The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Melissa has been cursed,” Samra said. “Say something else, my dear?”

  Melissa tried to say something, but clucked like a chicken instead. Emily reached out with her senses, but felt nothing. Melissa seemed to have removed all of her personal wards, leaving her effectively naked. And yet, there was no hostile magic surrounding her. A simple jinx should be easy to detect and remove, but ...

  “The curse in question is a very nasty piece of work indeed,” Samra said, conversationally. Emily felt a flash of hatred that surprised her. Melissa didn’t have to be humiliated, not like this. “I believe the person who invented it must have known something about soul magic, as the curse is quite hard to remove without using soul magic. And yet, it can be cast by any reasonably competent magician.”

  Emily made a face. She had been warned, time and time again, not to cast a spell if she didn’t know what it did. On one hand, not knowing what the spell did would make it harder to cast; on the other hand, it would also make it harder to counter or remove the spell if it turned into something dangerous. Professor Lombardi had made them read hundreds of horror stories about magicians who didn’t parse out spells before casting them. The lucky ones were often scarred for life.

  Not that an angry magician would bother to read the warnings first, she thought. She’d read a couple of books on dark magic. They don’t care about the side effects.

  “Indeed, the vast majority of unbreakable curses owe something to soul magic,” Samra added, seemingly unaware of Emily’s growing anger. “They are simply too firmly embedded in a person’s soul to be easily removed, at least without causing real harm in the process. The patients in the Halfway House, alas, cannot be cured without killing them.”

  “You cast the spell on her,” Emily growled.

  “Quite,” Samra agreed. “Melissa knows she has been cursed, of course. And yet she can no more remove it than she can perform major surgery on her body. Variations on this spell make it impossible for her to speak of it, if she even realizes that she has been cursed.”

  “To speak of it,” Emily repeated. Melissa brayed, loudly. “Why ...?”

  “She could write a note,” Samra said, sarcastically.

  She paced around Melissa and stopped, behind her. “Your task is to remove the curse. You have twenty minutes. I suggest you get it right the first time.”

  Emily glared at her. “If this could cause her permanent harm ...”

  “Name me a class in Whitehall that doesn’t risk permanent harm,” Samra challenged. She met Emily’s eyes, silently daring her to object further. “And Melissa did volunteer for this ...”

  She’d be happier volunteering to take off her clothes in a junior healing class, Emily thought, grimly. Lady Barb had hired volunteers from Dragon’s Den for anatomical studies. Emily suspected it had been a very good idea. Looking a fellow student in the eye—after that student had stripped naked in front of the entire class—would have been difficult. This could be really dangerous.

  “You have twenty minutes.” Samra pointed at Melissa’s head. “Go.”

  Emily stared at her for a long moment, promising herself that she’d make Samra pay if Melissa was permanently damaged. Emily had enough experience with curses—and she’d read far too many books—to take any long-lasting curse lightly. The effects might seem humorous, but the long-term consequences could be disastrous for the victim. Emily had read about an obedience curse that had rendered the victim permanently servile, even after the spell had been removed. The victim had possessed almost no willpower of his own.

  She leaned forward and touched Melissa’s forehead, closing her eyes. An image of Spock mind-melding with Kirk flashed through her mind, an image she ruthlessly suppressed as she sent her thoughts flowing towards Melissa. There was no point in confusing someone who’d never heard of television, let alone Star Trek. Melissa had never spoken to her about any of the images she might have picked up from Emily’s mind—Emily wasn’t sure if Melissa could open such a conversation or not—but she was sure Emily’s memories of Earth would be confusing. Alassa had found them confusing.

  And we weren’t anything like so close when I touched Alassa’s mind, she thought. Blood magic allowed a mental link, but soul magic was far more intrusive. Or perhaps inclusive was the better word. She will have seen too much of me.

