Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks

by Christopher Nuttall

  This is my world now, she thought. And I will defend it.

  She felt a prick as the blade pierced her skin. A drop of blood appeared around the blade, followed by a pain that seemed somehow greater than reasonable for a simple prick. But it was true that a simple paper cut could hurt worse than broken bones, she thought in an attempt to distract herself, although she’d never been sure why. It was almost more than she could do to move the knife, but as she drew it along her skin it was somehow easier and easier to make the cut. She twisted the knife to follow the drawn rune, sucking in her breath at the pain.

  And then there was a flare of magic. It was done.

  “Good,” Lady Barb said. She produced a cloth and wiped Emily’s chest, removing the blood. The wound itself was already healing with astonishing speed, the process accelerated by the magic surrounding the chair. “Good enough, I believe. Professor?”

  Professor Eleas turned and inspected Emily’s work. “Good,” he said, coldly. “It will provide protection against light subtle magics–and warn you of the presence of more complex magics.”

  Emily nodded, suddenly feeling very lightheaded.

  “Drink this,” Lady Barb said, passing Emily a potions gourd. “It won’t taste nice, but it will help.”

  It tasted horrible, Emily discovered, as she drank the potion. Potions never tasted very nice. But the dizziness slowly faded away, allowing Emily to stand and look down at the mess she’d made. Blood had stained her trousers, leaving her feeling uncomfortably messy and unclean.

  Maybe I should have stripped, she thought. But she’d been unable to bear the thought of removing everything.

  “There’s a shower and clean clothes in the next room,” Lady Barb said. She pointed towards a door in the wall Emily was certain hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Wash yourself thoroughly, then get dressed and come meet me in the drawing room. Put the rest of your clothes in the basket and the household staff will dispose of them.”

  Emily nodded, feeling oddly disconnected from her body, then trudged through the door. Inside was a simple shower, almost like one from Earth. Whitehall was staggeringly luxurious compared to the rest of the Allied Lands, even the monarchs who dominated most of the kingdoms; indeed, she had a feeling that she was the only student whose living conditions had degraded since coming to the school. But she wouldn’t have given it up for anything, she told herself savagely. Whitehall was the only place she’d ever felt truly at home.

  She washed thoroughly before looking at her chest in the mirror. The rune was harder to see than she’d expected, nothing more than a set of lines on her bare skin, but she could sense its presence in the magic field surrounding her body. She checked herself carefully, making sure that she wasn’t bleeding magic in all directions, then dried her body and reached for the robe Lady Barb had left for her. Once, she’d never worn anything like it. Now, wearing the long robes felt almost like second nature. She pulled it over her head, checked her appearance in the mirror again, then walked out the door and headed through the long series of corridors. As always, they changed when she wasn’t looking.

  “Emily,” the Grandmaster said, as she entered the drawing room. It was a relatively simple room, set aside for the older students and their advisors. Emily suspected she wouldn’t have been allowed to use it during term time. “I understand you did well.”

  “More than well,” Lady Barb said. She smiled at Emily, then nodded towards a steaming jug on a side table. “Pour yourself a drink and sit down.”

  Emily obeyed. The teachers seemed somewhat more relaxed around her–and the handful of other students in the castle–over the holidays. She’d been warned, by Lady Barb, not to expect it to continue when term resumed. The teachers had their hands full keeping order and making sure their charges didn’t accidentally kill themselves. They couldn’t afford to show any kind of favoritism when magic could be extremely dangerous, except on rare occasions.

  “You will be leaving tomorrow,” the Grandmaster said. “There is a World Game Tournament about to commence in the White City. It will serve as a suitable excuse to have you attend, without arousing suspicions.”

  “A World Game?” Emily asked. “What’s that?”

  Lady Barb smirked. “You’ll find out,” she said. “But you won’t be attending for more than a day or two. I imagine that allowing you to go back to Whitehall without an escort will give them an opportunity to strike.”

