Master Highland cleared his throat. “I will look for brewers—and masters—who might be able to help,” he said. “But I don’t know how many will come, or on what terms.”
“We won’t make any special offers,” Emily said, firmly. “Mistress Irene might have other ideas, but...”
She shrugged. “Does anyone have any other concerns?”
Yvonne looked embarrassed. “Something that should have been pointed out earlier,” she said, grimly. “There’s both too much and too little decay.”
Emily blinked. “Too much and too little?”
“Yes.” Yvonne met her eyes, evenly. “I’ve been told that the mattresses shouldn’t have decayed completely, not in a mere ten years. And yet, most of the books in the library have remained intact and readable...”
“They will have been charmed to survive the worst students could do to them,” Master Highland interjected. “That’s no surprise. I would be more astonished if the books were dust.”
“Quite,” Jayson agreed.
“Perhaps.” Yvonne’s face went blank. “So what happened to the mattresses? And clothes. Where have they gone? Or did the students attend their lessons in the buff?”
“I assure you, we wore robes,” Master Highland snapped.
“Perhaps the necromancer took them,” Caleb said. “Or close proximity to his power caused them to decay into dust.”
“I’ve never heard of a necromancer literally causing decay,” Master Highland said. He glanced sharply at Emily. “Emily?”
“Never.” Emily shook her head. She’d read everything she could on necromancy, but there simply hadn’t been much. “I never thought to check Shadye’s fortress for mattresses.”
“And some of my people are seeing things,” Yvonne continued. “They’re seeing things in the mirrors, or out of the corners of their eyes...”
“A common reaction, when mundanes enter a high-magic environment,” Master Highland rumbled. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Perhaps,” Emily mused. She’d seen things too, hadn’t she? And she wasn’t the only one. “We still don’t know why they covered the school in mirrors.”
“Perhaps the mundanes should remain in Heart’s Ease,” Master Highland said. He sounded suspiciously reasonable. “They can work there and...”
“No,” Emily said. It was bad enough that they’d have to set up the powder mill and factories outside the school, if not outside the wards. “We have to work together.”
“If you say so,” Master Highland said. He produced a folder of his own. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some thoughts about class structure and organization.”
Emily sighed, inwardly, and settled down to some hard bargaining.
Chapter Thirteen
“YOU KNOW,” CALEB SAID AS THEY passed through the workshop, “I’m starting to think Master Highland doesn’t like us.”
Emily nodded in grim agreement. “He certainly doesn’t like working with us,” she agreed, curtly. “He’d sooner be barking orders than negotiating.”
She felt a twitch of pity, mingled with irritation. Master Highland was old enough to be her father; her grandfather, perhaps, if he’d started young. He was no sexist—he had no qualms about taking orders from a woman—but he certainly resented taking orders from a youngster barely out of her teens. It was hard to blame him too, even though Emily knew she’d seen and done more than most magicians his age. He’d probably be happier once Mistress Irene arrived and started bossing everyone around. Emily knew she’d be happier too.
He’ll just have to learn to adapt, she thought, grimly. We’re not opening a regular school here.
She smiled, rather thinly. She’d studied his concepts carefully. They’d all been designed for a school, rather than a university. He’d made some nods towards furthering research and development, she had to admit, but most of his ideas were starkly conventional. Emily had had to turn half of them down and insist on the other half being rewritten, either to allow time for experimentation or room for mundanes. Master Highland seemed convinced that Yvonne and her staff could be sent below stairs and forgotten. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Impressive,” Caleb muttered.
Emily nodded in agreement as she surveyed the workshop. Yvonne had not let the grass grow under her feet. There were already a dozen craftsmen at their desks, turning out pieces of machinery... Emily wondered, absently, just what they were doing. A couple looked to be building blunderbusses, others... one was working on a small steam engine, she thought, but the others were completely unfamiliar. She made a mental note to get Yvonne to give her a tour, once the excitement had died down. And, perhaps, to show Master Highland what she was doing. There was no magic in the chamber, but that didn’t make it any less wonderful.
An enchanter could make a steam engine run on magic, she thought. But how long would it last?
An apprentice hurried up to her and bowed. “Lady Emily,” he said. “I... ah... are you planning to explore the corridors below our feet?”
“Yes,” Emily said, warily. “We have to complete our maps of the school.”
“Please, can I come with you?” The apprentice looked at her, pleadingly. “I already found one secret passage.”
“That’s true,” Caleb said. “He found one in the dorms.”
Emily glanced at him. “Where did it go?”
“Another dorm,” Caleb said. “That must have been a surprise.”
Perhaps, Emily thought. King Randor’s secret passageways had allowed him to spy on the maids as they undressed. And she’d seen others. I wonder who the other dorm was supposed to house?
She studied the apprentice for a long moment. He was tall and slim, well-proportioned for a young man who’d grown up in Cockatrice. His dark hair was cut close to his scalp. He wouldn’t be allowed to grow it out until he gained his mastery, whereupon he’d wear a ponytail to keep it out of his way as he worked. She liked him on sight. She hesitated, then made a snap decision.
