Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Magic flared around her. It was suddenly impossible to move. Even her breathing seemed to have stopped. She wanted to grit her teeth, but even that was denied her as an invisible force lifted her off the ground and floated her upwards. The light seemed to fade as she grew closer, allowing her to see Gordian and Sergeant Miles. Gordian was expressionless, but Sergeant Miles seemed astonished. But he knew Emily could teleport, didn’t he? Lady Barb would have reassured him that the story hadn’t grown in the telling.

  The spell placed them on the ledge, beside the pit, but refused to allow them to move. Emily tried to muster the strength to break the spell, but it was impossible. Gordian stepped forward, holding a long white wand in his hand; Emily felt the urge to flinch as he moved closer, waving the wand over her head. It struck her, suddenly, that she was practically defenseless. Her protections hadn’t survived the tussle with the wards. If Gordian wanted to hurt her...

  “Well,” Gordian said. His cold gaze rested on Emily for a long moment, then moved to Cabiria before shifting back to Emily. “Perhaps you could explain to me precisely why you decided to teleport in my school?”

  “We were trapped,” Cabiria said, as soon as the spell broke. She caught Emily, a second before she collapsed into a heap. “Teleporting out was our only hope.”

  “A hope that could easily have killed you,” Sergeant Miles said.

  “The walls would have killed us too.” Cabiria said.

  She rattled through a full explanation, starting with the discovery of the sloping passageway and the horror of finding themselves trapped. Emily listened, nodding at all the right moments. She felt too tired and drained to say anything herself, even though she suspected that Gordian would want to ask her questions too. They’d been lucky, she knew; the wards could easily have scattered their atoms all over the entire planet, if they hadn’t blocked the teleport completely.

  But they’d want to know who had the nerve to teleport into Whitehall School, she thought, numbly. Or capture someone trying to escape.

  “Professor Locke is still down there,” Gordian said, thoughtfully. “I am unable to sense him within the wards.”

  Emily shivered. Gordian hadn’t known they were trapped. If they’d waited for rescue, they would have died deep beneath the school. She wondered, absently, just why the lower set of wards weren’t connected to the main set, then dismissed the thought. It was quite possible they’d never get any answers.

  “We need more people to explore the tunnels,” Emily said, quietly. She didn’t quite understand Professor Locke’s concerns, but the tunnels were far more dangerous than she’d dared fear. “Grandmaster, there could be anything down there.”

  “Yeah,” Cabiria agreed. “Sir...”

  “There are reasons, good reasons, to keep the number of people involved as low as possible,” Gordian said. “If nothing else...”

  “This isn’t about credit,” Emily protested. “It’s about keeping people alive!”

  Gordian gave her a cold look. Emily shivered. She’d never dared talk to the old Grandmaster like that. But then, she’d respected the old Grandmaster. Gordian was far less worthy of respect.

  “Do you really believe,” Gordian asked coldly, “that I would put credit ahead of the lives of the students and tutors entrusted to me?”

  Emily had to fight not to flinch. It was a nasty question, all the more so because part of her suspected that was the case. The fewer people who knew what was below Whitehall, the fewer people who could tell tales out of school—literally. But he had a point. There was no evidence beyond her dislike that Gordian would choose to put credit ahead of lives.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, forcing herself to stand upright. “But having more people involved...”

  “Would also increase the number of people at risk,” Gordian snapped. “Or hasn’t that occurred to you?”

  He held up a hand, cutting off her response. “You drained yourself quite badly jumping out of the trap, but fortunately you didn’t manage to burn yourself out,” he said. “Go report to Madame Kyla. She is to inspect your magic and verify that you are fit to continue with your studies. I imagine she will order you to take a day or two of rest before you return to class.”

