“I was not asked,” Emily said, flatly.
The memory was thoroughly embarrassing. She’d found the whole arrangement somewhat amusing, although it was rather more than just another frat boy sorority house. Maybe the quarrels had more influence than she’d realized in the school, but it involved networking and making friends, two things she had never been very good at doing. And yet, in hindsight, it would have been easier to spy if she’d gained access to more quarrels.
“I imagine they thought we’d gotten to you first,” Steven said. “We were not shy about our success.”
“They weren’t,” Markus confirmed. “I think Steven did a little dance while crowing.”
Emily smiled as Steven glowered at Markus before looking back at her.
“The point is this, Lady Emily,” Steven said. “We do consider you one of us, but there are limits to what we can do with you unless you swear the oaths. There are many advantages to belonging to a quarrel.”
Emily looked at Markus. “Do you belong to a quarrel?”
“The Ashfall Family is a quarrel in its own right,” Markus said. “There’s no room for joining a bunch of outsiders.”
“You would also have the opportunity to work with other members in Whitehall,” Steven added, gently. “The Grandmaster forbids recruiting until Fourth Year, but we do have representatives there.”
Emily blinked in honest surprise. She hadn’t known there were quarrels at Whitehall — apart from the one she’d formed herself — but it shouldn’t really have been a surprise. If quarrels pervaded magical society to the degree Steven had claimed, they would definitely not have left Whitehall alone. Maybe Steven had moved so quickly to speak with her out of fear she’d go to another quarrel. After all, she hadn’t sworn the oaths.
“You would probably rise to become the local head,” Steven added. “You could recruit and train newcomers from the students, then pass the interesting ones on to us for further development. Your personal status would be enhanced beyond measure.”
“I can’t,” Emily said, after a moment. “My father would not be amused.”
“Your father is powerful enough to survive alone,” Steven said. “Are you?”
Emily swallowed. “He is still my Guardian,” she said. It was true enough, although Void had never actually interfered with her life. “I cannot defy his edicts without a very good cause.”
Steven met her eyes. “The advantages of being part of a union of magicians?”
The hell of it, Emily knew, was that it was a very good deal. If she’d been what everyone thought she was, the bastard daughter of a Lone Power, the chance to ally herself with a quarrel would have seemed ideal. It would have given her friends, a family of sorts, and access to some of the highest places in society. But there would be a price. She would be expected to uphold the quarrel, forsaking all other concerns.
And I already belong to a quarrel, she thought. The one my friends and I made.
“My father would not be impressed,” she said, firmly. “I’m sorry for putting you to so much trouble, Steven, but I cannot disobey his rules.”
Steven’s eyes glittered. “Do you think he’d punish you?”
Emily had no idea how Void would react, in real life, but it was as good an excuse as any.
“He is my Guardian until I turn twenty-one,” she said. If Melissa could be pushed into a marriage because she was still too young, no one could dispute Void’s far less significant edicts to his daughter. “I don’t think he would be too pleased with me if I compromised myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steven said, his eyes betraying a hint of anger, “but I do understand.”
“That’s why he got the job,” Markus commented. “Someone else would be screaming curse words by now, demanding that you swear the oaths at once.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. “I’m sorry, too.” Once, the offer would have been very tempting, but like so much else at Mountaintop it had probably been a trap. “But you are welcome to stay for the rest of the Faire.”
“I would be honored,” Steven said. He took one last sip from his mug, then placed it on the table and rose to his feet. “I trust you will consider us, when you reach the age of maturity.”
He bowed to Emily, nodded to Markus, and strode out the door.
“He wasn’t too hopeful,” Markus said, as soon as the door was closed. “Your father is not one to disobey.”
“No,” Emily agreed. “And what about yours?”
“The Old Man often lets me make my own mistakes,” Markus said. “He was quite insistent that I proved myself in Fourth Year before he formally accepted me as his heir.”
“Your brother is still young,” Emily said.
“And still a brat,” Markus agreed. “But my father believes that the strongest and most capable should take the lead at all times. If I had proved unsuitable, I suspect the Prime Heir would have become one of my cousins.”
“I can’t see Lady Fulvia doing that,” Emily said. “She named Melissa as her Heir before she went to Whitehall, let alone passed Fourth Year.”
“It might have been hard for Melissa to claim power,” Markus said.
Emily shrugged. “I trust you are enjoying the room?”
“Yes, thank you,” Markus said. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually help.”
“I didn’t know to help,” Emily said. She paused, then leaned forward. “What did Melissa tell you about me?”
“That you came out of nowhere and turned the school upside down,” Markus said. “That you were both a good and bad influence on people, particularly Princess Alassa.”
“I think that’s true of most people,” Emily mused. “Melissa has certainly been an influence on me.”
Markus lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Emily had to smile to conceal her own amusement. Melissa’s influence had largely been focused around encouraging Emily to learn counterspells and other tricks, including a large number of prank spells. There were times when it had almost been fun, pranking one another, but she’d never been quite able to rid herself of the horror she’d felt at some of the pranks. Turning someone into a frog and then dropping them into a lake was one thing, but actually risking their lives was quite another.
