He shook his head. “Dua Kepala is a very dangerous man,” he warned. Emily nodded, shortly. All necromancers were dangerous. “There are even some sorcerers who speculate that he has managed to retain some of his sanity.”
“Ouch,” Emily said. Both Shadye and Mother Holly had shown moments of cunning, but their power — and its demands — had eventually overcome them. Shadye had died, at least in part, because he’d focused on Emily to the exclusion of all else. She pushed the thought aside and met his eyes. “What are the Allied Lands doing about this?”
“An army is being put together to assist Tarsier,” Sergeant Miles said, bluntly. “Assuming everyone keeps their promises, there will be upwards of twenty thousand men and a number of combat sorcerers. Tarsier itself is trying desperately to raise another army of its own. General Pollack, whom you may have heard of—” he winked at her “—is taking command.”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. General Pollack was Caleb’s father, her prospective father-in-law. She honestly wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was a decent person, she thought, but he was too bombastic, too openly masculine, for her to feel completely comfortable in his presence. And she doubted he understood his second son very well.
“That’s good,” she said, trying to ignore her embarrassment. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t have called her into his office for a pleasant chat. “I’m sure he’ll be able to stop the invasion.”
Sergeant Miles looked back at her. “He has requested your presence,” he said, flatly. “I have been asked to invite you to accompany the army.”
Emily blinked in surprise. “Invite me?”
The sergeant’s face darkened, as if he’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “You are the Necromancer’s Bane,” he reminded her. He didn’t sound entirely happy. “Your presence would boost morale. Your magic and ... innovations… would make a useful contribution. I can’t say he’s wrong, either.”
“But you don’t like the idea,” Emily hazarded.
Sergeant Miles nodded. “Being in a military camp, even as a combat sorceress, will be very different from anything else you’ve done,” he pointed out. “You will find it thoroughly unpleasant. And you are not ready to take up a full apprenticeship. As ... innovative ... as you are, I would prefer you finish your education rather than leave the school for several months.”
“I might have to repeat the year,” Emily realized.
“You might,” Sergeant Miles agreed.
He held up a hand before she could say a word. “If you choose to accompany me, you’ll be my apprentice for the duration of the war,” he said. “Not unlike the arrangement you had with Lady Barb, but you’ll be expected to act more like an adult. Unfortunately, there will be very little time for proper training. You may find yourself at a disadvantage compared to the other apprentices.”
And you won’t be able to look after me, Emily filled in, silently. She’d learned enough about apprenticeships to know that the apprentice was expected to learn to stand on her own feet, without a master holding her hand. It could be awkward.
“You have a completely free choice,” Sergeant Miles told her. “I contacted your guardian and he agreed you could go, if you wished. The Grandmaster ... feels that you should make your own choice. There will be no consequences for saying no.”
But that wasn’t entirely true, Emily knew. If General Pollack had asked for her ... he’d certainly take it amiss if she refused to go to the war. And if he’d pulled strings rather than asking her directly ... she ran her hand through her hair, thinking hard. He could have asked her directly, if he’d wished. Or through Caleb, if he was reluctant to contact a prospective daughter-in-law himself. Pulling strings suggested ... what?
There will be consequences, she thought, crossly. She needed to sit down and think about the situation, if she had time. What will Caleb’s father do if I say no?
“I’ll have to consider it,” she said, temporizing. “How long will I be away from the school?”
“Wars have a habit of being unpredictable,” Sergeant Miles pointed out, rather dryly. “I suspect we’ll be away for at least four months. It may be longer. You may well have to repeat the year.”
Emily winced. The prospect of repeating fifth year wasn’t pleasant, even though part of her didn’t want to leave Whitehall. No one would make fun of her for repeating a year — it was fairly common — but still ... it wasn’t something she relished. Sharing classes with younger students would be awkward.
Sergeant Miles leaned back in his chair. “There are some good reasons for you to come,” he said. “Zangaria is sending a company of musketmen — the first company in history — to take part in the war. You may find that interesting. And you may also find a way to rid us of another necromancer.”
