He paused. “And there are only two ways to stop it,” he added. “How would you do it?”
Emily considered, rapidly. “Starve it of power,” she said. “It wouldn’t have anything to burn.”
“Correct,” Master Grey said. “And the other?”
Water, Emily thought. But perhaps that was too obvious. Anyone would think to pour water on a fire.
“Sand,” she guessed, remembering sand buckets from Earth. “You pour sand on it.”
“Good thinking,” Master Grey said. “You need to bury the fire in sand, or earth, or anything, as long as it is cut off from the air. Even after the main blaze has been suppressed, there may be moments when smaller blazes will blow up again. Ideally, you need to get people without magic to handle the task. As far as the fire is concerned, people like you and me are a walking source of fuel.”
He gave her a long glance, then sighed. “I’m going to check the outer edge of the defenses,” he said. “Wait until everything is cool, then pick up everything I’ve used and put it into the sack. We’ll be taking it back with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. She hesitated before asking the question that was nagging at her mind. “Why don’t we recycle the cauldron?”
“Because it’s badly damaged,” Master Grey said, simply. “Look at it.”
He had a point, Emily had to admit. The glass was not only scorched, it was warped and threatening to shatter. It would be useless for anything else, she suspected, even if it could be cleaned. The blackened remains of the mixture had bonded so firmly to the glass that nothing short of a monofilament knife would be able to cut them free. If anyone had hoped to recycle the remains, she realized, they would be disappointed.
“I’ll be back,” Master Grey said. He opened two of the windows, allowing cool air to blow through the hut. “And remember, no magic.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily muttered. “No magic unless in direct self-defense.”
He gave her one last look before hurrying out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
EMILY HAD HOPED, AGAINST ALL HOPE, that the Grandmaster would have found a solution by the time they returned to the castle. That perhaps everything would return to normal. But, as the day turned into evening, it became clear that nothing had really changed. Alassa, Imaiqah, and the rest were still in their comas, joined by two more Third Year students who’d started to rant in the library before they collapsed. The epidemic, whatever it was, seemed to be spreading.
“There must be something they have in common,” Emily said, as she stared down at Alassa’s body. Her friend seemed inhumanly still, the only sign of life her chest rising and falling slowly as she breathed in and out. “Something that separates them from everyone else.”
“We’ve found nothing,” Lady Barb said. “Sex? There’s five more boys than girls affected, but that may be just random chance. Age? The young seem to be more vulnerable than the older students, while none of the staff have been affected...”
“Frieda seems to be fine,” Emily said. She’d seen the younger girl briefly at dinnertime, before making her way to the infirmary. “What about students who went to different schools, if only briefly? Frieda and I were at Mountaintop; Caleb was at Stronghold...”
“There are several students who spent time at other schools lying in comas,” Lady Barb said, quietly. “It could be that some students simply don’t channel enough magic to save themselves.”
Emily frowned. “Pandora was rambling, as if she’d been possessed,” she said, slowly. “It could be a form of possession.”
“It’s a possibility,” Lady Barb agreed. “But most demonic possessions require consent from the victim. It’s unlikely that so many students would be able to summon a demon, then make the same deal with it, all at the same time.”
“I suppose not,” Emily said. “Is there nothing else we can do?”
“We can feed them, keep them alive,” Lady Barb said, sternly. “While there’s life, there’s hope.”
Emily gazed down at her friend. “I wish it was me instead,” she said. “Alassa deserves so much better.”
“I understand the feeling,” Lady Barb said, squeezing Emily’s shoulder. “Go to bed, Emily. You’ll have more to do in the morning.”
“I could stay and help,” Emily protested. “I’m not drained...”
“You need your sleep,” Lady Barb told her. “The Grandmaster is intent on keeping things as normal as possible, even with half the school in comas.”
“Pointless,” Emily muttered. “There’s no way this is normal.”