  Emily scowled. Missing two days of class would require her to work harder—much harder—to catch up. Even if Caleb or one of the other students brought her copies of the lesson plans, she’d need to struggle to catch up... she honestly wasn’t sure she could do it. Hell, she’d have to speak to Mistress Danielle and beg permission to miss a lesson. And, perhaps, stop tutoring the younger girls. Saturday was going to be very busy indeed.

  “After she has released you,” Gordian added, “you will report to the Warden.”

  He turned and strode out of the chamber. Emily winced, leaning against Cabiria. She supposed she deserved it—she’d really been dreadfully rude—but it was still a shock. And yet, she should probably be grateful he hadn’t sent her there immediately. Perhaps she’d misjudged him if he was giving her permission to get well first.

  “I’ll walk you down to the infirmary,” Sergeant Miles said. “You too, Cabiria.”

  “I don’t need any help, Sergeant,” Cabiria said. “It was Emily who teleported us out.”

  “You need to be checked anyway,” Sergeant Miles said. He held out a hand to Emily, who took it gratefully. “And one other thing. Don’t try to teleport within Whitehall again.”

  Emily frowned as he helped her towards the door. “What if we get trapped again?”

  Sergeant Miles scowled. “You had no inkling the trap was there?”

  “No, Sergeant,” Cabiria said. “There wasn’t even a hint of warning before the passageway was blocked.”

  “It wasn’t a simple booby trap,” Emily said. She cleared her throat as Sergeant Miles gave her an odd look. “I mean, it wasn’t a hex hidden on the floor, waiting for an unwary passer-by to step on it. It was a complete reformatting of the local environment.”

  Sergeant Miles lifted his eyebrows. “And that means?”

  Emily sighed. She’d never grown out of using Earthly terms. But they fit.

  “The walls shifted,” she said. “Just like the corridors up here do.”

  “That isn’t reassuring,” Sergeant Miles commented, after a moment. “If there’s no opportunity to sense a trap before it’s too late...”

  He shook his head. “I will discuss the matter with the Grandmaster,” he added. “Right now, you need to concentrate on getting better.”

  Emily hesitated. “Sergeant... why is the Grandmaster truly reluctant to allow others to join the exploration?”

  Sergeant Miles gave her a sharp look. “The Grandmaster is standing on a tightrope,” he said, finally. “There is a great deal to be gained from understanding just what Lord Whitehall did to create the school. At the same time, there are dangers that will work against him, if the exploration program costs lives or has unpleasant results.”

  “You mean he grudgingly gave Professor Locke permission to explore, then starved him of resources,” Emily mused. “Or is credit a genuine problem?”

  “A nexus point was destabilized to the point it exploded once, years ago,” Sergeant Miles reminded her. “Fiddling with the point here might be equally disastrous.”

  Emily swallowed. “And if that’s the case,” she said, as they reached the infirmary, “why are we exploring at all?”

  Sergeant Miles smiled, tiredly. “As I told you,” he said. “It’s a balancing act.”

  Madame Kyla appeared from a sideroom as Sergeant Miles helped Emily through the door, her eyes going wide as she laid eyes on Emily. Emily had no time to protest before Kyla and Sergeant Miles half-carried her to a bed—Cabiria remained behind, sitting on one of the chairs—and started running all sorts of tests. Kyla made disapproving noises as she measured Emily’s remaining magic reserves, then turned and rattled off a long list of orders to her assistant. Melissa appeared a moment later, carrying a large tray of potion gourds. She b
linked in shock when she saw Emily.

  Melissa’s training to be a Healer, Emily reminded herself. And she’s getting experience.

  “Drink all of these, one by one,” Kyla ordered sharply, as Melissa put the tray down by Emily’s bed. “You are to remain here for the next day, at least. I don’t want you leaving the bed for anything. And you are not to use magic without my express permission.”

  Emily knew it would be futile to argue. Kyla wouldn’t be impressed if she tried, either. The first potion tasted awful and she had to fight to get it down, but the others—thankfully—tasted a little better. Even so, by the time she’d drunk them all, her head was starting to feel truly rotten. The room spun around her, her thoughts rapidly coming apart. And then she blacked out...

