“Of course not,” Emily teased. “You look worse.”
She smiled, rather wanly, as she pushed against the wards. They parted at once, allowing her to reach the door. It was unlocked. Anyone who could get through the wards wouldn’t be deterred by a simple lock. Emily opened the door and stepped inside, shivering as a sudden wave of cold air struck her. Caleb hadn’t tried to get accustomed to the heat. He’d simply cast cooling spells everywhere until they’d become embedded in the walls. Sergeant Miles would have had a lot of nasty things to say about it, Emily was sure, but she didn’t blame Caleb in the slightest. The heat was wearying even indoors.
“Emily.” Caleb was standing in the small office, studying a clipboard. He looked taller than Emily remembered, his lanky body finally suiting him... as if, somewhere over the past year, he’d finally come into his own. “Welcome to Farrakhan!”
“Thank you.” Emily tried not to feel sad. Caleb’s brother Casper had died in the war. Caleb had to have mixed feelings about the city Casper had given his life to defend. And, perhaps, about Heart’s Eye itself. “Mistress Irene said she’d join us, somewhere between two weeks to a month.”
“And then we’ll all be properly whipped into shape.” Caleb seemed amused. “You do realize she won’t be universally popular?”
“I do.” Emily shrugged as she put down her bag and reached for the water jug. “But she’s also the kind of person we need.”
Caleb nodded. “You want to inspect the goods?”
“Give me a moment to rest,” Emily said. She poured herself a glass of water, then a second one for Frieda. It was easy to get dehydrated in the heat. “Were there any problems?”
“Not really.” Caleb ran his hand through his brown hair. “Master Highland and his people insisted on meeting us at Heart’s Ease, but other than that... no real problems. I don’t think the city fathers know what to make of us.”
Emily sipped her water. “Did they try to impede you?”
“No.” Caleb shook his head. “The local merchants were quite happy to trade with us. I think the city fathers would have been lynched if they tried to stop them, particularly as the king himself hasn’t issued any statement. Unless you’ve heard something...?”
“Nothing.” Emily took a moment to gather herself. “I don’t have any ties to royalty here.”
“Probably for the best,” Caleb said. “Heart’s Eye was never part of the kingdom, even before it fell. The entire area was completely autonomous. That’s probably going to cause us problems later on. No one really knows who owns Heart’s Ease.”
“I suppose,” Emily said. She finished her water and put the glass to one side. “Heart’s Ease is a wreck. There’s little there for anyone.”
“Some of the merchants were talking about moving out there,” Caleb said. “They remember the days when Heart’s Ease thrummed with life.”
“A problem for another day.” Emily rubbed her forehead. “Did you manage to get everything?”
“More or less.” Caleb smiled, wryly. “We’ll be ready to leave in the morning, as planned. We’ve lost a couple of people to the local pleasure dens, I'm afraid, but... hopefully, they’ll be back tonight. I warned them that anyone who wasn’t back might be left behind.”
Emily winced. “They’ll have to make the crossing on foot, alone.”
“Poor bastards.” Caleb shrugged. “Things will get easier when we set up a portal.”
“Probably.” Emily stood, brushing down her dress. It felt sodden. She wanted a shower, but she knew she wouldn’t get one. The warehouse and the attached living quarters were primitive. She’d be lucky if there was enough water for a sponge-bath. “How are you? I mean...”
Caleb looked at his scarred hands. They weren’t twitching any longer.
“I’ve been better,” Caleb said. He let out a faint laugh. “I’ll be happier when we’re on the way, I think. Mother... wasn’t too pleased that I was accompanying you, instead of seeking my mastery. She’s not your biggest fan.”
“I know.” Emily tried not to take it personally. “I don’t blame her.”
“And yourself?” Caleb met her eyes. “You weren’t in a good state last time we met...?”
“I’m better,” Emily said, flatly. Caleb had helped her, when he could easily have turned his back. She loved him for it. “And I think the entire world knows it.”