Don’t kick any animals at Whitehall, she thought, remembering one of the rules. You never know who it might be.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Markus said, finally.
Emily laughed, and met his eyes. “When is she supposed to get married?”
“The last night of the Faire,” Markus said. “By then...”
“By then, you have to come to some decisions about what you want to do,” Emily snapped, crossly. “Or do you intend to keep having an affair with her after she’s married?”
“I thought you were on our side,” Markus said.
“I am,” Emily said. It was true enough. Neither Fulvia nor Gaius commanded her liking, let alone her loyalty. “But what are you going to do when you run out of time?”
She listed the options as she saw them. “Talk to both families and try to broker a peace? Run off together and find a place to live away from the maddening crowds? Have one final kiss and then part, never to meet again?”
Markus glared at her. “Have you ever been in love?”
“No,” Emily said, flatly. She loved her friends, and Lady Barb, but it wasn’t romantic love in any sense of the word. They were her friends and the closest thing she had to a real mother. “I don’t know what it’s like to love someone, but...do you know you’re in love?”
Markus’s face darkened. For a moment, he looked so angry that she thought he was going to hit her.
“I could not live without her,” he said.
“Then find a way to live with her,” Emily suggested. Romeo had made similar declarations, had he not? And, in the end, he and Juliet had died together. But that wasn’t romantic, not really. It was just stupid. “Talk to your families. Or run off together, leaving an insulting note behind. But either way, your
time is running out.”
She sighed, inwardly. Romeo and Juliet had been underage, by Earth’s standards, although Shakespeare’s audience wouldn’t have seen anything odd in a thirteen-year-old girl getting married. But it underlined Shakespeare’s original point: emotion, strong emotion, led to poor decisions. Both Romeo and Juliet had been thoroughly immature, and it showed.
Not that one can’t be both immature and over sixteen, she thought. There were quite a few students at Whitehall, Melissa included, who Emily would have classed as immature. Hell, Imaiqah and the Gorgon were more mature by themselves than Emily and Alassa were put together. And making Romeo and Juliet older in later productions might still make perfect sense.
“I know,” Markus said. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to her,” Emily said. “Sit down one evening and have a long chat ..or would you like me to host you both for dinner? I could say it’s a gathering for youngsters, and leave Master Grey in charge of the dance.”
“Maybe for lunch,” Markus said. “You couldn’t just invite the pair of us, could you?”
Emily considered it, but shook her head. Imaiqah and Alassa already knew, but she would need to invite Jade and Caleb to keep her cover...and there were others in the castle of the same general age. The ones who weren’t invited would think they’d been deliberately excluded...
“I’ll invite you both for lunch, tomorrow or the day after,” she said. She thought briefly about inviting Alassa, then dismissed it as a bad idea. Melissa would be horrified at the thought of Alassa offering her advice. “But I would really advise you to come to a decision soon, before you run out of time.”
“I know,” Markus said. “But it’s so hard.”
“You were Head Boy,” Emily said. “Didn’t you have to comfort anyone who’d been unlucky in love?”
“Yes,” Markus said. He wrung his hands together as he spoke. “It was a lot easier when the problems belonged to someone else.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE FAIRE SEEMED LOUDER THAN EVER as Emily and Frieda walked through the gates, even though many of the rarer books and potions had been purchased and a number of stalls had closed. Hundreds of magicians were in the crowd, a surprising number eying the railway train with the same mixture of fear and awe that Emily had felt when she’d seen magic for the first time. Beyond them, thousands of others were browsing through the stalls, or watching children nervously as they ran around, playing elaborate games that reminded Emily of Cowboys and Indians.
They feel safe, she thought. The Nameless World had its fair share of horrors, but parents didn’t seem so inclined to try to wrap their children in cotton wool. And they know the kids have to grow up sooner rather than later.
“I need to talk to Yodel,” she said to Frieda. The enchanter had set up a large stall, complete with two apprentices who were getting into the spirit of trying to sell everything from enchanted trunks to hands of glory. “Will you be all right out here?”
Frieda hesitated for a long moment, but eventually nodded. “I could always go look at the railway again. But you won’t be long, will you?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. It was quite possible that Yodel would be rather unhappy to see her again. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
She watched Frieda run off towards the makeshift station, where Imaiqah and her father were showing off a larger steam engine designed to replace watermills, then turned and walked towards Yodel’s stall. One of the apprentices eyed her with some interest — it was odd how it no longer sent tingles of fear down her spine — while the other, more politically aware, turned and rang a bell hanging from the side of a large tent. Emily couldn’t help comparing it to a wigwam, but there was enough magic wrapped around it for her to suspect it was designed and built by Yodel personally. The flap opened, revealing the enchanter himself.
“Lady Emily,” Yodel said. His voice was flat, completely expressionless. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping we could talk in private,” Emily said. “I may have a commission for you.”
