Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  She shrugged. “My family has been trying to betroth me to a young man,” she added, after a moment. “He’s an old friend—I’ve known him for years—but I want to finish my studies first.”

  Emily frowned. “And you’re all right with marrying him?”

  “I do like him,” the Gorgon said. “And he is a good friend.”

  “At least you know him,” Melissa said, tiredly.

  Emily nodded. Even now, four years after entering the Nameless World, it still struck her—sometimes—just how different it was from Earth. The idea of an arranged marriage was intolerable to her, but the Gorgon seemed accepting—and happy. Maybe Melissa was right, maybe it made a difference if one knew the prospective partner ahead of time. Besides, the Gorgon was a powerful magician in her own right. Emily rather doubted that anyone, even another Gorgon, could push her around easily.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. It was hard not to ask if she was sure, but there was no way that question wouldn’t be taken as an insult. “Are we going to meet him before the wedding?”

  “I’m not sure,” the Gorgon admitted. “He probably won’t want to come to Dragon’s Den.”

  “He can always travel with Markus,” Melissa pointed out. “That should make things easier.”

  “Should,” the Gorgon said.

  “Emily,” a familiar voice called.

  Emily turned—and felt herself smile as she saw Caleb, jumping out of a carriage and running towards her. She opened her arms and hugged him, tightly, his lips pressing against hers. It struck her, a second too late, that they were kissing in front of dozens of people, but it was suddenly very hard to care. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered why no one else could hear it.

  Caleb pulled back, still holding her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll tell you everything later,” Emily said. She adjusted her hair, uncomfortably. Too many people were looking at them. “How was the trip?”

  “Uncomfortable,” Caleb said. “We were taking Karan to Stronghold for her very first term.”

  Emily nodded, remembering the younger girl. “Is she going to be fine?”

  “I think so,” Caleb said. “She has magic and she’s tough. I think she’ll be all right.”

  He waved a hand at the carriage, summoning his trunk. Emily watched with some amusement as he exchanged signals with the driver, then levitated the trunk into the air and floated it towards the castle. Emily waved goodbye to Frieda and the others before allowing him to lead her after the trunk. It felt good, better than she’d expected, to be standing so close to him once again. Caleb held her hand gently, but firmly, as if he didn’t want to ever let go. She didn’t really want to let go either.

  She looked up at him, drinking in the view. Caleb wasn’t conventionally handsome, unlike Jade or Markus, but there was a strength of character there that she found surprisingly reassuring. His hair had grown longer over the summer, hanging down to touch his shoulders; she rather suspected he’d grown it out just to annoy his stern, military-minded father. It would probably start getting in his way soon, unless he had it cut short once school started in earnest. Maybe there were girls who wouldn’t find him attractive, but she did. And that was all that mattered.

  “I’ve missed you,” Caleb said. “I would have visited if I could.”

  Emily nodded, shortly. It was partly her fault—she wasn’t really keen on the idea of inviting anyone to her house, save for Frieda—but Lady Barb had advised her to be careful what she and Caleb did in public. They were courting, after all; they weren’t entering a short-lived relationship... in hindsight, she admitted privately, the formal courtship might have been a mistake. But it did prove that Caleb was serious...

  “I understand,” she said. “I wish you’d been there when we went traveling.”

  She shook her head. “How’s your family?”

  Caleb’s face darkened. “Father is currently working with some of his old comrades to put together a regiment of musketmen,” he said. “After what happened in Zangaria... well, any doubt there might have been has vanished. There are enough rumbles near the Desert of Death to suggest we might need to get a larger military force in place soon. Mother... is well enough, now there’s only one of us left at home. Poor Marian.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Emily said. “Your mother is a decent person.”

  “She’s also a strict homeschooler,” Caleb said. He smiled, rather dryly. “She’s had plenty of practice on the rest of us.”

