She led Emily further into the tightly-packed mass of stalls, pointing out isolated items of interest along the way. “That storekeeper is selling love potions,” she said. “It’s barely legal; it’s charmed to ensure that only two people, who drink it willingly, are affected by the magic. The magical families tend to use them to ensure that a young couple remains in love long enough to produce children.”
Emily shuddered at the thought. Love potions were banned at Whitehall, considered effectively akin to rape. Did it make a difference, she thought, if two people took a potion to bind them together? Or did it merely mean that they were raping themselves?
“Those charms are fidelity charms,” Lady Barb continued, jabbing a finger at another stall. “It makes it impossible to sleep with anyone other than your wife or partner. That potion is a conceptive potion. If you take it before sex, you will almost certainly become pregnant. Behind it, there’s a contraceptive potion. It’s stronger than anything you will be allowed to use at Whitehall.”
“Oh,” Emily said.
Lady Barb turned to look at her. “A little overwhelmed?”
“Just a little,” Emily confessed. The stalls seemed to be crowding in on her. She wanted to run and escape. “Is there somewhere we can go?”
Lady Barb nodded and led her through the crowd of people, heading towards a large tent on the edge of the Faire. Outside, a young girl – Emily estimated her age at thirteen, although it was impossible to be sure – was singing sweetly to the crowd. Emily hesitated, studying the girl’s face. She looked vaguely Chinese, mixed with European. If she had magic, it was impossible to tell.
Inside, there were tables, chairs and a handful of serving maids carrying trays of drink everywhere. Lady Barb motioned for Emily to sit down, then ordered two mugs of Kava from the maids, who nodded and leapt to obey. Emily found herself taking deep breaths as she focused her mind, remembering what the sergeants had taught her. Magic was always safer when used by a focused magician.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lady Barb said, as she sat down beside Emily. “The magic in the air gets to everyone, at first. You’ll grow used to it.”
Emily rubbed her forehead, feeling something throbbing under her skull. “Do you really?”
“It’s a sign of strong magic to react to magical fields,” Lady Barb reminded her. “You shouldn’t have forgotten that so quickly.”
She nodded towards the entrance. “See anyone you recognize?”
Emily looked, but it took her several moments to spot a familiar face. Melissa was standing in the open air, speaking to a woman who looked old enough to be her great-grandmother. Unlike Emily, she wasn’t wearing golden dress robes, but a white dress that showed off her long red hair and the shape of her body. It didn’t look as though Melissa was enjoying her discussion with the older woman.
“Melissa comes from a magical family,” Lady Barb said, quietly. “By now, she will be expected to enter into a marriage contract with someone approved by her family. Quite a few such contracts are made at the Faire.”
Emily felt a flicker of sympathy for Melissa, despite knowing just how badly Melissa could act, on occasion. She’d hated Alassa – at least the royal brat she’d been before encountering Emily – and that hatred had been transferred to Emily, when Emily had actually helped Alassa get through her basic classes. Since then, they’d sniped at each other constantly at Whitehall.
She looked up at Lady Barb. “What if Melissa says no?”
“Her family might disown her,” Lady Barb said, softly. “If they did, she would be obliged to make her own way in the world. Which she probably could – her tuition fees are paid, so she could certainly stay at Whitehall until Sixth Year if she tried hard. But I don’t know if she would do such a thing. Most people raised in magical families understand that they have a duty to help the family expand.”
Emily looked over at her. “Like you?”
Lady Barb gave her a sharp look. “Like me,” she said, after a moment. “But I never married.”
She nodded towards the door before Emily could question her further. “You may recognize someone else here,” she added, changing the subject. “Who do you see?”
Emily felt her heart leap into her mouth as she recognized the youth making his way towards the tent, following an older man with a grim expression on his face. He was older, his hair had been cropped to his skull and he walked with a confidence that outshone the young man Emily remembered, but there was no mistaking Jade. Emily found herself rising to her feet as they entered the tent, a silly smile spreading across her face. Whatever their relationship actually was – and she honestly didn’t know – it was genuinely good to see Jade again.