“Yes, as long as you watch yourself,” she said. “Some of the traps we’ve found can be dangerous.”
“Yes, My Lady,” the apprentice said. “I’m Sixth, by the way.”
“Sixth?” Caleb sounded incredulous. “Why Sixth?”
“A nickname.” The apprentice grinned. “I was the sixth apprentice to join Craftswoman Yvonne.”
A runaway, Emily guessed. In theory, a runaway peasant who spent a year and a day in the city became a freeman; in practice, the lords of the manor often dragged them back to the farms... if, of course, they were caught. Sixth had probably changed his name as soon as he left the farm, making it difficult for the aristocrats to prove he’d ever been a peasant. And he speaks of Yvonne as though she were a great lady.
She smiled, then led the way towards the exit. The door had been clearly marked, warning the magic-less not to proceed further unless they wanted to risk running into a trap. Emily glanced at Sixth, who looked more excited than fearful, then led the way into the darkened corridor. She wondered, suddenly, if he could read. It was practically a requirement for an apprenticeship, now that reading had become a great deal easier, but that proved nothing. Sixth might have fled the farm well before she’d introduced a far simpler way to read and write.
“What do you hope to find?” Sixth was brimming with enthusiasm as he followed them down the corridor. “Something new? Or interesting?”
“I want to know where the necromancer slept,” Emily said. The light was starting to dim rapidly. The crystals overhead were showing their age. She cast a light spell, directing the globe of light to precede them down the corridor. “And where he might have hidden anything of value.”
Sixth didn’t sound scared. “What do you think he might have had?”
“I have no idea.” Emily glanced at him. He didn’t look scared either. “But if there are books missing from the library, they might be somewhere under the school.”
She frowned as they turned a corner. The dust was thick
er, suggesting that no one had set foot under the school for a very long time. The light crystals overhead had failed completely. She took a breath, tasting dust in the air, then reached out with her senses. A trap lay on the ground, concealed under a pile of dust. She assessed it carefully, then removed a coin from her pouch and threw it ahead of her. There was a brilliant flash of green light, followed by a crack of thunder. The coin fell to the ground, practically melted. She heard Sixth gulp behind her.
“You can go back, if you like.” Caleb inched forward, his fingers outstretched. “I won’t hold it against you.”
Sixth sounded shaken. “I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.”
I should make it an order, Emily thought. Sixth was Yvonne’s apprentice—or one of them—but Emily could still give him an order to leave and make it stick. And yet... she knew just how much he’d hate it if she ordered him. Unless, of course, he secretly wanted her to order him back. He could hardly ask... she shook her head. She’d never liked such logic. If he wants to stay, knowing the risks, he can.
She glanced at him as they followed Caleb down the corridor. “What do you make of the school?”
“A little too big and enclosed for my tastes,” Sixth said. He caught himself a moment later. “I beg your pardon, My Lady.”
“I want your honest opinion.” Emily groaned inside. It was the one thing she could be fairly sure someone wouldn’t give her, as long as they thought there was a difference between their honest opinion and what she wanted to hear. It was hard to blame them, too. King Randor had had a nasty habit of blaming the messenger when he’d brought the king bad news. “I want to hear what you really think.”
“The older magicians look down on us,” Sixth said. “And the younger ones aren’t quite sure what to make of us. And... are they children who made themselves look older?”
Emily had to laugh. “They do act like children, sometimes.”
“Yep.” Caleb glanced back at them. “I’m the oldest-looking five-year-old you’ll ever meet.”
Sixth looked at Emily. “Really?”
“I’d say he was actually three, myself.” Emily shook her head. “He’s actually twenty-three. I’m twenty-two.”
“Most of the apprentices are around the same age,” Caleb put in. “I think Frieda is the only one who’s significantly younger, and she’s twenty.”
“More or less,” Emily said. Frieda’s birth date had never been recorded. “You and your friends are significantly more mature.”
“We still get to have fun, sometimes,” Sixth said. “But not all the fun we would like.”
Emily nodded. Apprentices—mundane apprentices—could be a rancorous lot. It was odd to realize that magical apprentices were often more focused and disciplined than their mundane counterparts. But then, most magicians got over their immaturity—and the urge to practice their magic—at school. The mundane apprentices didn’t have any taste of real freedom until they left their parents and attached themselves to a master to learn his trade.
“There’ll be fun here too,” she promised, quietly. “Now...”
Caleb held up a hand. “There’s another trap here,” he said. “A nastier one.”
“We can call Hoban, if necessary,” Emily said. “Or simply detonate it from a distance.”
“That might be a bad idea for this one,” Caleb said. “Give me a minute.”
Emily nodded, then watched as Caleb went to work, disarming the trap with practiced ease. Magic crackled around his fingertips as he dismantled the trap and dispelled the magic. Emily leaned forward, concerned as she saw the last remnants of the spell. It was powerful, strikingly powerful... far more powerful than it needed to be, even if the caster had intended to kill anyone foolhardy enough to trigger it. Emily felt a twinge of unease, remembering the traps Randor had used to guard his secret chambers. Randor had been an amateur. The defenders of Heart’s Eye had been anything but. What had they been trying to stop?
