“It would have come in handy last month,” Alassa pointed out. She pulled her timetable out of her pocket and scowled at it. “Law on Wednesday; Animal Bonding on Thursday, followed by Polite Death Threats...”
Emily snorted. “Etiquette lessons?”
“Yep,” Alassa said, sardonically. “How To Insult Someone’s Mother Without Actually Allowing Him To Take Offense.”
Imaiqah giggled. “How do you do that?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Alassa replied. “Insulting someone’s mother is normally a good way to start a fight.”
“Maybe you just dress it up in flowery phases and run while he’s still trying to work out what you meant,” Emily said. She’d received a note from a baron in Zangaria a week after she’d been ennobled. Four pages of expensive parchment and expensive handwriting had boiled down to a handful of insults and dark suggestions concerning what she had done to earn her new rank. “You can look it up in the library.”
Chapter Eight
ALASSA AND IMAIQAH HAD GONE TO Defensive Magic when Emily finally came down to the dining hall, so she chatted with the Gorgon while eating breakfast, then walked up to the library to look for the books on her first two reading lists. Unsurprisingly, several copies were already out on loan and others had been marked down for short loans only, but she was able to take out enough books to allow the three of them to read up on both Healing and Subtle Magic. Once she’d had the books issued to herself, she searched the shelves for anything on enchantment, then studied the runes used for channelling magic.
One thing became clear very quickly. Runes simply weren’t capable of channelling vast amounts of magic, no matter how precisely they were drawn. Magic destroyed the runes as it flowed through them—and even a minor degradation could prevent them from working properly. Emily made a list of notes anyway, then resumed the search for books on enchantment, finding almost nothing. Most of them, according to Lady Aylia, had been taken out by students who’d attended the first taster class for Construction. Emily herself wouldn’t be attending that class until later in the week.
She was still mulling it over when she left the library and ran down to the armory, where she changed into her uniform for Martial Magic. Half of the students she recalled from last year had gone on to private apprenticeships, like Jade, but the remainder smiled at her in welcome as she joined them on the field. Snow lay everywhere; she hastily cast a warming charm to keep her teeth from chattering as they lined up and waited for the sergeants. A snowball hit her in the back of the head and she swung round to see Cat, who was picking up a second snowball. Emily ducked down, intending to make a snowball of her own to throw back, then there was a loud cough as Sergeant Miles strode onto the field, followed by another man wearing the same uniform. The students rapidly lined up properly and came to attention.
“Welcome back,” Sergeant Miles said, gruffly. He didn’t have quite the same powers of intimidation as Sergeant Harkin, but everyone knew just how powerful a sorcerer he was. It was hard to imagine anyone giving him any trouble, at least more than once. “You seem to have been neglecting yourselves during the summer months.”
Emily felt herself flushing as his gaze passed over her, then moved on to the next students. Cold water trickled down her back from where the ice had lodged in her hair. She cursed Cat under her breath, not daring to say anything out loud. The sergeants didn’t like interruptions.
“This is Sergeant Bane,” Sergeant Miles continued, indicating his companion. “After a long and illustrious career in the military, he has agreed to help me whip you into shape. I suggest you treat him with respect.”
Sergeant Bane was tall, muscular and scarred, his hair cropped close to his skull. He looked surprisingly like Sergeant Harkin, although there was a very definite sense of magic surrounding him that Harkin had lacked. But then, few people had realized that a tutor at a magical school might lack magic himself. The secret had only come out when Shadye had tried to force Emily to kill Harkin and take his power—his non-existent power—for her own.
“And seeing that it is freezing cold,” Sergeant Miles continued, making a gesture with his hand, “we’d better do some exercise to warm up.”
Emily felt her warming charm flicker out of existence. The cold struck her a second later; judging by their reactions, she hadn’t been the only person to use a spell to warm herself. Sergeant Miles chuckled at their expressions, then turned and started to jog across the field, towards the forest. The students hesitated, then followed him. Sergeant Bane brought up the rear, snapping and snarling at anyone who moved too slowly.
She’d expected to run around the field, but instead Sergeant Miles led them into the forest. The evergreen trees seemed to close in around them as they ran down the track, falling into single file as the pathway narrowed. Emily kept her eyes firmly on Cat’s back, knowing from experience that dwelling on the distance they were covering only made it worse. At least they weren’t going on a ten-mile hike this time.
They reached a clearing in the middle of the forest and Sergeant Miles called a halt. Ahead of them, there was a large gothic-style mansion, completely hidden from the outside world. Emily had explored the forest and mountains with Jade, but she’d never realized that the mansion was even there. It must have been concealed with misdirection spells, she decided, or maybe there were only one or two ways to reach it. There were parts of the forest that were inaccessible, either because the trees were so tangled together or because they were infested with dangerous creatures.
“Stand at ease,” Sergeant Miles ordered. “Are you feeling warmer now?”
Emily nodded, feeling sweat trickling down her back. She hadn’t done enough physical training over the last couple of months, she realized; the sergeants had warned her that it was easy to lose one’s physical condition, but there had been too much else to do. Maybe she should join Alassa at Ken, if only to keep herself in shape.
