Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10)

by Christopher Nuttall

  But Whitehall is right, Emily thought, as she followed him. That spell might actually be dangerous. And Robin doesn’t even know it!

  Robin was showing off, she realized, as she caught up with the two boys. He was creating a whole string of light globes, one after the other, directing them to hover in the corridors or float into unoccupied rooms. Emily had to resist the temptation to cast her own light globes—better than any Robin could have managed—as she walked into one of the rooms, following the light globes. It was a bare room, like every other chamber in the castle; grimly, she took advantage of being alone to examine the light globe.

  Sloppy, she thought, as the spellwork unfolded in front of her. The light globe looked to have been patched together from two different spells, the sort of hodgepodge that would have had Professor Lombardi exploding with rage and demanding expulsions. She doubted that any student at Whitehall would have dared present him with such a poor piece of work. Sloppy ... and dangerous.

  She scowled as she realized just how dangerous it actually was. The spellwork wasn’t remotely focused; it worked, she noted, but it was so inefficient that raw magic was spilling in all directions instead of being concentrated on the spell. Robin was wasting his strength and he didn’t even know it! She dreaded to imagine what it would do to his mind if he kept pumping out so much uncontrolled magic. Void had admitted, to her face, that he’d been ready to kill her if her boosted magic had driven her insane. Robin ...

  He’ll become unstable, she thought, angrily. The demon hadn’t been particularly subtle, but it hadn’t had to be subtle. Robin would use the spell gleefully and teach it to others, unaware of the damage it would be doing. And he’ll drive hundreds of others insane.

  “Emily,” Bernard called. He sounded ... odd. “Can you come out here?”

  Emily tensed, hastily cancelling her analysis spell. Bernard definitely sounded odd. Had something gone wrong already? She readied a couple of defensive spells, then strode through the door, leaving the light globe behind. The spellwork was so mangled that it was impossible to say just how long it would last. Bernard stood outside, looking down the corridor. Julianne Whitehall waited for them at the top of the stairs, looking tired and worn. And yet, the long dress she wore made her look attractive. Emily couldn’t help a flicker of envy.

  Robin nudged her as Bernard hurried down the corridor. “He needs a chaperone,” he said, mischievously. “He can’t talk to Julianne alone.”

  “Oh,” Emily said.

  “And now you know why he likes you,” Robin added. His smile grew wider. “You can watch his master’s daughter for him.”

  Chapter Nine

  EMILY FOUND IT HARD TO CONCEAL her amusement as she and Robin followed Bernard down the corridor. She doubted that Bernard would try to do anything stupid with Julianne—she was the daughter of one of the most powerful magicians in the world—but she knew just how much could happen by accident. Whitehall had been a young man himself, once upon a time; he wouldn’t be too happy at the thought of his apprentice courting his daughter. But what did Julianne herself think about it?

  “Julianne,” Bernard said. He suddenly sounded very shy. “You’re looking good.”

  Julianne smiled back at him, her eyes flickering from Emily to Robin and back again. Emily knew she wasn’t the most observant of people—she’d been the last person to realize that Jade and Alassa had fallen in love—but she thought that Julianne had feelings for Bernard too. It made her wonder just what Bernard thought of Julianne asking her father—begging her father—to be taught magic. Would he approve, if they became husband and wife, or would he refuse to teach his wife himself? He’d want children, wouldn’t he?

  “We’ll just be down the corridor,” Emily said. “You can talk in private.”

  Julianne gave her a look. “You can stay, if you like,” she said. “Father ...”

  Emily nodded, torn between envy and sympathy. To have a father who cared ... she’d have given a great deal to have a father who actually cared. But there was a fine line between being caring and being overbearing and most fathers on the Nameless World definitely were overbearing. King Randor was a better father to Alassa than Emily’s father or stepfather had ever been to her, yet he’d planned to marry his daughter to someone who suited his long-term plans for the kingdom, not someone who suited her.

  “Marry me,” Bernard said, suddenly. “Julianne ...”

  A dozen emotions flashed across Julianne’s face. Emily found it hard to follow them; Julianne seemed to move from relief to fear, pride to concern. She thought—she still thought—that Julianne had feelings for Bernard, but were they really romantic? Or had she placed him firmly in the friend-zone? She doubted it—friend-zoning wasn’t really a thing on the Nameless World—but she had to admit it was possible. Julianne would have a closer relationship with her father’s apprentice than she would have with almost anyone else in the commune.

  And an apprentice is practically part of the family, Emily thought. She might not see Bernard in that light at all.

  “I can’t,” Julianne said, finally. “I’ve already told you how I feel. My father is not marrying me off without my consent.”

  Emily frowned. Clearly, she was missing something. Had Whitehall attempted to convince Julianne to marry Bernard? Or was she waiting until Bernard gained his mastery? Or was Emily misreading the situation so badly that she was completely wrong? She wasn’t sure how she could ask Julianne, let alone Bernard. Both of them might tell her it was none of her business.

  “I can get his consent,” Bernard said, earnestly. “He has no reason to disapprove of me.”

