Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Yes,” Emily said. “The magic level evens out, like pouring water into a bathtub. There’s no way to concentrate it safely unless it’s firmly anchored—and then it’s not easy to use it for anything else.”

  “That isn’t exactly unknown,” Lady Barb said. “It takes years of training and practice to build up the channels to muster vast amounts of magic.”

  Emily nodded. “I started thinking,” she said. “What would happen if the magic had nowhere to go?”

  “If you tried to hold it in your wards,” Lady Barb said slowly, “it would eventually drive you insane.”

  That, Emily did know. Mistress Irene had warned her to make sure that she tried to perform at least some magic every week, cautioning her against allowing it to build up inside her mind. Eventually, it would burst out—or damage her. Suddenly, the insanity shown by all surviving necromancers made a great deal of sense. They didn’t dare let go of the power they had stolen.

  “So I thought that I could put it somewhere else,” Emily continued. “If it was pumped into a pocket dimension, it would have nowhere to go, so it would remain concentrated. And it wouldn’t have to be shaped because it was just resting there, not helping to maintain the dimension. I could then draw upon it at any time...”

  “You...” Lady Barb had gone very pale. “Do you have any idea what that could do?”

  Emily started at her expression. “Power a teleport...?”

  “Power a necromancer,” Lady Barb said, sharply. “How long would they be able to remain semi-sane if they could put the power outside their own minds?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Could you even channel the power when you accessed it?”

  Emily hesitated. “I was thinking that I could use carved runes to help direct it into my spells, without actually pushing it through my mind,” she said. “Like Subtle Magic, but it would take effect immediately—the runes would collapse, but the magic would already be completed. I could teleport...”

  “Or unleash hell,” Lady Barb said, stiffly. “Do you have any idea just how dangerous you are?”

  She stared down at Emily, who fought the urge to jump backwards. “There are...rituals for sharing power,” she explained. “They’re rarely used because most sorcerers will not cooperate enough to lower their guard around their fellow sorcerers. It’s quite possible that research into such rituals accidentally paved the way for the discovery of necromancy. This...trick of yours might make them workable, with only one sorcerer.

  “Or a necromancer could funnel magic into a pocket dimension, storing it elsewhere,” Lady Barb added. “This could upset the entire world.”

  Emily nodded, miserably. And to think that it had seemed such a tempting prospect...

  “I would strongly advise you to destroy all your notes and to ensure that you never mentioned it again to anyone,” Lady Barb said. “You could trigger an earthquake if you had enough magical power, even without a nexus. Luckily, even a necromancer would have trouble gathering enough power...unless someone shares your idea with him.”

  “I will,” Emily promised, softly.

  “I should make you swear an oath,” Lady Barb said. “Or sign a contract.”

  She reached out and caught Emily’s shoulder. “You don’t think small, do you?”

  “But this could be used against the necromancers,” Emily pointed out, desperately. “It would allow us to match their power.”

  “Maybe,” Lady Barb said, slowly. “But I think you should realize, right now, that you do not need more enemies. You already have people advocating your murder in the White Council—or in the rest of the kingdoms. How many more do you want to hate you?”

  It’s going to get worse when they realize the implications of gunpowder, Emily thought, grimly. But that genie is firmly out of the bottle.

  “I understand,” she said, finally. “I won’t play with it again.”

  “Wait for a few years, then we can think about it,” Lady Barb suggested. “But it might be best not to tell everyone the truth.”

  Emily bowed her head.

  “King Randor set me up,” she said, softly. “Didn’t he?”

  “He certainly played on your ignorance,” Lady Barb agreed. “Of course, he did have to reward you. Kings who don’t reward their friends tend to run out of them when it really matters. And he clearly intends to ride the tidal waves you’ve created rather than just let them swamp his kingdom. And if it won him the High Kingdom...he’d be happy to let you change the world to your heart’s content.”

  She pointed a long finger at Emily. “I would be happy to talk to you, under whatever oaths of secrecy you require, about any new...ideas you have,” she added. “But I would suggest that you didn’t try any experiments before sharing them with me.”

