A School for Sorcery (Arucadi Series Book 6)

by E. Rose Sabin

  Kress rubbed his chin, drawing Tria’s attention to its covering of blond stubble. He might be trying to grow a beard, but his haggard face and haunted eyes suggested that he was merely too frightened and dispirited to attend to his personal grooming.

  “You’re trying to get her back.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She’d done absolutely nothing to merit his confidence. More than ever, she distrusted him.

  “How did you get past the wards on the stairs?” she asked. “You gave Lina’s talisman back to her.”

  He shrugged. “There are other ways.” But he couldn’t meet her eyes.

  Oryon could break the wards without the talisman, Lina had said. Kress couldn’t.

  Oryon must have sent Kress here with the Breyadon. That could only mean that he had all he wanted from it. And was using it to set a trap for her. A trap that required her to be holding the book when it was sprung.

  She tossed the book past Kress onto Lina’s bed. As it landed, a yellow light burst from it and spread out, forming a large amber globe. Tria shrank back against the door. Kress let out a yelp of terror and tried to push away from the desk. The globe engulfed all but his left arm and left leg from the knee down before its expansion stopped and it solidified into an opaque resinous substance. Kress’s hand clenched, opened, clenched again. His foot twitched.

  It wouldn’t take Oryon long to discover that his trap had caught the wrong victim. She had only seconds, surely, before he came to check. She had to be ready.

  She turned toward the door, saw her frightened face reflected in the mirror. Doubled power.

  But she’d need it more than doubled. She swung the vanity around so its mirror caught and repeated the reflection in the door mirror. She tugged at Lina’s heavy chifforobe but couldn’t budge it; she’d have to do without its mirror. Two would have to be enough.

  Positioning herself between the two mirrors so that her image was repeated in each, she summoned her power, spread it outward, drew it back, hurled it forth again, farther, deeper, sharing power with her imaged twins, drawing their power back into herself until she was bursting with it, and the reflected Trias were pale, wavering phantoms.

  The mirror in front of her moved, dispelling the clearest remaining image. The door opened. Like a black shadow, Oryon stepped into the room.

  “Here’s the real one,” he said, holding up the Breyadon. “I assume you still want it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ALLIANCE

  Oryon’s dark presence eclipsed the mirrors. Tria faced him alone. His haughty gaze took in the angled vanity mirror, the amber globe with its hapless victim. If he was surprised or disappointed to see his trap closed on his fellow conspirator instead of on Tria, he concealed the emotions well. Although the globe took up much of the room and Kress’s limbs dangled pitiably from it, Oryon dismissed it with a casual glance.

  He nodded at the mirrors. “I see you finally discovered the first of my little secrets. Far too late, of course, to do you any good.”

  Tria did not answer. She kept a wary eye on the Breyadon, fearing another trap. But Oryon clasped the book against his black shirt. He was not carrying his wand.

  “Still,” he continued, “it was clever of you to work it out. Clever of you to evade that, too.” With a nod of his head he indicated the amber globe.

  Tria’s anger mounted, pushing her fear into the background. “What about Kress?” she snapped. “He wasn’t clever. Aren’t you going to get him out of that thing before it kills him?”

  A nonchalant shrug showed his lack of concern for his erstwhile partner. “He was careless. Stupid. He knew the danger. I can’t get him out.”

  “That’s all? ‘I can’t get him out’? All your vaunted power, and you can’t get your friend out of the trap you created?”

  “Not a friend, really. An ally, while I needed him.”

  “And now you don’t need him anymore, so you toss him away like a piece of garbage! Oryon, you are despicable.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad. He isn’t dead. Let’s see, maybe there is something I can do.” He walked to the globe and, holding the Breyadon with one arm, used a finger of his other hand to probe the surface near Kress’s leg. “Hmmm. Solid, but …” He pushed against the border between globe and flesh and mumbled a few words in a mage tongue.

  Cautiously Tria moved closer to watch. She was alarmed to see that Kress’s hand had grown blue. Abruptly both arm and leg slid into the globe, and the amber surface closed over them.

