Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  IF THERE WAS ONE GOOD THING about the whole situation, Emily decided over the next few days, it was that cancelling classes gave her a chance to catch up with the mountain of homework that had been handed out by almost all of her tutors. Most of the other students seemed to agree, although they still seemed torn between the conviction that Emily was a murderess and the belief that she would save them all. When she wasn’t dodging hexes aimed at her back, she was trying to avoid older students staring at her with disturbingly worshipful eyes.

  She spent most of her time in the library while Imaiqah tried to keep the Upstarts practicing in the arena. Imaiqah didn’t quite have Alassa’s charisma or sheer bloody-minded determination to press on, no matter what, but Ken provided a distraction from the team’s worries, as well as the chance to be with a large circle of friends. Emily still preferred the library, or cleaning out the barracks. The work seemed never-ending.

  The Mediators had questioned her the day after Alassa left, but none of their questions were anything other than routine. They, at least, seemed confident that Emily wasn’t the murderess—or a necromancer. She’d told them what she could, yet she doubted that it had been very helpful. And then they’d thanked her and told her not to leave Whitehall. Emily hadn’t been able to stop herself from laughing at the thought.

  “I charmed the hoops, as you suggested,” Aloha said, four days after Alassa left. “The activation word is soot. They should suck up dust into the bags.”

  Emily smiled and thanked her, then carried the hoops and a piece of runic chalk up the stairs to the barracks. Inside, the dust seemed just as thick as ever, no matter how hard she brushed and scrubbed. Fixing one of the bags to the hoop, she muttered the activation word and smiled as the makeshift vacuum cleaner went to work. Large torrents of dust were pulled off the floor and into the bag. When it was full, Emily cancelled the spell, sealed the bag and fixed the next one onto the hoop. An hour later, she could actually see the floor properly. It was bare concrete, pitted by the weight of whatever military equipment had been stored inside the barracks. Emily honestly couldn’t understand why they hadn’t put the barracks outside the school, or at least closer to the armory.

  Once the floor was clean, she took the chalk and carefully drew out the anti-dust rune on the concrete. If placed carefully, she had calculated, the runes would slowly push any remaining dust into the corners, where it could be swept up tomorrow. She placed a sealing charm on the bags, just in case someone tried to kick them, and dragged them out of the barracks. The servants would pick them up later, she had been assured.

  The washroom still smelt funny, even after she vacuumed up everything on the floor. She cursed Master Tor under her breath, then went back and retrieved a bucket, a mop and some soapy water. There were stains on the floor that smelt nasty—she didn’t want to even guess at what they were—but she wiped them up anyway. It took nearly another hour to get the washroom into something resembling a decent appearance, a task that could have been done very quickly with magic. She had to admit that Master Tor had chosen a very inventive punishment.

  There was yet more dust in the other half of the barracks, forcing her to use the vacuum hoops again. In the corner, where the spiders lurked, she drew a simple pest repulsion rune and left it to take effect. According to the textbooks, the spiders should feel an urge to move from the spot, although it hadn’t been clear how long it would take before they actually heeded the subtle command. Hopefully, they would make their way out of the castle and find a new home in the forest.

  She sat back and surveyed her handiwork. It was almost done; all she would really need to do was sweep up the remaining dust, then finish mopping the floor. The bunks would need to be replaced, but she wasn’t sure if that was part of the punishment or not. She’d looked at the bunks carefully enough to know that they really needed to be replaced by something newer.

  Master Tor might complain that she had cheated, she knew; he hadn’t specifically forbidden her from using charmed tools, but a case could be made that she had violated the intent of his instructions. Emily found it hard to care after spending several weeks on her knees, trying to loosen and remove as much of the dust as possible. Maybe she had deserved the punishment—and she’d certainly done something idiotic, if through ignorance—but she’d had more than enough of it. She really didn’t want to think about what the dust might be doing to her lungs.

