But demons also lie, she reminded herself.
“You and he are very much alike,” the demon said. Somehow, she doubted it meant Aurelius, who was watching from his circle. “Why do you think I chose this form?”
“To unnerve me,” Emily said. She wondered if she should ask the question she wanted to ask, but she decided there was no point in trying to ask any further questions. It was quite possible that the demon would share anything it had seen in her mind with its true master, no matter what she’d been told. “I thank you...”
“You will fit in well here,” the demon interrupted. It cackled, unpleasantly. “Why, you’re almost one of us already.”
It paused. “Tell me something,” it added. “How do you know this is real?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in a fantasy world, going to a boarding school to learn magic,” the demon said. “How do you know this isn’t a dream? That you didn’t hit your head and you’re currently in a coma in a hospital bed?”
Emily swallowed bile. She had wondered, in the first few days after her arrival at Whitehall, if she was in a dream, but she had never woken up. Besides, she wanted it to be real.
“I could prove otherwise,” the demon said. “Just break the circle.”
The demon’s taunting voice snapped Emily out of her shock. “No,” she said. “I think this is real. And even if it isn’t, I want it to be real.”
The demon laughed and darted forward, so quickly that Emily stumbled backwards, almost breaking the circle. It looked, for a moment, disappointed, like a dog that had been denied a bone. And then it smiled sweetly. Red liquid dripped from its misshaped teeth and vanished into nothingness before it hit the floor.
“My Ladyship,” it said, in a tone no one could mistake for fawning. “Have you not forgotten something?”
Emily frowned, then lifted the vial and threw it out of the circle. The demon caught it in its mouth and swallowed, then suddenly seemed to grow larger and larger until the mere force of its presence threatened to push Emily out of the circle. Hastily, she knelt down and muttered the words of banishment again and again until the demon vanished in a flash of light. As the book had warned, she kept reciting the words for several moments afterwards, just in case it was trying to be clever. A single mistake could give it a chance to take her for itself.
Everything blurred for a long moment. When her vision steadied, she discovered Aurelius kneeling beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder. Emily had never hugged an older man before, but now she found herself burrowing into his robes and holding him tightly. Aurelius held her, gently, before releasing her. Emily hesitated, then stumbled to her feet, embarrassed at her own weakness. Her entire body felt tired and drained.
“I couldn’t hear what you said to it,” Aurelius said. “What did you say?”
Emily frowned, unsure of what she wanted to say. “You couldn’t hear a word?”
“The demon can only be heard by the one who calls it, unless permitted to speak to others,” Aurelius reminded her. “I heard nothing.”
“It told me that I would change everything,” Emily hedged. At least Aurelius wouldn’t recognize the significance of the demon’s chosen form. No one in the Nameless World had any exposure to Earth’s popular culture, apart from Emily herself. “And that I would cause much death.”
“You already have,” Aurelius told her, bluntly. “Would Shadye have attacked Whitehall if you hadn’t been there?”
“I... I don’t know,” Emily said.
Aurelius smiled at her, carefully erased the glyph from the floor, and helped her stumble out of the circle and back up the stairs. A large pot of soup awaited them in his office, resting on the table. Emily took the bowl he offered her and tested it, using the remainder of her magic, then sipped it gratefully, tasting chicken and vegetables and something very different. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“When you are older,” Aurelius added, “you could bind a number of demons to yourself. It will not be safe, but they will come in handy in tight spots.”
Emily shuddered. The demon might be gone, but the horror of its appearance lingered on in her mind. It would have killed her, if it could, or ripped her life apart for the hell of it. The last thing she wanted to do was meet another demon. Maybe there were magicians who could handle them, maybe there were magicians who thought they could deal with devils and walk away unscathed, but she knew she wasn’t one of them. It would be far better to leave demons thoroughly alone.
“Go back to Raven Hall and have a good night’s sleep,” Aurelius ordered, as she finished her soup. “And we will discuss something else next week.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She hesitated. “But no more demons?”
“No more demons,” Aurelius agreed.
Chapter Fifteen
EMILY HAD SPENT UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHTS BEFORE, but this was worse than any she’d endured at Whitehall. It seemed impossible to tell the difference between a nightmare and a waking world, to the point where she honestly wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep. The only constant was the demon’s laughter and its mocking final words to her. She wasn’t like it, she told herself, but part of her mind held a quiet nagging doubt.
She snapped awake, one hand coming up to cast a spell, as someone landed on her bed and grinned at her. Emily’s vision swam–her throat was so dry, she probably was dehydrated–and then she realized that Claudia was smiling, her face alight with mischievous delight. Behind her, Frieda was looking nervous, twisting her hands together in her lap. She had to have been browbeaten into allowing Claudia to pass through the wards.
“You’ll be coming today, won’t you?” Claudia said. “It’s going to be a special meeting.”