  Emily nodded, trying to remember if she’d read anything about World Games. She’d always had a good memory for facts and figures, something that had served her in good stead at Whitehall, but she couldn’t recall anything about World Games. But then, she had spent much of her time studying magic and history rather than what passed for current affairs. It was just something else that everyone born in the Allied Lands would probably take for granted, and expect her to take for granted too.

  The Grandmaster leaned forward. “There is a great deal we have to go over,” he said, “but time is not exactly on our side. Or theirs, for that matter. You may well have to rely completely on yourself.”

  “I know,” Emily said. Sergeant Miles had said the same thing, repeating the point time and time again. She had a feeling that Sergeant Miles privately suspected the whole affair was a fool’s errand. “I am ready.”

  Lady Barb eyed her. “That’s misplaced confidence and you know it,” she said. “I expect you to keep your eyes and ears open, but not to do anything stupid. There’s no point in wreaking a terrible revenge if you’re dead.”

  “True,” the Grandmaster agreed. He clapped his hands together, loudly. “We will eat lunch now, Emily, and you can spend the rest of the day being briefed.”

  Dinner was a surprisingly enjoyable affair, Emily discovered. Outside his office, the Grandmaster seemed almost a different person, someone happy to talk about magic, history and the mischief some of his students got up to when they thought he wasn’t watching. Emily had never known that he’d once been the Charms Tutor, or that he’d accidentally turned one of his fellow teachers into a yak when he’d been demonstrating something altogether different to his students. She couldn’t help wondering–and then damning herself for stupidity–if her teachers on Earth had had lives outside of school too.

  Of course they had, she told herself. Or did you just believe they slept in coffins under the school when there were no children around?

  “Take an hour to rest,” the Grandmaster urged when dinner finally came to an end. Emily glanced at her watch and was astonished to discover just how much time had passed. “And then we will see you in my office.”

  Lady Barb followed Emily out of the room, pulled the door closed and caught Emily’s arm. “I would advise you to write letters to your friends,” she said. “I would also advise you to write a will. You might not come home from this little... adventure.”

  Emily agreed and walked back to her room. It felt odd to sleep alone, but she knew she would miss it when her roommates returned to Whitehall. Or so she’d thought before she’d been told she needed to go to Mountaintop. Finding a pad of paper, she sat down at her desk and started to compose a letter to Alassa. She honestly wasn’t sure what to say. It looked like she would be away from Whitehall for at least part of Third Year, perhaps all of it. And if she didn’t come back...

  It would feel wrong to be without her friends, she thought, feeling a flush of shame. She hadn’t been the best of friends to them, not when she hadn’t really known what it was like to have friends. And what would they feel about her if she never came home? Would Alassa mourn her death or be privately relieved that Emily, who had turned her kingdom upside down, was no longer in a position to change things? But the pace of change probably wouldn’t slow down much, even if she died.

  Pushing that aside, Emily wrote a series of letters to everyone she knew, then another set to be delivered in the event of her death. Once that was done, she turned her attention to writing a will. On the face of it, she had little to leave to anyone, a
part from the Barony of Cockatrice. King Randor might choose to override her wishes–Emily had no natural-born heir to take her place–but she left it to Imaiqah anyway. It would be good for Alassa to have at least one friend who wouldn’t be afraid–now–to tell her when she was being a stubborn idiot. Besides, Imaiqah would probably have a better idea of what to do with the Barony than Emily herself.

  Shaking her head, she sealed the letters before sorting them into two piles. One set would be sent from the castle tomorrow, the remainder would be held in storage until she either destroyed them herself or she died. She looked down at the reminder of her mortality, then rose to her feet and carried the letters out of the room, closing the door behind her. A pair of students were cleaning the floor as she passed, both looking thoroughly sick of being worked to death. Emily felt little sympathy for the two miscreants. She knew what they’d done to deserve being held over the holidays and forced to clean the school without magic.

