child of a Mover and a Charmer should share both talents. In practice, they tend to get one.”
Gwen frowned. “Talents?”
Doctor Norwell scowled at her, clearly resenting the interruption. “We have isolated ten different talents so far,” he said. “There are persistent rumours of an eleventh talent, but despite careful research we have not been able to isolate it. With only a handful of exceptions, each magician will have just one of the talents. Their precise power level and skill will depend upon training. Some people with magical potential simply never bother to develop their talents.”
“And a number,” Master Thomas put in, “may never discover that they have a talent.”
Doctor Norwell nodded. “I shall begin with Blazers,” he said. “Master Thomas, if you would...”
Master Thomas held up his hand. A flame started to flicker over his skin, event
ually becoming a pillar of light that danced over the ceiling before fading back into nothingness. Gwen felt a tingle as she stared at the light, remembering how she’d summoned light and heat herself. Master Thomas had far more skill than she’d ever been allowed to develop.
“Blazers manipulate energy,” Doctor Norwell said, flatly. “All of their powers revolve around their particular talent.”
He nodded to Master Thomas. “Infusers push magic into an inanimate object,” he said. “The magic can be keyed to perform certain tasks, such as not permitting anyone to open a particular lock without the correct key. Again, the magician needs extensive training in using his power before he can amount to anything. Changers also push magic into an object, but instead of infusing the object with power they alter it at a molecular level. As you can see...”
Master Thomas picked up a small block of wood from one of the tables and held it in front of Gwen’s face. Before her eyes, the block of wood slowly transformed into a bar of gold. He put it down in front of her and it started to resume its original shape and colour. Gwen was almost disappointed. A Changer could presumably create enough gold to keep himself in luxury for the rest of his life.
“Making it stable takes years of practice,” Master Thomas said. Perhaps he’d had the same thought when he’d been trained himself. “Which is lucky; we have too many problems with forged coins already.”
Doctor Norwell cleared his throat. “Movers, as the name implies, move things,” he said. Master Thomas gestured and the block of wood flew out of Gwen’s hands, circled the room twice and then dropped into the bowl of water with a splash. “A Mover with enough power can literally fly, although only a handful have enough power to do it without losing control and falling to their deaths. Do not try to practice without having someone in place to catch you.”
Gwen had to smile. She’d often dreamed of riding on an airship and staring down at London below, but her father had never permitted her to fly on one of his craft. Now, if she mastered the talent, she could fly on her own. The thought was tantalising. Whatever it took, she vowed silently, she would learn to fly.
“A Talker can send messages from his mind to another person’s mind,” Doctor Norwell continued. If he was aware of her thoughts, he showed no sign of it. “The more powerful ones can actually read thoughts, although they can be delayed by someone with the mental discipline to shield their thoughts. Talker Kendrick was the first proper magician and, as you will have heard, he and his fellow Talkers were the key to the great victory in the Americas. There are now Talkers scattered around the globe, linking the British Empire together.”
As you can hear, Master Thomas said, directly into Gwen’s mind. She jumped as if she had been stuck with a pin. Just for a second, she felt helplessly naked and vulnerable, wondering if he could read her mind. And then she realised that she could form a barrier with her thoughts and keep him out. He tipped his hat to her by way of acknowledgement.
“Charmers can influence other people through their voices,” Doctor Norwell said. “Master Thomas...”
“Gwen,” Master Thomas said, “why don’t you put both hands on your head?”
Gwen’s hands were already in motion before her mind had realised what was going on. She fought to slow her treacherous hands, yet it was impossible. Her hands rested against her head for a long moment and then the effect abruptly vanished. She stared at him, honestly shocked. A man with that kind of power could rule the world.
“Charm has its limits,” Doctor Norwell said, by way of explanation. “You will discover that you can block the Charm, once you develop sufficient mental discipline. The more complex the Charm, the more likely it is that someone will realise that something is wrong and start acting against the Charm. A very powerful and subtle Charmer will be able to alter someone’s mind slowly, over the course of a few months, until their victim has no idea what has happened to him. It may well be the most dangerous of the talents.”
“That’s a manner of opinion,” Master Thomas said. “They can all be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“Seers and Sensors seem to go together, although we don’t fully understand the nature of their powers,” Doctor Norwell admitted. “Seers can see any point on the planet through their mind’s eye, but the talent has limitations we have been unable to understand. Sensors pick up flashes of information from people and objects they touch, sometimes including visions of the future. We do know that such visions are often misleading, with a single exception. It is said that each Sensor sees their own death perfectly – and that there is no way of avoiding the end.”