It took Emily several moments to remember the quarrel. Claudia had asked her last week, after all, although she’d forgotten in the press of events. She gritted her teeth, forced herself to sit upright and reached desperately for the bottle of water she kept by her bed. One or two swigs of water left her feeling surprisingly human again. Claudia hopped backwards, but never took her eyes off Emily, leaving Emily feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t like being watched while she climbed out of bed.
“I’ll get a shower,” she said, finally. It seemed easier than arguing. She swung her legs out from under the covers–she hadn’t even bothered to undress when she returned to her bed, thankfully–and reached for her towel. “Where do we meet?”
“Somewhere secret,” Claudia said. “I’ll wait for you here and take you there myself.”
Emily’s stomach growled. “Maybe after breakfast,” Claudia added. “But you’ll have to beg the cooks for food.”
“Oh,” Emily said, embarrassed. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly twelve bells–noon, the part of her mind that recalled Earth insisted. She’d overslept quite badly. “Why did she”–she nodded towards Nanette’s bed–“let me sleep?”
“It’s the weekend,” Claudia reminded her, dryly. “She would have kicked you out of bed earlier if you’d had classes.”
Emily sighed, then walked into the washroom and took a hasty shower. The water helped wake her up properly, but she still felt rotten as she stumbled out and headed back to her bed. She wasn’t best pleased to have either Claudia or Frieda there as she dressed, yet there didn’t seem to be any polite way to tell them to get lost. As soon as she was dressed, Claudia took her arm and led her towards the kitchens, knocking loudly on the door. It was several minutes before anyone bothered to respond.
“No food outside eating hours,” the cook said, as he opened the door. He was a middle-aged man with a bad-tempered face, wearing a long white uniform that hung down to his ankles. “Go away, unless you have been sent to work.”
“My friend had permission to sleep in,” Claudia said, bluntly. “She needs something to eat now, or I will be forced to discuss the matter with the Administrator.”
There was a long pause while the cook eyed her suspiciously, then he stepped aside an
d allowed them into the kitchen. Emily couldn’t help being reminded of the great kitchens she’d seen in Zangaria, although there was more magic involved in cooking in Mountaintop, she suspected. Large bowls of soup bubbled over fires, entire animals were roasted over spits... it smelled heavenly, at least to her hungry stomach. The cook produced a roast beef sandwich and a glass of milk from somewhere, then pointed to a table at the edge of the giant room. Emily took the plate and sat down gratefully. Claudia sat down facing her and chatted happily about nothing until Emily had finished, whereupon she took Emily’s arm and practically dragged her out of the room.
“This is the outer edge of the school,” she explained, after a long walk through increasingly empty corridors. “Beyond here, there lies nothing but the old caves. We have our lair here and...”
She paused, significantly. “You cannot talk about where we’re based to anyone, understand?”
“I understand,” Emily said. There were secret clubhouses in Whitehall, after all, although she suspected that most of them were well-known to the Grandmaster and his staff. Whitehall was thoroughly pervaded with magic, after all. “I won’t say a word.”
Claudia grinned at Emily, then pulled her into a stone wall. Emily had no time to object before she was dragged through the stone wall–an illusion, she realized with some annoyance–and into a large, but surprisingly warm chamber. There was a table at the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable chairs, while dozens of other armchairs were scattered around the chamber. A large fire blazed merrily in the fireplace, heating a cauldron someone had placed over the flames. As clubhouses went, Emily had to admit, it was quite spectacular.
“Welcome to the quarrel,” Claudia said. Her grin grew brighter. “Your best friends for the rest of your life.”
Emily would have preferred to sit at the back of the room and watch, rather than participate, but Claudia had other ideas. She moved Emily from person to person, introducing her to older students who seemed to have mixed feelings about Emily and younger students who eyed her with an alarming amount of hero-worship. A cacophony of names ran past her, all unfamiliar, all linked to various magical houses. Emily recognized a couple of the family names, but others were new to her. She was, she slowly realized, the only person in the chamber who didn’t have a proper family name. Even the Shadows who seemed to be in charge of making the Kava and hot buttered toast were from magical families.
“This is Steven of Lansdale,” Claudia said, introducing her to an older boy who eyed Emily with a calculating gaze. “He’s the current master of the quarrel within Mountaintop, appointed by the masters outside the school. Do as he tells you while you’re in this room.”
Emily lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“You will be held to your word, if you stay with us,” Steven said. He wasn’t unattractive, Emily conceded, but there was something about him that reminded her of Travis, who had never liked her before his death. She hoped it wasn’t a hint that the real Steven had also been replaced by a Mimic. “You may not talk to anyone about our affairs outside this room, Lady Emily. You will also be expected to assist your brothers and sisters in the quarrel to the best of your ability.”
Emily forced herself to meet his gaze. “And if I don’t?”
“You will be expelled,” Steven said, bluntly. “And if you misbehave within this chamber, you will be placed on probation. Repeated misbehavior will be counted against you; you may be unable to take up a place within the quarrel once you graduate.”
