The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13)

by Christopher Nuttall

  And I might have needed to use them myself, she thought. She’d done that before, at Whitehall. It would let me move from room to room without being seen.

  Her head swam as the snake slithered up the wall and into the vent. Aurelius had no problems with heights, but she did ... when the storage room suddenly looked bigger than Whitehall. The snake’s sense of proportion was different to hers, too different. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to concentrate, steering the snake through the vent and up to the next level. It wasn’t easy—the snake’s senses were constantly assailed by potential prey—but somehow she kept her mind together long enough to get the snake into the upper chamber and look around. Her emergency kit was where she remembered.

  God bless you, Professor Thande, she thought. As eccentric as he was, Professor Thande had drilled the importance of keeping a safety kit within immediate reach into her head. She’d made sure to keep hers well-stocked, even when she’d done as little alchemy as possible over the holidays. You might just have saved my life.

  Aurelius climbed up the table leg and looked at the small collection of bottles and scented cloths. Emily had to force him to focus enough to pick out a purgative from the rest, even though the snake’s nose was sharper than hers. Aurelius simply didn’t care about flavors, let alone understand the urgency of what she was trying to make him do. The snake wasn’t intelligent, not in any sense a human would recognize. Her more complex orders either caused confusion or were simply ignored.

  And all of those talking familiars from storybooks were so smart, she recalled, feeling a flicker of envy. The Nameless World had never developed stories about talking animals, something that had surprised her until she realized that talking creatures were often very dangerous. No one in their right mind wanted to tangle with an angry adult dragon. And no one who wrote those stories realized what a familiar bond might be like.

  She pointed Aurelius at the nearest purgative and commanded the snake to swallow. Aurelius resisted, just for a second. She caught a wave of what she would have unhesitatingly called grumbling in a human, a moment before the snake swallowed the bottle whole. It didn’t sit well in Aurelius’s stomach, but she ignored his increasingly annoyed protests. Instead, she directed the snake to hurry back to the storage room. She had no idea how long Daze would wait before getting to work.

  He thinks he has time to do it properly, Emily thought. She had a lot of defenses against mental tampering, thanks to Lady Barb and Sergeant Miles forcing her to practice, but she knew that no defense was invulnerable. Daze was clearly practiced in mind and blood magics. She had a nasty feeling he might know something about soul magic too. And he might be right.

  The thought chilled her to the bone. Shadye had influenced her, once upon a time. But Shadye hadn’t been interested in doing more than using her as a tool. He’d never even seen her as a person, she thought. Daze, on the other hand, would break her mind and then hand her over to Fulvia. Or, perhaps, keep her for himself. If he realized just how many secrets were locked away in Emily’s mind, if he realized just how many advantages she could give him, he’d never let her go. Fulvia could offer him all the wealth in the world and he’d refuse, because Emily could give him more ...

  She pushed her fear aside and kept a tight hold on the snake’s mind. Aurelius growled—she’d never thought a snake could growl—as he crawled back into the vent. The sensation of sharp discontent grew stronger and stronger, tearing at her mind. She silently prayed that the snake’s stomach acid wouldn’t destroy the bottle before it was too late. The potion probably wouldn’t do any harm to the snake, but she doubted she could make Aurelius go back up for a second bottle.

  I might not have a choice, she thought, sourly. She racked her brains, but she couldn’t think of any other way to escape in time. Daze clearly wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t untie her until she was firmly under his control. Even pretending to be under his control would be very dangerous. If this fails, I will have to try again.

  She allowed herself a moment of relief as Aurelius practically fell into the storage room, then forced herself to focus on the bottle. Aurelius stopped in front of her—her perspective shifted and shifted again, reminding her that she should be glad the room was dark—and slowly regurgitated the bottle. The sensations were so strong that Emily retched in sympathy, even as she turned her head to take the bottle in her mouth. Thankfully, the lid had been designed so that someone could flick it off with their tongue. Holding the bottle’s neck between her teeth, she tilted her head to allow the potions to flow into her mouth. The taste was awful, but infinitely superior to the durian ...