Jade cast a privacy ward in the air, then smiled back at her. “Emily,” he said. She couldn’t help noticing that his face had acquired a couple of new scars. “How are you?”
The man beside him cleared his throat, loudly.
“This is Master Grey, my master,” Jade said, introducing the man. “Master, this is Emily of Cockatrice.”
Master Grey met Emily’s eyes as she curtseyed, then introduced Lady Barb. She couldn’t help thinking of a monk; bald, muscular and grimly determined to trample over whatever opposition barred his way to his destination. His eyes were dark and cold, studying her as though she was something he’d scraped off his shoe.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said.
Somehow, Emily found it hard to believe him.
Chapter Five
“WELL,” LADY BARB SAID, AFTER THE maids had served them all Kava, “how have you been coping with your new apprentice?”
Master Grey gave her a long considering look. “Well enough,” he said, heavily. “And yourself?”
Emily exchanged a glance of mutual embarrassment with Jade. She’d heard that some children found their parents permanently embarrassing, particularly when their friends had met them, but it was never a sensation she had experienced – until now. Hearing Master Grey and Lady Barb exchange careful compliments – as if Jade and Emily weren’t even there – was definitely embarrassing. And then there was the way Master Grey looked at her while drinking his Kava.
“We are currently undergoing a temporary arrangement,” Lady Barb said, stiffly. “She cannot enter a full apprenticeship until she leaves school.”
Master Grey lifted his eyebrows. “Tell me,” he said, addressing Emily directly, “how did you defeat the Mimic?”
“The Grandmaster starved it of magic,” Emily said. It was the official cover story; the Grandmaster had flatly forbidden anyone who knew the truth to share it. “And then it died.”
Master Grey didn’t look as though he believed her. “And how did you kill Shadye?”
Emily felt sweat prickling on her forehead. “Through magic,” she said, finally. “And...”
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “The Sorcerer’s Rule protects her,” she said. “And such knowledge should not be shared widely.”
She looked over at Jade. “Why don’t you young folk chat over there while we...discuss matters?”
Emily stood up before Jade could say a word. Jade blinked in surprise, but followed her over to a table on the far side of the tent. The maids gave them an enquiring glance, then left them alone as Jade cast a privacy ward. Emily looked down at the table as she sat down, feeling utterly unsure of herself. What did Master Grey think of her? Nothing good, she was sure.
“I’m sorry about him,” Jade said, awkwardly. “He’s obsessed with defeating the necromancers.”
Emily had to smile. They did sound like a pair of children commiserating about their incredibly embarrassing parents. But then, apprentices were bound to their masters until the apprenticeship came to an end. In one sense, Master Grey was Jade’s father – or at least someone standing in his father’s place.
“He seems to have agreed with you,” Emily said, frantically casting around for something to say. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”
Jade brightened, slightly. “I�
�ve had a very good time, but a very hard time,” he said. “Master Grey thinks that Sergeant Harkin was too soft.”
Emily winced in sympathy. Sergeant Harkin had pushed his trainees relentlessly, teaching them never to surrender or simply give up. No one would have called him soft, certainly no one who had seen how he treated his trainees. But then, with more than a handful of students, he hadn’t had time to give everyone his personal attention. An apprentice was assured of the personal attention of his master.
She listened with genuine interest as Jade outlined a handful of stories. Master Grey believed in plunging his apprentices into the deep end, apparently; they’d started out near the Desert of Death, then explored the mountain range near Whitehall in hopes of finding Shadye’s tunnel before another necromancer could discover it. Emily had a private suspicion that the tunnel had collapsed when Shadye had died, but she knew the Allied Lands couldn’t take it for granted. It was only a matter of time before Shadye’s lands were absorbed by another necromancer.