  Emily nodded.

  “Master Tor sent you to the Warden,” Lady Barb added. “What else did he say?”

  “That I couldn’t use magic outside class,” Emily confessed. “I...”

  “That’s going to be bad, if your enemies find out,” Lady Barb said. “I’ll escort you back to your bedroom. And I would strongly suggest that you went straight to sleep. You can talk to your friends tomorrow. No doubt plenty of idiots will want to thank you for destroying the Warden.”

  “But I didn’t,” Emily said.

  “That makes it harder—much harder—for the staff to monitor the interior of the school,” Lady Barb added, smoothly. “You might want to remember that.”

  Emily frowned. What was Lady Barb trying to tell her?

  “Just be careful,” Lady Barb warned her. “You don’t want to get seen.”

  Emily smirked in sudden understanding.

  “Master Tor will probably insist on other punishments,” Lady Barb said. She reached out, swung Emily around and smacked her bottom several times. “Should he ask, tell him I punished you. I suggest you don’t go into details. Just look embarrassed and grimace every time you sit down.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, rubbing her rear. The sting was fading already. “I...”

  “Don’t mention it,” Lady Barb said. “Ever.”

  Emily nodded. She had the feeling that next time, if there was a next time, would be a lot harder. “What are they going to use now the Warden is gone?”

  “Someone will probably have to take over his duties,” Lady Barb said. “I don’t know how long it will take them to produce a new one. It could be quite some time.”

  “I did touch the wards, back when I was facing Shadye,” Emily pointed out. “I could help...”

  “I’ll suggest that to the Grandmaster,” Lady Barb said. She hesitated, then continued. “But you may not have quite known what you were doing. They don’t normally let anyone but qualified professors work on those wards. There are some secrets to them that no one else is allowed to know.”

  She led the way out of the door, up the stairs and into the dorm. It was dark and silent, apart from the looming presence of Madame Razz at the far end. She didn’t seem pleased at all.

  “Lie down on the bed,” Lady Barb said, before Emily could say a word. She pushed open the door to Emily’s room. The Gorgon looked up from her desk, her snakes hissing as they were disturbed. Lin was lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. “I’ll have a word with your roommates.”

  Emily wanted to hear that conversation, but somehow she felt herself dropping asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  Chapter Twenty

  SHE WAS AWOKEN THE FOLLOWING MORNING by someone shaking her, none too gently.

  “Wake up,” Alassa’s voice hissed. “What happened yesterday? Where were you?”

  Emily opened her eyes and looked up, blearily. Alassa was wearing a white nightgown that set off her blonde hair nicely and she looked...deeply worried. Behind her, Imaiqah was wearing a more demure outfit, but she looked worried too. Emily felt her stomach rumble as she sat upright, remembering that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. So much had happened that she hadn’t had time to eat.r />
  “They’re saying you destroyed the Warden,” Imaiqah said. “What really happened?”

  “Someone killed him,” Emily said. It was still hard to think of the Warden as anything other than a living being, even if he hadn’t been human. Paddy couldn’t pass for human; the Warden, it seemed, could. Or perhaps she’d been the only one fooled. “I found the body.”

  Alassa scowled. “What else happened?” She added. “They’re also saying that you’re going to be expelled.”

  Emily shook her head, bleakly. “Master Tor wanted me expelled,” she said. “The Grandmaster said no.”

  “I should think so too,” Alassa said, crossly. She stamped her foot, then repeated the question. “What happened yesterday?”

  “Long story,” Emily said, and outlined as much of it as she dared. “I think they thought I’d killed him at first too.”

  “I don’t see you doing that,” Imaiqah objected. “You’re not a killer.”

  “Shadye would disagree,” Emily said, numbly. She’d snapped him out of existence. And then there had been the crow-sorcerer. And a number of orcs and goblins during the running battle they’d fought in the mountains. How many more had she killed indirectly because of all the innovations she’d introduced to the Allied Lands? “But I didn’t kill the Warden.”