  The first convulsion hit her a moment later.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  EMILY SHUDDERED, RETCHING HELPLESSLY.

  It had been years since she’d swallowed a purgative. It wasn’t an experience anyone wanted to repeat, even with a relatively mild potion. One experience had been enough to make it clear that she had to be careful what she put into her mouth. The purgative was designed to rid her body of potion as quickly as possible. Everything from dignity onwards came second.

  She convulsed as her stomach heaved, then threw up violently. Sweat ran down her arms and back, a second before she retched again. She felt very ill, her legs suddenly weak ... if she hadn’t already been lying down, she knew she would have collapsed. Her stomach rumbled again. She twisted her body, desperately. The room was sound-proofed, but if Daze was lurking outside he might hear the noise. And then ...

  There were alchemists who tried to make themselves allergic to certain potions, she thought, as her chest started to hurt. The taste of stomach acid flooded her mouth. But none of them could ensure a mild reaction to the potion.

  It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but she clung to it as her stomach heaved again. She’d eaten lunch—had it really only been a few hours ago?—and now she was throwing it up, expelling all that remained from her stomach. She should be grateful, she knew, that her body hadn’t had time to metabolize more of the potion. If nothing else, it proved that she hadn’t been unconscious for very long. She forced herself to concentrate on alchemical formulas as she expelled the last of the potion from her body, wishing she was back in school. Professor Thande would have helped her, if she’d taken the potion in class. He’d have cleaned up the mess before it was too late.

  Frieda must be terrified, Emily thought. The younger girl might be frozen, paralyzed by magic, but she could still hear. She’ll think I’m dying.

  She pushed the thought aside as she took a long shuddering breath, trying to breathe through her mouth. Moving wasn’t easy with her arms and legs bound, but she managed to roll away from the vomit before slumping back to the ground. The durian potion fumes might just impede her magic, if she wasn’t careful. She concentrated, trying to call on her power. A tiny spark answered her.

  Shit, she thought, as she fanned the spark into fire. This could take a while.

  Panic yammered at the back of her mind. Daze wouldn’t underestimate her a second time. He’d knock her out, then transport her to his lair ... or straight to Fulvia, if he decided against trying to break her. Emily had no illusions about what the elderly woman would do to her, if she had Emily at her mercy. A woman who had no qualms about using magic to torture her granddaughter wouldn’t hesitate to rip Emily to shreds, atom by atom. She forced the panic back, concentrating on her power. The magic was rebuilding itself, slowly.

  She focused, then cast a very basic untying spell. It struck her, a second too late, that Daze could have charmed the ropes, but the knots came untied without resistance. Emily pulled her hands free and sat up, casting a night-vision spell as she moved. Frieda was still unmoving—and Aurelius was curled up by the vent, waiting for her—but the remainder of the room was empty. Emily mentally kicked herself for not concealing emergency supplies everywhere she could. But then, she’d never anticipated being taken prisoner in her own house.

  Her head started to ache as she reached out to touch the wards. They
felt odd, as if someone had been trying to fiddle with them. Emily recoiled, cursing under her breath. She’d worked her own blood into the spells, but given time a skilled wardcrafter could probably subvert them. Particularly if he had a sample of her blood ... she looked down, but she couldn’t see the remains of a cut in the semi-darkness. The thought chilled her to the bone. Daze could easily have taken a sample of her blood while she’d been unconscious, then healed the wound to ensure she never knew. She’d always wonder if a sample of her blood was out there, somewhere ...

  Later, she told herself, firmly. Daze wouldn’t have left the house. We’ll have time to search for it later.

  Emily struggled to stand, despite her legs threatening to buckle. She hadn’t felt so ill since she’d eaten something she really shouldn’t, back when she’d been twelve. She’d thrown up repeatedly, then dry-retched when she’d finally emptied her stomach. Her stepfather, damn the man, had made sarcastic remarks for weeks afterwards. His lurking presence had forced her to go to school the day afterwards, even though she hadn’t been well. The school canteen’s barely-edible food hadn’t helped either.