“This”—he indicated the building—“is Blackhall. It was built by a grandmaster a couple of hundred years ago who turned out to be secretly evil. He intended to drain Whitehall’s power and use it to turn himself into the most powerful magician alive, which shows a certain level of imagination lacking in the average necromancer. Thankfully for Whitehall, he was exposed and defeated before he could work out the kinks in his insane plan. His mansion was passed on to those responsible for training new combat sorcerers at the time.”
He smiled at their expressions. “They spent months removing all of the booby traps and other nasty surprises the madman set up to welcome uninvited guests,” he added. “Don’t worry. We’re fairly sure that we got them all.”
Emily shivered. Sorcerers were allowed to ward their homes however they pleased, including using lethal wards to kill anyone who tried to break in. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that most sorcerers spied on other sorcerers, looking for their secrets and testing the limits of the Sorcerer’s Rule. Legally, anything a sorcerer did to a thief was permitted. He could kill or transfigure or enslave and no one would say a word against it. She could understand the impulse to punish someone for violating one’s privacy, but she did wonder if they went too far.
“Now, we have set up hundreds of traps of our own,” Sergeant Miles continued. “This whole house is a death trap—metaphorically speaking, of course. Over the coming year, you will be entering the house several times and trying to recover various items from inside—all the while avoiding traps and tricks that will disqualify you. When the year is finished, you will have plenty of experience in detecting and neutralizing booby traps. These skills are very useful for combat sorcerers. If nothing else, you will learn how to ward your own homes effectively.”
He smiled at them. “Some of the traps are ones you can escape, through quick thinking and careful use of magic,” he added. “Others, I must admit, will stun you—or simply evict you from the house. In both cases, we will assume that you failed and were killed. That will be very unfortunate for you.”
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br /> Emily snorted, inwardly.
“You should know by now that the brute force approach rarely works when confronting a sorcerer holed up in his own house,” the Sergeant concluded. “The necromancers might be able to blast down the wards, but they might accidentally destroy the entire house in the process. Instead, you will be forced to learn how to avoid, trick or dismantle wards—ideally without alerting their master to your presence. Should you be caught...well, I don’t think you need me to spell out the possible consequences.”
His gaze seemed to rest on Emily for a long moment, then he looked away. Emily shivered, remembering—once again—just how much experience the other students had, experience she lacked. Aloha had worked like a demon to enter Martial Magic in her second year; Emily had had almost no experience at all when she’d joined the class. It was clear that their current exercises should have drawn on lessons in Construction and Subtle Magic, lessons that Emily had only just begun. Just how far behind was she?
She gazed over at the windows, spying small bushes that had been planted beneath them, crawling up the walls. Was it her imagination or were the plants actually moving? There were walking plants, she knew, but she had thought that they were only found well away from civilization. But then, they would have made excellent guard dogs. Someone might well fail to notice them until the plants caught hold and pulled.
I may end up repeating this year, Emily thought, and shook her head. Oddly, it didn’t feel like it would be a failure. More experience would definitely help her...she made a mental note to spend more time in the library, looking up defensive wards and ways to avoid or counter them. The sergeants possessed years of experience to rig Blackhall so that the students would have a difficult challenge. Doing something as simple as touching the doorknob with her bare hand might trigger a nasty surprise.
The cold started to seep in again and she shivered, resisting the urge to hug herself or cast a second warming charm. Sergeant Miles gave them all one last grin, then led them away from Blackhall, back towards the school. Emily forced herself to jog faster as Cat and Bran ran past her, leaving her at the rear. Sergeant Bane swiped at her with his baton, barely missing her rear. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself onwards until they ran back onto the field and came to a halt.
“You will also attend private training sessions,” Sergeant Miles continued, showing absolutely no signs of exhaustion. Neither he nor Sergeant Harkin had seemed taxed by their exercises. They’d always given the impression that they could go on forever. “Combat sorcery requires one-to-one tuition, particularly for those of you who have not practiced magic for three to four years. Those sessions will be held in the last period; speak to your tutors if they want to put you in a different class at the time. We can fiddle around, to some extent, but you don’t want to have to go to another class after a long training session.”
Emily nodded in understanding and relief. Last year, every training session had ended with her exhausted and soaked in sweat. Going anywhere but bed had seemed an impossible task. Now, with more advanced magic and exercise, she had the feeling that it would be even worse. She might not have the energy to have a shower before collapsing into bed for a quick rest.
“And there will be additional physical training,” Sergeant Miles added. “You need to keep your strength and endurance up, or you will be in for a nasty surprise when you are called upon to fight.”
He looked at Emily for a long moment, meeting her eyes. Lady Barb had to have told him that Emily had frozen when confronted with a potentially deadly threat. Even after Shadye, even after the cockatrice...she’d frozen. If Lady Barb hadn’t been there, Emily and Imaiqah might well have ended up dead. Or worse.