  “They should have called me when they dragged you in front of an inquest,” Alassa said, sharply. “I shall have angry words with my father. You are effectively aristocracy now and part of my family...”

  “Don’t,” Emily said. “I...they know I didn’t do it.”

  “Inquests aren’t always about finding the truth,” Alassa warned her. “Sometimes they’re just looking for someone to blame.” She shook her head, sending golden ringlets shimmering everywhere. “Outside Whitehall, it would be illegal to put you in front of an inquest without my father’s permission. Or mine.”

  Emily rubbed her forehead, feeling a dull ache inside her temple that was probably caused by hunger—or stress. “The killer might have been trying to frame me,” she said, grimly. “I...they used a knife to kill him.”

  “There isn’t a shortage of suspects,” Alassa mused. She grinned, suddenly. “Who would want to destroy the Warden?”

  “They’d have problems fitting all of the possible suspects into the Great Hall,” Imaiqah agreed. “The entire school would have a motive.”

  Emily nodded. As far as she knew, the Warden’s only responsibilities had been to monitor the wards and administer punishment to misbehaving students. It was easy to imagine someone resenting their punishment and wanting to kill the Warden, perhaps even a would-be necromancer trying to practice on the person who would detect him when he started playing with necromancy. There was no shortage of possible suspects.

  But what could they do? Master Tor had promised to discuss the laws surrounding evidence and truth spells later in the term—absently, she found herself wishing that she had paid more attention in his class—but this was serious. It was quite possible that the Grandmaster would insist on questioning the entire school. And if that happened...how many others had used a spell to make it impossible to drag information out of them?

  “Hey,” Alassa said, slapping Emily’s shoulder. “There will be people who will call you a hero.”

  “But I didn’t do it,” Emily protested. “They know I didn’t do it.”

  “When has rumor ever paid attention to facts?” Alassa asked. “Do you know how many rumors there are at any one time?”

  Emily nodded, bitterly. She’d wanted to be special, she’d wanted to be famous...but now she knew just how irritating it could be. Or worse, if people really believed the rumors about her being a necromancer-in-training, one who had somehow slipped under the radar and hidden in Whitehall. Come to think of it, she realized, anyone who believed that might think she had a very good reason to want to get rid of the Warden. If she were feeling the necromantic lust for power, the Warden might notice...particularly if she tried to murder one of her fellow students.

  Imaiqah put her hand on Emily’s arm. “What else happened?”

  “I’m in deep trouble,” Emily admitted.

  “You should have stayed in the arena,” Alassa pointed out, tartly. “If you had, you wouldn’t have seemed a plausible suspect.”

  Emily flushed. Alassa was right.

  “We were still playing when they cancelled the game and ordered everyone back to their rooms,” Alassa continued. “We looked for you, but we didn’t see you. Why did you leave?”

  A dozen excuses ran through Emily’s head, but she pushed them all aside. “I got bored,” she admitted, “and I had work to do...”

  “You should have stayed to support us,” Alassa said, angrily.

  “Not that we were winning,” Imaiqah said. “We were behind by twenty points and we’d lost two players through fouls.”

  “The referee was on their side,” Alassa grumbled. “But we could have caught up, eventually.”

  “Maybe,” Imaiqah said. “But we were tiring fast...”

  Alassa shook her head, impatiently. “Never mind that,” she said. “What sort of trouble are you in?”

  She peered at Emily. “You don’t seem to have any trouble sitting upright.”

  Emily felt her flush deepen. “He died before he could...you know,” she said, embarrassed. “I’m on restriction until Master Tor says otherwise.”

  Alassa’s blue eyes showed a flash of sympathy. “That’s going to be ghastly,” she said, grimly. “No magic means that you can’t fight back if someone hexes you. I hated it.”

  Imaiqah looked at her, sharply. “When were you on restriction?”

  “After...” She rubbed her jaw, meaningfully. “I wasn’t allowed to do magic outside class for a week. Luckily, no one realized.”

