Void chuckled, humorlessly. “Their taste in interior design leaves something to be desired.”
Emily looked at him as he cast a pair of privacy spells. “What happened?”
“Good question.” Void spoke quietly, despite the spells. “They certainly didn’t follow standard procedure.”
He looked her up and down, thoughtfully. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Emily said. Her body ached. She hadn’t felt so sore since the first time she’d taken Martial Magic. It was hard to believe, even in hindsight, that Sergeant Harkin had gone easy on her. “Sore and drained.”
“You did well,” Void said.
Emily frowned. “How much of the fight did you see?”
“There were eight combat sorcerers and a dozen apprentices in the area,” Void said. “If you hadn’t done well, they would have taken you prisoner with ease. You could have done more, though...”
“I didn’t want to kill people,” Emily said. She thought about the townspeople she’d met over the last few weeks and shivered. None of them deserved to be tormented by the witches, let alone killed because they’d been caught in the middle of a full-scale fight. “I thought...”
“Sometimes, you have to make that choice,” Void said. “Trying to snatch you off the streets... that’s not good. Lucknow’s practically thrown his career to the dragons.”
Emily frowned. “I thought he was on your side. Your team.”
“No one is ever truly on another person’s side,” Void said, shortly. “People work together because they have common interests. When those interests diverge, so do the people.”
“And why...?” Emily shook her head. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss it here, in the middle of the castle. “Where is he?”
“Probably running around, trying to make arrangements,” Void said. He chuckled, darkly. “He was always very good at planning the immediate steps, but his long-term planning often leaves something to be desired.”
Emily looked away as a door started to rattle before opening, revealing a grim-faced man in a suit of charmed armor. It looked absurdly fragile, but she knew from experience that it could deflect or absorb enough spells to give its wearer a chance to deal with the caster before it was too late. The man’s face was oddly blurred, suggesting he was using a charm to hide his identity. She supposed it made a certain kind of sense. The prisoners might want revenge on their gaolers if - when - they were released.
The man stepped up to her and stopped. “Lady Emily,” he said. He moved with a delicacy that suggested he’d been wounded in his youth and the damage had never fully healed. Rare, for a magician. She thought, just for a second, that he might be a homunculus. “Please come with me.”
“I will be accompanying her to the cell,” Void said. His tone made it clear it wasn’t a request. “And you will be held solely accountable for her treatment.”
Emily shivered. The gaoler didn’t show any visible reaction. Instead, he turned and led the way through the door. The corridor beyond was cold, but nowhere near as dark and dank as King Randor’s cells. Indeed, there was something oddly sterile about the arrangement. She didn’t see a single person, apart from themselves, as they moved through a maze of corridors. The wards pulsed around them, remaining oddly consistent. It was hard not to feel as though the corridors were constantly changing, that the castle was designed to ensure that anyone who tried to escape only went deeper and deeper into the building. She shivered, again. Were they being led into a trap?
Void looked impassive as they walked through an arch and into a mid-sized chamber. The door ahead of them was clearly part of a cell, with a barred window allowing the gaoler to peer inside. Emily gritted her teeth as the gaoler opened the door, revealing a surprisingly luxurious room. It wouldn’t have been out of place in Whitehall. There was a bed, a washroom, a desk and a chair... it might have been a room in an inn, if it weren’t so clearly a cell. The wards were growing stronger, pressing down on her. She felt as though her head was being stuffed with cotton wool.
They’re designed to sap my will to escape, she thought, numbly. It would be easy, almost terrifyingly easy, to sit on the bed and just... wait. She’d seen all sorts of spells designed to trap the victim, by lulling them into a daze, but this one was an order of magnitude more powerful. Knowing it was there wasn’t enough to deflect it. The moment I lose my concentration, I’m doomed.
She frowned as she spotted the food waiting. It looked to be of good quality, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t safe to eat. Someone could easily spike the food with potion and render her powerless - or worse. The jug of water would be harder to spike, but it could be done. She knew a dozen spells to check if something was safe to eat, yet the wards were pressing down so hard she wasn’t sure she could make the spells work safely. Or if she could trust the results. She cursed under her breath. Sooner or later, she’d have to drink something. She knew she couldn’t hold out forever.
Void touched her shoulder. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” he said. “Don’t be downhearted.”
The gaoler motioned for her to step into the cell. Emily hesitated, feeling as though she was stepping into a trap. She trusted Void and yet... she felt abandoned. They could go back to the tower and... and what? She sighed. If they - if she - went on the run, it would be taken as a confession of guilt. And she was in no state to go on the run. She nodded stiffly and walked into the cell. The wards - somehow - managed to get stronger. She closed her eyes for a long moment, drawing on what remained of her magic to build shields in her mind to protect herself. They wouldn’t last forever, not with the wards constantly grating on her, but...
She flinched as the door closed behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a cell, but... she shook her head in irritation. Randor’s cells had been designed to make it very clear that the prisoner was in deep shit. The unfortunate inmates had been chained to the walls and forced to share their bread and water with the rats. Here... it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security. The room could easily have passed for a standard guestroom. There was even a small shelf crammed with books. Emily took one and glanced at the title, then frowned. Basic Council Law. She wasn’t sure if someone was trying to give the accused a chance to defend themselves or engaging in sadistic torture. She’d read the book years ago. The legalese was almost impossible to comprehend.