  “Emily,” Lady Barb said, as she entered the mailroom. The older woman had written several letters of her own. “Are you ready to be briefed?”

  “I think so,” Emily said. She placed her letters in the box, knowing they’d be sent as soon as humanly possible. They’d get there, eventually, but the Allied Lands postal service left something to be desired. “Are you ready to brief me?”

  Lady Barb nodded, then led her out of the room and through a maze of corridors to the Grandmaster’s office. The Grandmaster himself was absent, Emily saw, but Sergeant Miles and a man she didn’t recognize were seated at a desk, drinking Kava and talking in hushed voices. They stopped talking as soon as they saw Emily, suggesting they’d been talking about her. Emily couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks. She had never been comfortable with her unwanted fame, let alone the stories that had spread from one end of the Allied Lands to the other. Some of them were thoroughly embarrassing–or disgusting.

  “There is a great deal to remember,” Lady Barb said, as she motioned for Emily to take a seat. “Listen carefully.”

  She was right, Emily discovered. Hours seemed to fly past as they drilled her, time and time again, in everything from tradecraft to escape techniques. Some of them were linked to what she’d already learned at Whitehall, others were completely new. The only thing they refused to teach her was how to teleport. She just wasn’t ready to master teleporting, Sergeant Miles said, and Lady Barb agreed. Emily accepted it, resentfully. Teleporting seemed vastly preferable to hours spent riding from one place to another, but channeling so much power while remaining focused was difficult.

  “Make sure you get plenty of sleep,” Lady Barb said, finally. There was no give in her voice at all. “We’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emily said. She knew there was no point in arguing. Her sleep had been oddly peaceful since returning to Whitehall, but she knew that wouldn’t last. She had a feeling she had been suffering from a form of PTSD. And, from what she recalled, PTSD could reoccur without warning. “I’m not sure I will remember all of this.”

  The stranger laughed, not unkindly. “Not many people do, unless they are forced to absorb it over long periods,” he said. “Use memory spells later, when you’re ready to remember. And then concentrate on what else you need to know.”

  Emily nodded, then allowed Lady Barb to lead her back to her room.

  Chapter Four

  “EAT QUICKLY,” LADY BARB ADVISED, AS Emily entered the small dining room. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  Emily nodded. She’d found a packed bag outside her room in the morning, although Lady Barb had already warned her that it was unlikely her bag would be taken to Mountaintop if–when–they took her. There was little inside, apart from a change of clothes and a handful of tiny potions bottles, the kind that every sorceress would carry with her at all times. They hadn’t even included a book! But they wouldn’t have risked adding one, she knew. It might not be returned.

  She took some porridge and fruit from the side table, then sat down to eat. As always, it tasted good, better than she’d expected. But then, she didn’t have much to compare it to, not from Earth. She felt too nervous to eat, but forced herself to swallow the food, bite by bite. Who knew when she would have a chance to eat again?

  “We’re moving awfully quickly,” she said, carefully. Lady Barb wasn’t one of the teachers who exploded with rage at being asked questions, but she did get sarcastic if she believed the question to be stupid. “Is there a reason for this?”

  “There are two,” Lady Barb said. She watched as Emily ate, her eyes silently ordering the younger girl to eat more breakfast. “First, we would have problems creating a convincing kidnapping opportunity for them to take you as we get closer and closer to the start of term. Second, we have been able to make contact with someone who might be able to offer advice–but he is only available for two or so days. I would prefer you had a chance to speak with him before you left.”

  She stood before Emily could ask any more questions and strode over to the door. “Join me in the portal chamber once you have finished eating,” she ordered, as she opened the door. “And remember to bring your bag.”

  Emily sighed–she hated stepping through portals, even though she now knew how to protect herself–but did as she was told. As soon as she had finished eating as much as she could, she rose to her feet, picked up her bag and walked through the door. It was a pity, she told herself, that she hadn’t been able to bring her staff, but after what had happened in the Cairngorm Mountains she suspected that wasn’t actually a bad thing. The advantages of having the staff were outweighed by the risks of using it too much.

