“Lady Emily,” the Grandmaster said. “Come into this room.”
Emily followed him into a small office and looked around. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each one crammed with dozens of books. A pair of comfortable chairs sat in the middle of the room, illuminated by a light globe hovering near the ceiling. She felt the privacy wards, wards stronger than anything she could cast on her own, snap into place as the Grandmaster closed the door. No one could hope to overhear their words.
She played with the snake-bracelet on her arm as the Grandmaster motioned her to a chair, then sat facing her. “Lady Barb tells me you sensed something earlier,” he said. “What did you sense?”
“Something wrong,” Emily said. She described the sensation as best as she could, although it was terrifyingly hard to put into words. “I had the feeling that there was something wrong with the wards, but Lady Barb said they had been changed.”
“They were,” the Grandmaster said. He paused. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the Warden. We have been unable to identify the cause of the problem.”
The problem, Emily thought. Several hundred students in comas wasn’t a problem, it was a disaster. But if you can’t find the cause...
“It may be a disease,” she said. “Something that attacks them through their magic...it could be a curse designed to hide itself.”
She paused. “Have you tried an anti-magic ward?”
“We have,” the Grandmaster said. “It’s a desperation measure, because the curse might kill its victim before being dissipated, but we tried. It didn’t work.”
“Then a disease that’s purely non-magical,” Emily reasoned.
The Grandmaster seemed to look at her, although it was hard to be sure. “Did you have such diseases in your world?”
Emily hesitated. She’d heard of diseases that caused comas - or worse - but she didn’t know any specifics. If she’d been trained as a doctor...
And if I’d been trained as a SCA re-enactor, I would have been in a much better state to face the Nameless World, she thought, sharply. There’s no point in wishing for what one cannot have.
“I don’t know the details,” she said. How did they help people in comas anyway? Her memory suggested electric shocks, but she had a feeling that had been discredited by researchers years ago. “And we don’t have magic, so I don’t know...”
She paused. “Was there anything the victims had in common? Some non-human blood?”
“The Gorgon is the only student at the school who isn’t fully human,” the Grandmaster mused. “Although I suppose Alassa might count, given the Royal Bloodline.”
“And both of them were affected,” Emily said.
“Quite,” the Grandmaster agreed. He shook his head, looking tired and defeated. “Go see Master Grey, Emily. Try and take your mind off the crisis.”
“It doesn’t help,” Emily protested. She would almost have preferred him shouting at her than to see him in a broken-down state. “I can help here instead.”
“Go,” the Grandmaster ordered.
Emily nodded, rose and left his office.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MASTER GREY WASN’T IN THE ARMORY when she arrived, although Sergeant Miles and Lady Barb were both there, talking in very low voices. It must have been something intimate, Emily reasoned, as Lady Barb told her where to find Master Grey at once. She smiled tiredly, and walked to the spellchambers.
Master Grey stood in the heart of a warding circle, tossing spells towards a handful of training dummies. Emily would have admired the display of power, perhaps, if she’d trusted him more.
“You’re late,” he said, as she entered the room.
“The Grandmaster wanted to speak to me, sir,” Emily said, simply.
Master Grey grunted, still firing off spells. “Are you carrying anything magical?”
Emily hesitated, thrown by the unexpected question. “Yes, sir,” she said. “A wand, a spelled knife and a couple of little protective charms.”
And the bracelet, she added silently. She wasn’t going to mention the Death Viper to Master Grey, not if it could be avoided. It probably counts as magic, too.
Master Grey turned to face her. “Go to the barracks and change into your walking clothes, then meet me at the doors,” he ordered. “Place everything - and I mean everything - magical that you happen to be carrying into your locker. I will check. You will receive one demerit for each magical item you’re carrying.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. She’d have to tighten the spell on the snake before taking the bracelet off. The last thing she wanted was for the Death Viper to return to its natural state and start hunting for prey. “May I ask why?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” Master Grey said. “Go.”
Emily blinked - he sounded almost friendly - and hurried to change into her walking clothes. The heavy trousers and shirt felt uncomfortable against her skin, as always, but she knew she’d get used to them. She took the bracelet from her wrist, checked the spell and placed it into the locker, accompanied by her other magical objects. It left her feeling oddly naked, she decided, as she walked back to the doors.
Master Grey stood there, holding a pair of knapsacks in one hand.
“Here,” he said, passing one to her. “Cheese sandwiches, a bottle of water and a handful of medical supplies.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, automatically. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere,” Master Grey said. “It’s a long walk, so it’s better to take food.”
Emily felt her eyes narrow. “Do we have permission to leave the wards?”
Oddly, Master Grey smiled. “Yes, we do,” he said. “It was good of you to check, though.”
As opposed to checking if I could take Frieda for a run? Emily thought, as she followed him out into the bright sunlight. Or asking about safety precautions in Blackhall?
Master Grey took one look at her once the door was closed, turned, and started to walk towards the mountains. Emily followed him, silently wondering why he’d set such a quick pace. It wouldn’t be hard to keep up with him, she thought, but given time it would leave her drained. The forest closed in around them while they walked; she gritted her teeth as she felt flickers of wild magic dancing through the air. Master Grey ignored them; he kept walking, maintaining a steady pace. Emily silently promised herself that she’d keep up with him as long as possible.