“The rumors say you beat the Mimic in single combat,” Jade explained, when he’d finished. “No one knows quite what happened.”
Emily rolled her eyes. Compared to some of the stories about her, including the ones that implied the use of forbidden sex magic, that story was almost reasonable. But it still wasn’t true.
“I just helped to locate it,” she said. That much, at least, was common knowledge within Whitehall. “And I passed all of my exams, save one.”
Jade quirked an eyebrow. “Martial Magic?”
Emily nodded, embarrassed.
Jade reached over and patted her hand. “You’ve already had a year I never had,” he pointed out, dryly. “By the time you leave Whitehall, you will have a far better grounding than I did. Master Grey had to teach me so much.”
Emily looked down at her hand, feeling her emotions spin around until she was unsure of what she felt. She disliked being touched, at least without invitation, but Jade made her feel...nothing. Was that even remotely normal?
Jade looked up. Emily followed his gaze. Master Grey was standing, but still speaking to Lady Barb.
“Emily,” he said, quickly, “will you walk out with me this evening?”
Emily hesitated. Was he asking her out on a date?
Of course he is, idiot, she told herself.
Dating wasn’t something she’d done on Earth, not when she was considered weird by just about everyone...and hadn’t dared expose herself in any case. And, at Whitehall, her obscure social status made it harder for people to ask her out...if, of course, they managed to look past her defeat of Shadye. Jade was the first person who had expressed interest in Emily herself, rather than her genes. But her personal feelings were incredibly conflicted. Part of her wanted to accept – she trusted Jade – and part of her wanted to run to Lady Barb and hide.
“I will,” she said, forcing the words out. “And thank you for coming...”
Jade smiled. “My master is one of the guards here,” he said. “I wasn’t really given a choice.”
Master Grey dispelled the privacy wards, then nodded for Jade to follow him out of the tent. Emily watched him go, then looked up at Lady Barb. The older woman had a pinched, disapproving expression on her face that made her look older, somehow. Emily hesitated, then told her about Jade asking her out.
“Go tomorrow,” Lady Barb said, firmly. “Not tonight.”
Emily opened her mouth to argue – the longer she delayed, the easier it would be to have second thoughts – but she saw the glint in Lady Barb’s eye and nodded in submission. She would have to send Jade a message, she knew, or call after him...but she didn’t know where to find either Jade or Master Grey. Lady Barb caught her shoulder and steered her towards the open air, then out past the tents. Emily realized, as they made their way around the edge of the Faire, that they were heading back towards Lady Barb’s house.
“There are things I need to show you,” Lady Barb said, shortly. “And you may not be in any fit state for anything tonight.”
Emily swallowed. What did Lady Barb have in mind? She had warned Emily that they would be keeping up with her lessons in unarmed combat, training her to fight without magic or blades, but she didn’t mean to do it today, surely? Or had Master Grey annoyed her to the point where she wanted to work it out somehow? But Emily knew, without false modesty, that she was no match for the older woman.
Lady Barb said nothing else until they were back inside her house. She led the way into a living room, which looked oddly informal. The chairs scattered around in front of the fire were old, but comfortable. Emily liked the room on sight. It might not be anywhere near as elegant as the aristocratic chambers she’d seen, but it seemed more suited to Lady Barb somehow.
“Take a seat,” Lady Barb ordered. She perched on a cushion, folding her hands in her lap. “Do you want something to drink?”
Emily shook her head as she sat down facing her tutor. Lady Barb seemed tense, unsure – for once – of what to do. It bothered Emily more than she cared to admit. The Mimic might have left them all a little unsure of what was happening, but Lady Barb had recovered from that experience quicker than anyone else. But now she was unsure again...
“My father was the youngest son of the family patriarch,” Lady Barb said. “He wasn’t a powerful sorcerer, so he tended to spend most of his time in the library. Not that he was incompetent, of course. Given time, he could still beat his older brothers.”