He followed up with a dizzying series of rules and regulations that made Kingmaker or Ken sound simple and easy to understand. She was expected to show deference to senior members, but also call on their assistance if necessary. There were rules for raising matters at the table, rules for settling disputes among members and weighted voting systems that gave proportionally greater representation to the older members of the quarrel. Emily had a private suspicion that if the older members agreed, they could pool their votes and maintain command of the quarrel, even if the majority disagreed with them. But she didn’t have time to do the math and work it out for certain.
Claudia dragged her over to the table as soon as Steven had finished, pointing out the seats that were reserved for the senior members and the seats that were left open for whoever got to them first. Despite that, Emily couldn’t help noticing some jostling as older members uprooted some of the younger members to claim seats closer to the head of the table, where Steven was sitting. Finally, as Steven banged a piece of wood against the table, the Shadows started handing out mugs of Kava.
“Our first order of business is a new prospective member,” Steven said. He indicated Emily with one hand, who suddenly found herself the center of attention. “I believe you will all know her, by now.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. Fame was not a good thing if someone wanted to remain unnoticed.
“Please welcome her,” Steven continued. He sounded surprisingly respectful, even though he was a senior student. “We also welcome two newcomers from the old families, who are here to learn as well as serve us.”
Emily followed his pointing finger and looked at the two Shadows. They were both young, but they looked their ages, unlike Frieda. It took her a moment to realize that they’d both had proper food and medical care from birth, something that wouldn’t have happened for a girl growing up in a poor household. Emily herself was something of a special case, but Alassa had definitely developed magic long before Imaiqah. Hell, she would probably have gone to Whitehall a year earlier if her father hadn’t been so determined to try to have a male child instead.
The next few pieces of business were largely mind-numbingly boring. There was a brief overview of the World Games at the White City, given by a Fifth Year student who clearly fancied himself a devotee, followed by a report from the games subcommittee. Emily honestly wasn’t sure, as the discussion ranged from topic to topic, if she was being offered a chance to join an absurdly powerful student council or merely a group of people who took themselves too seriously. But if they had ties to former members outside the school, she had a feeling it might be the former.
“One issue that has come to our attention is the reluctance of the Administrator to introduce classes covering the New Learning,” Steven said. “Does anyone wish to argue the point?”
There was a long pause. “I believe the old ways are still the best,” a girl–young woman–said, rising to her feet. She wore a dress that was so low-cut Emily was embarrassed to even look at her, although she understood the meaning behind it. This was not someone who considered herself vulnerable. “We would risk losing some of our customs and traditions if we embraced the new ways.”
Emily frowned as several other students echoed her words. She knew what they were talking about–and, from the glances they cast at her, they knew she was to blame for the whole debate. The New Learning–English letters, Arabic numbers and much else besides–had started turning the Allied Lands upside down. Who knew what else would change as the craftsmen of Zangaria and the remaining Kingdoms started developing their own version of the scientific method?
“Emily,” Steven said. His voice was mild, but she could hear an undercurrent of something else, something darker. “Perhaps you would care to comment on the matter?”
Emily took a breath as everyone looked at her. Some were interested, some were clearly dismissive... and some, the older ones, were openly angry. Emily didn’t really blame them, not really. They’d spent years learning how to do everything from reading and writing to producing their own spells and now she’d undercut them, more or less by accident. But it was far from a complete disaster.
“The New Learning will spread, no matter what you do,” she said. It would be years before there was any unified consensus on spelling, let alone grammar, but the basics were already well-established throughout the Allied Lands. “You would be well-advised to learn how to read and write in the new manner before too long, certainly if only to avoid having to keep tra
nslation spells permanently in place.”
She took another breath and tried to gauge their reactions, but they were all skilled at hiding their feelings. Shaking her head, mentally, she went on.
“However, what you have learned already will not be wasted,” she added. “The older books will still be written in the old style. You will have to be able to read them–and so will newer students.”
“Well put,” Steven said. “And do you feel Mountaintop should offer classes in the New Learning?”
“Yes,” Emily said. The literacy level in Zangaria was staggeringly poor; even in the city-states, where there was a better educational system, it wasn’t much better. “It will be a long time before everyone outside the wards knows how to read and write.”
Steven smiled, then turned back to address the table. “Is there any other business?”
“It has been noted that Professor Zed has been unfairly unpleasant to one of his students,” Claudia said. She carefully did not look at Emily as she spoke. “Something ought to be done about it.”
Emily swallowed. Just how powerful were the quarrels?
“Unfairly unpleasant,” Steven echoed. “That has to be pretty bad.”
He was right, Emily knew. On Earth, Whitehall and Mountaintop would be shut down at once and half the staff probably thrown in jail for various forms of child abuse. In the small amount of time she’d been at Mountaintop, she’d seen students caned, paddled, turned into small hopping things and forced to do unpleasant chores as a form of detention. And Whitehall really wasn’t much better.
But then, no school on Earth is so dangerous, she reminded herself. A single mistake with magic could be disastrous–or lethal.
Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks Page 15