“That plant there,” Master Grey said, suddenly. “Name one use for it that everyone knows.”
Emily blinked. There were several uses for it...but most of them involved potions. “It makes people throw up,” she said, finally. “If someone has eaten poison, the plant can be used to make them expel the poison from their body. You need to mash it down into mush, then make them drink it with water.”
“Correct,” Master Grey said. “What would happen if you tripled the dose?”
“They’d have an attack of diarrhoea, too,” Emily said, grimacing.
“Correct,” Master Grey said. “What precautions should you take if administering the cure?”
“The victim will need plenty of water to drink,” Emily said. She took a moment to remember what she’d been taught. “They will also need something soft to eat, but only after they’ve finished...emptying themselves.”
“Correct,” Master Grey said. He jabbed a finger at another plant, a bush covered in purple flowers Emily didn’t recognize. “Name me two uses for that plant.”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She knew better than to guess. “I haven’t seen it before.”
“It can be used to prevent infection, if one is desperate,” Master Grey said. He didn’t seem inclined to berate her for ignorance, for once. “It can also be used as a poison, if treated correctly. There are people who like dipping their arrowheads in the liquid before letting fly, just to make sure the target is poisoned.”
He kept tossing questions at her until they reached a line of bushes, half-hidden by subtle magic
. Emily felt her chest burn uncomfortably as Master Grey glanced around, then turned to look at her. His gaze was suddenly very cold.
“This is your one chance,” he said. “Did you bring anything magical with you?”
“No, sir,” Emily said. She looked down at her chest. “There’s a rune here...”
“That won’t matter,” Master Grey said. He performed a detection spell on her, and looked relieved at the results. “I want you to understand, Lady Emily, that I am bringing you here against my better judgement.”
Emily held herself steady, refusing to say anything.
“You are not to use any magic beyond this point, unless it is in direct self-defense,” Master Grey continued, coldly. “If you do, I will flay the skin from your bare back. Cleaning up the mess will be so expensive that you’ll have to pawn your entire Barony to pay back the debt.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
“I mean it,” Master Grey said. “No magic beyond this point.”
“I understand,” Emily said.
“I’d be surprised if you did,” Master Grey said. “And if you bring any of your friends here without permission, you will very likely be expelled.”
He gave her one final look that warned her to take him seriously, then stepped up to the bushes and through a path that was barely wide enough for him. “Keep sensing the magic, if you wish, but don’t cast any spells. And do not step off the path.”
Emily bit down the urge to say something nasty as she followed him through the bushes, keeping her hands firmly to herself. The first line of bushes looked normal, but the second line was poisonous - she’d had a nasty rash for a week after touching one back in First Year - and the third line was actively dangerous, ready to snap at anyone who crossed the line. She winced, remembering how one of the plants she’d seen had tried to chase Jade, moving with an implacable determination that was more terrifying than anything else. They’d had to burn the plant to ashes to get it to stop.
She closed her eyes as she sensed the flow of magic. It had been ever-present in the Nameless World, once she’d grown accustomed to the sensation, but now...it seemed to flow towards her, as if it were being directed away from whatever was at the end of the path. She couldn’t help smiling as it washed over her, but gasped in surprise when it abruptly vanished into nothingness. They had reached a clearing at the end of the path.
“Tell me,” Master Grey said, as they walked towards a small wooden hut. “What happens to the magic here?”
Emily considered it for a long moment. “You use runes to guide the magic away from the hut,” she said. “Why?”
“Correct,” Master Grey said. He produced an iron key from his belt and used it to open the door. “Do not cast a light globe within this hut.”
Good thing you reminded me, Emily thought, as Master Grey led her inside and started to light a handful of lanterns hanging from the walls. It’s become habit to use magic in my daily life.
“You may eat your sandwiches now, if you wish,” Master Grey said. “You’ll need energy for what is to come.”
Emily frowned, then sat down on the wooden floor and opened her knapsack. Master Grey pottered around for a long moment, searching for something, then sat down facing her and started to dig out his own food. For a long moment, they ate in companionable silence. Food always tasted so much better in the open air, Emily had discovered; it wasn’t something she’d ever learned on Earth. Master Grey ate quickly, then tossed a handful of questions at her, forcing her to think before answering. None of the questions seemed particularly important...
“This isn’t something taught to everyone,” Master Grey said, when they were finished. “I strongly advise you not to discuss this with anyone else. If the Grandmaster hadn’t insisted, I would have refused to teach you. You’re dangerous enough without giving you more ideas.”
He paused, waiting for a reaction. Emily kept her mouth firmly shut. She’d seen him at work, dueling challengers at the first Faire she’d attended...and he thought she was dangerous? But then, she had turned the Allied Lands upside down. Some of her ideas would completely reshape the world, given time. Steam engines alone would change everything, and as for gunpowder...
