“We’ll figure it out later,” Emily said. “Right now”—she glanced out of the window and saw the dust storm getting closer—“we’d better go down to the wardchamber.”
She led the way out of the room and down the stairs, keeping a wary eye open for traps. She didn’t like to think about the Schoolmaster using lethal hexes on his door, but... if he’d done that, why? If a student had been killed trying to break into his office... Master Highland had said the wards weren’t lethal when he’d been a student. If that had changed... why? Had the Schoolmaster thought he could barricade himself in his office when Dua Kepala attacked the school?
That would have been cowardly, Emily mused. And, if someone got through the outer wards, almost certainly futile.
She shuddered at the thought. She’d been scared many times, even after she learnt magic. She’d been so terrified at the thought of walking into a necromancer’s fortress that she’d nearly suggested to Casper that they go back to Farrakhan instead. And yet, she’d gone into the wrecked school and emerged victorious. Casper hadn’t come out at all. He’d been frightened too, but...
“Master Highland,” she said. “What was the Schoolmaster like?”
“Edmund?” Master Highland thought for a moment. “He was a little scatter-brained, I thought, but it might well have been an act. His deputy was the disciplinarian, which let Edmund play at being the comforter after some poor unfortunate got a well-deserved punishment. I never actually heard of him caning a student, which made him pretty much unique. He was a genuinely nice person, but... I never really thought he had the well-being of the students at heart.”
Cirroc snorted. “Because he didn’t beat them enough?”
“No.” Master Highland frowned, as if he was trying to put his feelings into words. “He was always a little... disinterested. Oh, he’d offer advice and comfort and sweets to students who came to him—and he had quite a few Old Boys who owed him favors for one thing or another—but he never did anything substantial to improve the school. He always left it to his staff and... he didn’t even try to claim the credit.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Emily protested. Edmund sounded nice. She’d been told there were some senior magicians who would happily steal ideas and inventions from their juniors and make their lives difficult if they complained. “If they did the work...”
“Yes.” Master Highland seemed irked. “And if they kept getting the credit, sooner or later the board would have started asking pointed questions about who should really have the formal authority. They would have done, believe me. What could the reformers have accomplished if they didn’t have to beg for permission to do anything? Edmund didn’t seem remotely concerned with his own position.”
“Maybe his staff were too loyal to undermine him,” Caleb speculated.
“No.” Hoban sounded as though disagreed. “Even if they weren’t trying to undermine him, a display of competence—and dedication to the school—would have gone a long way towards undermining him anyway. That’s still a problem in my circle.”
Master Highland nodded. “There was never any way to tell when the board would wake up, remember that it had to do something to earn its pay, and start taking a sharp look at the records from the last few years. They did as little as they could get away with, but...”
Emily kept her thoughts to herself. Edmund sounded okay, but... she’d met enough people to know that someone who looked innocuous might not have her best interests at heart. So many people used niceness as a cover for malice that she would rather deal with someone who openly hated her. And yet... she shook her head. Edmund had probably found it useful to play “good cop, bad cop” with his students. Emily had respected the teachers who were strict disciplinarians, but she’d never fully trusted them.
They reached the bottom of the stairwell and made their way down the passageways under the school. The walls seemed to close in, discomfiting her even though she knew it was an illusion. The light spell helped, but... she caught sight of a multitude of reflections, once again, and shivered. It was easy to imagine that they were something else, in the semi-darkness. She wondered how the students had coped, if there were mirrors everywhere. The entire building was like a crazed funhouse, with the added dangers of real magic if something went wrong.
“They never let me down here,” Master Highland commented. “And now there aren’t even any locks on the door.”
“There aren’t any doors,” Cirroc pointed out. “Was the nexus point really dead? Or sleeping?”
“I don’t know.” Emily wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about that. There were other dead nexus points in the Blighted Lands. If they could be reignited too... her lips quirked. Those nexus points were guarded by necromancers. Getting there might be a little problematic. “I was never sure, at the time, and afterwards... I just harnessed it again.”
“Everyone said it had died,” Master Highland reminded her. “But... were they using it for something? Or what?”
Emily shook her head. She’d read the books. More importantly, she’d been there when Whitehall’s nexus point had been tamed. It was like trying to tame a volcano, with the added disadvantage of being turned into something utterly inhuman if something went wrong... if, of course, you survived at all. She couldn’t imagine anything that might kill a nexus point, or drain it dry. It was far more likely that there would be an eruption of power, tearing through the wards as if they were made of paper and vaporizing the entire school. No wonder the Grandmaster had been so worried when he’d found her in the nexus chamber. Shadye might have been trying to destroy the school rather than capture it.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said, again. They had imagination as well as talent. She refused to believe the puzzle couldn’t eventually be solved. “I don’t think they would have taken too many risks with a necromancer breathing down their necks.”
“They might have been trying to turn the nexus point against the invader,” Cirroc offered. “Is that even possible?”
“In theory, yes.” Emily shook her head. “In practice, no.”
It would be like using a nuke to smash an ant, Emily thought. Necromancers were powerful, but the nexus points represented virtually unlimited power. They wouldn’t have been able to aim... and if they’d tried, they might have blown themselves up as well.