  “But I won’t be married off without my consent,” Julianne said. She turned, slightly. “My father cannot be asked, not yet.”

  Emily felt Robin nudge her and glanced at him. He beckoned her back down the corridor as Bernard and Julianne talked in low voices, their words rapidly becoming inaudible. Emily wasn’t too keen on the idea of being alone with Robin—she couldn’t trust anyone who relied on a demon—but she didn’t see any polite way to avoid it. As long as Bernard and Julianne were within eyeshot, she would be comfortable enough.

  “They’ve been dancing around one another for the last two years,” Robin said. He sounded faintly amused. “He spends half of his time moaning about her.”

  Emily narrowed her eyes. “And why doesn’t she marry him?”

  Robin shrugged. “Who can fathom the mind of a woman?”

  “Another woman,” Emily said, tartly. “Is Bernard as ... inconsiderate ... as you?”

  “He keeps promising her the world,” Robin said. He shrugged, expressively, ignoring her comment. “Her father should just marry her off to him. She’s of good blood, he’s a skilled and powerful magician ... their children will be great. And we are short on children.”

  There’s more to women than merely producing children, Emily thought, crossly. In her era, male and female wizards were regarded as equals. But here women aren’t permitted to learn magic.

  She leaned against the wall, keeping one eye on Bernard. “What has her father said about it?”

  “By custom, he can’t say anything until Bernard asks for her hand in marriage,” Robin said, bluntly. “And then he can either give his consent or refuse.”

  Emily frowned. “And what would happen if he refused?”

  “I imagine Bernard would be sent away,” Robin said. “It would be quite awkward all around.”

  He looked up at Emily. “Do you have a father?”

  “Not among the living,” Emily said. Her father wouldn’t be born for the next eight hundred years, give or take a few centuries. “Why do you ask?”

  Robin smiled. “Who would someone ask if they wanted your hand in marriage?”

  “Me,” Emily said, flatly.

  “A woman as pretty as you should be married already,” Robin said. “Do you not have anyone?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. Caleb, too, wouldn’t be born for another eight hundred y
ears or thereabouts. She felt her cheeks redden as she realized that Robin was trying to flirt with her, poorly. “I ...”

  “You don’t know,” Robin repeated. “How can you not know?”

  “I had someone,” Emily said. It was true enough. “But I haven’t seen him for a very long time.”

  “Then he’s probably married off by now,” Robin said. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

  Emily shook her head. If there was no chance of getting home, she’d have to admit that she would never see Caleb again. There was no hope of him jumping back in time, not when neither he nor anyone else—save for the person who had shoved her into the nexus—knew what had happened to her. She’d turn to dust long before Caleb was even born. But then, she wasn’t about to give up so quickly. She had an idea. And given time and access to the nexus point, she could make it work.

  “He won’t have been faithful,” Robin pointed out. “How long were you trapped in the castle?”

  Emily scowled at him. “And what would you suggest?”

  “Find someone else,” Robin said. He leaned forward, parting his lips as if he were inviting her to kiss him. “I think it would be for the best, don’t you?”

  “No,” Emily snapped.

  She found herself unsure of just what she should say, let alone do. Robin was flirting with her, he was flirting clumsily with her ... and she had no idea how to handle it. She didn’t like him personally—or at least she didn’t like the stench of demons that surrounded him—but what should she do, if there was no hope of getting back to the future? Find a husband and get married—or walk into the shadows and stay out of history?

  “You have a duty to the community,” Robin said, softly. “If you can have children ...”

  Emily turned and stalked down the corridor to where Bernard and Julianne were standing together, just an inch too close for friends. They did like each other, Emily realized, but she thought she understood Julianne’s concerns. If her father approved the match, it would become compulsory soon enough. Julianne would lose what little freedom she had to a husband who might not be so tolerant of her wish to learn magic.

  “Lady Emily,” Julianne said. “There will be a bath for us before supper, if you would like to join me.”

  “That would be good,” Emily said. She knew she was grimy. The only reason no one had commented on it, she suspected, was because everyone else stank worse. “Where do we go?”

  “It’s been set up next to the kitchens,” Julianne said. She glanced past Emily and looked at Bernard. “If I go grab some clothes for us, can you show her to the kitchens?”

  “Of course,” Bernard said.

  Emily watched Julianne go, then glanced at Bernard. He had an oddly mournful expression on his face. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “And smart, too,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure just how smart Julianne actually was, but her father was brilliant. And very well-connected. “Do you like her?”

  Robin cleared his throat, loudly. “Of course he likes her!”

  Bernard scowled. “Go tell Master Whitehall just how much of the corridors we’ve cleared,” he ordered. “I’ll show Emily to the kitchens.”

  Emily looked at him as they hurried down the stairs. “Do you want her to learn magic?”

  “I don’t know,” Bernard admitted. His face heated. “You know about the curse, don’t you?”

  “You were there when I was told about it,” Emily said. “Would you want her to learn magic?”

  Bernard stopped and turned to face her. “I want her to be happy,” he said. “And if she wants to learn magic, I can teach her magic. But we wouldn’t be able to have children. And I want children, too.”

