Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Emily,” he said. “I understand that you have made progress with the teleportation spell?”

  “Only a little,” Emily said. She would have given her left arm for a spell-simulator, some way to practice casting a spell without actually casting it. A wand couldn’t hold a spell as complex as teleportation. “But I have a long way to go.”

  “Knowing the basics will make it easier,” Aurelius assured her. He smiled, then met her eyes. “I want to try something a little different today.”

  He paused. “Did your father ever tell you anything about foreseeing the future?”

  “I was told it was impossible,” Emily said. She had to smile. “Or at least it was impossible to do it successfully.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Aurelius said. He smiled back, inviting her to share a very weak joke. “I could predict that Founder’s Day holds an excellent roast beef dinner to mark the birthday of our esteemed founder. And it does. I saw the cooks bringing in the beef myself after I approved the menu.”

  His smile grew wider. “But you’re right. Humans cannot foretell the future with any accuracy. There is no way to get a definite picture of what will happen tomorrow, or even a few years in the future. Can you guess why?”

  Emily had seen the dilemma before, in countless fantasy novels. “Because the existence of the prophecy itself changes the future,” she said. “The prophecy would either have to be so vague as to be absolutely useless or it would simply never be allowed to come to pass.”

  She took a breath. “If a soothsayer predicted a lost war,” she continued, “the government... ah, the kingdom would try to avoid the war, rather than fight it. They might make concessions instead of risking war. Or they might seek allies instead of fighting alone.”

  “That does assume,” Aurelius pointed out, “that the future is not set in stone. That the war can be avoided. That there is something they can do to alter the future.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said, reluctantly.

  She didn’t want to consider the possibility. The idea that, no matter what she did, her future was predetermined was horrific. Where was free will if even the outcome of her free choices was predictable and predicted? And she, of all people, had evidence that the many-worlds theory was correct. There was a different universe for every choice she made. Presumably, the same was true of everyone who could make a free choice. There would be trillions upon trillions of universes, some so nearly identical that they might merge back together, others so different that all hopes of rejoining their parent universe were gone.

  But it would also make a joke of the thought of foretelling the future. The prophet might be right to say it would rain tomorrow, but in which universe?

  “The only way to foretell the future is to use demons,” Aurelius said. “They can give glimpses of a future, if you ask and pay the price. But their visions are often taken out of context, if your request is not precise enough or easily open to misinterpretation. As always, the golden rule of demons is...?”

  He paused, clearly expecting an answer.

  “That you never trust them completely,” Emily said. The books had made that very clear, time and time again. “Whatever they say - whatever they do - can never be taken for granted.”

  “Correct,” Aurelius said. “The only thing you can rely on, when demons are concerned, is that they will do their best to spite you. If you give them a tiny loophole, they will widen it to the point they can stick a knife in you. They may give you what you say you want, but they will do their level best to make sure you regret it.”

  Emily considered it. “So they will lie?”

  “No,” Aurelius said. “But they will tell the truth in a manner specifically designed to mislead. You have to think and rethink everything they tell you, and check everything carefully before you rely on it. At best, you will get a series of impressions of what could happen. There would be no guarantee that it actually would happen.”

  “I see, I think,” Emily said. “Why do you want me to try to see the future?”

  “You are a Child of Destiny,” Aurelius said. “I think it would be time to see what your destiny actually is.”

  Emily hesitated. She knew she wasn’t a Child of Destiny, not in the sense Aurelius meant, and the books had made her cautious where demons were concerned. But, at the same time, she was curious. Aurelius had shown her several levels of magic she hadn’t even known existed, as well as having her taught spells years in advance of her powers. Why not take this final step? She thought, wrestling with her conscience, then surrendered to curiosity.

  “Why not?” she asked. “How do we begin?”

  Aurelius smiled, then led her back down into the summoning chamber. “You will use my blood again,” he explained as he passed her a vial. “This time, though, the ritual is different and quite dangerous.”

  Emily listened without comment as he talked her through the second ritual. There would be no demon–no visible demon, at least. Instead, she would be appealing for insight into the future from one of the demons Aurelius had bound to him. Emily checked the books to make sure that the standard rule about not sharing anything it saw in her mind without specific permission was still in effect, then echoed everything back to him to make sure she had it straight. Here, at least, a mistake wouldn’t prove fatal. She would merely have to start again.

  “Sir,” she said, “do people sell their souls to demons?”

  “Yes,” Aurelius said, bluntly. His tone discouraged further questions. “It never ends well.”

  He cleared his throat. “Sit there, and then begin.”

  Emily took a breath, then began the ritual. It was easy to see, now she was trying to use a spell that involved ritualistic chanting, why Mountaintop insisted on all students being taught to chant. She’d never sung, either on Earth or Whitehall, and her throat started to hurt within five minutes of starting. But she kept chanting until the magic thickened into a soupy haze that surrounded her. It was surprisingly unpleasant for a spell that wasn’t actually aimed at hurting or transforming her... but then, if a demon were involved, it wouldn’t be even remotely pleasant. She felt her vision start to fade moments later.