  Emily nodded. Homeschooling preteens was common amongst magical families, even though the largest cities often had quite a few schools of varying quality. She expected that there would be an explosion in education soon, as the New Learning spread further, but she doubted the homeschooling aspect would change anytime soon. There was too much to be gained by teaching the children the basics of their heritage and magical theory, in addition to reading, writing and arithmetic. Maybe it was a very basic education, she had to admit, but it was better than anything she’d personally experienced on Earth.

  They floated the trunk into the castle, then stopped as they saw a grim-faced tutor standing just inside the gate. “These are your updated papers,” he said, passing Caleb a stuffed envelope. “Report to the Great Hall at ten bells, tomorrow morning.”

  He glanced at Emily. “The same for you too, young lady.”

  “Understood,” Emily said, curtly. She didn’t recognize him. Was he Mistress Irene’s replacement? She’d hoped that Professor Lombardi would get pushed into the Deputy Grandmaster position, but there had been no word on it as far as she knew. “Are there any updated papers for me?”

  “They’ll have been sent to your room,” the tutor said. “Move along, please.”

  Caleb shrugged and levitated the trunk up the stairs and on to the fifth floor, pushing it down the corridor towards the dorms. Emily followed, lifting her eyebrows in surprise as she realized that both male and female students were sharing the dorms. There wouldn’t be any co-ed roommates, she was sure, yet it was still unusual. But there were only twenty-five fifth years, if she recalled correctly. Whitehall was vast, but her masters probably thought it made more sense to keep the fifth year students in one place.

  Madame Rosalinda greeted them at the door, then showed Caleb the way to his room and frowned disapprovingly when Emily followed him into the chamber. There was no window, but apart from that there was no real difference between his room and hers. Caleb placed his trunk neatly on the floor, then pulled Emily into a long kiss, his hands gently stroking her back as the kiss grew deeper. Emily found herself torn, once again, between the urge to go further with him and the urge to pull back and run. She just didn’t trust the feelings coursing through her body...

  The door opened. She jumped back, alarmed, as a dark-skinned young man stepped into the room, his trunk floating behind him like a clingy puppy. Caleb turned, one hand raised in a casting pose, then sighed in relief as he recognized the newcomer. Emily, who didn’t, remained tense.

  “Cirroc,” he said. “They held you back?”

  “Messed up one of the exams and got told to repeat the year,” Cirroc said. He had a nice smile, Emily noted; indeed, come to think of it, she had heard of Cirroc as one of Imaiqah’s many boyfriends. She just hadn’t met him before. “At least I didn’t manage to cripple myself.”

  “I got better,” Caleb said. “And I didn’t manage to get ordered to repeat the year.”

  Cirroc conceded the point with a nod, then looked at Emily. “And this is?”

  “Emily,” Emily said. She held out a hand for him to shake. “Just plain Emily.”

  “There’s nothing plain about you,” Cirroc said. He shook her hand, then kissed the air over the back of her hand. “I’m quite looking forward to spending the year in your classes.”

  “That makes you the only one,” Emily said, flustered. “I’ll leave you two to finish unpacking, shall I?”

  “Don’t mind me,” Cirroc teased. “Y
ou can carry on, if you like.”

  “That’s enough,” Caleb said. There was a warning note to his voice. “Really.”

  “Probably,” Cirroc said. He shrugged, expressively. “You want to hear some bad news?”

  “No,” Caleb said. “What is it?”

  “I just discovered who’s going to be our Year Head,” Cirroc said. “Professor Thande has been demoted to handling itty bitty third year brats. Master Tor has returned and will be taking us.”

  Emily blinked. “Master Tor?”

  “Yeah,” Cirroc said. “You know him?”

  “Just a little,” Emily said.

  She cursed her luck under her breath. That, at least, explained why Gordian had known so much about her misadventures in Second Year. Master Tor had been the one who’d caught her. She still flushed when she remembered the scathing lecture he’d given her, before the first of the Mimic’s victims had been discovered. And he’d had a point. She hated to admit it, but he’d had a very good point.