  Emily frowned. Bernard was young, but a forty-year-old man would be considered old on the Nameless World. It wasn’t unknown for young commoner women to be grandmothers by thirty, assuming they survived long enough to see their grandchildren. Even for magicians, there was strong social pressure to marry and have children as soon as one graduated. And if that was true of her era, how much worse was it in a time when medical care was weak and female magicians practically non-existent?

  “You might have to decide what’s more important to you,” she said, finally. It wasn’t as if she had any right to advise someone on their love life. “Having children or allowing her to study magic.”

  “Her father wouldn’t approve of her studying magic,” Bernard said. “He could have taught her ...”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Give it time,” Emily advised. “And don’t try to push her into anything.”

  “I won’t,” Bernard promised. “But she’s almost nineteen. It won’t be long before she’s too old to get married.”

  Emily shook her head in grim amusement. On Earth, nineteen would be considered far too young to get married by most civilized people. But it made sense in a world where life expectancies were so much shorter. Julianne would be lucky—very lucky—if she lived to fifty. Emily was mildly surprised she wasn’t married already. It suggested that Whitehall was ridiculously progressive, by the standards of the time. She couldn’t help wondering just what—if anything—he knew of the relationship between his daughter and his apprentice.

  “Give it time,” she repeated.

  Bernard looked at her. “How did you avoid getting married?”

  “There was a young man I was seeing,” Emily said. It was true enough. “But we came to the castle and ... and I have no idea what happened to him.”

  “He wouldn’t have waited for you,” Bernard said. “If he had no idea what happened to you, Emily, no one would blame him for marrying someone else.”

  Emily shrugged. Bernard was trying to be nice, she realized, but she didn’t want to talk about it. It was the same old problem, over and over again. The more lies—or half-truths mixed with lies—that she told, the greater the chance of tripping up badly. And then they’d know she was lying about something. And then ...

  “Your young man,” Bernard said. “Didn’t he know about the curse?”

  “He believed I could have children,” Emily said, stiffly. “And I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

  Bernard gave her an odd look, but said nothing else as they reached the bottom of the stairs and headed down to the kitchens. The smell of roasting meat wafted out towards them as they walked past the open door—Emily glanced in to see a makeshift fire burning merrily in the center of the room—and down towards a larger room. A grim-faced woman was standing in front of a door, her arms crossed under her breasts. She looked to be in her late sixties, although Emily suspected she was much younger. And the look she gave Bernard was far from friendly.

  “You can’t go past this point,” she said, sternly.

  “Of course,” Bernard said.

  Emily glanced at him. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

  “Probably,” Bernard said. He gave Emily a mischievous smile. “I don’t know where you’re going to sit, of course.”

  He turned and strode off before Emily could ask what he meant. She watched him go, then shrugged and turned back to the door. The old woman stepped aside without a word, her eyes flickering over Emily’s body in a manner that seemed to combine fear and disdain—and an odd sort of yearning that worried Emily more than she cared to admit. She pushed the door open and walked into the room. Inside, a large wooden tub of water sat on the ground, a handful of smaller buckets piled up against the wall. Julianne stood on the far side of the room, placing two small bundles on a single large chair.

  “Make sure you lock that door,” Julianne advised, as she picked up one of the buckets and carried it to the tub. “We don’t want any of the lads walking in on us.”

  “Definitely not,” Emily agreed.

  Julianne gave her an odd little smile. “They don’t know what to make of you,” she said. She poured the water into the tub, then started to undress. “They keep asking if you’re really a magician.”

  Emi
ly snorted. “You could answer that question,” she said.

  “Yes, I could,” Julianne said. “But I won’t.”

  She stepped out of her dress and started to splash water on her body. Emily blinked in surprise, then reminded herself that a hot tub of water was the height of luxury outside Whitehall, even in her time. Hot and cold running water was a rarity, certainly outside the mansions and castles of the rich and powerful. The servants—the camp followers—would have collected the water from the lake and carried it up to the castle ... she shook her head, feeling a stab of sympathy, as she started to undress. Their work would never end.

  “You’re perfect,” Julianne said. She looked up at Emily, studying her body with an intensity that made Emily blush. “There isn’t a scar on your skin, just ...”

  She indicated the rune between Emily’s breasts. “What is that?”

  “Protection,” Emily said, shortly. “I carved it myself.”

  Julianne nodded, her eyes still sweeping Emily’s body. Emily sighed, pushing her embarrassment aside as she looked in turn. Julianne was beautiful, but she was dangerously thin and she had a nasty-looking scar on her right arm as well as reddish pockmarks on her feet. She’d seen similar pockmarks before; they were almost always proof that their bearer hadn’t been able to afford decent medical care. A dark patch was clearly visible just below Julianne’s left breast, a purplish bruise that Emily hoped desperately was a birthmark. If someone had actually injured her ...

  Poor nutrition, she thought. She was hardly the tallest student in Whitehall in her time, but here she was amongst the tallest people in the castle. Poor nutrition, and a lack of decent medical care.