  It felt like bare seconds before she awakened, unsure of where she was. She had to fight, parsing her most recent memories, before she remembered the trap, the teleport and the oubliette. Her magic felt wonky, as if trying to battle the wards had knocked everything off-kilter; she started to put a protection spell together before recalling that she wasn’t allowed to use magic. Darkness rose up again and swallowed her...

  ... And then she awoke, again.

  “Good morning,” a familiar voice said. Melissa stood by the foot of her bed, carrying a breakfast tray. “How are you feeling?”

  “Famished,” Emily said, after a moment. She could smell the eggs and bacon, even though her head still felt a little fragile. “Is that for me?”

  Melissa nodded and placed the tray on a table, which she pushed over as Emily struggled to sit up. Her body felt weak, as if she was still tired, but she managed to start shoveling food into her mouth. Each bite made her feel hungrier, something that puzzled her until she remembered that food in the infirmary was often spiked with an appetite-enhancing potion to make sure the patients actually ate. They needed their food to help their bodies heal.

  “There’s quite a few rumors going round,” Melissa said. She stood at the foot of the bed, watching Emily eat. “What actually happened?”

  “Long story,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss any of it with Melissa, let alone anyone else. “Did Caleb come to visit?”

  “He did,” Melissa confirmed. “Last night. But as you were asleep at the time, Madame Kyla turned him away. I promised I’d let him know when you were awake.”

  Emily glanced at the clock. It was seven bells, barely time to get out of bed. “I thought you’d be in bed?”

  “My hours are a little erratic,” Melissa said. “Madame Kyla says I have to get used to odd hours if I want to be a Healer. It’s not easy, but...”

  “You have to learn to cope,” Emily said. “Were you here all night?”

  “I got here two hours ago,” Melissa explained. “And I had very little sleep.”

  Emily nodded, reluctantly. “Can I leave the bed?”

  “Not unless you have Madame Kyla’s permission,” Melissa said, firmly. She pointed a finger at the bedside cabinet. “Caleb brought you a handful of books, so you can read quietly if you wish without disturbing anyone. Hopefully, you’ll be able to leave the bed and shower after Madame Kyla’s finished her checks, although I think she would prefer to keep you here for another day. You burned up a lot of magic.”

  “I know,” Emily said, quietly.

  “You could have burned yourself out,” Melissa added. “What were you thinking?”

  “That the alternative was worse,” Emily said, fighting off a yawn. She really felt too tired to argue. “Death was looking us in the eye.”

  She glanced at Melissa. “Is Cabiria all right?”

  “She was fine, apparently,” Melissa said. “Nothing that a few hours of rest wouldn’t cure, I think. She said she’d be back to see you later in the day.”

  Emily felt oddly touched. Most of the students—the remaining students—seemed to be scared of her. It was nice to know that someone apart from Caleb was prepared to look in on her... but then, she had saved Cabiria’s life. Her roommate owed her a debt.

  “Melissa,” she said, slowly. “What does it mean, magically speaking, if you save someone’s life?”

  “They owe you,” Melissa said. She frowned, thoughtfully. “Probably very little, if they’re your blood relatives. Certain friendships might also fall into this category. Anyone else... they would owe you something, if you wished to call on it. Unless, I suppose, you took the right set of oaths. Only a complete fool would fiddle with life debts.”

  She frowned, again. “Are we talking about anyone in particular?”

  Emily shook her head, firmly.

  “Get some rest,” Melissa advised. “The more you rest now, the sooner you can get back to class.”

  “Understood,” Emily said. “Can you pass me one of the books?”

  “If you wish,” Melissa said. She picked up a small textbook and held it out. “I’m sure this will put you to sleep very quickly.”