She shook her head, slowly. Shadye had attacked in her first year at Whitehall, the Mimic had prowled the corridors in the second...she hadn’t been at Whitehall for most of her third year, but in her fourth year students had started falling into comas. No, she corrected herself; something had been very wrong before Alassa and Imaiqah collapsed. The staff had noticed that something was odd, but they just hadn’t been able to deal with it before it was too late.
“Maybe it’s my fault,” she said, softly.
“You can’t go blaming yourself for everything,” Lady Barb said, sharply. “Unless you cast the spell yourself, it probably isn’t your fault.”
Emily nodded - she didn’t really want to believe the older woman - and moved to Imaiqah’s bed. Her hands were wrapped in bandages; her mouth had been wiped clean, but blood-tainted drool stained her nightgown. She looked fragile, Emily saw, as if the three years since they’d met had never occurred. Beside her, the Gorgon looked inhuman, her face twisted softly as if she were having a nightmare. But the entire school seemed to be having a nightmare.
Maybe it attacks us through our dreams, Emily thought. Or perhaps our uncertainties.
“Explain,” Lady Barb ordered, when Emily said that out loud. “What do you mean?”
Emily took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Imaiqah doubts herself,” she said, “and so she showed a nervous tic. She was chewing her fingers. Alassa was admiring herself in the mirror - but, at the same time, she fears being defined by her appearance. Aloha has a crush on Master Grey. She may think I have a crush on him too.”
Lady Barb barked a harsh laugh. “He’d be roasted alive, literally, if he touched her while she was his student,” she said. “There are strict laws against having any kind of relationship with your apprentice.”
“She could still have a crush on him,” Emily pointed out. She’d known at least one girl on Earth who’d had a schoolgirl crush on a teacher they’d shared. She seemed to spend half of the lessons just staring at him with stars in her eyes. “He’s just the sort of person she likes.”
“I’ll mention it to the Grandmaster,” Lady Barb said. “Go get some sleep, Emily. You’ll need it.”
Emily sighed, but did as she was told. Frieda seemed to have moved into her bedroom, setting up a nest of blankets against the wall; Emily took a look at her sleeping form, shook her head tiredly and climbed into bed without bothering to do more than remove her shirt and trousers. It felt like she’d barely closed her eyes when her bed quivered, threatening to hurl her out onto the floor, but when she looked at her watch she discovered it was eight bells. She’d slept so deeply, she hadn’t even dreamed.
That’s a relief, she thought, remembering the nightmares that had tormented her after Shadye and the Mimic. But I would have liked some rest too.
She smiled at Frieda, who was still fast asleep, took a quick shower and dressed in her school robes. Lady Barb had told her she’d need the sleep, but Emily still felt tired. She drank some water and gently nudged Frieda, suddenly terrified that she too might have fallen into a coma. Frieda jerked awake, then smiled at her in surprise.
“I think that’s cheating,” Emily said, lightly. “You’re not meant to sleep on the floor.”
“I didn’t want to risk sleeping in any of the beds,” Frieda said, as she sat upright and stared down at the floor. “And you can’t be kicked out of bed if you’re not in it.”
&nbs
p; “I suppose,” Emily said.
She waited for Frieda to shower, then they went down to breakfast together. It looked, at first glance, as though there hadn’t been any more victims, but as she looked around she noticed a handful of missing faces. Maybe they were trying to catch up with their sleep, or helping with the patients...she shook her head, bitterly, as Frieda passed her a bowl of cereal. She couldn’t be that lucky. The missing faces were in comas.
This could catch us all, she thought, morbidly. A disease striking magic-users - she hadn’t heard of any of the servants falling into comas - could be disastrous, if it spread out of Whitehall. Shadye was too inhuman to catch a bug, but every other magician might die.
She shuddered at the thought.