Maybe, Emily thought. She had the nuke-spell. Mother Holly hadn’t survived the blast she’d unleashed. But using it near so many other sorcerers would be incredibly risky. Someone might have the presence of mind to figure out what she’d done and duplicate it. And if they do, the entire world will be at risk.
She forced the thought out of her mind. “King Randor is sending troops?”
“Just about every kingdom is sending troops,” Sergeant Miles told her. “Convincing them all to cooperate will not be easy.”
Emily made a face. The troop commanders would be noblemen, of course, and noblemen had a habit of picking fights over status and precedence. Organizing Alassa’s wedding, when the vast majority of the guests knew their place in the pecking order, had been hard enough; organizing an army would be far harder. General Pollack was going to have his work cut out for him. It was all too easy to imagine an aristocratic fop taking his troops and going home because he thought he’d been insulted.
And it won’t be much better amongst the sorcerers, she thought. And as his apprentice, I will be the lowest of the low.
She dismissed the thought with some irritation. Sergeant Miles was a good man. She trusted him. Lady Barb trusted him. They’d been in a relationship for the past two years.
“General Pollack may have an agenda of his own,” Sergeant Miles warned. “You need to watch him.”
“I will,” Emily promised. She cleared her throat. “Will Lady Barb be accompanying us?”
“She may join us in Tarsier,” Sergeant Miles said. His voice was flat, but Emily thought she heard a hint of wry amusement. “She has something else to do at the moment.”
Spying on the necromancers, Emily guessed. Lady Barb had made a career out of spying on the necromancers. She might want to know if other necromancers intend to support the invasion — or take advantage of it.
The sergeant picked up a set of papers and held them out to her. “These are the latest briefs from the field,” he said. “Read them, then make up your mind. I’m due to leave in four days, so ideally I’d like your answer by tomorrow. There’s a lot of work we have to do before we leave.”
“Exercise,” Emily guessed. It had been too long since she’d taken Martial Magic. She might be in better health now than she’d ever been on Earth, but she hadn’t been working out over the past few months. “And refresher courses?”
“And a few spells that are normally only taught to combat sorcerers,” Sergeant Miles said, dryly. “You will have to fight to defend yourself.”
“I know,” Emily said.
She shuddered helplessly as she remembered the army of orcs smashing through Whitehall, forcing its way into the school. Shadye had come far too close to winning outright, taking the nexus point for himself and using it to make himself a god. The prospect of facing another such army was terrifying. And yet ... and yet, she suspected she had no choice. The necromancers had to be stopped before they could pillage the Allied Lands.
“I advise you to review the apprenticeship rules too,” Sergeant Miles added. “You may not be taking on a full apprenticeship, but you will be bound by the rules as long as you remain in my service. There will be very little wiggle room when other sorcerers will be watchi
ng.”
Emily nodded in grim understanding. An apprentice’s behavior reflected on the master. If she acted poorly, Sergeant Miles would be shamed. But then, if she did well ... she wondered, absently, just how that would reflect on the sergeant. It wasn’t as if she’d been his apprentice for the last five years. He didn’t have any claim to her achievements.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself firmly. What I do with him is what counts.
“I will,” she promised.
“Finally, I advise you to discuss it with your boyfriend,” Sergeant Miles suggested. “He may have some insight into his father.”
He smiled. For once, it didn’t look reassuring. “And he may hate being parted from you for so long,” he added. “Now that your relationship has turned physical ...”
Emily flushed, helplessly. Her mind raced frantically. The sergeant knew? Did everyone know? How? Had Caleb told everyone that she’d slept with him? She’d trusted him ... he wouldn’t have betrayed her, would he?
“He didn’t have to say a word,” Sergeant Miles said. He sounded oddly amused. “But he’s been grinning like an alchemist for the past few days.”
It took Emily a moment to realize that he’d answered her unspoken question. “How ...?”