  Emily glanced at the cover—Advanced Concepts In Runic Alphabets—and smiled. “I’m sure it will,” she said. “And thank you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”

  Emily winced as she sat down at the workbench, facing Caleb. “I’ve been better,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “But it could have been worse.”

  “I suppose,” Caleb said. He waved a hand at the door, locking it with a simple charm and then fixing the privacy ward in place. “Did you manage to get coursework notes for Monday?”

  “Yes,” Emily said. Thankfully, she’d only missed one day of schoolwork, but it was still going to be a headache to catch up. “I don’t think we can go to Dragon’s Den on Friday.”

  Caleb’s face shifted, slightly. “Just make sure you tell her,” he warned. “She will not be pleased if you skip a lesson without informing her.”

  “I’ve already sent a note,” Emily said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Caleb said. He looked embarrassed. “I was worried about you.”

  Emily blushed. “Thank you,” she said, again. “Did you... did you manage to get anywhere?”

  “I think so,” Caleb said. He produced a notebook and held it out to her. “The spell-structure should work indefinitely, if my calculations are correct.”

  She took the notebook and opened it, skimming through the diagrams and filling in the blanks. Caleb had balanced everything neatly, allowing the combined spell to endure far longer than any of its components would on their own. It wouldn’t do much, Emily noted, but it would be enough to prove the concept was workable. And then...

  “Casting it is going to be a pain,” Caleb warned. “It isn’t one spell, it’s twelve. And they all have to be cast within the first thirty seconds.”

  “I’ve been getting better at casting fast,” Emily said. The downside was that she couldn’t rewrite the spells, but Mistress Danielle had insisted that it was better to get a spell off quickly than waste time trying to match the perfect spell to the situation. “Still...”

  Caleb frowned. “Are you feeling up to casting them?”

  “I’m still a little tired, but I should be up to it,” Emily said. She picked up the piece of paper and read it again, carefully memorizing each section of the combined spell. It would be tricky to cast, she knew, but it should be doable. “We really need to find a way to keep the spell in being long enough to fiddle with it.”

  “Infusing it into a crystal might work,” Caleb suggested. “But tampering with it afterwards would be tricky.”

  Emily couldn’t disagree. What they really needed, she suspected, was a spell processor, something that could rewrite the spellwork on the fly. But they were so far from making a viable spell processor that she doubted her grandchildren would see it. Building a computer from stone knives and bearskins would be easier.

  And we’re years from computers too, she thought. It might be decades before the Nameless World sees its first computer.

  She shook her head as she cl
osed her eyes, readying the spell. Producing gunpowder was easy, once the formula had been perfected; producing abacuses and printing presses was merely a matter of putting them together. But a computer? Even the most basic of computers was centuries away. She wasn’t even sure how to steer the engineers towards the concepts, let alone the actual hardware. It was so far beyond her that she didn’t even know where to begin.

  “Here we go,” she said.

  The spellwork glowed in her mind as she cast the first spell, followed by the second and the third. Caleb let out a hiss, a sharp intake of breath, as the whole series of spells followed, locking together into a seamless whole. Emily opened her eyes, just in time to see the entire structure glowing in front of her. Pearly white light illuminated the workroom, reflecting off the walls and casting the entire room into stark relief. Caleb looked back at her and smiled.

  “They’re going to say it would be easier to cast a simple light spell,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

  “Probably,” Emily said. She met his eyes. “Are you ready for the second part of the experiment?”

  “Yeah,” Caleb said. “Here goes nothing...”

  He reached out, his fingertips brushing—very gently—the lowermost spell component. Emily braced herself, half-expecting a surge of magic or an explosion, but all that happened, as Caleb went to work, was the light turning green. She grinned as Caleb removed his hand, revealing that the spell had worked perfectly. He’d altered the spell after she’d cast it, something everyone had known was impossible.

  And the spell is still holding strong, she thought, as she carefully tested the outer edge of the spellware. Even the strongest of wards bleeds a little power.