11- The Sergeant's Apprentice

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Sorry I’m late,” Caleb said. He kissed her, his hands stroking her back. “Professor Thande kept me busy in the alchemical labs.”

  “I was in the library,” Emily said. Whitehall wasn’t back to normal yet, no matter what the Grandmaster said. Just cleaning up the mess and replacing the destroyed supplies would take weeks, if not months. “Lady Aliya is not in a good mood.”

  She motioned for him to sit on the chair, rather than inviting him to join her on the bed. A faint flicker of ... something ... showed in his eyes, just for a second. It had taken her too long to be comfortable sitting next to him, let alone getting undressed and sleeping with him. He had to fear rejection, even now. And yet ...

  “Your father ...”

  She swallowed hard, then went through the entire story. Caleb listened carefully, occasionally injecting a question. Emily knew he loved his parents, but his relationship with his father had always been strained. General Pollack favored Casper, his eldest son. He hadn’t made a secret of it either. Caleb had been expected to follow in Casper’s footsteps, not transfer to Whitehall as soon as he decently could. Emily couldn’t help wondering if it had been a shock to the old general when he’d discovered his son was courting a noblewoman.

  There was a long pause. “He wants you there,” Caleb said, finally. He sounded angry. “And yet, he could have asked you directly.”

  “Yeah,” Emily agreed. “Why didn’t he?”

  Caleb’s face darkened. “I don’t know,” he said, after a moment. “Contacting you wouldn’t have been unforgivable. I mean ... he doesn’t have to talk to you through me.”

  He looked down at the stone floor. “He may have been trying to convince the Grandmaster,” he added, after a moment. “The Grandmaster could forbid you from going, if he wished.”

  Emily frowned. “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “It’s one explanation,” Caleb said. “If you left without the Grandmaster’s permission ...”

  “Maybe,” Emily mused. Gordian didn’t like her. She rather suspected the older man would have been delighted if she’d left the school without permission. It would have been the perfect excuse not to let her return. “Or maybe he was trying to pressure me into going.”

  “He could just have asked,” Caleb said. He looked up at her, his eyes concerned. “Are you going?”

  “I think so,” Emily admitted. “If I can do something about the invasion ...”

  “Father is playing his own game here,” Caleb said. “And I think he wants you to play a role in that game.”

  Emily closed her eyes for a long moment. She knew, intellectually, that she was important, but she didn’t really believe it. Even now, even after she’d abandoned Cockatrice, she was one of the most famous people in the Allied Lands. Lady Barb had warned her, more than once, that people would seek to use her. Hell, King Randor had tried to use her. General Pollack presumably had his own ambitions.

  He must have been delighted and shocked when Caleb started to court me, she thought, grimly. On one hand, there would be a chance to expand his influence; on the other, he might as well have caught a tiger by the tail.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What does he want?”

  Caleb shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he said. “Father may want you to shore up his position in the command tent, which will be awkward, or he may have another idea in mind.”

  Emily frowned. “His position?”

  “He may be formally in command, but he won’t be all-powerful,” Caleb told her. “I heard too many of his early stories. He’ll have a council of war at his elbow, objecting to everything they don’t like ... he’ll have to argue to convince them to support him, particularly if the war drags on. Every last nobleman will have ideas of his own and threaten to stomp off if they’re not implemented. Your support may make his life easier.”

  He went on before Emily could say a word. “But, at the same time, you’re going as Sergeant Miles’s apprentice. Formally, you’ll have no authority at all. Putting you in the command tent will not make your life easier.”

  “Oh,” Emily said.

  Caleb shrugged. “And I may be over-thinking it,” he admitted. “Father may merely hope you can help fight the invasion.”

  “I hope so,” Emily said. Alassa might delight in playing political games, but Emily preferred to keep herself to herself. “I guess I’ll find out when I get there.”

  Caleb swallowed. “Can I talk you out of it?”

  Emily blinked. “Do you think I should stay here?”

  “I’d like you to stay here,” Caleb said. He paused. “You’re not going to have a good time.”

  “I know,” Emily said. She hadn’t enjoyed the forced marches and camping trips that had been an integral part of Martial Magic. Somehow, she doubted a military camp would be much better. But then, Old Whitehall hadn’t been pleasant either. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  “Father cannot order you to do anything,” Caleb reminded her. “Emily ...”

  “I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t go,” Emily admitted. She met his eyes. “If there is something I can do, I have to do it.”

  She saw a flurry of emotions pass over his face. Worry, fear ... he cared about her, he truly cared about her. He didn’t want to let her go. The thought made her feel better, even though she knew she couldn’t stay.

  “I could come with you,” Caleb offered. “Sergeant Miles could take on two apprentices ...”

  Emily considered it, briefly. She’d miss him. She’d miss him more than she cared to admit. But she doubted Sergeant Miles would agree to take two students into the war. He’d clearly been reluctant to take Emily, despite political pressure. Taking Caleb also would be a step too far.

  “I need you to continue work on the spell processor,” she said. She’d planned to sit down with him and work through everything she’d learned in Old Whitehall, but that would have to wait until after the war. “What happens if I die? You have to finish the work.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Caleb said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t,” Emily promised.

