Sixth was standing in the center of the room with a faintly bemused expression. Emily stared at him in disbelief. There had been so much magic, just for a second, that she’d been sure he was transfigured... or dead. And yet, he looked perfectly healthy... she blinked, then opened her mouth to tell him to stay where he was. He was in the middle of a minefield. If he made one false move...
Too late. He turned to her, triggering another spell. Emily grabbed for her magic as she felt the room spin, casting the strongest disenchantment spell she could. It didn’t work. Something pulled at her, trying to yank her towards the ceiling; she hastily stuck her feet to the floor with a quick spell to resist the pull. Sixth yelled as he fell upwards, his arms and legs waving desperately before he crashed into the ceiling with terrifying force.
Emily realized her mistake a second later. The chamber hadn’t been charmed to flip the gravity when someone triggered the spell; there was an attractor spell, buried somewhere within the ceiling. The spell hadn’t been cancelled by her charm because it was out of range...
It snapped, a second later. The magic vanished. Sixth’s body fell, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Emily knew he was dead. He had to be dead. But she couldn’t keep herself from running forward, despite the risk, to check. His arms and legs were broken, his face a shattered ruin... guilt gnawed at her, the grim awareness that she could have saved his life, if she’d sent him back. It would have been well within her rights to tell him to go back to the workshop. Instead...
Caleb stepped up next to her. His voice was grim. “What did he find?”
“His death.” Emily reached out and closed Sixth’s surviving eye. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone die, but... it still hurt. She feared the day when she could watch someone die without caring. Too many other magicians—and aristocrats—didn’t care how many people died, as long as they died for them. “He found his death.”
Chapter Fourteen
“WELL,” MASTER HIGHLAND SAID. HE TOOK one look at Sixth’s body, then turned to walk back into the makeshift ritual chamber. “That’s what you get when you bring a mundane into a magical environment.”
Emily rounded on him. “He didn’t die because he made a mistake,” she snapped. The guilt made it hard to think straight. “He didn’t die because he insulted someone who could kill him with a flick of a finger. He died because he walked into a trap he couldn’t see...”
“Which was his mistake,” Master Highland said, evenly. “He shouldn’t have been down here at all, should he?”
Yvonne gave him a nasty look. “Do you have anything useful to contribute? Or do you just want to sit here and say I told you so?”
Master Highland tried to look sympathetic. He failed.
“I said something useful last week, when we moved in,” he said. “This is not a safe place for the mundane, the blind. They should have waited outside until we searched the entire place from top to bottom and removed all the traps. But...”
“Enough.” Emily gritted her teeth. Master Highland had a point. She shouldn’t have allowed Sixth to accompany them, let alone wander into an area that hadn’t been inspected and declared safe. And now he was dead. “Hoban?”
Hoban looked up from where he was examining the remains of the trap. “It’s a curious design,” he said. “The real spellwork was actually outside detection range. An unwary magician might be caught as easily as a mundane.”
“But a magician would be able to handle the trap,” Master Highland said. “And escape, instead of being smashed against the ceiling.”
Caleb had a more practical observation. “How do we know there aren’t other such traps, in the cleared areas?”
“Well, I suppose we could say we would have triggered them by now, if there were.” Hoban stood. “And there’s less room for such traps on the upper levels.”
He shrugged. “But you’re right. We should check. Again.”
“Get all the apprentices organized and start checking,” Emily ordered, tiredly. It was hard to believe they’d missed something—or that they’d been lucky enough to avoid blundering into a trap they might have missed—but Hoban was right. They had to check. “Everyone else can wait in the Great Hall until we’ve cleared the workshops and dorms.”
“I’ll see to it,” Master Highland said. “And really, we should revisit the issue of just who is allowed to enter the building.”
Emily was too tired—and numb—to be angry. “Later.”
She watched Master Highland leave, then turned her attention to Yvonne. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t blame you.” Yvonne’s face was unreadable. “He wouldn’t be the first apprentice to overstep his bounds.”
“My master used to say that about me, frequently.” Hoban was examining the body, his face grim. “And he said it was only a matter of time until my mistakes earned me the death penalty.”
Emily shuddered. She knew magic could be very dangerous. She’d come close to killing herself more than once, even in Whitehall. She’d certainly managed to injure herself time and time again, in and out of class. But Sixth... there was something tragic about his death, something... she shook her head. She knew he’d wandered off, against orders, but still... he hadn’t deserved to die. He probably hadn’t grasped the danger, not really. It was hard to believe in invisible threats until they became visible.
And then it tends to be too late, Emily thought. She’d spent years honing her skills and yet she knew, all too well, that she couldn’t hope to see everything. A skilled magician could easily hide a trap from her until it was too late. And there’s no way he can come back from his mistake.
Hoban looked up. “The placement isn’t the only curious thing about the trap,” he said. “It used far more force than strictly necessary. The boy’s innards were smashed to a bloody pulp. The only reason his body seems intact is because the magic held it together...”
“I noticed.” Emily rubbed her eyes. “Can you move the body safely?”