Emily nodded. Stupid and incompetent magicians didn’t tend to last very long – and a magician lacking in raw power wasn’t necessarily a pushover. Someone with enough knowledge and skill could make up for a shortage in power, particularly if he or she had time to prepare the battleground in advance. Sergeant Miles had taught her more than a few tricks she could use against a stronger opponent, if she was forced to fight against her will.
But she had no idea why Lady Barb was telling her this, now.
“One day, he met a Traveller witch in the woods,” Lady Barb added. “They became lovers – and she became pregnant. Nine months later, she left me on the doorstep and ran off.”
Emily stared at her. “Why?”
“There are different...traditions in magic, as you know,” Lady Barb said. “My mother believed that I should be raised by my father, which I was. His family weren’t too pleased at first, but when they discovered I was quite powerful they changed their tune.” She rolled her eyes. “I grew up here until I was twelve, when my mother returned and asked to take custody of me for a few years. My father exploded with rage.”
“I’m not surprised,” Emily said. She could imagine exactly how Lady Barb’s father had felt. He’d raised his daughter, taught her everything from magic to letters and numbers, and then her mother had come back into his life and demanded custody, if only for a short while. It was utterly outrageous. “What happened?”
“There was a big shouting match,” Lady Barb said. Her lips twitched. “I overheard most of it, particularly when my grandfather joined in. In the end, I was allowed to go stay with my mother for the summer months.”
She shrugged. “The Travellers have a very light existence, but it isn’t an unpleasant one,” she added. “I rather enjoyed it, once I got used to living in a wagon and moving from place to place. My mother wasn’t a powerful witch, but she knew how to brew potions and use small magic. I learned a great deal from her.”
Emily remembered all the times she’d fantasized about her father – her biological father – coming back to take her away and shivered. Lady Barb hadn’t been unhappy, growing up with her father; if there had been a real custody battle it might easily have torn the family apart. But things were different for magical families...who knew? Perhaps they would just have booted Barb’s mother out of the house and told her never to come back.
“When I was sixteen, they offered me the chance to choose between Whitehall, Mountaintop or homeschooling,” Lady Barb continued. “I chose Whitehall. Most of my relatives were homeschoole
d, but I didn’t want to go straight into the family. Mountaintop seemed more ominous to me, for some reason. Most magical families send their children there.”
She snorted. “It turned out that I had a natural talent for healing,” she admitted. “Or so they said. My mother forced me to learn how to take care of patients while I was studying with her. It was simple to add magic to the mix once my powers developed properly. I don’t think it was a real talent. And I had to fight tooth and nail to convince them that I could become a combat sorceress. They didn’t want to risk a skilled healer.”
Emily heard the cold ice in Lady Barb’s voice and shivered. She’d been told, more than once, that careers in magic were often determined by a person’s talents...and if Lady Barb had looked like a skilled healer, Whitehall wouldn’t have wanted to steer her away from healing.
She looked up at the older woman. “Why did you want to become a Combat Sorceress?”
Lady Barb looked at her for a long chilling moment. “I grew up here,” she said, waving her hand around to indicate the house. “It was safe and warm, particularly for children. The worst danger was accidentally picking up something magical and we were taught, almost as soon as we could walk, to be careful what we touched. And my father was a decent man.
“Spending time with my mother was an eye-opener. I learned that people outside weren’t safe, that they were preyed on by those stronger than themselves...I had the idea that I could protect the weak and powerless, if I learned how to fight. And I was good at it.”
Emily nodded. “Why didn’t you apply to replace Sergeant Bane?”
Lady Barb scowled. “It’s untraditional for training officers to be women,” she said, darkly. “Young men tend to need more thumping before they learn to respect women as warriors – and most trainees are young men. Most of them are idiotic enough to convince themselves that they must’ve held back when they faced a woman on the training field, no matter how convincingly they were thrashed. But I may well return for Third or Fourth Year to give you additional training.”
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