  “That should make him more comfortable,” Oryon announced, turning back to Tria.

  She stared at the smooth surface. “Can he breathe? Or do you care?”

  “I don’t know. Forget about him. Or get him out yourself.” He settled back comfortably on Lina’s desk chair, resting the Breyadon on his lap.

  Tria curled tendrils of power around the globe and tried first to squeeze it then to pry it apart. Oryon watched the useless efforts with amusement. She increased the power, knowing that by doing so she was making herself vulnerable. Knowing too that Oryon’s plan could be to goad her into expending her power and attack when she became weak. Even so, she could not ignore Kress’s plight.

  He had brought it on himself, but he did not deserve to die because of his own foolishness and Oryon’s cruelty. She redoubled her efforts. With a loud crack the globe shattered and crumbled into tiny fragments that fell as a rain of yellow dust. Nothing else.

  Kress was gone, along with Lina’s bed and desk, transformed into motes of dust or transported to another place. Oryon threw back his head and laughed.

  She whirled on him. “Where is he? What have you done?”

  “Whoa!” Still laughing, Oryon held up his hands as though to ward her off. “Merely a small conjuring trick. Nothing to get excited over.”

  “Bring him back. The furniture, too.” She raised her own hands curved into claws, ready to hurl herself on him and tear at his face.

  A snap of his fingers sent her flying backward to land with a painful thump in the other desk chair. “I don’t take orders, I give them,” he thundered. “Listen to me.”

  Pinned to the chair, she could do nothing but glare at him. As he’d intended, she had squandered her energy on the globe and left herself helpless.

  “I’ve decoded the Breyadon.” He held the book upright so that she could read its title. “The scholars were either fools or pitifully lacking in power.”

  “You know the reason. They’re too ethical to use your methods.”

  Oryon shrugged. “As I said, fools. Their stupid ethics brought them only wasted years. But I shouldn’t complain. The book’s secrets have opened to me, and I intend to use them in ways those weak-livered professors wouldn’t dare.”

  Keep him talking, Tria told herself. Stall him while you try to recover some power. “Have you forgotten Mistress Dova’s warning about the danger of using its spells?”

  “That skittish old maid.” Oryon spat. “She’s had this treasure for years, and what has she done with it? Let it gather dust. I owe you thanks for leading me to it and inspiring me to liberate it.” He grinned. “In fact, I’m so grateful, I’m going to offer you a deal. I’m willing to let you form an alliance with me.”

  Tria choked back a cry of rage and indignation. She could feel her power seeping back, sluggish and slow like cold syrup. If she could let him talk, keep him distracted, she might recover enough to launch an unexpected blow. “What kind of alliance?” she asked.

  He patted the book. “When I use this, it will unleash tremendous force. That force will need to be contained, shaped, directed. I’d intended to have Kress help, but I concluded he lacked the strength. You, though—you could do it. But you’d have to follow instructions, do exactly what I tell you.”

  “Why should I do that?” Sitting quietly, Tria asked it in a reasonable tone, as though she really wanted to know. Let him think she was interested. Her power was building back faster now. Soon …

  �
��For what I’m willing to give you in return.” His eyes played over her, measuring, testing. “You could be the new Headmistress here. This could be a school that really teaches the use of power; no more of the ridiculous Logic and Ethics courses. The emphasis would be on practice, not endless theory.”

  “What about Wilce and Gray? Will you restore them?”

  “I’ll bring them back, if you really want them. You can keep them as pets.”

  “Why don’t you bring them now? If you really want my help, it would be evidence of your good faith.”

  He shook his head. “Not until we have an agreement. Not until after you’ve done what I ask.”

  “Show them to me, at least. Prove that you can do what you say.”

  He frowned. “It’s not necessary. You’ve seen them. You know what they’ve become. Maybe, after we unleash the Breyadon’s power, they can be restored. Now … no.”

  “Then bring Lina back. If you do that, I’ll consider your offer.” She held her breath, aware of the chance she was taking.