Caleb nodded, then stood and led her through a side door. Frieda followed as they passed through two sets of wards and into a huge warehouse. Emily sucked in her breath as she saw the collection of primitive wagons, just waiting for camels and oxen to pull them, all crammed with gear and supplies. She couldn’t help thinking of the Wild West, of settlers heading into the distance in hopes of finding a good place to homestead. The Desert of Death, thankfully, had no hostile natives. Or, at least, no intelligent hostile natives. The desert itself was a pretty hostile place. She’d been told the desert was receding, since the nexus point had been reignited, but she’d seen no evidence of it.
“We have twenty carts and seventy people,” Caleb said. “Magicians, craftsmen... everything we need to start building a community. We’ll need more, of course, but...”
He shrugged. Emily understood. Heart’s Eye was in terrible shape after ten years of neglect and decay. The necromancer hadn’t destroyed the school, but... she shook her head. They’d have to clear out the debris and repair the damage before they could actually shape the university. In hindsight, they probably didn’t need Mistress Irene just yet. There was a lot of work to be done before the university took shape.
And we’ll be building from scratch, Emily mused, as a tall figure detached herself from the carts and walked over. No one here has any real idea of what a university means.
Caleb cleared his throat as a woman approached. “Lady Emily,” he said, formally. “Please meet Senior Craftswoman Yvonne of Cockatrice.”
Emily smiled. She might have met Senior Craftswoman Yvonne at some point—she’d made a habit of visiting the ever-growing factories in Cockatrice—but she didn’t remember. Yvonne’s name had been put forward by her superiors, when Emily had asked them for someone who might like to move to Heart’s Eye and set up shop. It was mildly surprising to encounter a craftswoman, let alone one in such a high position. Outside the magical community, it was still very much a man’s world.
She studied Yvonne for a long moment as the older woman dropped a mock curtsey. Yvonne wore long overalls... trousers, rather than a dress. That would scandalize people, Emily was sure. A woman wearing male clothing, one who looked faintly absurd trying to bob in trousers... Emily snorted at the thought. Anyone who tried to work in a crafts shop, let alone a factory, in a dress would probably get it caught in the machinery. And Yvonne looked formidable enough to deal with anyone who made a fuss. Her arms, bare to the shoulder, were muscular; her tanned skin, marked and pitted with the remnants of industrial accidents, was a clear sign that she’d earned her position the hard way. No craftsman—or woman—could ever reach high position without proper experience. The guild had seen to it long ago. Emily liked Yvonne on sight.
“Lady Emily.” Yvonne’s accent was very definitely common, without even a hint of aristocracy... or an attempt to mimic her social superiors. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“Likewise,” Emily said. She held out her hand. Yvonne shook it, firmly. “I hope you’ll enjoy working at Heart’s Eye.”
“I was told it would be a challenge,” Yvonne said. “But I was promised my own factory if I took it on.”
“I certainly hope so.” Emily looked past her, at the carts. “What did you bring?”
“Most of the supplies we’ll need to get started,” Yvonne said. “And a couple of dozen apprentices, each with at least six months of experience. I didn’t want to bring anyone completely new, at least until we were up and running. There’s a few craftsmen back home who will probably never forgive me for stealing their apprentices.”
Emily frowned. �
��Are they likely to cause trouble?”
“I doubt it.” Yvonne shrugged. “It’s a petty nuisance, rather than a real problem. A lot of precedents were set over the past few years. Oh, the apprentices will be in trouble if they decide they want to go back, but it won’t cause us any problems.”
“No master wants an apprentice who flakes out,” Caleb commented. His voice lightened. “And someone else joined us, a surprise...”
Emily looked up... and smiled. The Gorgon was standing by one of the carts, wearing a short leather jacket and skirt. She looked horrendously out of place—Emily could see two of the apprentices eyeing her warily—but somehow right... Emily felt her smile grow wider as she hurried over to her friend. The Gorgon had been born and raised in the desert. She probably felt as if she’d come home.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, as she gave the Gorgon a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Caleb wanted it to be a surprise.” The Gorgon hugged her back. As always, her skin felt... odd, neither wholly scaly nor human. “He said you’d be pleased.”