  And Lady Barb hasn’t covered that yet, she thought, as she sagged against one of the walls. It needed a new coat of paint too, but that was something she suspected could be left to someone else. I wonder what other diseases are festering in the toilets.

  Emily’s entire body was aching, her muscles twanging uncomfortably. It would have been unpleasant in any case, she was sure, but it was worse after several hours of physical training from the sergeants. She felt as if she had run for hours, followed by sessions on the assault course—and then concluding with hand-to-hand combat against the other students, watched closely by the sergeants. Her body simply wasn’t strong enough to fight the boys directly.

  I need a hot bath, she thought, sourly. There were spells designed to help work out muscular kinks, but she wasn’t sure who she dared trust enough to ask them to cast the spells on her. Imaiqah was still playing Ken, she assumed, and the Gorgon spoke to her as little as possible. And Lin seemed to have merged into the shadows and vanished.

  The door opened and she looked up, surprised. Melissa peeked her head into the room, then came inside, grinning unpleasantly. Emily was fairly sure that no one else knew about her detention duties—enough people blamed her to ensure that her handiwork was undone the night after she cleared the floor—but just one person was bad enough. The red-haired girl smirked at her, then eyed the runes on the floor nastily.

  “That’s cheating,” she said, in a prissy little girl voice. “I could call Master Tor.”

  “Who would then have to admit that the runes don’t actually use my magic,” Emily pointed out. It seemed logical—to her—that a magician could charge runes personally, rather than waiting for them to gather ambient magic, but all of her research suggested that wasn’t actually possible. “I didn’t cast any spells directly in this room.”

  “Really,” Melissa said. “Should I test that?”

  Emily—hot, sweaty and tired—felt her temper flare. “If you want to call him, you can,” she snapped. “I have no doubt that he will be pleased with you for wasting his time.”

  She glared at Melissa. Tensions had been running high in the school since a third of the pupils had been called home, with fights and hexing contests breaking out in the corridors despite the presence of the Mediators. She’d seen a stream of unhappy-looking students being marched to the infirmary by the tutors, several with injuries or magically-inflicted disfigurations. The student with the ear growing out of his forehead had looked particularly unhappy.

  “I don’t think he likes you,” Melissa taunted. “Maybe he wouldn’t consider it a waste of time.”

  “And maybe he would send you to help me,” Emily responded, clenching her fists. “Call him or go away. I don’t have time to listen to you.”

  “My friends have been taken out of the school,” Melissa snapped. “But they left me here.”

  “I cannot imagine why,” Emily sneered. She knew very little about Melissa’s background, save that it had produced a girl who was almost as bratty as Alassa had been, before she’d met Emily. “Perhaps they didn’t want you home.”

  Melissa started forward, eyes flaring with anger, before she caught herself. “And King Randor clearly thought better of ennobling you,” she snapped. “He could have called you home too...”

  Emily scowled. She’d heard nothing from Alassa—and her friend should have reached Zangaria within a day through the portal network. Perhaps King Randor had grounded her for mouthing off to him—Imaiqah had said that Alassa had been fu
rious when she’d walked into the portal hall—or perhaps it was something more sinister. But there was no way to know.

  “But really, who gives such power to a seventeen-year-old girl?” Melissa demanded. “He probably wanted to give it to someone who...”

  “You are a spoilt brat,” Emily snapped, feeling her temper boiling over. “You...”

  Melissa lifted her hand and cast a freeze charm towards Emily. Emily deflected it, effortlessly.

  “You can’t use magic,” Melissa spluttered. “You can’t...”

  Emily shaped a spell in her mind and hurled it at Melissa’s face. Melissa jumped to one side and the spell shot past her, vanishing as it struck the stone wall. Emily threw a second spell, and then a third, drawing on her training in Martial Magic. Getting off just one spell was unlikely to work out well, the sergeants had told their class. Nor was standing still while hurling spells, as if the enemy was going to be gentlemanly about the whole affair.

  “I can use magic,” she hissed, as one of her spells sent Melissa crashing to the floor. “And I have had enough of you!”