  A demon is disconnected from time as humans see it, she thought, trying to hold back panic. They may not see the specific future for me, but they will be able to garner an idea of what is important.

  “Show me my future,” she ordered, as soon as she could no longer see. “I bring you blood, willingly donated from a man who is strong.”

  She broke the vial, allowing blood to dribble over her hands. Seconds later, she shuddered as she felt a leathery tongue licking her hands until they were completely clean. It was like having a dog licking her, only worse. Deep breathing, so deep she knew the entity in front of her was very far from human, echoed in her ears. If she hadn’t been kneeling, she suspected she would have scrambled backwards, breaking the circle. And that would have ruined the ritual.

  “Show me my future,” she repeated. “I have brought you blood, willingly donated from a man who is strong...”

  The world twisted around her... and she saw things. Some were visions, glimpses of potential futures, others were pieces of knowledge rather than images. They all seemed to blur together, as if she knew aspects of their context, but not everything. But then, the demon wouldn’t want her to know all she was seeing, just enough to meet her demands. And it might well be misleading.

  ...Emily stands in the Great Hall of Whitehall, staring around in horror. Dead bodies lie everywhere, students and staff torn apart by monsters...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...It is Alassa’s wedding day. Blood stains the altar, her white dress is ripped and torn; in one hand, she holds a wand, in the other a staff. And she stares at Emily with accusation in her eyes...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...A Necromancer stands in front of her, bright red eyes fearful. Emily faces him, lift
ing a hand, and then she dissolves into eerie, multicolored light. The Mimic drifts forward, ready to claim its prey...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...Emily is kneeling on a stone floor, her hands and feet chained with cold iron. The spectators are booing loudly as her judges close in, joining hands in a fearsome ritual that will destroy her magic...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...The grinning demon looms over her, strings dangling down from his fingertips and reaching past her to the world below. Emily wants to speak, but the words refuse to come from her lips. Instead, all she can do is wait...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...She holds Imaiqah’s dead body in her hands, feeling tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. And then she looks up and sees Melissa. She’s crying, too...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...Flames rush from house to house. The population flees...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...A young man kisses her, nervously. Emily giggles; he looks offended, then disbelieving as she kisses him again. And then someone starts shouting at him...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...The Gorgon stands, her back to a stone wall, her snakes poised and ready to petrify. But the hunters close in with mirrors and she falls below their swords...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  Emily snapped back as the visions came to an end. The final one haunted her. She knew what was at the heart of Whitehall, the nexus point. What if it was somehow snuffed out? Shadye might well have turned it into his own private source of power, given half a chance. She knew that was what he had in mind. Or did it mean something else?

  ...There is a gaping emptiness at the heart of Whitehall...

  She opened her eyes. Her body felt too tired to move. Even breathing was a struggle. Aurelius knelt in front of her, holding out a hand, but Emily’s vision blurred and she fell into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “I THINK,” A FEMALE VOICE SAID tartly, “that you have pushed this poor girl quite far enough.”

  Emily heard the voice and, somehow, managed to force her eyes open. She felt tired and drained, yet awake and aware. Above her, a dark skinned woman waved a wand over her body with one hand and held a large gourd of potion with the other. As soon as she saw Emily was awake, she pressed the gourd against Emily’s lips and motioned for her to suck. The potion, as always, tasted utterly foul. But it did help Emily to sit up.

  She glanced around, curious. Aurelius was sitting next to her bed, looking downcast, although his eyes sparkled with a mischievous amusement. The woman–a Healer, she guessed–glared daggers at him as she stepped back, then marched towards a large table covered with potion bottles. Emily watched in some alarm as she poured several potions into a glass, mixed them together with a spell and then turned to give Emily the glass. It smelled worse than she’d feared and the taste was appalling. She glowered at the woman, trying not to retch. No matter how bad potions tasted going down, they always tasted worse coming back up.

  “You are suffering from excessive magical drain,” the Healer snapped crossly. “You slept for seven hours.”

  Emily looked for her watch. It was missing, along with her dress. Someone had taken her clothes and replaced them with a hospital gown. The only thing she’d been allowed to keep was the snake-bracelet.

  The Healer dropped a small bundle of clothing on the bed. “I would suggest you stay in bed over the next few days, but this... person”–she indicated Aurelius–“insists on walking you back to his office. Try not to cast any powerful spells over the next two weeks and, if anyone objects, refer them to me.”

  Emily sighed, inwardly, as the potions took effect. The jolt was rather like Kava, but there was a rough edge to it that promised pain when the effects finally wore off. It reminded her of some of the potions she’d used in Martial Magic, all of which left the user flat on their back afterwards. Probably the same brew, she decided, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her legs felt a little wobbly, but she could walk.