“I am,” Emily said. She promised herself that she’d talk to Caleb about it later. It would have been nice to have some warning. “You know what we’re doing here?”
The Gorgon looked pained. “I couldn’t get an apprenticeship.”
Emily winced. The Gorgon was far from stupid—no one reached sixth year, let alone passed the exams, without being bright—but... she was a gorgon. There were few masters who would consider taking her as a student, not when there was so much fear and prejudice against her kind. Emily had hoped the Gorgon’s obvious skill—and talent—would make up for her limited humanity. Clearly, prospective masters had disagreed.
“We’ll try to make sure you get something better here,” Emily promised. “And you are more than welcome to stay.”
“Thanks.” The Gorgon smiled, wanly. “And I hope you succeed. I mean...”
“I understand,” Emily said. What had the Gorgon been doing since Emily had left Whitehall? “We’ll have to have a longer chat soon, just to catch up.”
“We will,” the Gorgon agreed. “Cirroc is coming too, by the way. Master Highland took him as an apprentice.”
“That’s good.” Emily nodded, although she wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Cirroc was a fine person—she had no doubt of it—but, as an apprentice, he would be expected to defer to his master until he gained his own mastery. “Will he be meeting us tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Caleb sounded conflicted. “Hopefully, we won’t have to share rooms again.”
Emily had to smile. “Was he that bad?”
“He wasn’t the worst, I suppose.” Caleb grinned. “But he always brought someone back to the room and I had to find something else to do with my time.”
“How terrible,” Emily said, dryly.
“It was,” Caleb agreed. “Anyway, do you feel up to eating? It’s early afternoon here.”
Emily glanced at her watch, then reminded herself about teleport lag. Her body thought it was early evening. “I think so, then Frieda and I had better get an early night. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid so.” Caleb looked as if he wanted to say something else, then stopped himself. “We set up a pair of rooms for you and”—he blinked—“where did she go?”
Emily glanced back. Frieda was gone. A moment later, Emily spotted her talking to Hoban, their bodies just a little too close. Jayson stood next to him, pretending to ignore the couple. Emily felt her heart twist, again. Jayson had tried to kiss her a few short weeks ago... no, he had kissed her. But she hadn’t been in the mood.
“Let her have her fun,” Emily said, feeling old. “We did that too, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.” Caleb hesitated, again. “We did.”
He shrugged. “I’ll show you to your room. The Gorgon is right next to you. Most of the other women are bunking in the nearby warehouse, but I thought you’d want a room to yourself...”
“Thank you.” Emily knew it was probably a bad precedent—Sergeant Miles had taught her that it could be dangerous if one person had special privileges—but she was too tired to care. Much. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You will,” Caleb promised. “Everyone is looking forward to the move.”
“Me too,” Emily said. She looked down at her hands. “I want to get started.”
Chapter Three
EMILY AWOKE EARLY IN THE MORNING, her head ringing with the alarm spell. She gritted her teeth as she cancelled it, looking around blearily as she reached for the water bottle and put it to her lips. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that she was living in the lap of luxury compared to some unfortunates in Farrakhan. The bed might be itchy, the air might be uncomfortably cool, the water flavorless in the way that only boiled water could be... but it was still luxury. Her skin itched as she forced herself to stand up, silently grateful she’d remembered to set wards against insects. No doubt she would have found herself with some unwanted companions if she’d forgotten. One encounter with lice was quite enough for anyone.
Another little detail they leave out of all the adventure stories, she thought, as she poured some chilly water into a bowl. She muttered a couple of spells—one to clean the water, one to warm it—and then undressed, sponging herself off before changing into her desert robes. No one talks about how uncomfortable life was in the bad old days.