  There was no sign of the Grandmaster–or anyone else, apart from Lady Barb–as she entered the portal chamber. The portal itself was a square of light, shimmering in the center of the room, magic flowing into a tight knot that held it firmly in place. Emily closed her eyes for a long moment, making sure her defenses were ready, then opened them again and looked at Lady Barb. The older woman gave her appearance a quick once-over, then nodded wordlessly and held out her hand. Emily took it and allowed Lady Barb to lead her up to the portal, closing her eyes again. And then there was a sudden brilliant surge of magic...

  “We’re here,” Lady Barb said. “You can open your eyes now.”

  Emily opened her eyes, fighting down a surge of embarrassment. It was a good thing, Alassa had assured her, that she’d had such a bad reaction to her first step through a portal. It meant she had plenty of potential for magic. But the sensation still felt awful when she wasn’t ready for it. She clung to Lady Barb’s arm and looked around. The chamber was very different from Whitehall.

  They were standing in a massive chamber filled with glowing portals, spinning in and out of existence and maintained by powerful magical fields. The portals were surrounded by heavy stone walls, interpenetrated by countless large windows, with sunlight streaming through from the outside world. Emily hesitated, then walked towards the closest window, noticing in passing that the windows were made of actual glass. It was a sure sign of colossal wealth, she knew; there were rooms in King Randor’s castle that were wide open to the elements. Outside, she saw a city that fairly shimmered with white light.

  “The White City,” Lady Barb said, softly. “Home of the Emperors–and now of the White Council.”

  Emily barely heard her. The city seemed almost like something from a dream–or a fairy tale, just like Whitehall itself. Most of the buildings were covered in white stone, casting brilliant reflections; several looked as if nothing held them up, apart from magic. Each of the mountaintops in view had a large castle built in the heights, as if someone had hollowed out the mountains and built their homes on the tops. And they all glowed with white light.

  She looked towards the streets below and sucked in her breath with wonder. There were marketplaces, statues of the gods and giant apartment blocks and everything else she had come to associate with the city-states, but there was also a sense
of grandeur that the city-states lacked, a sense of towering proportion that dwarfed her and everyone else. Here, there were no limits.

  “I should have come here sooner,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s also a place where few can come without permission,” Lady Barb said, giving her a fond look. She seemed content to stand beside Emily and wait while her charge drank in the view. “The city fathers don’t want any riff-raff around, Emily. Someone without a place here would be evicted very quickly.”

  Emily looked up at her. “What happens to them?”

  “Depends,” Lady Barb said. “There are plenty of other places they can go.”

  She pointed out a handful of places for Emily to see. The White Palace, where the Emperors had once resided; the Garrison, which had served as the heart of their military machine; the Temple of Light, dedicated to the God of the Sun; Langseeker College, heart of the educational infrastructure... Emily found herself becoming dizzy with all the places and sights below her. It was almost a relief when Lady Barb finally took her arm and led her towards the doors–and the stairwell leading towards the city below.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, as they walked down the stairs. There was something odd about it, but she couldn’t place her finger on just what was bothering her. “Why keep the portals so far from the rest of the city?”

  “They weren’t, at one point,” Lady Barb said, quietly. She leaned close, so close that Emily could feel Lady Barb’s breath against her ears. “Ask me about it when we are back at Whitehall.”

  The sense of overwhelming strangeness–and magic–grew stronger as they reached the bottom of the stairwell and walked out into the open air. Unlike every other city Emily had visited, there was no foul smell, nothing caused by countless people living together without anything resembling proper sanitation. And yet there was something strange about the city that bothered her. Currents of magic, uncomfortable to her senses despite living in Whitehall, flowed through the air, sometimes brushing unpleasantly against her mind. The population paid no attention to her. Emily couldn’t help feeling more than a little relieved.