The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I’m going to put you in stasis,” Caleb said. He gave his sister a quick hug, then cast the spell. Blue light flared over Marian’s body. The sound of sobbing cut off abruptly. “I ...”

  He rose, suddenly. Magic flared over his hands. “What were you thinking?”

  Frieda gazed back at him, defiantly. “I taught her not to say stupid things in public,” she snapped. “You should have taught her that ...”

  “You ...” Caleb started forward, then stopped himself. “I’ll ...”

  Emily cleared her throat, loudly. She wasn’t sure what would happen if Caleb and Frieda started throwing hexes at each other—Caleb had more magical knowledge, but Frieda had the killer instinct he lacked—but there wasn’t time. In stasis or not, Marian needed a healer as soon as possible. Emily wasn’t sure just how many hexes Frieda had used on her, but it was clear that they’d started to bleed together. She doubted she could remove the hexes without risking Marian’s life.

  And Frieda will be in real trouble when Gordian finds out, she thought, numbly. The wards had stopped howling, but she had no doubt that Gordian and the other senior tutors had already been alerted. God knew she’d been in enough trouble when she’d almost killed Alassa. She might get expelled.

  “Go to my office and wait,” she ordered Frieda. She put as much force into her voice as she could. Perhaps, just perhaps, Gordian would let her deal with it. “I’ll deal with you as soon as possible ...”

  Frieda glared at him. “You side with him against me?”

  Emily felt her temper snap. “Go to the office or go to hell,” she snapped. She didn’t recognize Frieda any longer. “Wait there for me.”

  She watched Frieda turn and stalk off, every inch of her body language conveying the impression that she was being unfairly punished. Emily stared after Frieda, fighting down the mad urge to slap her ... or to hug her and tell her that it was going to be all right. But it wasn’t going to be all right. Frieda had assaulted a student three years younger than she was, a student who’d been recovering from a traumatic experience. Gordian would have all the ground he needed to expel Frieda ...

  ... And the hell of it was that he would be right.

  “I’ll get her up to the infirmary.” Caleb sounded tired, tired and frustrated. “Emily, you need to do something about her.”

  “I know.” Emily felt a surge of bitter tiredness, mingled with the grim awareness that she’d failed. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  Caleb stood, turning to meet her eyes. “Her behavior has been going downhill since before ... since before Justice. You know it. She’s been obnoxious and rude and thoroughly unpleasant, and sooner or later she’s going to pull that shit on someone who isn’t going to tolerate it.”

  He looked down at his sister’s frozen body. “If she hasn’t crossed the line today, Emily, she’ll cross it soon. And you’re pretty much the only person she actually respects. You’re probably the only one who can knock some sense into her head before it’s too late.”

  If it isn’t already too late, Emily thought. She was sure Frieda respected Alassa—and Lady Barb—but both of them were hundreds of miles away. And yet ... neither of them would have let Frieda get so far out of hand. Perhaps I could send Frieda to Zangaria, if she gets expelled. Jade and Alassa would look after her ...

  She sighed. “I don’t know what to do!”

  Caleb glared at her. “Put her over your knee or bend her over your desk and thrash her to within an inch of her life,” he snapped. “Give her essays to write. Make her clean toilets for detentions. Force her to write lines or pick poisonous fruits or something else unpleasant enough to make it clear that she’s being punished! Because if you don’t stop her, what happens next?”

  Emily swallowed. “She’ll be expelled.”

  “Or Mother will seek revenge.” Caleb levitated his sister’s body into the air and directed it down the corridor. “She’ll expect you to do something, Emily. So will I.”

  He walked off, floating Marian ahead of him. Emily clenched her fists as he walked away, fighting down a tidal wave of anger that threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn’t even sure who she was angry at. Frieda, for assaulting Marian? Caleb, for putting the problem in such brutal terms? Or herself, for doing nothing until it was too late. And yet, she couldn’t have kept Frieda with her, could she? There was no way Frieda could have gone straight into Third Year when she arrived at Whitehall.