  He rubbed his hands over the Breyadon’s leather cover. “I don’t think you appreciate the opportunity I’m offering you. If you did, you wouldn’t try to bargain.”

  “I know what power the Breyadon holds,” Tria said. “What I don’t know is whether I can trust you to keep your word after I’ve helped you gain that power. I’m asking you to give me a token of your good faith.”

  Good faith! Could he possibly think she meant those words? But he seemed unaware of her sarcasm.

  “Token,” he mused, stroking his chin. “Token, hmm?”

  He stood, tucked the Breyadon under his arm, and walked to the center of the room. Facing the empty space where the bed and desk had been, he threw his head back and gazed upward, traced a mystic symbol in the air, and spoke a word of power.

  With a loud crash the bed materialized amid a cloud of yellow dust. A second pass of his hand and the speaking of another word brought the desk jolting back into its place. “There!” he said. “Those are tokens enough.”

  Tria jumped to her feet. “No,” she cried. “The furniture means nothing. Bring Lina if you want me to trust you.”

  His eyes narrowed; he regarded her speculatively. Too late she realized that by leaving her seat she had revealed her returning power.

  But Oryon nodded. “All right. Remember, you’ve given your word.”

  He adjusted his grip on the Breyadon and with his other hand again drew symbols in the air. This time a fiery glow outlined their twisted configurations. In a low voice he spoke several words unintelligible to Tria. Finally, he clapped his hand against the hand that held the book.

  A panther fell snarling and spitting onto the floor in front of him. It jumped up, looked around, and with a terrified yowl leaped through the open window.

  Horrified, Tria dashed to the window and looked out. Barely visible on the ground three floors below, a dark form staggered to its four feet, shook its head as if dazed, and limped off into the darkness.

  Tria spun toward Oryon. “What have you done?”

  “Exactly what you asked me to do,” he said. “Now it’s time for you to do what I asked.”

  “Never!” Tria drove her power at him, flinging him back against the bed, knocking the Breyadon from his grasp. She caught up the book and bounded past him, yanked open the door, and dashed into the hall. He raged after her.

  In her panic she turned toward the washroom instead of the stairs. Hugging the book to her breast, she strove to outdistance the footsteps pounding behind her. As close as he was, she had no hope of escaping. He’d see her duck into any of the rooms.

  Use the stairs.

  The thought came to her as distinct as a voice—Veronica’s voice. And she saw before her a wide stairway illuminated by glowing silver risers. Without hesitation she surged up the steps. The footsteps did not follow. She heard them clatter on down the hall and stop. As she ascended, she heard as from a great distance Oryon’s puzzled outcry.

  She reached the top of the stairs. A long hall stretched before her, lit by candles flickering in wall receptacles. No doors opened off it. In wonder and fear she started down it.

  The hubbub that had arisen in the hall after Oryon’s abrupt exit faded away. Doors that had opened closed again. The late night quiet returned.

  Oryon must have used his power to slip away unnoticed. If he had remained anywhere on the girls’ floor, Tria could have sensed his presence. She was sure of it. Relieved, she slipped from the shadows and peered cautiously out into the hall. No sign of Oryon and no one at all in sight. All was quiet. She retreated into her room and shut the door. How had she escaped Oryon’s notice? He hadn’t seemed to realize she’d hidden in the shadowy corner of the room. Could she somehow have rendered herself invisible not only to his sight but to all his senses? She hadn’t consciously attempted to work an invisibility spell, but possibly her need had called one forth from her subconscious.

  She crossed to the window and looked out. No sign of Lina. She hadn’t expected to see any. A black panther would find it easy to hide in the night. She would have to search for her, but she’d wait for daylight.

  She pulled the window closed and shuffled over to her bed, sneezing as she scuffed through the yellow dust. Tomorrow she’d clean; tonight she could do nothing. She felt tired, weak, a shadow of herself. Maybe a good night’s sleep would restore her energy. She took off the dusty red dress, put on her nightgown, and climbed into bed.