“This place is designed to keep the level of ambient magic as low as possible,” he continued, when it became clear she wasn’t going to say a word. “A great deal of time and effort was spent cleansing this clearing, then establishing defenses to keep other magicians from contaminating our work. If you use any magic here, even something as minor as a detection spell, you will force us to cleanse the place once again.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Master Grey rose to his feet and paced over to a locked cupboard. “This is one of the greatest secrets in the Allied Lands,” he said. “We call it Wildfire.”
He opened the cupboard and produced a handful of unbreakable bottles. “I want you to stand there,” he said, pointing to the other side of the table. “You are not to touch anything without my express permission. In fact, keep your hands clasped behind your back. A single mistake here could kill both of us.”
Emily scowled, but did as she was told. Master Grey gave her a probing glance before he placed the bottles on the table beside a glass cauldron. It must have cost hundreds of gold coins, Emily realized; she’d never seen anything like it in Professor Thande’s classroom. But then, she supposed she wouldn’t have wanted a fragile and expensive dish anywhere near rampaging students. Perhaps the Fifth and Sixth Years got to play with them.
“There are seven separate potions here,” Master Grey told her. “Only a dozen alchemists, all working for the Allied Lands, know how to brew them. Three of them, in particular, are so complex and unstable that they have to be brewed in a magic-less environment. Trying to brew them in Whitehall would lead to complete disaster. You will not” - a thin smile flickered across his face - “be taught how to make them.”
Emily kept her voice as calm as she could. “And what if I need to make them?”
“Only an experienced alchemist would have any hope of brewing them,” Master Grey said, coldly. “Manaskol is simplicity itself compared to the easiest of the potions here...”
“I see,” Emily said. “You can’t brew them, then?”
Master Grey’s face flickered, just for a second. “No,” he said. She half-expected a demerit, but he merely nodded to her. “It is a wise magician who knows his limits.”
He picked up one of the bottles and opened it, carefully. “Should you need any of these potions, you would apply to the White Council,” he said, as he sniffed the contents. “They would decide if your request had merit and, if they agreed, ensure you were sent a sufficient quantity. If they felt otherwise, no amount of arguing, pleading, begging or outright threats would make them change their minds.”
Emily grimaced as he held the bottle out to her. She sniffed...and recoiled, instinctively. It smelled worse than the cheap alcohol her mother used to buy. Master Grey smiled at her reaction, then poured a small amount of the black liquid into the glass cauldron. Emily couldn’t help noticing that it was thick, like sludge or heavy oil. He followed it up with five more bottles, each one marginally lighter. It looked as though the order had been carefully devised by the first alchemist to create the potion.
“You will notice that I have not stirred the mixture,” Master Grey said. “All that really matters, at this point, is that all of the potions are in the same cauldron.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. The different liquids had separated out, like oil in water. “You don’t need to do anything else, either?”
“Not really,” Master Grey said. “The genius and danger of this...particular brew is that it doesn’t require much expertise to make, once you have the ingredients. You can, for instance, make it under battlefield conditions.”
A shadow crossed his face for a long moment. “I have,” he added. “Once.”
He picked up a small basin, placed it on the table and poured one of the remaini
ng bottles into it. Emily watched, fascinated, as he produced a firelighter, scratching it along the table until it caught fire. He pressed the firelighter into the basin, which caught fire at once, eerie blue flames reaching up towards the ceiling. Visibly bracing himself, he pushed the basin under a rack and placed the cauldron on top of the rack. Moments later, the contents started to bubble.
Emily stared. “What...?”
A sheet of white flame exploded out of the cauldron, lashing around as if it were a living thing in search of sustenance. Emily stepped backwards hastily as it flickered towards her, then powered up towards the ceiling. She looked up and saw the wood had become scorched and pitted; it struck her, suddenly, that this could hardly be the first time Wildfire was demonstrated to a student. The flames flickered one final time, fell back into the cauldron, and vanished.
“Do not touch it,” Master Grey ordered, as an unholy stench filled the air. “What do you make of it?”
“It burns,” Emily said. Now she’d had a moment to think, it was clear the tendrils of fire had reached out towards him too. All the precautions suddenly made sense. “It burns magic.”
“Yes, it does,” Master Grey said. “It prefers the focused magic generated by long-established wards, Lady Emily, but it will eat any kind of mana, given a chance. Using it in a combat zone is always a risk because it doesn’t discriminate; it will happily go after one side, then the other, rather than being aimed at its target. It has rarely been used against anything other than a heavily-warded fortress.”
“It could have been used on Shadye,” Emily pointed out. The Grandmaster could have presumably gathered the ingredients from the hut while waiting for Shadye and his army to reach Whitehall. “Why wasn’t it?”
Master Grey quirked an eyebrow. “Something that draws on magic for fuel, something that won’t stop easily, right next to Whitehall and the nexus point?”
Emily felt her face heat. “Sorry.”
“So you should be,” Master Grey said. “The true danger of Wildfire lies in the simple fact that it is impossible to control. No one, not even a Lone Power, can steer it towards a target. Using it on a moving necromancer would simply be ineffective.”
Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) Page 27