  “You could get killed down there,” Caleb snapped. “You’re not invincible. A charmed knife, a cursed arrow ... Emily, you could drink unclean water and die! And there’s a necromancer out there too. You could die!”

  “I won’t,” Emily said, reassuringly.

  But she knew he was right. She was far from invincible. Robin ... she resisted the urge to retch as she remembered what Robin had tried to do to her. The spell he’d cast on her was burned into her memory, mocking her. He’d tried to take control of her; he’d tried to rape her. And he’d come far too close to success. She shuddered, helplessly. She’d studied the spell he’d used. If she cast it on anyone who wasn’t a powerful and experienced magician, that person would be her slave for life. It represented an awful temptation as well as a stern warning not to experiment.

  “You could,” Caleb said. He rose, pacing the room. “Emily, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t,” Emily said. She pulled him down to sit beside her. She trusted him enough to allow him to sleep with her, but she still disliked him — or anyone — looming over her. “And yet, I have to go.”

  Caleb looked mutinous, even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Emily couldn’t help wondering if something else was bothering him. They’d only been sleeping together for the last few days. Was he worried she wouldn’t be sleeping with him any longer? Or was he worried she’d find someone else while she was away? She wouldn’t, she knew, but ... she shook her head in frustration. Life had been much simpler before she’d found a boyfriend.

  “Stay in touch,” Caleb said, firmly. “Take the chat parchment and write to me every day, all right? I’ll come charging down if I don’t hear from you.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emily agreed. “But don’t leave the school. Gordian will expel you.”

  “He wouldn’t,�
�� Caleb said. “He’d just make me repeat the year.”

  “I might have to,” Emily muttered. “How many months can I miss without having to repeat the year?”

  Caleb looked stricken. “You need to pass the exams and submit a completed project,” he said, after a moment. “We might be able to get the project rolled over into the next year, if we were lucky, but it would have to be completed then. If you failed the exams, you’d have to repeat the year.”

  “Which would be bad,” Emily said. In hindsight, maybe it had been a mistake to continue their joint project into fifth year. She might just bring Caleb down with her. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that too much. If she had to retake a year and he didn’t, he’d have to leave Whitehall and take up an apprenticeship — without her. “Do you want to repeat the year?”

  “Only if I repeat it with you,” Caleb said. He gave her a soft smile. “I wouldn’t want to be without you.”

  “Me neither,” Emily admitted. She snuggled up to him. “I will stay in touch.”

  “Keep a sharp eye on my dear father,” Caleb warned, as his fingers started to play with her hair. “He will seek to use you.”

  Emily sighed. “Does everyone want to use me?”

  “I don’t,” Caleb said. “But everyone else does.”

  He turned his head. “You know what’s at stake,” he added. “The necromancers have to be stopped.”

  “And hardly anyone seems to be taking the threat seriously,” Emily said. “At least your father is trying to do his job.”

  She remembered the map and shivered. The Nameless World was roughly the same size as Earth, as far as she could tell, but distances appeared to be so much greater. Without magic, traveling even a few hundred miles could take weeks. The necromancers appeared to be thousands of miles away, a distant threat that hardly anyone noticed ... unless, of course, they were on the front lines. But the necromancers would keep coming until they overwhelmed the Allied Lands. They had no choice. Without a ready supply of people to drain, they would eventually run out of magic and die.

  Unless this particular necromancer really has worked out a way to remain sane, she thought, grimly.

  She’d read the reports very carefully, going through them one by one. Dua Kepala had not only survived, he’d prospered. He had neither burned out nor gone on a mad rampage that ended with his death. His fortress — the former school — was practically impregnable, even to someone as skilled as Lady Barb. And that worried her. If someone had worked out a way to channel that much power safely and use it, without turning into a madman, the entire world was at risk. Dua Kepala might have knowledge and experience as well as vast power.

  But he’s risked an invasion, she told herself. He must think he can win.

  She leaned against Caleb, feeling the reassuring warmth of his arms. She was going to miss him. But she couldn’t take him with her. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t let her. She briefly considered asking, just in case, before dismissing the thought. The sergeant had to take her seriously. He wouldn’t listen to her if she made an obviously absurd request.

  Caleb’s arms tightened, one hand starting to fiddle with the dress clasp behind her neck. “When are you going?”

  “Sergeant Miles said four days,” Emily told him. “I have to tell him my decision tomorrow, then ... I’m not sure what he’ll want me to do.”

  “Train, probably,” Caleb said. “He’ll be running behind you with a whip, just to make sure you keep going. And he’ll be barking questions at you all the time.”

  His face darkened. “That’s what they used to do at Stronghold.”

  Emily smiled as her dress came free. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” she said. She leaned in to face him, lifting her lips for a kiss. “And now I just want to forget about it for a while.”

  Afterwards — and after a quick shower — she lay in bed, listening to Caleb’s gentle snores. It felt strange, very strange, to be sleeping next to a naked man, although it no longer felt wrong — or terrifying. She was more concerned about the small bed, she told herself with some amusement, than his nakedness or hers. Her stepfather’s ghost had finally been banished, leaving her free ... free to do what? Enjoy herself?