  The way between the worlds was a desolate, lonely place. The tantalizing views of other worlds no longer fascinated but now tormented Tria because she could find no way to reach them. She stopped looking at them, and it seemed that they appeared less often and for briefer periods. The tunnel walls remained mostly opaque with only a rare, quick glimpse of the worlds beyond. Needing more color than those brief flashes provided, she wished she’d worn something bright and colorful to Aletheia’s class. The gloom was oppressive, and her brown clothing offered no respite.

  When again she heard steps behind her, she was not so quick to run. She turned, looked, and backed away so slowly that the hideous apparition came closer.

  “I am Oryon,” it said. “Or at least, I am a part of him, a fragment of reality. And you are only a part of Tria, fashioned from her reflection and given a modicum of life by her power.”

  “No!” she screamed at it, and then she did run away.

  But in her subsequent wanderings she caught an occasional glimpse of a gleam as of light reflecting off glass and beyond it a distant figure moving away. She could not be sure in the dim light—did not want to be sure—but the figure seemed to be her own.

  She wanted to reject the possibility that it was her real self she saw, but the unreality of her present existence forced her to consider that she might be only a flawed duplicate. Lost in this complex of tunnels, suspended in timelessness—what could this be but a dream state, an illusion? And she was no more than a part of that illusion.

  She ran from the thought, tore at the tunnel walls with her nails, kicked at them, shouted, screamed. She pinched and poked herself to wake herself from the dream. Useless, all of it. The walls were impervious to her attacks, no one responded to her screams, and there was no waking from the nightmare in which she was caught.

  She was going mad. Had gone mad. That was it! She was lost in some quirk of her own disordered mind. She had to find her way back to sanity.

  What she needed was contact with another human being. But the only other inhabitant of this nonworld was the thing that called itself Oryon, and he could be nothing more than a figment of her fevered imagination. Still, the company of another being, even one of such ghastly appearance and noxious odor, would relieve this terrible isolation. She even suspected that she might be degenerating into a similar creature herself.

  If she talked to him—at a safe distance, of course—she might learn more about him and thus about herself. She sat cross-legged on the tunnel floor, hugged the brown wool skirt
close around her knees for the warmth it offered, and waited for him to find her.

  The stench of decay forewarned her of his presence. He hunkered down beside her. She scooted away and held up a hand to keep him back.

  He did not move closer. “You’re bearing up better than I have,” he said. “There’s more of you left.”

  Tria shuddered and looked away. “This isn’t real,” she whispered.

  “Real enough for us,” he answered. “Although in a sense you’re right. Reflections only hover between reality and unreality.”

  “I have flesh. So do you. How can we have any substance if we’re only reflections?” She had to argue, though she was contradicting her own denial of his reality.

  “We perceive ourselves as having flesh.” He held out his bony arms with their rotting skin and added ruefully, “Though I seem to be losing mine.”

  “Why is that happening to you? Will it happen to me?”

  He turned up his palms and stared at the gaping wounds in them. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think the reality I left behind has no more need of me. He’s found other ways of compounding his power, and he’s left me here to rot. Unless he calls me back and gives me a new infusion of life, I’ll slowly decompose into dust.”

  Tria examined her hands and arms. They were thin and the marks left by her pinches and prods were painfully evident. But she found no open wounds. The skin’s gray color could be an effect of the inadequate light.

  She recalled seeing herself in her room. She had thought she had used her power to obtain that vision. Now she wondered whether it had instead been a summons from her other, her original, self. And those other Trias she had glimpsed, or thought she glimpsed, retreating into the distance—could they be other versions of herself?

  “Do you ever see yourself, or reflections of yourself?” she asked him.

  He scraped a skeletal finger over the floor. “I did at first,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t confined here. I could enter my room, walk around the school, talk to people. But I grew weaker, and one day I found myself in here. In my wanderings I saw my own face staring at me once or twice. The last time, I fought giving it the power it wanted. I knew it intended evil.”