The sergeant laughed. “Honestly,” he said, shaking his head. “You youngsters are always so transparent.”
Emily’s flush deepened. “Does everyone know?”
Sergeant Miles shrugged. “What makes you think that anyone cares?”
“People like to blather,” Emily said, finally. She fought the urge to cringe. The idea of countless strangers keeping track of her love life, such as it was ... it was horrific. She hadn’t realized it was so obvious. “Everyone talks.”
“True enough,” Sergeant Miles said. He met her eyes. “I trust you’ve been taking precautions?”
Emily put her head in her hands, fighting a tidal wave of embarrassment. She didn’t want to talk about it. Lady Barb would have understood, she was sure, but Sergeant Miles was a man. How could she look him in the eye after ... after he knew what she’d been doing? And yet ... cold logic told her it didn’t matter, not really. She was hardly the first student to start a sexual relationship in Whitehall. Imaiqah had had so many boyfriends that Emily had lost count. Hell, some of them had come and gone so quickly that Emily had never learned their names.
“I have,” she whispered. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Potions and ... well, you know.”
“Glad to hear it,” Sergeant Miles said. He sounded amused, rather than embarrassed. Emily wondered, suddenly, just how many lovelorn students he’d seen. “If you became pregnant ... it would be awkward.”
“There are quarters for married students,” Emily pointed out. Melissa used them whenever Markus came to visit. “If we were married ...”
She shook her head. She liked Caleb, but she didn’t want to marry him, not yet. But she might not have a choice if she fell pregnant. She couldn’t abort the child, let alone forbid Caleb his rights. Bastardy carried a very special stigma in the Nameless World. Hell, given her rather ambiguous noble title, who knew what King Randor and his court would make of her bastard child?
“Better to finish your studies,” Sergeant Miles advised.
He cleared his throat, loudly. She looked up at him. “I need an answer within the next day or so,” he reminded her. “If you don’t feel comfortable leaving Whitehall and heading to war, say so. I will not take an unwilling apprentice to the war.”
Emily winced. She had no illusions about what the invading army would do to the local population, to the serfs and peasants who couldn’t leave the land before it was too late. The kingdom would be ransacked, food and drink stolen ... the locals rounded up and either enslaved or drained for power. Even if the invasion was stopped before it reached Tarsier’s capital city — she made a mental note to study the map very carefully — large swathes of the country would be devastated. The survivors might well envy the dead. She might have a choice, but the locals didn’t. They were on the front lines.
Which makes stopping the invasion a priority, she thought. And yet, it won’t be enough.
“I understand,” Emily said.
“Talk it over with your friends,” Sergeant Miles advised. “And then let me know what you decide.”
Emily finished her Kava, feeling torn. She didn’t want to leave Whitehall. Her studies had suffered badly when she’d fallen into the past. Grandmaster Gordian was already talking about extending the school year to allow everyone a chance to catch up. But on the other hand, she could be needed. General Pollack might well be right. If her presence boosted morale, it might swing the war in their favor.
And if we don’t stop the invasion now, she thought, the Allied Lands might be doomed.
“I will,” she said. She paused as something clicked in her mind. “You were testing me, weren’t you?”
Sergeant Miles lifted his eyebrows. “I was?”
“When you ordered me not to use magic,” Emily said. She rubbed her forehead. The last remnants of the confounding spell were gone, as far as she could tell, but she could still feel a headache coming on. “You wanted to know if I would obey orders, even when death seemed certain. Frieda wasn’t the only person being tested.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Sergeant Miles agreed. “And you both passed with flying colors.”
He met her eyes. “There will be times, if you serve in the military, when you will be ordered to do things against your better judgement,” he warned. “And some of those times, your orders will seem suicidal. You’ll wonder if you’re being sacrificed because your superior doesn’t give a damn about you — or if your death will save countless lives. Learning to exercise proper judgement is vitally important.”