She glanced at them as they slowly walked into the nexus chamber. Her sense of spatial awareness turned upside down, making it suddenly difficult to stand. The entire chamber was twisted—she knew, from experience, that if she fell off the bridge she’d find herself falling down towards the bridge—and treacherous beyond words. The damaged bridges probably didn’t help. Between them, Dua Kepala, Casper, Alanson and she had smashed a lot of bridges.
The nexus point glowed beneath her, a spinning point of light that twisted in and out of reality. She’d always found it hypnotic, but this time... she had to fight to keep it from luring her off the bridge. Her magic, her boosted magic, was being called. She gritted her teeth as she knelt on the stone, reaching out with her mind. The wards were clearly visible—she didn’t even have to reach very far to make the connection—but, behind her, she sensed the rolling power. She knew, all too well, what the nuclear technicians at Chernobyl must have felt when they’d gazed into the blazing heart of the reactor. Suddenly, the wards seemed very fragile indeed.
And there’s radiation here too, she reminded herself. There was so much raw magic in the chamber that the slightest mistake could mean death—or worse. If this goes wrong...
“Caleb.” Emily pulled back her mind, gingerly. “Sit beside me. Hold me. If I start to slip.”
She felt an odd little shiver as Caleb wrapped his arms around her. His touch was firm, muscular... it was odd how that had never bothered her, when they’d been lovers. But then, she knew the mind inside the body. Caleb was very definitely a nerd. And he was trained enough to fight, with or without magic.
Shaking her head, she reached out with her mind once
again.
Chapter Seven
THE MAELSTROM WAS ALMOST A LIVING thing.
Emily felt tiny—an ant caught in a thunderstorm—as she pushed her mind further into the wards. The nexus point surged under her touch, raging against the wards with a power that terrified her almost as much as it enticed her. She wanted to reach out and take control, to surf the waves of power to wherever they would lead... and, at the same time, she knew just how dangerous it would be to try. She could be burnt up in a second—less than a second, perhaps—and that would be the end. Shadye had thought he could cope, but he’d been an eldritch abomination at the end. She knew she couldn’t handle it...
... And yet, the temptation was almost overpowering.
She gritted her teeth, fighting the urges to either hurl herself forward or lean back into Caleb’s arms. God knew there were times, over the past year, when she’d missed him. Cat had never seen her as someone who might need comforting, or reassurance, or even a simple hug. And she’d never dared show him weakness, not when he would start thinking of her as someone who needed to be protected... someone who could never be an equal. It wasn’t fair, somehow. She had never been able to relax around him.
Stop woolgathering, she told herself, sharply. Get to work.
The wards glowed stronger as she touched them. They, too, felt alive; they’d grown out of the seeds she’d sown the first time she’d visited Heart’s Eye. She allowed her mind to wander, just for a moment, silently noting the number of times someone had tried to gain access to the school. Master Highland wasn’t the only one, apparently. Hundreds of people had tried their luck. She wondered, idly, what they would have done if they’d succeeded. How would they have explained how they’d come to rule the school? Or would they have claimed right of conquest? They might just have gotten away with it.
She smiled, then started to work. It was easy enough to convince the wards to recognize Caleb through magic and blood. She added the latter after a moment’s thought. If she’d lost her powers—and only regained them through luck—Caleb might have the same problem. But if he could touch the nexus point via blood, he might be able to regain them without the trouble she’d had. She wondered what that would do, then turned her attention to Master Highland. His presence glowed through the wards. She thought she detected a hint of trepidation, but it was probably her own fears reflected. The wards weren’t alive, not in any sense a human would recognize. They weren’t intelligent.
The wards brushed him lightly, touching his magical signature. She gave him the same access rights she’d given Caleb. Hopefully, he wouldn’t realize there was a layer below them. There wasn’t, in most sets of wards. But here... they had administrator rights; she had super-user rights. She could override them, if necessary. She reminded herself, sharply, not to use it unless she had no choice. Master Highland would certainly see it as a betrayal, even though she hadn’t promised him everything. He’d say she was violating the spirit of the agreement, and he’d have a point.
But I can’t let him unseat me, she mused. There would be nine seats at the table, when all was said and done. And he might, if he had unlimited rights.
She started to pull out of the wards, then stopped herself. Something wasn’t quite right. She looked around mentally, trying to see what was wrong, but... there was nothing. Or... there was an absence of something. A flurry of impressions assaulted her mind, vanishing too quickly for her to be sure of what she’d sensed. The maelstrom boiled in fury, seethed with rage... it didn’t seem aimed at her, but... she thought it was aimed at something. She heard voices...
Emily jerked against strong arms. For a moment, she panicked. She was being held in place, held by someone whose arms were too close to her breasts... Caleb, she reminded herself, sharply. He’s holding me. She looked up.
Caleb’s brown eyes were worried. “Emily?”
Emily swallowed. Her mouth was so dry, it was almost painful. “What... what happened?”
“You started to lurch forward,” Caleb said. “What happened to you?”