  Emily scowled. How long would it be before someone realized that she couldn’t do magic outside class indefinitely? If Master Tor really hated her—and he did, it seemed—all he would have to do to make her life hell would be to let that fact slip out. Melissa and her cronies weren’t the only people who might want to take a shot at the Necromancer’s Bane, particularly if they blamed her for ruining yesterday afternoon.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked around for her trunk, where she’d stashed some food. It was gone.

  “They came yesterday and took it,” the Gorgon’s voice said. Alassa stepped to one side, allowing the Gorgon to look at Emily. “They searched everything, even my trunk.”

  Emily winced at her tone. The Gorgon sounded furious.

  “What were you doing?” The Gorgon demanded. “Do you know how many rules they broke just to search our rooms?”

  Emily nodded, silently. The Sorcerer’s Rule wasn’t the only one that allowed magicians some privacy. Breaking into a magician’s house—or his trunk—was considered a dreadful mistake. Legally, as Master Tor had taken some delight in pointing out, a magician could do whatever he liked to a thief. Searching her trunk was pushing the rules as far as they would go; searching the Gorgon’s trunk snapped them into a thousand pieces. And she assumed that Lin’s trunk had been searched too.

  “My people value their privacy,” the Gorgon hissed. Her face suddenly looked very inhuman. For a long chilling moment, Emily was convinced that she was about to be turned to stone. “Do you think that I take their violation of my privacy lightly?”

  “No,” Emily said. She could barely look the Gorgon in the eye. Somehow, she’d not only been put on restriction, but also destroyed her relationship with one of her roommates. And Lin wasn’t going to be very happy either. “I’m sorry.”

  “You will be,” the Gorgon said. Her snakes hissed in unison. “And don’t expect me to spend much time in this room.”

  It took Emily a moment to realize what she meant. If she—or Lin—wasn’t in the room, Emily couldn’t be there either. She’d effectively be a guest in her own room. Whitehall’s wards didn’t allow someone to enter the room or stay in it without one of
the original roommates also being there. The Gorgon could force her out just by leaving the room and spending most of the day in the library.

  The Gorgon started to turn away, then looked back at Emily. “Your trunk is with Madame Razz,” she added. “If you happen to want anything from it, you’ll have to ask her for permission to open the trunk. I don’t think they trust you any longer.”

  She stalked back to her own bed, then started to pull on her robes. “Come on, Lin,” she called. “I think we should be somewhere else.”

  Emily stared at her back in helpless rage. “Don’t worry about it,” Alassa said, quietly. “You can always stay in my room.”

  “Unless your roommates hate me too,” Emily said, bitterly. “Did your room get searched too?”

  “I don’t think so,” Alassa said. “Besides, that would be a gross breach of protocol.”

  Emily nodded. Alassa was a royal princess, after all.

  A loud chime rang through the air, interrupting her thoughts. “Attention, all students,” the Grandmaster’s voice said. “You are to make your way to the Grand Hall immediately. Do not delay.”

  Emily stood upright and scowled. She was still wearing the trousers and shirt she’d donned yesterday. After sleeping in them, they smelt thoroughly unpleasant. She needed a shower before class, but somehow she suspected that the Gorgon and Lin weren’t going to allow her to stay in the room long enough to wash. She tore off the shirt and trousers, then grabbed a robe and pulled it over her head. If there was one advantage to wearing the strange outfits, she’d realized long ago, it was that she could wear much less underneath and no one would be any the wiser.

  “You can shower in my room,” Alassa muttered, as they walked out into the corridor. “It wasn’t your fault that the Warden was destroyed.”

  “Their possessions being searched was my fault,” Emily muttered back. “I can’t blame them for being angry.”

  She wondered, as they joined the flock of students heading down towards the Great Hall, if Master Tor hadn’t inadvertently done her a favor by not letting her room with her friends. If she’d been responsible for Alassa and Imaiqah having their property searched, would they have been just as angry as her new roommates? Probably...and that might have destroyed their friendship. Alassa had so little privacy in Zangaria that she valued what she had. Imaiqah, a merchant’s daughter who had grown up in a very cramped environment, would feel much the same.