  Melissa rolled over, just in time to dodge a spell that would have turned her into a slug. She twisted and threw a blinding flash of light at Emily, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut—and winning just enough time for Melissa to get back on her feet. Emily expected her to run, but instead she threw several nasty hexes at Emily’s face. Emily gritted her teeth as a burning hex struck her cheek, leaving her feeling as if she’d been badly sunburnt. She ignored the pain as best as she could and threw a force punch towards Melissa. The girl was picked up and flung against the far wall by the force of the blast.

  “Get up,” Emily snarled, feeling her frustration bubbling up inside her. “Get up and fight.”

  Melissa stared bleakly at her, then threw a half-hearted hex that missed Emily by nearly a meter. Emily ignored it as she reached down, grasped Melissa’s shirt and hauled her back up into a standing position, slamming her against the wall. Melissa let out a cry of pain as Emily held her, then tried to stamp on Emily’s foot. Emily sidestepped it and glared down at her enemy. After the way Melissa had treated her, she wanted to smash her, to humiliate her so utterly that she never dared look at Emily again. And yet...was it right?

  Guilt boiled up in her mind as she stared at Melissa. Lady Barb had taught her not to hold back, but her anger had led to her almost killing Melissa. She let go of the redhead, watching as the girl slumped to the floor. It would have been easy to finish the job...and yet she couldn’t. Melissa didn’t deserve to die...

  “I’m sorry,” she said, softly. She couldn’t tell if Melissa could even hear her. “I...”

  Melissa muttered a word in a language Emily didn’t recognize, but it didn’t sound pleasant.

  She felt tears welling up in her eyes and angrily pushed them away. There had been nothing to show her just how far she’d advanced ahead of the other second year students through attending Martial Magic. She knew that she was physically strong, but she’d always compared her spellwork to Aloha and Jade, both of whom had been years ahead of her. It had simply never occurred to her that she needed to do more than simply refrain from using the nastier spells against her fellow pupils. She needed to hold back more.

  “Damn you,” Melissa said, as she tried to pull herself to her feet. “You should...”

  The door crashed open. Emily looked up to see Sergeant Bane advancing into the room.

  “And what,” he demanded, as he peered down at the two girls, “has been going on here?”

  Emily struggled to explain as he tended to Melissa. The sergeant listened, even as he cast a series of healing spells, then pointed Melissa towards the infirmary. Emily read trouble for herself in his face and wondered if he would point her toward Lady Barb or find an even worse punishment duty for her. Maybe hunting Death Vipers...

  “Wipe that mess off your face,” the Sergeant ordered, once Melissa had left the room. He reached into his uniform and produced a scrap of cloth that might have passed for a pocket handkerchief. “What were you thinking?”

  Emily wiped the tears from her face, bitterly. They were stained with dust.

  “I have had enough of watching students lose their tempers,” the sergeant continued. His voice was loud enough to make her ears hurt. “It’s bad enough that I just had to thrash a dozen idiots for trying to kill each other in the corridors, but now I find one of my pupils trying to kill one of her friends! What the hell were you thinking?”

  Emily drew herself upright. “I was thinking that she started it,” she said, no longer willing to just stand there and take the blame. “Or was I not supposed to defend myself?”

  The sergeant looked at her, sharply. “By breaking three of her ribs? You’re damn lucky that you didn’t do any worse damage. Magic can’t heal everything.”

  He stalked over to the door and beckoned for her to follow him. “Come with me,” he snapped. “You can come back and fix the rest of the mess later.”

  Emily glanced behind her. One of the buckets had been tipped over, spilling water all over the floor. Several more bags had also been punctured, scattering dust everywhere. The runes on the floor had largely been destroyed. She wanted to ask if she could take the time to repair them, but she knew better than to think she would be allowed. The sergeants had warned her, right back at the start, just how dangerous it could be to lose control.