Emily wasn’t sure she agreed. On Earth, claiming that one was only obeying orders wasn’t accepted as an excuse for countless atrocities. But on the Nameless World, it was. A lord could issue orders to his men and they would be considered personally blameless, no matter what they did. His men were his tools, not individuals with minds of their own. But she thought she understood what he meant.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said, finally. She glanced at her watch. If she was lucky, she should make it to the library in time to help with the clear-up. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“Good,” Sergeant Miles said. He smiled, rather tiredly. “And if you see Jove, ask him to pop into my office.”
Emily nodded, then rose and took her leave.
Chapter Three
I THINK YOU SHOULD GO, Alassa wrote. Father is most concerned about the invasion.
Emily nodded as she sat at her desk, using the chat parchment to talk to her friend. It wasn’t easy to have a real-time conversation — Alassa was in a different time zone, insofar as the Nameless World had time zones — but she’d gotten lucky. Married or not, Alassa was still the Crown Princess of Zangaria. She would know more about the political undercurrents than Sergeant Miles.
I understand he’s sending musketeers, she wrote. Is that true?
They’re already on their way, Alassa wrote back. Sir Roger of the Greenwood is in command. Did you meet him?
I may have, Emily wrote. But I don’t remember him.
Young, brave and very loyal to my father, Alassa noted. I’ll send you a copy of his file.
Emily smiled, wryly. She’d met so many knights and noblemen in Zangaria that she didn’t have a hope of remembering them all. There were simply too many noblemen in King Randor’s court. Sir Roger of the Greenwood hadn’t made enough of an impression for her to remember him ... she hoped, absently, that he wouldn’t find that insulting. But he would be loyal to Randor, she was sure. Command of a company of musketeers wouldn’t be given to just anyone. Randor had to be sure of him.
Her face darkened. Alassa’s father was one of the most ruthless men she’d met. He could be pleasant, even affable ... and then swing to threatening the moment he felt the situation called for
it. Sir Roger of the Greenwood might have a wife and family who were being held hostage for his good behavior, just to make sure he didn’t come up with ideas of his own or side with the other noblemen. Randor had always been careful, according to Alassa, but a near-successful coup and assassination attempt had tipped him into outright paranoia. And yet, he had a point. His daughter had almost been killed a scant few months ago.
Thank you, she wrote. Is there anything I ought to know about Sir Roger?
Nothing too important, Alassa wrote back. But you really ought to watch some of the other noblemen. They may have been sent to the war just to get them out of their kingdoms.
The penmanship changed. The Mediators will keep infighting to a dull roar, Jade wrote. His hand was rougher than Alassa’s. He hadn’t mastered English letters until after he’d left Whitehall. Trust them to handle such matters.
Emily felt herself blush. She hadn’t realized that Jade was in Alassa’s room. But then, he was her husband. She wondered, suddenly, just what they’d been doing when she’d interrupted them. Surely, Alassa wouldn’t have bothered to reply if they’d been busy.
Keep an eye on the other apprentices, Jade added. They’ll be trying to establish a pecking order.
Sergeant Miles will keep that under control, Alassa wrote. Concentrate on your duty instead.
Emily sighed. Alassa was right, she suspected. She might not have sworn any oaths to the Allied Lands, but she did have a duty to them. If there was a chance, even a remote chance, that she could end the invasion, she had to try. She did have an ace in the hole, if necessary. It wouldn’t be hard to set up the nuke-spell and then teleport out, leaving the necromancer to die in the blast. She’d just have to make sure the spell was triggered well away from everyone else.
There was a knock on the door. I have to go, she wrote. I’ll send you both postcards.
She closed the parchment, then rose and opened the door. Caleb stood there, looking tired. She stepped back, beckoning him into the room, then gave him a tight hug as soon as the door was safely closed. Her roommate — Cabiria — had practically moved into her boyfriend’s room, leaving Emily alone. Emily rather suspected the housemother would tell Cabiria to get back in her original room, eventually, but for the moment Emily would take advantage of the privacy.
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 3