“There are a handful of spellbooks in the Armory marked out for your attention,” Sergeant Bane said, gruffly. “Do not take them out of the room, just read and master the spells.”
It was the first time Emily had heard him speak. His accent was thick, as if he’d barely learned how to talk; where, she asked herself, did he come from? On Earth, she would have pegged him as coming from Eastern Europe. Maybe one of the distant lands across the ocean, where the Empire had never been so powerful? It would make sense, she decided thoughtfully. The Empire might have shared a common language, but it wouldn’t have taken such firm roots somewhere thousands of miles from the Empire’s heartlands.
“But there is another matter we must discuss,” Sergeant Miles said. “Follow me.”
Emily and the rest of the students obeyed, following him as he jogged up to Whitehall’s walls and led the way through a door that hadn’t been there moments before. Inside, there was a large hall—it reminded her of a gym hall, but with weapons and equipment dangling from the walls—with enough room for all of them to duel. At the head of the room there was a large glass box, lined with rocks, plants and a small pool of water.
“Look inside the box,” Sergeant Miles said. “What do you see?”
It took several moments for Emily to see the snake, curled up beside one of the rocks. She’d never liked snakes, but she had to admit that this one was beautiful. It was bright blue, with a golden pattern on its scales that contrasted sharply against the rock. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it at once. It should have been immediately obvious.
Aloha coughed and turned pale. “Is that a...?”
“Correct,” Sergeant Miles said. The humor was gone from his voice. “This is a Death Viper. A single drop of poison is almost always fatal. There is only one recorded case of a person surviving—and that was only because he cut off his leg to prevent the venom from spreading through his bloodstream and into his heart. Everyone else died within two minutes.
“You’ll notice that the beast has no natural camouflage,” he added. “It does not even try to blend in with its surroundings. This is because its scales also carry poison, although a slightly less venomous kind than its fangs. Should you pick up the snake with your bare hands, you will be lucky if you only have to have them amputated. The venom is not called the Rotting Death for nothing. It is often used to inflict a particularly unpleasant and agonizing death.”
The Death Viper opened its eyes and reared up. It seemed tiny, Emily realized, hardly even as long as her forearm. But it didn’t have to be huge to be dangerous. It opened its mouth, showing sharp fangs; its beady eyes seemed to suggest endless malice. Emily caught herself taking a step backwards, then realized that she wasn’t alone. Almost everyone had reacted badly to the colorful snake.
“I mention this because a third year student was dumb enough to find this particular snake in the forest yesterday and pick it up,” Sergeant Miles said. “Luck, it would seem, favors the fools. The snake seemed to accept his petting without trying to bite him, leaving the poison on its skin to spread through his hands. That fool of a student is now in the infirmary. One of his hands will probably need to be removed permanently, unless the healers can patch it back together. There may also be long-term damage to the rest of his body.
“If you see a snake like this, don’t try to pick it up. If you see a creature you don’t recognize, don’t try to do anything with it, no matter how harmless it seems. In fact, give all creatures a wide berth unless you need to hunt—and if you do, be careful what you chose as your target. I expect all of you to review the books on dangerous creatures—Mistress Kirdáne, I am sure, will be happy to go over it with you.”
He looked down at the snake, which had lowered its head and gone back to sleep. “The idiot who found this snake will be lucky if he manages to return to classes by the end of next year,” he added. “His future career prospects have been shattered, if only because there are spells that depend on the caster making the right hand movements. One stupid mistake almost killed him. I expect all of you to avoid the same fate.”
Emily shivered as she looked down at the Death Viper. Its lack of natural camouflage made sense, she told herself. Any creature that tried to eat it would end up being poisoned and eaten itself. She wondered, briefl
y, just how smart the snake actually was, before deciding that it didn’t really matter. The snake would have evolved a hunting pattern that suited it—or it would have died out.
“These snakes are often used in alchemy,” Cat said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “What’s going to happen to this one?”
“I believe that the Grandmaster intends to show it to everyone in the school,” Sergeant Miles said. “After that, we will kill it and Professor Thande can turn it into something more useful.”
Aloha nudged Emily. “Would you want to drink something you knew had been made from a Death Viper?”
Emily shook her head.
“It’s really too dangerous to keep around,” Sergeant Miles explained. “If it managed to escape, it could kill other students before we hunted the beast down and destroyed it.”
Emily winced, inwardly. She knew, intellectually, where most of the ingredients for alchemy came from. As Professor Thande preferred to assign detentions rather than send students to the Warden, she’d spent several of her detentions chopping up various small animals and preparing them for the older students. But it was still hard to realize that the creatures had been living once—or that they might have been very dangerous.
The Sergeant clapped his hands. “Now,” he said, “back to work. We have another hour and I don’t want to waste it.”
Chapter Nine
EMILY WAS STILL MULLING OVER WHAT they’d been told in Martial Magic—and what she’d read from the private stockpile of books the sergeants had shown them—when she joined Alassa and the others in the arena. Like the swimming pool, it was charmed to keep it warm and deflect the snow away. There wasn’t even any water dripping on them as they gathered outside the main gate.
Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) Page 8