  She took a deep breath, then forced herself to turn and walk towards her office. Frieda would have gone there, wouldn’t she? She had to know the consequences would be far worse if she had been caught by someone else. Unless ... the possibilities ran ‘round and ‘round in Emily’s mind, dragging at her feet as she hurried up the stairs. She didn’t want to reach her office, or walk inside, or confront Frieda ...

  You walked into Heart’s Eye, knowing there was a necromancer waiting for you, she told herself. Why is it so hard to confront a friend?

  She sighed, inwardly. She’d thought she’d understood why inter-year friendships were discouraged at Whitehall, but she hadn’t. Not until now. She was Head Girl, yet there was no way she could be dispassionate when dealing with Frieda’s problems. Anyone else, she could offer advice from her lofty perch; with Frieda, all of her objectivity went right out the window. Frieda was more than a new bug, more than an irritating younger student to be ignored ...

  If someone else had assaulted a younger student like that, her conscience pointed out, you’d have demanded their expulsion.

  She reached the door to her office and stopped. The wards confirmed that someone was inside, waiting for her. Frieda? Emily braced herself, fighting down an urge to run, to find someone else who could handle the situation, then pushed the door open. Frieda stood by the desk, one hand playing with the bracelet on her wrist. Emily allowed herself a tiny moment of relief—at least Frieda had gone to the office, instead of running—and then closed the door, slamming the most powerful privacy wards she could muster into place. No one, not even Gordian, would be able to eavesdrop.

  But I’ll have to tell him something, she thought. That assault won’t go unnoticed.

  She clasped her hands behind her back as she studied Frieda. The younger girl gazed back at her defiantly, her face somehow different. She’d changed, Emily reflected; she’d become a little harder, a little more determined to blaze her own path through the world. Her pigtails no longer looked girlish, somehow; her arms were strongly muscled, stronger perhaps than Emily herself. And her magic was ever-present, buzzing just below her wards.

  “Frieda,” Emily said. Her mouth was suddenly dry. It was all she could do to keep her anger out of her voice. “What happened?”

  Frieda’s face didn’t change. “We were playing tag. She started to talk about you and me and ... and stuff. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Emily said, tartly. “What sort of stuff?”

  “She was saying that you and I were having a relationship,” Frieda said. “And that you broke up with Caleb because of me and ... she just went on and on until I silenced her.”

  “Until you nearly killed her,” Emily said. Marian had been bleeding. There could be internal injuries ... or it could have been a force punch. Or a physical blow. Magicians rarely settled their disputes through brute force. A punch in the face would have surprised Marian more than a whole series of hexes. “She’s a kid!”

  Frieda snorted. “She’s old enough to marry, old enough to bear children, old enough ...”

  “She’s a firstie,” Emily said. She felt her temper rise. “What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?”

  “I was thinking that I could silence her,” Frieda snapped. “I’m not stupid!”

  “You could be expelled for this,” Emily said. It was hard to keep her voice level. “You attacked a firstie. What sort of excuse do you have?”

  “What sort of petty excuse did Jade have for knocking you on your ass when you were a fi
rstie?” Frieda countered. “He did, did he not?”

  Emily blinked. Jade—or Alassa—must have told Frieda that, back in Zangaria. “We were in Martial Magic,” she said. Jade had been a good sparring partner, even though she was ruefully aware she’d never come close to matching him. “What’s your excuse?”

  “She deserved it.” Frieda crossed her arms under her breasts. “I’m not sorry.”

  “You should be,” Emily said. She forced herself to unclasp her hands. “Frieda, you could have killed her!”

  “I didn’t,” Frieda said.

  Emily felt her temper snap. “You assaulted a student who didn’t have a hope of standing up to you,” she snarled. That would have been true even if Marian hadn’t been recovering from trauma. Emily had studied hard, but she’d never been able to match Jade or Cat in Martial Magic. “What the hell do you think excuses that?”

  “She was lying about us, about you,” Frieda snapped back. “She had to be silenced!”