  She slid into Melissa’s mind, feeling a dull throbbing resentment pulsing through her thoughts. It was a strong feeling, one that threatened to overwhelm Emily and drive her back into her own mind. Of course Melissa was unhappy. The curse was dangerous, even if Samra was sure she could extract it without harm. Emily felt another flash of respect, realizing—suddenly—that she could no longer dislike Melissa. The girl had grown into a young woman who’d earned respect.

  Thank you, she thought.

  She started, surprise flickering through her mind—both minds. That hadn’t been her thought ... had it? Melissa was picking up on her thoughts! Emily felt her mind recoil in shock before she forced herself to remain calm. Melissa couldn’t share whatever she saw in Emily’s mind with anyone, without permission. And yet, it felt as though she was being violated on a very basic level. She hadn’t volunteered for soul magic ...

  The thought faded away as she thrust deeper into Melissa’s mind. Thoughts, emotions and images assailed her. Melissa owned a castle; no, a city; no, a spider-web that made up her innermost being. Everywhere Emily looked, there were memories and feelings and images that raged towards her, each one a distraction from her mission. And yet, Melissa wasn’t even trying to fight her. Emily hated to think what it would be like if Melissa wanted to throw her out.

  She saw herself casting a spell. It was odd ... she’d been in first year, judging by her robes, but she hadn’t been that pretty. Or had she? She’d never thought of herself as attractive, even after she’d started dating. And yet ...how could she judge herself? She was seeing her body through Melissa’s eyes and it looked different ...

  The memories grew stronger. Emily pushed them away as she worked her way down to the center of Melissa’s mind. She could see Melissa’s oaths—her marriage bond to Markus and the oath she’d sworn as a prospective healer—glowing in her mind, overshadowing her thoughts and feelings. A little of Markus’s magic was mingled into the marriage bond—a link that would be unbreakable, save by death—but the healer oath stood alone. She’d sworn it herself, with total conviction. Emily couldn’t help being awed. The oath wouldn’t have taken if Melissa had harbored any doubts about her vocation.

  She opened her thoughts ... and saw the curse. It was black, reeking of evil ... it looked like a poisonous spider, squatting on its victim. Emily recoiled, feeling herself tumbling backwards over and over until she remembered that she was in someone’s mind. What she saw wasn’t real. And, more importantly, she wasn’t limited by her body. If she wanted to look like a bird—if she wanted to be a bird—there was nothing holding her back.

  Bracing herself, she extended her mind towards the curse. It snapped and snarled at her, like a crab that didn’t want to be picked up. Her thought gave it shape. Claws and teeth manifested from nowhere, snapping threateningly at her. Emily fought down the urge to run, telling herself that it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t harm her. And yet, she knew it could harm her if she let it. The curse changed shape again as she caught hold, becoming a sticky mess that threatened to leak into Melissa’s mind. Emily tightened her grip, willing it to come free ...

  ... It snapped free, then lunged at her. Emily recoiled as something landed on her face, tearing away at her bare flesh. For a terrified moment, she was sure the curse was trying to fight its way through every orifice and into her brain. She couldn’t help thinking of a face hugger, trying to impregnate an unwilling victim. Her lips clamped shut, but something was trying to pry them open. Her thoughts had given it shape and form ...

  ... She concentrated, then opened her mouth and breathed fire. The curse spun away from her, too late. She saw it wither and vanish, an in
stant before the fire vanished too. Emily hung in the center of Melissa’s mind for a long moment, then pulled back hastily. The fire shouldn’t have hurt Melissa—it shouldn’t have been real to her—but there was no point in taking chances. She fled backwards ...

  ... And then she was in her own body, jerking back from Melissa.

  “Well done,” Samra said. “You removed the curse.”

  “Thank you,” Melissa said. She touched her throat, lightly. Her voice sounded odd, as if she’d been unwell. “That was ... not pleasant.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Emily said, sincerely.

  “We have all been through worse,” Samra said, sounding like a fanatic. “Healers are often forced to put themselves in unfortunate positions. It is part of our calling.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa said. “But does it have to be so unpleasant?”