  But he also admitted he was wrong about me, she reminded herself. Maybe this won’t be a complete disaster after all.

  “We’ll see what happens tomorrow,” she said, out loud. She turned and strode towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to finish unpacking.”

  “See you at dinner,” Caleb called after her.

  Chapter Five

  EMILY WAS SILENTLY GRATEFUL FOR CALEB’S presence as they walked into the Great Hall and spotted Master Tor standing at one end of the chamber. It was easy, too easy, to imagine the older tutor taking his brief exile out on her, or having been ordered to keep a very sharp eye on her along with Professor Locke. And yet, when he turned and looked at her, he didn’t show any hint of his feelings at all. Aloha stood beside him, looking concerned.

  “Be seated,” Master Tor ordered. His voice was unchanged, deep and baritone—like a Shakespearian actor. Someone had set out chairs and a table; he waved the students to the chairs, rather than forcing them to stand. “We have a considerable amount to cover.”

  Emily nodded and sat down, smoothing out her robe as Caleb sat next to her. She couldn’t help noticing that some of the students threw her sidelong glances when they thought she wasn’t looking, as if her mere presence made them nervous. The Gorgon sat next to her, her snakes curling around her ears, but none of the other students seemed keen to approach, not even Melissa or Cabiria. Did she scare them that badly?

  She sighed, inwardly, and directed her attention to Master Tor. He didn’t seem to have changed that much, although there was a new purpose animating his movements. The tutor still looked alarmingly like Captain Picard, complete with a bald patch on his head that sent a shiver down her spine. It was probably nothing more than a memory—Aurelius had made it clear that DemonMasters almost always shaved their heads—but it still chilled her to the bone. Her last encounter with a demon had nearly killed her.

  He’s not a DemonMaster, she told herself, firmly. The Grandmaster wouldn’t have allowed him anywhere near Whitehall if he was a practicing demonologist.

  Master Tor studied them for a long moment, his eyes pausing momentarily on Emily, then cleared his throat. “First, welcome back for your fifth year of magical studies,” he said. “I have seen and approved all of your course schedules, after the traditional round of haggling, so your formal classes will begin next week, on Monday. If you change your mind about taking one or more of your classes, you may do so at any point, but I am obliged to warn you that it will not be added to your permanent record and it may be impossible to transfer to another class. The tutors have the right to reject any late applicants.”

  Emily nodded. Fourth Year had been intense—and Fifth Year promised to be worse. A student who joined a class a week late would be behind and a student who joined a month late wouldn’t have a hope of catching up. The tutors would probably advise any latecomers to retake the year, rather than allow them to enter a class they couldn’t complete. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it was more practical than anything she’d seen on Earth.

  “There are, however, a number of changes in the school,” Master Tor continued, after a long moment of silence. “In particular, some of these changes affect you personally.”

  Emily frowned. Gordian had made a brief speech at dinner, the previous evening, where he’d alluded to changes, but he hadn’t said anything concrete. Now... she leaned forward, forcing herself to relax. Maybe the changes wouldn’t be bad ones. Gordian probably just wanted to make his mark on the school. He was experienced enough, surely, to know what worked and what didn’t.

  “In particular, you will be expected to take on a mentoring role towards the younger students,” Master Tor said. “You will each be assigned to serve a handful of new students as their mentor. Your task will be to introduce them to Whitehall, outline the basics of magical education and the rules of the school, then provide what support you can as they make their way through their first year. This whole process will be supervised by Aloha, our Head Girl.”

  He nodded towards Aloha, who smiled wanly. Emily frowned, wondering if Aloha still bore a grudge over Master Grey’s death. She certainly deserved to be Head Girl—Emily hadn’t met anyone smarter—but would she take her feelings out on Emily? Or had she come to realize that Master Grey had deliberately lured Emily into a trap? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had options for evading the duel, if he’d wished. No one would have thought any less of him for refusing a challenge from a student...