A sense of despondency overcame her as she peered into the washroom, then sat on the bed. Void had come to her aid, but... she found herself looking at the door, praying he’d return soon. He’d left her alone. He’d left her alone and...
Master Lucknow’s gone mad, she told herself. The rest of the council will refuse to go along with him.
But, as she waited for something to happen, the thought provided no consolation at all.
Chapter Three
IT HAD NEVER REALLY OCCURRED TO Emily, not even when she’d been at Whitehall, that making someone wait for punishment was part of the punishment. She’d never had a problem with being alone, even when she’d been told to stay in her room and not come out. And yet, as she started to lose track of time, she found herself wishing Master Lucknow would just get on with it. He’d clearly not bothered to lay any of the groundwork for obtaining a warrant and arresting her, let alone putting her on trial. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. She knew she had enemies, but how many of them were prepared to set a precedent that could - that would - come back to bite them?
Maybe he thought he could arrest me and execute me without anyone realizing what he’d done, Emily thought. She couldn’t see how Master Lucknow had intended to pull it off, not when he’d had a small army under his command, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. If he swore them all to secrecy, the truth might never come out.
She shook her head. Master Lucknow had never struck her as stupid. A plan that relied on everyone keeping their mouths shut was a very stupid plan indeed. And yet... what had he had in mind? Wh
at was he playing at? Did he think he could condemn her without dragging her in front of the entire council? Or was he gambling he could dispose of her before anyone interfered? Was he prepared to die himself to ensure that she died, too?
Her body ached, dully. She pulled up her shirt and frowned at the bruises. She’d taken several nasty blows when she’d hit the ground. Her scalp hurt... she touched her hair, realizing it was still matted with Master Lucknow’s blood. He wasn’t going to forgive her for using blood magic against him, not in a hurry. She’d crossed a line there... her fingers tingled as she felt the blood, tasting his magic. That trick probably wouldn’t work twice. If she was any judge, he’d have cut the link as soon as he realized it existed.
There was a knock on the door. She looked up, wondering - absurdly - what would happen if she told the newcomer to go away. She was in a prison cell. It was unlikely anyone would give much of a damn about her orders, if she demanded privacy. The door rattled and opened, revealing Mistress Kyla. Whitehall’s Healer nodded to her, then drew a wand from her belt and waved it in the air. The wards faded slightly. Emily smiled in relief.
“Emily,” Kyla said. She looked older than Emily remembered, wispy white hair curled around an ancient face. “It’s been a while.”
Emily nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“They thought you needed a Healer,” Kyla said. “And I was asked to attend upon you.”
“I see.” Emily felt a flicker of suspicion. “What did I ask you about, after the school nearly collapsed in on itself?”
Kyla didn’t hesitate. “You asked for advice on contraceptive charms,” she said, bluntly. “I told you that potions were better, then taught you how to cast the charms.”
Emily flushed, despite her relief. The majority of students learnt such charms from their parents or their older siblings, when they didn’t choose to rely on the potion. She’d had to ask the healer herself, when she’d started her relationship with Caleb... no one else, not even her closest friends, knew. The woman in front of her was the healer, not someone wearing her face. It wasn’t easy to pose as someone else, not when talking to someone who knew them, but it wasn’t impossible. Someone might easily have assumed that Emily didn’t know Kyla that well.
“I have to check up on you,” Kyla said. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” Emily said. She stood and allowed the healer to wave the wand around her. Magic tingled up and down her spine. “What did they tell you?”
“About you?” Kyla shrugged as she started to run through a pair of healing spells. “They just said you needed a healer. That was it.”
Emily took a breath, feeling the aches and pains slowly fading away. She’d have to pay for it, later on, but... hopefully she’d have time to get through the hearing before she collapsed into bed. She wished, grimly, that Master Lucknow had let Void take her back to the tower. It would have been so much easier to trust the food... she glanced at the water jug, practically calling to her. Her throat felt parched. And yet... she didn’t dare touch the drink.
A thought struck her. “Is the water safe to drink?”
“It should be.” Kyla finished casting spells on Emily and turned away, inspecting the jug and its contents. “There’s no magic within the liquid.”
Which doesn’t prove anything, Emily thought. A mundane drug - a simple sleeping draught or something far worse - wouldn’t trip the spells. There could be anything in there.
“You need a shower,” Kyla informed her, curtly. “And then I advise a good night’s sleep.”
Emily had to laugh. “And what will happen to me while I sleep?”
Kyla said nothing, but dug her hand into her pouch and removed a vial. “A basic nutrient potion,” she said. “It won’t keep you going forever, but it should give you a few more hours before you have to eat the food here.”
“I... thank you,” Emily said. She wasn’t blind to the risk the healer was running, just by giving her the potion. Master Lucknow would not approve. Healers were hard to punish, but not impossible. Kyla could lose her post at Whitehall if Master Lucknow made a fuss. “I don’t know how long they’re going to keep me here.”