She gritted her teeth as Master Grey walked into the Dining Hall and strode over to her table. He couldn’t have had more sleep than she did, Emily was sure, but he looked annoyingly fresh as he came to a halt and peered down at her. The robes he wore were carefully tailored to draw attention to his muscles, reminding her of one of his more interesting lessons. Putting on different styles of clothing had almost been fun. It would have been fun if they’d had a different tutor.
“Emily,” Master Grey said. “You will report to my office after breakfast.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, fighting to keep her feelings from showing. She wanted to go back to bed, not do anything with Master Grey. Right now, she was too tired to handle him. “Should I wear anything special?”
“Just bring your wand,” Master Grey ordered.
He turned and stamped off, ignoring a pair of boys who were pushing and shoving at each other at the far table. Emily sighed, then drank her Kava, hoping the bitter taste would jolt her awake. But it didn’t seem to work.
She ate as much as she could, said goodbye to Frieda and headed for the Armory. A handful of younger students were talking in low voices as she walked past them, their gazes following her movement. She couldn’t tell if they were admiring her, laughing at her or merely making sure she was out of earshot before they resumed their conversation.
“Emily,” Master Grey said once she was there. He pointed to a chair, where he’d left a book. “You will stay here and read until I call you. Do not attempt to leave the room.”
Emily blinked in surprise. “Sir?”
“You will stay here and read until I call you,” Master Grey repeated, in a manner one might use to rebuke a child. “Do not attempt to leave the room.”
Emily flushed, sat down and picked up the book. It was an older textbook, covering the different uses of dragon’s blood in combat. Master Grey slipped out of the room while she opened the covers and started to read, carefully. Given just how expensive it was to buy even a pint of dragon’s blood, she was mildly surprised there were so many uses. It would have been much simpler for alchemists to stick with one or two.
But it is the most powerfully-magical substance known to exist, she thought. They might have been able to deduce other prospective uses before going to work.
She was midway through the book when Master Grey returned. “Come with me,” he ordered, curtly. “You have work to do.”
Emily put the book on his table, making a mental note to ask to borrow it later, then followed him out of the room and down to the spellchamber. Master Grey removed a pair of locking hexes before motioning for her to enter the room. Inside, it was dark and cold; a shape lay on a table, set in the exact center of the chamber. It was surrounded by a privacy ward so strong Emily couldn’t tell anything more about it, save for the fact it was there.
“Your objective is simple,” Master Grey said. “The person there” - he pointed a hand at the table - “has been cursed. Your task is to remove the curse before it kills her. You may use your wand, if you feel you need it, but nothing else. There will be no help from me or anyone else.”
Emily shivered. “I...”
Master Grey ignored her. “The curse in question is currently frozen,” he said. “When I drop the ward, it will go active. You will have roughly seven minutes before the damage becomes irreversible. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, shocked. Had he actually cursed someone just to provide a learning experience for her? “Who...”
“Go,” Master Grey said.
He snapped his fingers and the ward vanished. Emily stared in horror as Frieda appeared, lying on the table. Her skin was already mottled as the curse started to dig into her body, threatening to kill her. Emily stared, then forced herself forward, hastily casting spells to determine just which curse had been used. It rapidly became apparent that Master Grey had used something so complex that trying to bat it away from Frieda would only knock it into a more dangerous form. He’d deliberately set Frieda up to die if Emily couldn’t save her.
“Six minutes, thirty seconds,” Master Grey said.
Emily wanted to scream at him as blood started to trickle from Frieda’s nose. Instead, she closed her eyes and forced her mind into the maelstrom of magic surrounding her friend, trying to parse out the exact shape of the curse. It hung around its victim, a complex mixture of spellwork that would have been almost beautiful if it wasn’t ripping her apart, cell by cell. Emily forced down panic and picked out the vital pieces, then swallowed a curse as she realized the spell was actually designed to reconfigure itself even if she took out the most important sections and fall on its victim like a hawk falling on a mouse. She would need to push it all away at once, or take the risk of sucking it into her wards and hope she could deal with it.