  She winced, remembering the moment she’d slammed Melissa into the wall. The practice duels she’d fought with the Sergeants and Lady Barb had included immediate medical care. She’d broken bones more than once, but the damage had been healed and she’d been pushed back into the duelling ring. Melissa hadn’t taken Martial Magic. Chances were that she’d never been hurt in Defensive Magic.

  I didn’t mean to hurt her so badly, she thought. But another part of her mind reminded her just how good it had felt to lash out at Melissa...and to watch her fall. If the sergeant hadn’t entered the room would she have lasted out again? How far would she have gone? Would she have been overwhelmed by the desire just to hurt Melissa until she fell silent forever?

  She didn’t want to think about it. But there was no choice.

  The sergeant led her down a long sloping corridor, passing a series of open windows that looked out over the forest below. Emily stopped, remembering the first view she’d had of her new world from Void’s tower, after he’d saved her from Shadye. After this...would she be allowed to stay in Whitehall? Or would she be expelled? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anywhere to go. Hell, she had enough money to hire tutors, if necessary.

  And then a thought struck her.

  “Sergeant,” she said, slowly, “aren’t you supposed to be with Kay?”

  The Sergeant stopped and turned to face her. “And do you think that I, a male tutor, would be a suitable companion everywhere she went?”

  Emily flushed, helplessly. Of course Kay wouldn’t want the sergeant sharing her bedroom, or accompanying her to the toilet...no doubt Lady Barb or Mistress Irene had taken over, at least long enough to let them both have a break. It had been a stupid question and yet...something was nagging at her.

  “Kay is quite safe,” Sergeant Bane said. There was more than a little absolute conviction in his voice. “And...”

  Something changed. Emily sensed it, although she was unable to tell what it was she was sensing. The magical field surrounding Whitehall had changed since the Warden’s death—it was no longer so focused or precise—but this was different. She caught herself glancing around nervously, unsure of what she was looking for. Something was very definitely wrong.

  “What do you think you’re doing, girl?” Sergeant Bane demanded. “Come with me!”

  Emily hesitated. The sense of wrongness was growing stronger, as if something was beating on the walls of reality itself. She couldn’t move; instead, she glanced around, convinced that something was trying to sneak up on her. The glowing lights on the walls seemed to be fading, leaving the sunlight st
reaming in through the open windows as the only source of illumination. Sergeant Bane seemed, for a long chilling moment, suddenly lost in the shadow.

  “Girl,” the Sergeant thundered. His fury seemed to be growing worse. “Come! Now!”

  But Emily couldn’t move at all.

  The sergeant stepped forward, one hand raised as if he intended to strike her...and then he stopped. Something was wrong with his face, Emily realized slowly, although her mind had difficulty in even realizing that something was wrong. It was almost as if she weren’t quite able to comprehend what she was seeing. Her head hurt and she wanted to twist away, but something kept her feet firmly pressed to the floor...

  ...And then the sergeant dissolved into an eerie haze of multicolored light.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  MIMIC!

  Emily stared, rooted to the spot, as the entity slowly glided towards her, pulsing with utter malevolence. There was no discernible face, nothing to suggest an expression...and yet she was sure that it hated her. She lifted a trembling hand, trying to send for help and cast a protective ward, but nothing happened. The mimic was interfering with the magic...or maybe she was too scared to cast the spell properly.

  It had been months since she’d seen a Mimic. One of them had been kept in Whitehall’s zoo, trapped behind extremely powerful wards...and had vanished, after Shadye had attacked Whitehall. Everyone had assumed that it had killed, eaten and replaced one of the orcs or goblins that had fled into the countryside after Shadye had been killed; no one, as far as she knew, had seemed particularly concerned. Besides, even finding a Mimic was supposed to be almost impossible. Had it been hiding in Whitehall ever since the attack on the school?

  The Mimic seemed to be expanding...or perhaps it was simply growing closer. Glowing tendrils of mist reached towards her, the world seeming to fade as they neared. It was draining her, she realized numbly, copying everything that made her what she was in preparation to assume her form. And then it would kill her and take her place...or would it? The pattern didn’t seem quite right...