“That has never been confirmed,” Master Thomas said.
Doctor Norwell nodded. “Weres can change their form from human to a specific animal,” he continued. “A werewolf would move between human and wolf forms, sometimes with perfect control, sometimes with no control at all. They can be incredibly dangerous as they combine wild animal ferocity with human intelligence.”
There was a long pause. “I see,” Gwen said, finally. There was really too much information, but she had been listening raptly. The little demonstrations helped. “And what is the tenth talent?”
Doctor Norwell looked at her, sharply. “Necromancy is the darkest of the talents,” he concluded. “Necromancers have the ability to manipulate the dead. Some can reanimate dead bodies and send them out as revenants, others can summon up ghosts and ask them questions. For once, the Vatican and the Church of England are in full agreement. Necromancers are to be killed on sight. They are simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.”
“Ten talents,” Gwen said, slowly. She’d never thought of her magic as falling into separate talents. And Master Thomas... “What talents do you possess?”
“There are a very few individuals who possess all of the talents,” Master Thomas said. “They’re the ones who can combine the talents into a single whole far more than the sum of their parts. We call those magicians Masters and there have only ever been five of them in existence. Two are dead, one is missing and presumed dead – and the last two are you and I.”
Gwen stared. “I have all the talents?”
Doctor Norwell cleared his throat. “Surely a person as intelligent as yourself would have noted that you were drawing on several different talents,” he said, sardonically. “Your powers are not restricted to a single category.”
Gwen flushed. Hardly anyone had called her intelligent before – or even expected her to be intelligent. A succession of tutors had resented trying to teach a girl, particularly one who was expected to look pretty, attract a good husband and spend the rest of her life raising children. Gwen knew that she was smarter than her brother, but she’d been warned never to make an issue of it. It hardly mattered. The rumours that had swirled around her had ensured that she would never find a husband her mother would consider acceptable.
“Very few people outside the Royal College know about the talents,” Master Thomas reminded him, gently. “Like you said, most of what people know about magic is simply untrue – and Gwen was never even given the overview provided to government ministers without any actual talent themselves.”
He smiled at her. “You and I will be spending many hours developing your talents,” he said. “You will discover that people with a single talent are often better at using it than myself, even though I am a master. When restricted to one talent, I often lose practice duels and tests against my opponent. You will probably also discover that you are better with some talents than others. I myself am capable with Blazing, Moving and Charming, but my talents for Changing and Infusing are far more limited.”
Gwen leaned forward. “And what about Necromancy?”
Master Thomas stopped smiling. “You will not be permitted to practice Necromancy,” he said, flatly. “If you are caught using Necromancy – or even suspected of using Necromancy – you will be hauled in front of a Court and Charmed until you can hide nothing. If the charges are sustained, you will be executed. Necromancy is simply t
oo dangerous to be used.”
Doctor Norwell cleared his throat. “Only two years ago,” he said, “there was a revenant outbreak in Manchester. The military had to be called in and the whole area had to be burned to the ground. We believe the outbreak started by accident; a small child who had lost her grandmother accidentally came into her powers and reanimated the grandmother’s corpse. And everything just spiralled out of control.”
“I understand,” Gwen said. She winced, inwardly. Had she ever come close to practicing Necromancy? She might have stumbled into it through sheer ignorance. “What happened to her?”
“Dead,” Master Thomas said, flatly. “We do not suffer Necromancers to live.”
“But she didn’t mean to raise a zombie horde,” Gwen protested.
“That doesn’t matter,” Doctor Norwell said, sharply. “The use of such powers is forbidden under the Demonic Powers Act. Anyone with proven Necromantic talents is to be executed.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “And she might have vanished into the underground,” Master Thomas added. “They certainly took some interest in the whole affair.”
Gwen looked up. “The underground?”
“Officially, the only magicians permitted to practice are licensed by the Crown, either as part of the Royal Sorcerers Corps or the Royal College,” Master Thomas explained. “Unofficially, there is a small underground of magicians who work for criminal interests or merely struggle to stay alive. They tend to blur into the social liberal underground and its political wings, although so far they have never developed a coherent political philosophy or a strong leader. We scattered the rabble during the Year of Unrest and taught them a sharp lesson in knowing their place – and sticking to it.”
He looked up at her. “One of the prime responsibilities of the Royal Sorcerer is upholding the laws of the land, created by the King and the Houses of Parliament. When the established ordered is threatened, it is my – our – job to defend it. You will find yourself having to make many hard choices in the course of your duty.”
The Royal Sorceress Page 3