  And so you set out to silence her, Emily thought.

  She groaned. She’d never liked the honor culture of the Nameless World, although she had to admit that she might have avoided Master Grey’s trap if she’d been more aware of the pitfalls. A person who shot his mouth off could be challenged, he could be silenced by force ... freedom of speech wasn’t even a concept on the Nameless World. And a man who didn’t challenge his detractors to put up or shut up would be seen as a weakling.

  And that goes for magicians too, Emily thought. It was bitterly ironic. Mundane women were expected to ignore slurs against their persons—and mundane men were expected to ignore them—but female magicians were expected to defend their own honor. The one community on the Nameless World where sexual equality was actually a thing and it still managed to bite her on the behind. Frieda thought she was doing the right thing.

  “You shouldn’t let this happen,” Frieda said. “Why don’t you find whoever is spreading these rumors and silence him?”

  “Because I don’t know who to blame,” Emily said. Someone was bringing the rumors into Whitehall. Perhaps she could find him and ... convince ... him to lead her to the true mastermind. But she had no idea how she could catch the rumormonger. “And even if I did, it would be wrong to silence him.”

  “These rumors are hacking away at your reputation,” Frieda said. “What will people do if they think you can’t respond?”

  Emily sighed. She could face a necromancer, or a dark wizard, or an aristocrat with more good breeding than common sense. The threat was clear and present, easy to understand if hard to counter. But rumors? Rumors with no discernible source? She had no way to fight back, no way even to know who was behind it ... all she could do was carry on and hope that nothing else happened before the exams.

  And do you really think, her thoughts mocked her, that you’ll be that lucky?

  “That isn’t the problem right now,” she said. She walked forward and sat behind her desk, resting her elbows on the wood. Frieda turned to face her, slowly. “What should I do with you?”

  Frieda’s face twisted. “I was defending your honor!”

  “I didn’t ask you to defend it,” Emily said.

  She thrust herself forward before Frieda could respond. “You’ve changed. Your behavior has been going downhill for the last three months. And now you’ve stepped over the line.”

  “And now you’re washing your hands of me?” Frieda asked. There was something in her tone that made Emily’s heart want to break. “You’re telling me that you don’t want to be with me any longer?”

  “I’m telling you that I can’t ignore it any longer,” Emily said. She thought back to Frieda’s permanent record and shivered. “And nor can anyone else.”

  Frieda’s face went expressionless. “What now?”

  Emily looked her in the eye. “You are being an idiot. I know this year is hard—it was hard for me too! I had a tutor who was trying to kill me! And yet you’re so wrapped up in yourself that you’re on the verge of getting expelled.”

  “Celadon is being a prick ...”

  “Yes, he is,” Emily agreed. “But you’re not being much better.”

  She held up a hand before Frieda could say a word. “He’s made a considerable improvement to the project proposal. Yes, he should have talked it over with you first. The damned project is about learning to work together, as well as trying to push the limits of the possible. But he has made it. You have to understand what he’s done and then work to build on it ...”

  “So you’re siding with him,” Frieda said, flatly.

  “I’m trying to help both of you,” Emily said. What would Aloha do? Leave both parties to sink or swim? Or try to find a way to get them to find common ground? Or ... would she even be involved? Emily wouldn’t be involved if Frieda hadn’t been involved. “You won’t lose marks because he came up with the concept, Frieda. You’ll lose them because you don’t understand what he’s done.”

  “I can’t understand it,” Frieda snapped.

  Emily nodded, understanding Frieda’s frustration. Celadon was so far ahead of her that it wouldn’t be easy to bridge the gulf, even if he hadn’t been smugly convinced of his own intellectual superiority and Frieda resenting the hell out of it. Hell, Emily wasn’t sure she could explain the basics of magical theory to a firstie, not now. Years ago, Void had declined to school her in magic personally, pointing out that she needed to learn the basics first. She thought she understood his point now.

  “You will,” she said. “But that isn’t the main problem. You’ve turned into a ...”