  Samra gave her a considering look. “There are few who would understand, outside the circle. They would not be sympathetic to our requests.”

  Her lips quirked. “Just be grateful you didn’t have to have your arm broken, just so we could teach your fellow students how to mend it,” she said. “And to teach you to be empathic for those who are in need of your skills.”

  Melissa stood up. “If you don’t mind, I have work to do,” she said. “Mistress?”

  “You may go,” Samra said. “Inform me at once if you notice any lingering after-effects of the curse.”

  Emily met Samra’s eyes as the tutor looked back at her. “Are there going to be any long-term effects?”

  “There shouldn’t be,” Samra told her. “The curse was not designed to survive, once it was yanked out of her mind. I don’t believe that any remaining fragments would pose a danger to her. But in soul magic, it is impossible to be entirely sure.”

  “It tried to grab onto me,” Emily said. “I saw it as ... as a monster.”

  “Your perceptions were turned against you,” Samra said. “It is vitally important to remember that you are fighting a battle of metaphor, rather than brute force. You could easily end up hurting yourself if you visualize the curse as a fly sitting on your nose, then punch yourself in the face in an attempt to get rid of it. Curses like that are practically designed to take advantage of your weaknesses.”

  Emily swallowed. “And once it grabbed on to me ...?”

  “Melissa would have a chance to practice removing curses too,” Samra said. “You would not, I suspect, have been able to remove it yourself.”

  She paced the room for a long moment. “I’ll keep an eye on Melissa, just to be sure,” she added. “But I don’t think there’s any real danger.”

  Emily nodded, relieved. “No more. I mean ...”

  Samra turned. “No more?”

  “No more reading her mind,” Emily said. “No more poking myself into her thoughts. No more ...”

  “Do you want to learn or don’t you?” Samra leaned forward. “This is not a skill you can learn from books, Emily. The only way to learn soul magic is by doing. You are extremely fortunate that you’ve been allowed to take lessons without committing yourself to the healing circle. Melissa has volunteered to allow you to practice on her ...”

  “I’ll hurt her,” Emily said. She remembered the images she’d seen of Melissa’s childhood, back when she’d been under Fulvia’s thumb. “Sooner or later, I’ll do something wrong and ...”

  “She knows the risks,” Samra said. “Melissa is a very brave girl.”

  She smiled. “And would you open your mind to her?”

  Not willingly, Emily thought. The whole idea was horrific. But if there was no choice...

  “I didn’t volunteer to have my mind read,” she said. She knew Melissa couldn’t share anything she learned, not without permission. The thought was still unpleasant. “And I don’t want to risk her any longer.”

  She looked down at the floor. “Why her?”

  “She volunteered,” Samra said, flatly. “And she has a marriage bond, which gives her some additional stability. Her classmates are rather less lucky.”

  Emily nodded, remembering the oaths in Melissa’s mind. And her own, waiting.

  “I was wondering if an oath could be removed,” she said. “Is that possible?”

  Samra made an odd sound. “There are people who would demand your immediate execution for daring to ask,” she said. It took Emily a moment to realize she was trying not to laugh. “I don’t think a sworn oath, one made of your own free will, could be removed. Even trying could be lethal. But an oath someone was forced to swear ... maybe. It isn’t something I would care to try.”

  She nodded to the door. “You’ll be back, of course. Next time, perhaps I’ll find you a more challenging opponent.”

  Emily swallowed, but said nothing.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “IT’S A BRIGHT, SUNNY DAY,” CIRROC said, as they walked out onto the grounds. “Just right for a dueling contest, don’t you think?”

  Emily bit down a whole series of nasty answers. The weather was perfect, absolutely perfect, for a long walk in the mountains. She could have gone, perhaps with Frieda, if she hadn’t been expected to supervise the dueling contest. But instead ... she groaned as she saw the vast number of people taking their seats in the arena. Gordian had insisted on holding the second round in the arena, where there were seats for the entire school to watch. And it looked like the entire school had turned out to watch.