She snorted at the thought as she braided her hair, then donned a hat before heading for the door. The ward snapped as soon as she touched the doorknob, bringing the world crashing in with astonishing force. Someone yelled on the streets outside, shouting so loudly that she thought—just for a moment—there was an angry mob gathering outside the warehouse. She remembered herself a moment later and started to make her way downstairs. It might be early morning, but the city had been awake for hours. The population would be trying to get as much done as possible before the heat grew too oppressive, even for them.
Caleb met her at the bottom of the stairs. “There’s food in the office,” he said. “Get something to eat before we go.”
Emily didn’t feel like eating—her stomach felt uncomfortable, the last lingering remnants of the teleport lag confusing her—but she knew better than to wait until she felt hungry. Frieda was already in the office, spooning rice and curry into a bowl. She looked disgustingly happy... Emily hoped, not for the first time, that she’d remembered to take precautions if she’d been intimate Frieda was too young, by magical standards, to have children. If she’d remained on the farm, she would probably be married with two kids by now...
No, she’d be dead—or wishing she was. Emily corrected herself, brutally. Her family saw her as a burden long before she was sold to Mountaintop.
She took the bowl Frieda offered and ate silently. She didn’t want to know what was in the curry. The locals made all sorts of things into food, up to and including maggots and other insects. Emily had been hungry enough in her life to know better than to turn her nose up at something she could eat, no matter how gross, but there were limits. It was better not to know what she was eating, at least until she knew she liked it. Besides, the locals had no choice. They had to eat what was available.
The sounds from outside grew louder, dull thuds echoing through the warehouse as the apprentices pushed the carts into the streets. A portal would have been much more efficient, but there was no way they could put one together on the spot... she remembered the temporary portal she’d constructed, when they’d been trying to free Alassa from the Tower, before dismissing the thought. It would be far too revealing to anyone who happened to be watching from a distance. Besides, the portal had been relatively small. It would be difficult to construct one large enough to take a cart and hold it open long enough for all the carts to drive through. She finished her curry, drank her water and headed for the door. Frieda jumped up and followed as Emily stepped through and onto the streets.
It was absolute chaos. Hoban and Yvonne w
ere shouting orders—their voices echoing through the streets—but it looked as if no one was listening. The carts were jostling about, wildly; Emily thought, just for a second, that one particularly overloaded cart was about to tumble over before it steadied. And... she looked around, puzzled, as it slowly dawned on her that something was missing. Where were the camels? Or the oxen that had been born and bred to work in the desert. Where...?
Her blood ran cold as she realized what was pulling the wagons. Slaves. Not human slaves, but orcs. She’d known thousands of orcs had been captured after their necromantic master had been killed, yet... she swallowed, hard, as she saw the slave collars around their necks. A wave of disgust and revulsion nearly overcame her. Elsewhere, it was possible to pretend servants were fairly paid for their work... although she knew, in her heart, it wasn’t true. Here... there was no pretense. Her heart twisted painfully as one of the orcs thudded past her, hopelessness clearly evident in its piggish gaze. The stench alone was almost overpowering.
Caleb hurried up to her, carrying a small collection of documents. “Emily, I...”
“No.” Emily spoke before she could stop herself. “I won’t use slaves.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Caleb said. His face twisted in disgust. “There weren’t enough camels. Or oxen...”
“There’s always a choice,” Emily said, bitterly. She watched an orc-drawn cart moving down the street, the driver snapping orders. He showed no fear of the orcs, even though they’d tear him like paper if the collars failed. “We can’t do this...”
Caleb met her eyes. “We don’t have a choice,” he repeated. “There’s no other way to get the carts across the desert. And Emily...”
He took a breath. “You know how dangerous orcs can be, even without a necromancer. If the city fathers didn’t enslave the orcs, they’d have to kill them.”
Emily swallowed, hard. Cold logic told her Caleb was right. Orcs were dangerous. But emotionally... she asked herself, tartly, if the slaveowners of the south had ever told themselves they had to enslave the slaves. Probably they had, when they’d bothered to think about it. Anything could be rationalized, given time. And a motive. The economic demand for slaves created more than reason to justify slavery... at least to themselves. Who cared what the slaves thought?
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 3