  Men are untrustworthy, her mother had said, years ago. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the old drunkard’s bitter remarks. They only want one thing. And they lose interest as soon as you give it up.

  Emily shivered, again. Caleb wasn’t like that, was he? He’d set out to court her, rather than merely ask her out on a date. There was something formal in what he’d done that had impressed her, an offer of a genuine commitment. And yet ... part of her was scared. Not of sex or sexuality, not any longer, but of losing him. Choosing to sleep with him ...

  It wasn’t a mistake, she told herself, firmly. Caleb had been clumsy at first — just like she was — but it had gotten better over the last two days. Imaiqah’s brutally frank advice had helped, even if it had been embarrassing. And I won’t come to regret it.

  She rolled over and snuggled up to him, her fingers tracing the muscles on his arms. He would have been considered a geek on Earth, she was sure, but he was stronger than any of the jocks she recalled. Stronghold had battered combat training into his head, literally. And yet, he was always gentle with her. She trusted him not to hurt her. She didn’t want to hurt him either.

  Smiling, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  SERGEANT MILES HADN’T SHOWN EITHER PLEASURE or irritation when Emily had visited him the following morning, and told him she would be accompanying him to Tarsier. Emily wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Instead, he’d given her a long list of items to find and pack, saying she would have to justify anything she chose to leave behind. Emily had spent the next hour in the Armory, trying to find everything on the list. It hadn’t been easy. Some items were common, with hundreds to choose from; others needed to be borrowed or altered for her. The only one she actually owned was her staff.

  The third staff, she reminded herself. Mother Holly had destroyed the first one, two years ago; Master Grey had destroyed the second. And I have to be very careful with it.

  She shrank it down, stowing it in her pocket with a handful of warding spells to ensure it couldn’t be stolen. Sergeant Miles would be furious if she lost it and Grandmaster Gordian would go through the roof. Magicians could become dependent on wands and staffs after all, and anyone who used them ran the risk of losing the ability to work magic without them. She didn’t dare take the risk. Alassa’s virgin dagger went into her sleeve, where she could draw it if necessary; the remainder, thankfully, could be packed into her rucksack. But when she was finished, the bag was too heavy to lift, let alone get over her shoulders.

  “I think you’ve overdone it,” Frieda’s voice said. Emily turned to see her friend standing by the door, wearing a long white dress. “Can’t you take some of the gear out? Or use a spell?”

  “Sergeant Miles said I wasn’t to use spells to lighten the bag,” Emily said. It was frustrating, but she understood his point. A single cancellation spell, cast in her general direction ... she’d be crushed under the weight of her bag. She wouldn’t put it past Sergeant Miles to cast such a spell just to make sure she wasn’t trying to cheat. “And I need everything in the bag.”

  “But you can’t carry it,” Frieda pointed out. She strolled over to the table as Emily started to unpack the bag. “He has to know that, surely?”

  Emily shrugged. The bedroll ... she needed that, unless she planned to sleep on the bare ground. She knew from bitter experience that she’d wake up stiff and sore. The potions ... maybe she could leave some of those behind. She’d made potions from items she’d harvested before, after all. The compass ... the whistle ... the cooking tools ... the knives ... maybe she could leave behind a couple of the knives. And the books ...

  “I probably won’t have much time for reading,” she mused, reluctantly.

  “Take a couple of the newer paperbacks,”
Frieda suggested. “If you think you’ll have time to read ...”

  “I probably won’t,” Emily admitted. She put the books aside, then examined the cooking tools. How many of them did she actually need? Knives and forks were one thing, but couldn’t she share pots and pans with someone else? She wouldn’t be cooking her own meals, would she? “I’ll have to check these with Sergeant Miles.”

  “Make sure you take the tinderbox,” Frieda warned. “You don’t want to be caught without it.”

  Emily nodded. Tarsier was next to a desert, but deserts got very cold at night. Magic would be enough to light a fire, yet ... what if she was tired and drained? Or if she didn’t want to risk using magic? The Manavores she’d seen in the past had warned her, as if she didn’t already know, that there were things out there that hunted magic users. She’d never heard of them before her trip to the past, but they might still be lurking around somewhere.

  Not that I need to worry about them, she thought. There’s a necromancer out there.

  Frieda shrugged. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Riding, it seems,” Emily said. Sergeant Miles had told her they’d be going on a long ride around the countryside. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Alassa might love her horses, but Emily had never liked riding. “And then we’ll be going on a long forced march.”

  “I could come with you,” Frieda suggested. Alassa had taught her how to ride, back in Alassa’s fourth year. “Should I ask the sergeant?”

  “Why not?” Emily asked. She’d told Frieda where she was going, after swearing her to secrecy. “But don’t push it if he says no.”

  Frieda nodded her head, one hand playing with her pigtails. “You will be back, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Emily promised.

  She wished she felt so confident. Many of the reports warned that the invasion was gathering steam. Tarsier was in deep trouble. No one knew how the necromancer had managed to get such a large army across the desert, but no one could deny that was exactly what he’d done.