  “A bitch?” Frieda asked. Her voice was suddenly hard. “Was that what you were going to say?”

  “A nightmare,” Emily said. “You’re snapping at everyone, you’re aggressive ... and now you’ve assaulted a firstie!”

  “Who deserved it,” Frieda insisted.

  Emily met her eyes. “What do you deserve now?”

  Frieda ignored her. “You’re betraying me for her, for him, for everyone.” Her voice rose, alarmingly. “Why are you still with him? He betrayed you for her and ...”

  “Caleb is not the issue here,” Emily said. “We’re friends ...”

  “And so you betray me for him,” Frieda shouted. “That little bitch was right!”

  Emily rose. “Listen to me,” she snapped. “What will happen if Gordian decides you should be expelled? Where will you go?”

  “I can survive,” Frieda said. “I don’t need anyone! I can go and ...”

  “... We’ll all be sorry when you’re dead?” Emily said. She felt her own voice rise and forced it down. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look at yourself!”

  She sat back, wondering why everything had gone so badly wrong. Perhaps she should have kept a closer eye on Frieda. Perhaps ... she shook her head. It didn’t matter, not now. The situation had to be handled firmly enough to keep Gordian from doing anything else.

  “You will report to the Warden.” She hated herself for saying it, but there was no choice. “You will tell him that I am thoroughly displeased with your conduct and he is to take appropriate measures.”

  Frieda’s eyes flashed fire. “Too weedy to beat me yourself?”

  Emily was too tired to care about the challenge. “After you have been disciplined, you will write me a long essay on precisely why what you did was wrong. And then you will sit down and work your way through Celadon’s proposal. I want you to understand the theory by the end of half-term.”

  “Or what?” Frieda challenged. “You’ll have me beaten again?”

  “I will tell the Grandmaster that you are probably going to have to repeat Third Year,” Emily said, flatly. It was unlikely Frieda would be allowed to retake just Fourth Year. “You need to master the theory before you can move ahead.”

  She met Frieda’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” she said. “But you are crossing the line. If you don’t shape up, you might just be expelled. Go.”

  Frieda turned and march
ed out of the room. Emily watched her go, then covered her eyes as the door banged closed. There had been no choice. She told herself that, again and again, as the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. There had been no choice. And yet, she knew she would always regret it.

  And I still don’t know what’s wrong with her, she thought. She hesitated, then rose. If Sergeant Miles was in the school, he’d be in the armory. Perhaps he can offer some advice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  EMILY FEARED THAT FRIEDA MIGHT HAVE done real harm to Marian, the kind of harm that couldn’t be repaired by magic, but Madame Kyla had no trouble repairing the damage. And yet, it was clear—the one time Emily looked in on her—that the incident had been traumatizing. Marian might be physically healed, but the mental damage was still extensive. Caleb told her, privately, that Marian had suffered a relapse. It wasn’t clear if she’d be able to return to classes at the end of half-term.

  “I hope you punished her,” Caleb said, afterwards. “Because I can’t keep this from Mother indefinitely.”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “I told her off and I sent her to the Warden. She was punished.”

  She kept her thoughts to herself as the final days of half-term ticked away. She expected Gordian to say something about the incident, but he neither summoned her to his office nor ordered Frieda’s immediate expulsion. Emily puzzled over it, remembering the story of the dog that didn’t bark. Gordian knew—he had to know—about the whole affair. It wasn’t like him to just let it pass. If nothing else, he had to make sure that Frieda was warned never to do anything like it again.

  She’d hoped that Sergeant Miles—or someone else she trusted to offer good advice—would have remained at Whitehall, but he’d taken his students out on a character-building forced march. She wrote him a note anyway, then a longer letter to Lady Barb, but there was no response. Lady Barb was out of touch, she was told. Emily wished, grimly, that she’d convinced the older woman to stay at Whitehall. She might have been sharp and sarcastic if the Head Girl came to her for advice, but she would have given Emily advice regardless.