  “I think we have a great deal to discuss,” Aurelius said, as he held out a hand. Normally, Emily would have preferred to stand on her own, but right now she needed someone holding her arm. “And I have to make a proposal to you.”

  “A proposal?” Emily repeated. Her dulled mind honestly thought, for a handful of seconds, that he meant a real-life marriage proposal. Aurelius was old enough to be her grandfather; she knew that large age gaps between husband and wife were far from uncommon, but she had no intention of marrying someone more than a few years older - or younger. And then she realized he had something more professional in mind.

  “Yes,” Aurelius said. “I believe it will be to your advantage as much as to mine.”

  He turned his back long enough for her to swap her gown for a set of basic robes and strap her watch back over her wrist, then took her arm again. Emily wasn’t sure she liked his touch–there was something unpleasantly possessive about it–but she couldn’t say a word. He held her arm gently as they walked out the door and through a twisting maze of corridors, back to his office. Emily wasn’t entirely surprised when he led her into yet another room, this one more of a comfortable sitting room than a library or administrative office. A small kettle hummed happily on a side table, the sound so electronic that she wondered if he’d managed to import something from Earth. But she knew that was unlikely, to say the least. He might have deduced Emily’s true origins if he had any understanding of the basis of alternate worlds.

  She wondered, as she sat down and fought the urge to close her eyes, if he did understand how demonic powers worked. It was quite logical; the demons might not be able to see precisely what would happen in any given timeline, but they would be able to see who might be important and what they might do. The whole Child of Destiny concept might have come from the demons and DemonMasters in the first place, a reflection of their unique ability to identify someone important and cut him loose from the herd. Emily had assumed that Shadye’s plan was completely insane and that it would get him nowhere, apart from being devoured when the Harrowing discovered that its intended snack wasn’t what she seemed. But the plan might have been workable after all.

  Aurelius poured her a mug of Kava, which he passed to her without comment. Emily was somehow unsurprised to discover that there were two spoonfuls of sugar in it, just the way she liked her Kava in the morning. Aurelius had probably either kept an eye on her personally, or asked Nanette to make note of Emily’s preferences. It was hard to tell, Lady Barb had told her more than once, which piece of information would be useful until it was found and slotted into place.

  But I can’t imagine a scenario where knowing what Kava I drink helps him win, she thought, as she took the mug gratefully and sipped. Her head still felt musty, but the potions and the Kava were driving her into an enhanced state of awareness. She would need to be somewhere near a bed when they finally worked their way out of her system. Unless he’s trying to manipulate me?

  Aurelius sat down facing her, his dark eyes suddenly very serious. “I do not know what you saw when the demon shared its insights with you,” he said. “But it was clearly quite traumatic for you. Would you care to share them with me?”

  “No, thank you,” Emily said. She wanted to sit down and meditate, perhaps use a memory spell to go over the visions time and time again until she was absolutely sure what she’d been shown. But, taken out of context, just how useful could the visions be? “I’d prefer to consider them myself, first.”

  “As you wish,” Aurelius said. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “It is m
y duty to tell you, however, that while the DemonMasters may be gone, there are... experts who will be happy to help you try to interpret the visions. You would be well advised to seek their counsel.”

  And have them tell everyone what I saw, Emily thought. Or would they have taken oaths of secrecy?

  She tried to think of a polite way to ask, but couldn’t think of one that wouldn’t reveal that she didn’t trust him or his experts. Aurelius would be a fool if he thought anything else, she was sure, yet he might well think she was warming up to him. She didn’t really want him to think any differently; he’d shown her knowledge and spells she hadn’t known existed, but she was sure there was a hidden price tag. The bill might be about to come due.

  Aurelius sipped his drink thoughtfully before speaking.

  “There are some matters I must discuss with you, Lady Emily,” he said, finally. “However, I must ask for your word that you will not discuss these matters with anyone else, at least until the day I die. They are quite sensitive.”

  Emily thought as fast as she could with a musty head. Giving her word wasn’t exactly the same thing as giving a sworn oath, but being caught breaking her word could be disastrous, at least for her reputation. And that could come back to haunt her in later life. Aurelius would certainly make sure everyone knew his side of the story if she broke her word. Somehow, she doubted the magical community would listen to hers.

  “I will not discuss them with anyone else, without your permission, unless lives are at stake,” Emily said. She allowed her voice to sharpen. “I trust that will prove acceptable?”

  Aurelius met her eyes, levelly. “It is not your right to determine if lives are at stake,” he said, softly. “You should know better by now.”

  “I won’t be in a position of having to choose between breaking my word and watching people die,” Emily said, equally softly. “And I will be very careful how I make my decision.”