  She tugged at her damp clothes, pulling them back into place as she tried to think. Getting out of the room wouldn’t be a problem, but what then? Sneak back to Whitehall? Or confront Daze? She dismissed the last thought a moment later. She wasn’t in any state for a confrontation. And she had no idea how Frieda would react. Daze had done a number on her brain. She might let Emily get her back to Whitehall. But she might also turn on Emily.

  Crap, Emily thought. She didn’t have the power to teleport, even if she did manage to make it out of the house. Even levitating Frieda to the nearest coachhouse would be a problem. How much control does he have over her?

  She forced herself to think. Frieda couldn’t have made it to Dragon’s Den without teleporting—and that meant she’d met Daze outside Whitehall. And she’d let him into the house, something she knew Emily wouldn’t like ... Daze might not have complete control over Frieda, but he was certainly capable of manipulating her. Frieda might be able to resist, now she knew what was happening, yet ... what if she couldn’t? Emily knew just how dangerous mind magics could be. Frieda might well believe she was doing the right thing, even as she betrayed Emily to her enemies.

  Frieda needs help, Emily thought. She called the snake to her. And the only place to get her that help is Whitehall.

  It was a risk, she acknowledged. Gordian had presumably started the expulsion paperwork by now. Even if he hadn’t, hunting parties were probably already being formed. They’d be convinced they were looking for a rogue magician. It was quite possible, Emily had to admit, that they might be looking for her too. She didn’t dare assume Gordian hadn’t realized she’d left school. If nothing else, there would be an alert when she failed to visit the Warden.

  Aurelius crawled up her arm and settled into place, just inside her sleeve. The snake didn’t like the smell—Emily recoiled at the sudden wave of sensations from Aurelius’s twitching nose—but put up with it anyway. Emily braced herself, leaning against the wall for a long moment, then made her way towards Frieda. Perhaps she could levitate Frieda out of the house before ordering the wards to attack all intruders. She didn’t think Daze could have subverted her wards to keep her from doing that.

  She touched Frieda’s arm, wincing at the unnaturally stiff sensation. “We’ll get out of this somehow,” she muttered, although she knew it wasn’t true. Even if Frieda got the help she needed, even if her name was cleared, she was going to carry the mental scars for the rest of her life. “I’ll get you home.”

  There was no response, of course. Emily gritted her teeth, silently promising herself that she’d make Fulvia pay. There was nowhere in the Allied Lands she could hide. Melissa might have been disowned, but she still had a blood-tie to Fulvia ... and if she didn’t, she wasn’t the only Ashworth who owed Emily a favor. She’d track Fulvia down and use the nuke-spell on her hidey-hole, turning it into radioactive ash. They’d say the land was cursed for a hundred years.

  Emily gathered herself, then cast the levitation spell. The effort tired her, even though it was a simple spell she’d mastered five years ago. Frieda floated into the air, wobbling unsteadily as Emily turned and guided her towards the door. It was unlocked, surprisingly. Or perhaps it wasn’t that surprising. Stripped of her magic, Emily knew there was no way she could have untied herself in time. She felt the wards grow stronger as she levitated Frieda into the corridor, but they refused to help her locate Daze. It was impossible to tell if she just didn’t have the energy to make contact—or if Daze had subverted them already—but it didn’t matter.

  I need a nexus point, she thought. And there’s one at Heart’s Eye.

  The thought kept her going as she slowly slipped down the corridor, Frieda floating behind her. Heart’s Eye was safe, secure ... and hers. She could take Frieda there, then turn the former school into an impregnable fortress. Fulvia couldn’t get to either of them there. And she could continue with her plans ... invite Caleb to open the university, invite Melissa and all the others ... build a community of her own, away from the Allied Lands. Who knew? It might grow into something great.

  And then she heard someone clapping.