“They didn’t tell me,” Kyla said. “But I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Emily wasn’t so sure. Master Lucknow had gone too far for a simple misunderstanding and that meant... what? What was he planning to do? Get the council together and ask them to retroactively approve Emily’s arrest? Or find a fig leaf that would allow him to let her go without losing too much face? She was surprised he hadn’t bothered to lay the groundwork properly, which suggested... what? He wasn’t careless, any more than he was stupid. He’d probably had some idea for handling her, once he had her in custody.
Unless his real plan was to lock me up and milk me for ideas, she thought. The thought was alarmingly plausible. If he put me in a cell like this, I might never get free.
“I can remain here for a few moments longer, if you would like to take a shower,” Kyla said, calmly. “I can clean your dress while you wash.”
Emily hesitated. She was certain - very certain - that the cell was under close observation. It was what she would have done, if she was dealing with a very dangerous prisoner. She certainly didn’t want to get undressed and shower in front of unseen eyes and yet... she was grimy and covered in someone else’s blood. Her skin crawled at the thought. There was no point in trying to save the blood. By now, it would be useless. Master Lucknow would have made sure of it.
“I’ll look more impressive if I wash,” Emily said. She opened the vial, put the glass to her lips and drank. The potion tasted ghastly, but she felt a surge of energy rushing through her as she started to undress. The healer looked away, politely. “Thanks.”
She stepped into the washroom, turned on the water and clambered into the shower. The water was hot enough to make her relax, just a little. She was tempted to remain under the water, even though she knew Kyla couldn’t spend much longer with her. Emily’s eyes narrowed. Why was she even here? It was unlikely in the extreme that she’d been the closest healer. Resolution Castle was a long way from Whitehall. There had to be at least a dozen healers who could have been summoned instead.
The thought nagged at her as she turned off the water and dried herself with a couple of spells. Her scalp still ached... she conceded, ruefully, that Void had had a point when he’d advised her to cut her hair. Perhaps she should have replaced it with a wig. Master Lucknow would have looked a fool if he’d yanked on her hair, only to have the wig come free. She smiled at the thought, then stepped back into the chamber. Her clothes waited for her on the bed. Kyla averted her eyes, again, as Emily dressed. The healer had seen it all before - she looked old enough to have known Void as a child - but she understood the need for privacy.
“Thank you for coming,” Emily said. “Could you take a message for me...?”
“I’m afraid not,” Kyla said. “Healers are required to be neutral.”
Emily grimaced. “I am allowed to write letters...”
“Healers are required to be neutral,” Kyla repeated. “I can inform the staff that you want to send a letter, if you like, but I cannot carry it myself.”
“I see.” Emily gritted her teeth in frustration. She’d known that healers weren’t allowed to take sides, but... there was no point in arguing. Kyla’s magic wouldn’t let her do anything that broke her oaths. “Please let them know.”
Kyla nodded - her face was a mask, suggesting she was concealing her true feelings - and stepped through the door. Emily was morbidly certain that she wouldn’t be able to open the door, let alone leave the room. Not without permission, in any case. She sat on the bed and tried to project an image of despondency, all the while reaching out to touch the wards. They were incredibly complex, layer upon layer of spellwork designed to make it impossible for a magician to escape. She had to admire the design, even though it was keeping her under control. She’d never seen anything quite like it. They
definitely weren’t drawing power from the nexus point.
She closed her eyes, studying the wards thoughtfully. It would take hours, perhaps days, to crack them. Someone would notice. There was a wardmaster attached to the wards or she knew nothing about magic. And that meant... she inched her thoughts into the spellware, trying to locate the controlling mind. The wards were so old that she doubted the wardmaster had actually created them. That had probably been a team effort.
Which means there will be cracks in the design, she told herself. It’s just a matter of finding them.
It wasn’t easy to determine if she should be trying to escape or not, but studying the wards was a way to pass the time. Emily didn’t see anything new in the design, yet she had to admit their structure was capable of keeping her trapped unless she threw caution to the winds and pushed everything she had into the effort. And then... she might break the wards only to discover she couldn’t muster the energy to escape. She was vaguely aware that time was ticking past, but... it didn’t matter. Poking threads of her awareness into the wards and trying to gain a sense of who - or what - was nearby...
The door rattled. Emily started, her awareness crashing back into her mind. Her head spun as she struggled to gather herself, feeling as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Whoever was coming had nearly caught her... she sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t as if she’d gotten anywhere, not really. She’d barely managed to extend more than a trace of magic into the wards. Hacking the spellware would take much - much - longer.
She forced herself to sit upright as the door opened, then stared in astonishment as Grandmaster Gordian stepped into the room. He hadn’t changed in the eighteen months or so since she’d last seen him. He was a tall and dignified man, wearing robes that flowed around him. Emily felt a twinge of resentment. Gordian and she had never been friends. He hadn’t wanted her at Whitehall and, eventually, he’d gotten his wish.
“Grandmaster,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) Page 4