  Melissa held up her hand. “Sir,” she said. “Are we meant to give up our own time for this?”

  “Yes,” Master Tor said. “In fact...”

  “But time is not on our side,” Melissa interrupted. “We all have to study on our own when we’re not in class.”

  Emily stared at her. Interrupting a tutor? It wasn’t done! And yet her heart sank as she realized Melissa was quite right. Even without having to work for Professor Locke, having to give up some of her free time to assist younger students would have a serious effect on her studies. If it was going to be bad for Melissa, it was going to be sheer hell for Emily...

  “We are aware of the problems,” Master Tor said. “However, we will only discover some of the problems by doing it.”

  Caleb leaned forward. “I can see a problem right now,” he said. “How many of us will have the time to study so we can pass our exams?”

  There was a general rustle of agreement. “He’s right,” Cirroc said, backing him up. “If we have to spend our time tutoring stupid brats, we won’t be spending it studying.”

  Master Tor cleared his throat, loudly. “First, we will be monitoring your progress and will intervene, if necessary, to ensure that you have a reasonable chance of passing your exams,” he said. “Second, we believe that your mentoring services will not be required after the first couple of months. Third, we have been contemplating extending Fifth Year to two years, thus allowing you to concentrate on your studies for the duration of the second year.”

  “Then it won’t be Fifth Year,” Pandora said.

  Emily kept her thoughts to herself. She’d seen something similar, at Mountaintop, but it hadn’t worked out very well. The Shadows had been practically slaves, to all intents and purposes; they worked for older students in exchange for private lessons, lessons that hadn’t always been provided. It was how she’d met Frieda. And she still felt guilty whenever she remembered just how badly Frieda had been hurting, before they’d become friends.

  Master Tor ignored the protests. “We understand your concerns,” he said. “But there is another point here.”

  His gaze lingered, for a long moment, on Emily. “Apart from students raised in magical households, who are taught the basics from a very early age, far too many students come to Whitehall with only a very sketchy idea of everything from the rules and regulations to the reasons for their existence,” he said. “Some students understand the dangers from the start, others have to learn the rules as they go along—and sometimes they only learn the rule wh
en they get in trouble for breaking it. This has been a major concern over the past twenty years.”

  “If that’s true,” Melissa asked, “why wasn’t something done about it earlier?”

  Master Tor frowned. “The previous Grandmaster, may he rest in peace, believed that establishing a mentorship system would be detrimental to education,” he said. “Students would learn faster, he claimed, if they believed themselves to be on their own. The current Grandmaster feels otherwise.”

  Emily tilted her head, slightly. She knew who Master Tor had in mind, when he’d pointed out that some students only discovered the rules by breaking them. She’d been one of those students. And yet, she had to admit he had a point. She’d been hellishly ignorant when she’d been sent to Whitehall, even though her discoverer was supposed to ensure she received a full briefing on how to handle the school before sending her there. Void, for whatever reason, had barely told her anything before summoning a dragon to fly her to Whitehall.

  And they all think I’m his daughter, she reminded herself. I should have known at least as much as Melissa, when she entered the school.

  Caleb nudged her. “What do you think?”

  Emily took a moment to get her thoughts in order. She would have done better in her first year with a mentor, someone who could have advised her as she fitted into the school. But she’d also seen just how badly the mentorship scheme could be abused at Mountaintop, with younger students treated as servants by older students. It would depend on just how the system was implemented. And how closely the mentors were supervised.

  “It’s a good idea, in theory,” Emily muttered, pitching her voice low. They’d have to talk about it later. “But will we have the time to mentor younger students?”

  “It might have been better to have us do it in Second Year,” Caleb muttered back. “We would know the ropes, but we wouldn’t be too occupied with studies.”

  He stuck up his hand. “I can see the value of the mentorship program, sir,” he said. “But surely it would be better to have the Second Years do it. They’d be closer to the First Years.”