  She froze. Daze was standing by the door, looking impressed. His smile—his creepy smile—was almost welcoming. And yet ... another string of Melissa’s memories rose up from the back of her mind, screaming a warning even as they threatened to overwhelm her. Emily forced them back, concentrating her mind. She was in no state for a confrontation, but she had no choice. Daze wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  “I am impressed, Lady Emily,” Daze said. “There are fully-trained magicians who wouldn’t have escaped.”

  Emily felt the snake, hidden in her sleeve. Perhaps Daze would come close enough for her to shove Aurelius into his smug creepy face. Or ... she gritted her teeth, realizing how badly Melissa’s memories had affected her. Melissa hadn’t just disliked Daze, she’d found him thoroughly unpleasant and sinister. She forced herself to keep an eye on the older magician as she lowered Frieda to the ground. She’d need all of her power to fight.

  “This is my place of power,” she said, as defiantly as she could. “You can’t fight me here.”

  Daze smiled, rather thinly. “I’ve taken the opportunity to examine your wards,” he said, holding up a hand. Dried blood was clearly visible, forming a rune. “They are very well crafted indeed, but incapable of differentiating between Frieda and me. And you don’t have time to reprogram before it’s too late.”

  Emily cursed under her breath. He was right. She’d used the same trick herself.

  “I don’t know how you managed to recover your magic and escape,” Daze said. “But if you could kill me, you’d have done it by now. Why don’t you walk back to the cell and wait?”

  “Because you’d kill me,” Emily snapped. She tried, desperately, to think of a plan. She’d lose a straight fight and he was too far away to be certain of getting him with the snake. And if she failed to get him, he’d curse her into next week. “Or warp my mind for your mistress.”

  “I can always let your little friend go,” Daze offered. “You are a far more valuable prize.”

  More than you know, Emily thought. She considered, briefly, offering to share what she knew, but she doubted he’d trust her. He’d want to control her, just to be sure. And that would be the end. What the hell do I do?

  She stalled. “How do I know you’d let her go?”

  “I could offer you an oath,” Daze offered. “Her freedom for your surrender.”

  Emily winced, inwardly. It wasn’t much of an offer. Frieda would still be mentally damaged, still be hunted by the authorities ... she’d certainly never get the healing she needed to prove her innocence. Emily didn’t think Daze could do anything about that, even if he wanted to. Frieda would walk out of the house, straight to her doom, while Emily remained to face hers.

  She gritted her teeth
. If she could get to a battery ... it wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only thing she could think of that might give her a chance. She’d have to focus the magic manually too, channeling it through her mind rather than using a valve. Too many things could go spectacularly wrong. It might even drive her mad. And yet ... she couldn’t think of anything else.

  “No.” She gathered herself. “Walk out of here and I’ll let you go.”

  Daze made a gesture with his finger. Emily barely had a second to react before an invisible force slammed into her, knocking her past Frieda and up the corridor. She gathered herself, then dispelled the magic a heartbeat before it would have thrown her into the wall. Daze walked past Frieda and advanced towards Emily, his magic crackling at the ready. She saw an unholy anticipation on his face and cursed, again. Melissa had been right. Daze was creepy as hell.

  “You haven’t recovered all of your magic,” Daze said. Emily threw a hex at him, but he deflected it with a wave of his arm. “I imagine that whatever you did to purify yourself wasn’t perfect.”

  He cocked his head. “How did you do it, by the way?”

  “None of your business,” Emily snarled. She tried to cast a series of wards to protect herself, but she could barely muster the magic to secure them in place. “That’s my secret.”

  Daze seemed unconcerned. “I’ll take it from your mind, once I’ve broken you,” he said, calmly. His magic beat on the air, pressing lightly against Emily’s makeshift wards. “I look forward to understanding how it was done.”

  “You’ll never be able to do it,” Emily managed. “It’s my secret.”

  She tightened the wards, but she was grimly aware that they wouldn’t hold for long. Daze was pushing his magic forward, seeking out and exploiting gaps in her spellwork. It would have been a mistake if she’d been at full strength. As it was, he’d done precisely the right thing. He’d break down her wards without causing significant injury.