She looked away as Hoban returned to his work. Whoever had cast the spell had either been curiously wasteful, which was at odds with how cunningly the spell had been placed, or intent on killing something a little tougher than the average human. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that the caster had been fighting something inhuman. A necromancer? Or... or what? Master Highland was right about something else, she supposed. A skilled magician might have been able to survive even if she’d been caught by surprise. Would a necromancer be able to survive?
And we know he never came down here, Emily mused. He certainly wouldn’t have bothered to replace the trap, if he triggered it and survived.
She watched, grimly, as Hoban carefully levitated the body into the air. Sixth looked... broken, as if his body was nothing more than a sack of broken bones. A trickle of blood splashed to the floor, but otherwise... he looked intact, if limp. Emily shuddered, trying not to be sick. She’d seen death before, but there was something uniquely horrid about the broken body. Sixth had been so full of life and ambition. He’d been brave enough to ask to accompany them, despite knowing the dangers.
And now he was dead.
I should have sent him back, Emily thought, bitterly. It would have hurt his pride, but at least he would be alive.
She felt another pang of bitter guilt as she mopped up the blood—it was dangerous to leave blood lying around in a magical environment—and followed Hoban and the others back to the Great Hall. The corridors felt empty, yet... she had the strangest feeling that something was watching. She pushed her senses out as far as they would go, stabs of pain jabbing into her head as she sensed Caleb, Hoban and the other magicians. There was nothing there, as far as she could tell. And yet... there was something, very faint, just at the edge of her consciousness. .
Perhaps I am imagining it, Emily thought. She’d had the feeling before, back when Sergeant Miles had been teaching them how to use—and evade—surveillance and searching spells. The spells
were so subtle—they had to be—that it was often hard to tell the difference between a real spell and something from her imagination. Or perhaps there’s something really wrong.
She gritted her teeth as she forced herself to think. Master Highland would gloat if she sent the mundanes back to Heart’s Ease while the magicians searched the school. Again. Cold logic suggested he had a point, but Emily was all too aware of how easy it would be to make the division between magical and mundane permanent. A single precedent would be enough to ban mundanes from the school. God knew mundanes were rarely allowed in Whitehall, Mountaintop or Laughter. Stronghold was the only school that embraced mundanes on an equal basis, and it taught soldiers, not magicians.
But if we keep them in the school, she thought grimly, we risk losing more lives.
She caught Yvonne’s eye as they made their way into the Great Hall. A number of apprentices had already gathered, watched by Frieda and Cirroc. The former looked relieved to see Emily. Emily was just glad she hadn’t been there when Master Highland had been mouthing off. Frieda would have said something sharp and started a fight. A snooty-looking apprentice—Emily vaguely recalled he was attached to Dram—stood next to her. It was clear they weren’t getting along.
Later, Emily thought. She motioned for Yvonne to accompany her into a sideroom. We have other problems right now.
“I’m sorry about your loss,” she said. It sounded weak and ineffectual, even to her, but she had no idea what else to say. “I shouldn’t have let him come with us.”
“Yes.” Yvonne’s voice was very flat. “But he knew the dangers. We all did.”
“It’s one thing to believe you know the dangers,” Emily said, “and another to really understand the dangers.”
She looked around, trying to think. The sideroom had been an office, according to Master Highland, where new students were formally welcomed to the school and keyed to the wards before they were escorted to their dorms. Now, it was just another empty chamber. There were no desks, no chairs; the bookshelf, set into the far wall, was completely empty, save for a thin layer of dust. And there was a mirror... Emily glared at it, her reflection glaring back. The mirror was just a mirror. She knew it was just a mirror. And yet, it bothered her.
“He knew the risks.” Yvonne’s voice was toneless, as if she was unwilling to show any emotion. “And he thought he could beat the odds.”
He would have, if I’d kept a closer eye on him. Emily tried to tell herself that it hadn’t been her fault, but she didn’t believe it. I should have sent him back to the workshop...
“Tell your apprentices that they can go home, if they like.” Emily forced herself to focus on the present. She’d have time to feel guilty later. “It won’t be held against them if they want to leave. I’ll arrange transport personally.”
Yvonne gave her a sharp look. “Won’t that give him a victory?”
Master Highland, Emily thought.
She shook her head. “I don’t care what he thinks, not now. If someone wants to leave, now that they know they can walk into an invisible trap and die, let them. I won’t hold it against them.”
“You’ll be the only one,” Yvonne said, dryly. “Everyone else will condemn them for leaving.”
Emily sighed. Yvonne was right. The apprentices had been briefed thoroughly when they’d been recruited. They’d been told about the dangers, even if they hadn’t fully understood, before they’d signed on the dotted line. And even if she was willing to let them go, without penalty, others wouldn’t be so forgiving. An apprentice who ran out on his master would find it difficult to find another, particularly if he hadn’t been abused or exploited. Not understanding the dangers before it was too late wasn’t an acceptable excuse.
“Give them the chance anyway,” she said, firmly. She couldn’t live with herself, else. “And if they want to go, they can go.”