A tank? Her thoughts mocked her. Or a necromancer?
Caleb seemed to have similar thoughts. “Would that have stopped a necromancer?”
“I doubt it.” Emily shook her head. “Necromancers are difficult to kill.”
“They say you turned Shadye into a slug, then stepped on him.” Sixth sounded admiring as they resumed their path down the corridor. “Is that true?”
“I haven’t heard that one before,” Caleb said. “Is it true?”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. “No,” she said, glad of the semi-darkness. “And you know it isn’t true.”
Caleb chuckled, then stopped as he peered through a doorway. “Emily... I think you’d better come take a look at this.”
“Coming,” Emily said. There was something in the air, something unpleasant. She hurried to the doorway and looked through. “Shit.”
She sucked in her breath, sharply. The chamber was clean—there was no dust, anywhere—and the floor was covered in powerful runes. It looked as though someone had tried to perform a ritual, although she couldn’t tell which ritual they’d intended to do. The runes were skewed, suggesting that the ritualists either hadn’t understood what they were doing or something had screwed up their calculations beyond repair. Or... she knew that some rituals destroyed the circles, but... she’d never heard of one that altered the runes without destroying them. What had happened in the chamber?
“No bodies,” Caleb entered the room, careful to keep on the outside of the circle. “And no stray magic.”
“Curious.” Emily frowned as she reached out with her own senses. Caleb was right. There was almost no magic in the room, save for the background hum from the wards. “What happened here?”
“There must have been someone in the chamber,” Sixth said. “Was this a spellchamber?”
Emily blinked, then remembered Sixth probably wouldn’t have seen a spellchamber before. There were several in Cockatrice, but only magicians were allowed to use them. “I think it was a ritual chamber,” she said. “Spellchambers generally have more protections woven into the walls and ceilings.”
“Not to mention the floors.” Caleb was standing on the edge of the circle, his lips moving soundlessly as he parsed the runes. He didn’t look to be having any success either. “Did I ever tell you about Karan’s experiments with magic, in her own room?”
“No.” Emily glanced at him, then resumed her inspection of the walls. “What happened?”
“I don’t know what she was trying to do, but she managed to destroy the floor.” Caleb laughed. “One moment, everything was fine; the next, she and everything in her room plunged through the floor and landed in the sitting room. Mum was mad. I mean, really mad. I thought she was going to murder my sister on the spot.”
“I don’t blame her,” Emily said. She tried to recall Karan’s room. There had been a wardrobe and dresser as well as a bed, if she recalled correctly. It hadn’t had enough space for someone to attempt a ritual, or even some of the more powerful spells. “What was she trying to do?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb repeated. “I couldn’t imagine what she might have been trying to do.”
“Sneak out of the house away from her mother’s watchful eye, perhaps to meet a boy?” Sixth chuckled. “Or maybe even teleport...”
“Karan has more sense than to try to teleport out of a warded house,” Caleb said. He didn’t rise to the bait. “And as for sneaking out of the house”—he laughed—“I’d say she was a complete failure. Mother could hardly miss the damage.”
“Ask her—now, a few years later—what she was trying to do,” Emily urged. She was curious. She couldn’t think of any reasonable answer either. Maybe Karan had simply lost control of the spell and accidentally destroyed the floor under her feet. Or... what? “But you’re right. This isn’t a spellchamber. And it isn’t really much of a ritual chamber either.”
“They must have been desperate,” Sixth said. It was hard to disagree. The entire arrangement looked like someone had put it together in a tearing hurry, without
the time for proper planning and preparation. “But what were they trying to do?”
Emily shook her head, slowly. It was impossible to tell. What took bodies—and mattresses—but left books, ruins and iron bedstead intact? Maybe the necromancer had been eating the bodies. It was as good an explanation as anything else, except it made no sense. She had no idea if necromancers needed to eat, as well as sleep, but they did need a constant supply of energy. It was why prisoners had been brought to the school, during the war. Why hadn’t the war been launched earlier, if the necromancer had been starving? She just didn’t know...
... And yet, something nagged at her. Something she’d seen before. But what?
She walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall, and studied it. It was just an ordinary mirror. And yet... she allowed her fingers to trail across the surface, half-expecting something to reach out and grab her. Nothing moved, not even her reflection. She peered into her own eyes, then shook her head. There was nothing there. The face looking back at her was hers...
“There’s more in here,” Sixth called. His voice echoed, oddly. “Come and look.”
Emily glanced up, alarmed. Sixth had walked into the next room... what the hell was he thinking? Didn’t he understand the dangers? She straightened and hurried towards the door, cursing him under her breath. If...
She felt a surge of magic and hastily threw up her wards, too late. The surge grew stronger, pressing against her defenses. She cast a dispersal charm, followed by a dispelling charm; the magic surged, then flickered out, as if it had never been there in the first place. And yet... she pushed herself forward, sparks darting through the air. What had Sixth found?
No; what had he triggered?
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 13