  And place bets, she thought sourly. And try to use the contest as an excuse not to turn in their work on time.

  She sighed as she walked through the doors and into the waiting room. She’d only been there once before, when Alassa had tried to convince her to play Ken. Now, all thirty remaining duelists were sitting on benches or trying out moves until it was their turn to step onto the field. Even with four duels taking place at once, Emily thought, it was going to take some time before the first set of engagements were completed. Perhaps some of the audience would lose interest and wander off.

  Frieda sat on a bench, seemingly alone. Emily gave her a sharp look, wondering what the younger girl was thinking. Her face was blank, her pigtails tied into a bun that made her look very different from her normal self. Emily wanted to walk over to Frieda and say something reassuring, but nothing came to mind. She was ruefully aware that being seen in public with Frieda would only add more meat to the rumors.

  “She has been improving,” Cirroc said, quietly. “But she needs to work more on her theory.”

  “Which is precisely the section she doesn’t like,” Emily answered, equally quietly. She wasn’t sure how much Cirroc would tell her, although she was employing him. “Did Celadon’s idea actually work?”

  “Two times out of four,” Cirroc said. “It’s a very complex spell.”

  Emily kept her thoughts to herself as she walked to the front of the chamber. If Celadon’s idea had failed outright, Frieda would probably have felt vindicated. It might have made her be more reasonable afterwards ... along with Celadon himself, who wouldn’t have been winning any prizes for extreme cleverness. A partial success wasn’t bad—Frieda could help weed out the bugs and probably cast the spell herself, something she was good at—but Celadon had excellent reason to feel vindicated. It struck her as a recipe for disaster.

  She cleared her throat, glancing from face to face. Adana and Tiega had made it through, along with two other Second Years, but everyone else was Third Year or older. Emily couldn’t help wondering just how much of that had been sheer luck. Adana was good—Tiega was better—but neither of them would be any match for a fifth-year student. They might just have been lucky in who they faced, the first time around. The odds were a little steeper now.

  And there’s a greater chance of facing someone superior to them, Emily thought. They would have to start separate contests for each year, sooner or later. Cirroc could handle that, fortunately. Emily had every intention of handing the club over to him as soon as the second round was over. He can make sure the odds
are a little fairer next time.

  “Welcome to the second round,” she said, flatly. It was hard to work any enthusiasm into her voice, but she tried for their sake. At the back, Jacqui and Cerise looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Eight of you will be on the field at any one time, so pay attention to your referee and ignore the others. Remember the rules and don’t break them. The entire school is watching.”

  “That never stopped anyone cheating at Ken,” someone muttered.

  Emily sighed. The standard interpretation of the rules of Ken—as enthusiastically embraced by Alassa—was that it was only cheating if you got caught. Everything from accidentally hexing a part of the pitch to turning one’s opponents into toads was perfectly legal, as long as the referee didn’t notice. And she had long-suspected that the referees were all blind. The watching audience booed cheaters, even if the referee didn’t see the cheating.

  “This isn’t Ken,” she said, firmly. “The rules are not to be broken.”

  She nodded at Jacqui and Cerise, then led the way out onto the pitch. The audience roared in approval, their bellows shaking the stands. Emily told herself, firmly, to forget that there were hundreds—if not thousands—of watching eyes. And yet, she couldn’t forget. The dueling league representatives weren’t the only outsiders visiting Whitehall. Far too many parents had also come to watch the first dueling contest in years.

  I wonder if Void is here, she thought, as she passed out the tokens. The selection was still random, although—with the numbers reduced so sharply—the odds of an unbalanced selection had been reduced too. He could be anyone.

  The noise grew louder as the first set of duelists took their places in the circles. Emily forced herself to relax as she studied her duelists: a pair of Fourth Years, one of whom she vaguely recognized. The other was a complete stranger. She heard Cirroc blow his whistle behind her, then blew her own. The two duelists eyed each other warily for a long moment, then started trading hexes. They’d learnt a great deal since the first round.