Guilt nagged at her mind as she joined the other magicians in checking the dorms, the workshops, the offices and the corridors that had been declared safe. There were no traps, as far as she could tell, and no room for one to be concealed from her... but that meant nothing. Or did it? The traps they’d found had been powerful—and lethal—but there hadn’t been anything particularly subtle about them. What had they been trying to stop? The necromancer was the obvious answer, but... she had the odd feeling it wasn’t the correct answer.
And a number of traps were never triggered, she thought. It was a shame they didn’t know how many traps had been triggered, but she couldn’t think of any way to find out. The only thing she knew for sure was that she hadn’t blundered into any traps the first two times she’d visited the school. How many traps did the necromancer remove while he was in residence?
“Nothing,” Frieda said, as they swept the dorm. It looked better now, although they were still sleeping on blankets rather than mattresses. “The room is clean.”
“I hope so.” Emily looked at the showers. They were working now, thankfully. The hot water was often lukewarm—the enchantments on the hot water tank had a habit of failing overnight—but it was so much better than sponge baths that everyone was delighted. “We have to be careful.”
“And make sure we don’t take any mundanes into rooms we haven’t checked,” Frieda said, slowly. “How long will it take to check the entire school?”
Emily shrugged. “I have no idea.”
She tried to calculate it, then gave up. Most of the classrooms were clear. The rooms the necromancer had smashed open were also clear, suggesting that he’d triggered or removed the traps after he’d invaded the school. But the corridors to the rear of the school—and below the school—were thoroughly booby-trapped. It was starting to look as though the survivors had retreated, doing whatever they could to slow their opponent while they prayed for mercy and deliverance. She had a sudden vision of the last survivors, cowering behind their wards as their supplies ran out. They’d been waiting for help that had never come.
Poor bastards, she thought. They never knew they’d be left to die.
Sixth’s death still haunted her as they gathered in the Great Hall towards the end of the day. His body had been cleaned, as best as possible, and then wrapped in a plain white sheet before being placed on display. Emily took her place among the senior magicians, casting an eye over the watchful crowd. It didn’t look as though any of the apprentices had chosen to leave, as far as she could tell. Yvonne would have told them they could, she was sure. But they’d chosen to stay.
Perhaps we should have spent the summer clearing the castle before we invited mundanes to move in, Emily thought. It was what she’d intended to do, before it had become clear that she’d need to deal with the Old Boys League. She wanted—she needed—to get the university up and running before Void called her for her apprenticeship. But we just didn’t have the time.
Yvonne took the stage, wearing a long black dress. “Five years ago, a young man ran away from a farm. He moved from place to place, always staying one step ahead of the hunting dogs, until he settled in Cockatrice and remained there for a year and a day. As a new freeman, he worked during the day and studied during the evening before finally securing an apprenticeship with me. I believed he had potential. I was right.
“He grew up on a farm, but that didn’t make him stupid. He was quick to master the New Learning, to learn to read and write and sign his name. He had no innovations of his own—he was a young man—but he swiftly grasped the concepts he was taught; he learnt to assist me, to develop the skills that would, in time, have made him a master in his own right. He was brave, ambitious and driven, determined to succeed. When he heard about Heart’s Eye, he was determined to accompany me. I could not dissuade him.”
Emily listened, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes, as Yvonne told the room about Sixth. His hopes, his dreams... his determination to make something of himself. Yvonne made him come alive, at least in their minds. Emily silently promised herself that Sixth would not be forgotten. He’d be buried outside the
school—he’d cut all contact with his family when he’d fled the farm—and he would be remembered. She would make sure of it.
She watched, numbly, as his body was carried out of the Great Hall, then turned her attention to the gathering. Someone was already pouring alcohol, passing out small glasses. She felt her lips thin in disapproval, cursing herself for such a simple oversight. Magicians weren’t supposed to drink—it was rare to find a magician who drank heavily—but mundanes drank all the time. She should have thought to ban alcohol before someone brought it to the school. Now, it would feel like she was picking on mundanes.
Caleb stepped up next to her. “They dug the grave while we were searching the school,” he said. He kept his voice low. “But the old cemetery was buried under the sand.”
Emily nodded. She didn’t know what to say. She was tempted to ask him to hold her, just for a moment. But... it would show intolerable weakness if he held her in public. And he would, if she asked. She sighed inwardly as she made her way towards the small cluster of mundane apprentices. She had to give them her condolences, as weak and pitiful as they were. And she knew they wouldn’t come close to making up for the loss.
“He got himself killed,” a loud voice said. “He shouldn’t have been here at all.”
Emily looked up, sharply. Two apprentices—one magical, one mundane—argued in a distant corner. Others backed away. She glanced at Caleb as the argument grew louder, then turned to hurry towards them. Master Highland was making his way towards the argument too, his face grim. But...
“He was a good man,” the mundane apprentice snapped. He was balling his fists, clearly ready to throw a punch. “He didn’t deserve to die.”
“He shouldn’t have been here at all,” the magical apprentice said. He managed, somehow, to look down his nose at the taller mundane. “He should have been crawling in the mud with the rest of you...”
The mundane apprentice threw a punch. It hit a ward, the air solidifying in front of him. He grunted in pain, then snapped out a single word. “Coward.”
Mirror Image (Schooled in Magic Book 18) Page 14