“Six minutes,” Master Grey said.
“Shut up,” Emily snarled at him.
He said nothing as she kept scrutinizing the curse. Whoever had designed it had been good, very good. The important sections clung to its victim, surrounded by unimportant spell components that might turn lethal if they failed to distract the curse-breaker. Emily felt Frieda’s heart start to beat faster as the curse took effect, trying to parse out the best way to remove the curse. Every time she thought she had a handle on it, it slipped out from under her gaze and escaped. It was almost as if it was alive and aware...
It isn’t anything like as complex as a Mimic, she told herself, firmly. Everything she’d been told about magic suggested that genuine artificial intelligence was impossible, but she’d been sure the Mimic had showed a certain level of adaptive intelligence. It’s designed to make it harder for the curse-breaker to get a grip.
She braced herself as she realized what she had to do. The only way to break the curse was to hold its separate components in place, gripping them all at once. But, in doing so, she might set off a reaction that would kill Frieda. Master Grey had to be out of his mind! Maybe he was allowed to make her train relentlessly, maybe he was allowed to give her impossible tasks; she was sure he wasn’t allowed to harm another student. And yet, if she failed, she would have to watch her friend die.
Hatred and rage seared through her mind as she targeted the curse, then lashed out with her magic. Dozens of spell components froze in place; others, components out of her reach, kept moving. Frieda’s body jerked under her hand as the fragmented curse started to slash at her soul.
“Three minutes,” Master Grey said.
Emily ignored him, splitting her attention as best as she could. Lady Barb had once told her that women made the best curse-breakers and, now, she understood why. One part of her attention kept the frozen pieces of the curse still; another part, desperately, snatched at other parts of the curse and wiped them from existence before they could threaten Frieda’s life. It wasn’t easy to focus her mind enough to shatter the frozen pieces of the curse, but - eventually - it worked. The curse seemed to fragment...
...And then it pulled itself back together.
Shit, Emily thought, as Frieda gasped in pain. The curse was worse than she’d realized, lodged deep within Frieda’s magic. It was actually forcing her magic to turn on her, as if Frieda were literally cursing herself. Emily had believed that to be impossible, bu
t if she could cut her skin to provide blood, why not cast a curse on herself? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t turned herself into all kinds of things.
She swore mentally, then desperately grabbed the curse as it started to hack its way into Frieda’s soul. There was no longer any time to experiment; she thrust her magic at the curse, tearing into it with savage intensity. Her wards started to flicker as the curse tried to jump into her - she thought she could destroy it, but the way it was spawning suggested that it wouldn’t save Frieda if she took as much as she could into her own protections - yet she did her best to ignore it. The curse flickered and flared...
And then Frieda’s body jerked one final time, then lay still.
Emily opened her eyes. Frieda was lying there, dead. For a long moment, she just stared, unable to quite believe her eyes. Master Grey couldn’t have killed her friend, could he? He couldn’t have...
She spun around, fists balled. “You bastard!”
Master Grey looked oddly amused. “And why are you insulting a teacher to his face?”
“You killed her,” Emily shouted. “You...”
“You failed her,” Master Grey said.
“You cursed her,” Emily said. Magic crackled over her fingertips, demanding escape. It would be so easy to just throw a curse at him, even if she was expelled - or worse. “You...”
Master Grey pointed a finger at the body. Emily turned back, just in time to see Frieda’s features melt into a homunculus. He would have taken some of her hair or blood, perhaps, to make the illusion terrifyingly realistic, but...she swallowed hard, feeling faint. He’d forced her into a position where she’d thought, where she’d believed, her friend was on the verge of death. It had been so realistic she hadn’t even thought to question it.
“You will face worse, if you go on to be a Mediator,” Master Grey said. His voice dripped fake sympathy, too exaggerated to fool her for an instant. “It’s for your own good.”
Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) Page 28