“I’m not sure.” Emily motioned for water as she tried to think. The impressions were already receding, leaving only faint shadows. She might have imagined everything. A bad dream... they weren’t real. “The nexus point was calling to me.”
“That’s been known to happen.” Master Highland looked impatient. “Nexus points have called to people before, but when they go in”—he shrugged—“we never see them again.”
Perhaps they get spat out in another era, Emily mused. She hadn’t moved through space as well as time, when she’d been knocked back a thousand years, but someone else might have been dispatched to the far side of the world. Who knew what they would encounter? They might not survive long enough to find a way back. There are all those stories of people who find themselves sleeping in a high-magic zone and waking up to discover a century passed while they were asleep.
She drank the water greedily, despite how odd it tasted, then forced herself to stand. Caleb held her arm as they walked off the bridge and back into the corridor, leaving the nexus point behind. Emily was tempted to lean against him, even though she knew what kind of trouble it could cause. They had no future together, not any longer. A thought struck her and she scowled. It had been over a year. Caleb might have another lover by now. She couldn’t ask.
“You should have access to the wards,” she said. “Try it and see.”
Master Highland frowned. “These are very sharp wards,” he said. “I see... I see everything.”
“Something is going to have to be done about that,” Emily said, firmly. The wards would let Master Highland see into a student’s bedroom. She didn’t think he would spy on his students, but... better not to put temptation in someone’s path. She’d heard enough stories from Mountaintop and Stronghold to know some teachers simply couldn’t be trusted, oaths or no oaths. “Can you muster the defenses?”
“I think so,” Master Highland said. “And allow people to enter the school.”
“Right now, it takes all three of us to add a newcomer to the board.” Emily hoped Master Highland couldn’t tell she was lying. “Once we have all nine, a simple majority will suffice.”
“I see.” Master Highland sounded distant. He was probably exploring the school with his mind’s eye. “Clever.”
Caleb cleared his throat. “Right now, we need to get back upstairs and have a rest. Emily’s exhausted, and the rest of us aren’t much better.”
“Someone has to clear the dorms,” Hoban said. “I’ll see to it, if Frieda doesn’t mind coming with me.”
Emily shot him a warning look. Don’t spend all your time cuddling.
Hoban nodded, as if he’d heard her thoughts. “Frieda?”
“Coming,” Frieda said.
Emily watched them hurry up the stairs, torn between amusement and concern. She understood, of course. She’d found it hard to keep her hands off Caleb, once she’d got over her reluctance to touch—and be touched. But Hoban was in his early twenties... she hoped he’d have the maturity not to push Frieda too far. She was a skilled magician, but that wouldn’t be enough to keep her from getting hurt.
She looked at Caleb and saw him looking back, his face curiously wistful. Her cheeks heated as she realized he’d probably been having similar thoughts. They’d been good together, once. But...
“I can touch the wards,” Caleb said. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, and she knew it. “It shouldn’t be a problem to handle them.”
“Practice anyway,” Emily suggested. It was more of an order. “You don’t want to be caught by surprise if we have to do something unexpected.”
Caleb grinned, weakly. “But, if we were caught by surprise, wouldn’t it be unexpected by definition?”
“Probably.” Emily couldn’t help smiling back. “Shall we go?”
Master Highland was still lost in his thoughts as they made their slow way back to the Great Hall. Footsteps in the dust showed that Hoban and Frieda had already hurried
to the dorms. Emily wondered, idly, what they’d find. The beds might still be intact—they’d been designed to take the worst children and teenagers could throw at them—but the bedding itself would have decayed long ago. And... she wondered, suddenly, if they’d find any bodies. There hadn’t been any bodies, anywhere. That was... odd.
“Caleb,” she said slowly, “how long would a body last? In here?”
Caleb frowned. Perhaps he’d been having the same thought. “I’m not sure. In the desert, it might last for a long time, but inside... maybe the necromancer ate them.”
“Perhaps.” Emily shook her head, slowly. “He might have been a cannibal, but...”
She found it hard to imagine. Did necromancers even need to eat? There was so much magic running through their veins that they might be able to feed on it, yet... they must eat. Poisoning a necromancer was sometimes the simplest way to kill one, although it didn’t always work. She wasn’t sure why. She made a mental note to ask King Randor’s closest companions if they’d seen their king eat, after he’d become a necromancer. He, at least, had been surrounded by the living. Shadye and the others had lived alone. Coming to think of it, there hadn’t been anything resembling proper living quarters in the Inverse Shadow either, just endless barren passageways and chambers. Shadye had been more animal—and eldritch abomination—than man.
A low whistling echoed as Cirroc opened the door and peered outside. The storm was in full swing, sand crashing against the wards even as the wind that carried it was allowed to pass through. Great piles of sand were forming along the edge of the wards, each lasting only a few seconds before gusts of wind picked up the sand and hurled it away again. It looked as if the school was going to be buried, although Emily was sure that wasn’t going to happen. There would have been regular dust storms over the past two years and the school hadn’t been buried.
“I think we’re trapped,” Cirroc said. He half-closed the door. “Which of us will volunteer to be eaten first?”
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