Yodel studied her for a long moment before motioning for her to enter the wigwam. It looked barely large enough for one person from the outside, but Emily wasn’t too surprised to discover it was much larger on the inside. A handful of tables were scattered around the interior, littered with tools, pieces of half-carved wood and dozens of different types of crystal. The walls were a strange, shifting grey; her eyes hurt when she looked at them for too long.
“You managed to expand the pocket dimension,” she said. “I thought you couldn’t live in one permanently.”
“You can’t,” Yodel said. “But I can use it as a workshop.”
He sat down on the floor and motioned for her to sit down facing him. Emily hesitated, then did as he directed, resting her hands in her lap. Yodel had every reason to be mad at her, she recalled, wondering if she’d made a mistake stepping into his place of power. It had been her fault that he’d had to leave Dragon’s Den.
“I’m sorry I did not contact you earlier,” she said, finally. “I should have written to you after...after they confiscated your book.”
“I got it back,” Yodel said. “The Grandmaster wasn’t too happy, but he conceded I didn’t know what you intended to do with it. I hope he striped you good and proper.”
“Something like that,” Emily said.
“But I was planning to leave anyway, as you know,” Yodel added. He smiled, rather thinly. “Working here has been an eye-opener in more ways than one.”
Emily smiled back, relieved. “Have you managed to drum up more business?”
“More than I can handle,” Yodel said. “Your people seem to be richer than the rest of the country’s population put together. I’ve had so many commissions that I’ve actually had to take four apprentices. Teaching them all together is pure hell.”
And to think Lady Barb had problems with me, Emily thought. It was rare for a magician to take more than one apprentice at a time, let alone four. Teaching them all together would be immensely difficult, particularly as the more complex fields of magic required one-on-one teaching. Is he taking on more than he can handle?
“I didn’t know you could take more than one,” she said, out loud. “How are you coping with four?”
Yodel shrugged, expressively. “It’s a slow process,” he said. “We agreed that the apprenticeship period would be longer than normal, but that they would also be paid for their services instead of working in exchange for tuition. And they can leave, without fear or favor, if another enchanter should happen to need an apprentice.”
“It seems they would have an advantage,” Emily observed. “You would already have taught them the basics.”
“Maybe,” Yodel said. “Every enchanter has his own way of doing things. I could teach my apprentices something that would make another enchanter recoil in horror.”
He shrugged, again. “But we’re not here to talk about me, unless you’ve come to collect your taxes personally.”
“No, sadly,” Emily said. “But I do have a commission for you.”
“I see,” Yodel said, carefully. “And will this get me into trouble with anyone?”
“I don’t think so,” Emily said. She had no idea what, if anything, the Grandmaster or Master Tor had made public about the whole affair. “But I will be requiring an oath.”
Yodel lifted one bushy eyebrow. “And if I asked for details before swearing the oath?”
“I would refuse to give them to you,” Emily said, curtly.
“Then let me think,” Yodel said. “I must say the Faire has been quite interesting, Lady Emily.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, refusing to be thrown by the abrupt change in subject. “Helping to organize the Faire is quite different from merely being a visitor.”
“I can imagine,” Yodel said. “They were talking about inviting me to be on the committee this year. I turned them down.”
Emily frowned. “Why...
?”
“Too much hard work to do already,” Yodel said. He waved a hand at the overflowing tables. “I have a dozen trunks to finish and a number of other projects waiting in the wings.”
“That’s why you brought your workshop here,” Emily said.
“Correct,” Yodel said. “Let the apprentices handle the task of selling my wares, while I try to catch up with my work.”
He cocked his head and smiled at her. “What sort of oath do you want?”
“An oath of secrecy,” Emily said. “And an oath that you won’t try to duplicate it for yourself.”
“Interesting,” Yodel said. “And how much would I be paid for this?”
“Five gold coins,” Emily said.
“Ah, but I don’t know what it is,” Yodel said. “I reserve the right to haggle over the price after you finally tell me.”
Emily gave him a long considering look. If Imaiqah had come with her, she could probably have haggled until Yodel agreed to do everything for a single gold coin. But Emily did have to admit that Yodel had a point. He had no idea what she was asking him to do.
“Very well,” she said. “But you keep my secret even if we can’t agree on a price.”
“Very well,” Yodel echoed. He held up his hand and swore the oath. “What do you want me to make for you?”
Emily reached into her pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of the battery pressing against her skin, and removed the diagram she’d drawn out earlier.
“I want something like this, something that will channel magic,” she said. “It needs to be both strong and small.”
Yodel took the diagram and studied it, thoughtfully. “This would make a very odd wand,” he said. “If you intend to use a wand, you don’t need to force your magic through stone.”
“I know,” Emily said.
“And I can’t see this being any use to anyone, unless you plan to use a nexus point,” Yodel added, slowly. “Or a ritual.”
“Something along those lines,” Emily said, evasively.
“You’re going to be a Fourth Year,” Yodel said. He gave her a probing look. “You do realize that asking for help from your fellow students, let alone an outsider, with regards to your project is grounds for being held back a year? Or being expelled, if they think your cheating was above the acceptable levels?”
Love's Labor's Won (Schooled in Magic Book 6) Page 28