“No,” Casper admitted. “But we could smell them.”
Cat cleared his throat. “Emily, I think you should have the rear of the tent,” he said. He nodded towards an opened bedroll. “I’ll move my bedding to the front.”
“I should have it,” Casper said. “I got here second!”
“And I’m giving it up,” Cat snapped. He strode past Casper and started to roll up his bedding. “Put your bedroll here, then put your bag next to it. Make sure you ward it properly — it’s like being back at school here.”
“It’s not my fault you forgot to ward your bag,” Gaius said. He winked at Emily. “I was only trying to keep you alert.”
“Try explaining that to your master, next time,” Cat said. “And may the gods help any of you if you try to steal something.”
Emily made a face as she stepped past Casper. Students at Whitehall were practically encouraged to try to break into protected rooms, just to teach them how to do it. But those who actually stole were in big trouble, when they were caught. She made a mental note to protect the knapsack carefully enough to keep out everyone, even a trained sorcerer. Sergeant Miles would not be pleased if she had to go to him and admit that something had been stolen.
“There’s a peg missing from the outside,” Cat said, jabbing a finger at the canvas. “If you need to leave in a hurry, lift up the hidden flap and crawl underneath. Don’t stop for anything.”
Emily glanced at him. “You think we’ll have to run?”
Casper snorted. “If I happened to be a necromancer, and if I happened to know there was an army assembling here, I would launch an immediate attack and slaughter the army before it had a chance to get organized.”
“Good point,” Emily conceded.
“We’re a very long way from the border,” Gaius objected. “And we have pickets everywhere, don’t we? We’d see an army coming at us.”
Not that far, Emily thought.
“But we would have to get ready to face it,” Casper pointed out. “Do we have the time? I don’t think so.”
Emily tended to agree. Orcs were stupid — the average orc was barely smart enough to keep going in the same direction — but they were literally made for combat. They could move at terrifying speeds, if necessary. Covering twenty miles wouldn’t take them that long and they’d still be in fighting form when they arrived. And the camp wasn’t designed to stand off a charging horde. The magicians might be the only thing standing between the orcs and the unprepared army.
“It’s a wise precaution,” Cat said. “And besides, it lets some of us sneak out when the masters aren’t looking.”
“There’s a brothel for officers,” Sawford added. “We’re allowed to go there too.”
Emily sighed. It was just like school.
She unfurled her bedroll, then started to poke through her knapsack. There was nothing she needed immediately, save for the chat parchments. Sergeant Miles would have something for her to do soon enough, she was sure. As soon as she’d finished checking the bag, she started to cast a series of wards over her bedding. She didn’t think anyone would actually steal from her, but she wouldn’t put it past some of them to either fiddle with her possessions or try to hex them. And they’d argue it was for her own good.
“Make sure you keep your water bottle filled,” Cat advised, from his corner. “Drink all the time. You don’t want to get dehydrated out here.”
“He’s only saying that because he had terrible headaches his first day out here,” Casper said, darkly.
“It’s a valid point,” Gaius said. “Shortages of food will hurt, but shortages of water will kill.”
“Keep the bottle by the bed,” Cat added. “You’ll get thirsty at night.”
Emily nodded, removing her water bottle from the knapsack and hanging it from her belt. It looked undignified, but she had a feeling she’d do well to forget dignity for the next few weeks. She was going to have enough problems bedding down with five apprentices ... five male apprentices. And yet ... she’d only seen four.
“Apprentice Cyprian is currently on duty,” Sawford said, when she asked. “Or ...”
“That’s Apprentice Cyprian of House Crispus to you,” Gaius reminded him. “Don’t drop the family name when you introduce him.”
“Snob,” Sawford said.
“It’s important,” Gaius said.
“Merit counts more than family name,” Casper said, waspishly.
“Says the boy who has a general for a father and a sorceress for a mother,” Gaius snorted. “I don’t think you got this post on merit.”
Casper bunched his fists. “You take that back!”
“Or what?” Gaius asked. “You’ll report me to daddy?”
Emily sensed the magic building around Casper, threatening to break loose. His voice was angry. “You ...”
“Enough,” Cat said. His magic billowed, warningly. “This isn’t a place to fight. If you want to settle your differences, go do it in the dueling ring. Or go around the back and exchange fisticuffs.”
“He’s right,” Sawford said. “The masters will kill us if we burn down the tent.”
“Of course he’s right,” Casper snapped. “Kitty Cat is always right.”
Emily shook her head, then pulled out one of the chat parchments and started to write, doing her best to ignore the argument. Casper was angry and frustrated ... Gaius seemed to like pushing his buttons. She hoped Caleb would see her message and reply at once, but it seemed she was out of luck. He was probably in class. It had been early morning when they’d left and it would be mid-afternoon now. She hoped he knew why Casper hadn’t graduated yet. It wasn’t as though he was stupid.
“Hey,” Gaius said. He stepped through the basic wards and sat, facing her. “I understand that we have you to thank for our dinner invitation.”
“Lord Fulbright invited us all,” Emily told him. “I didn’t ask him.”
“It’s always a good bash,” Gaius said. He rubbed his hands together with a smile. “Good food, good drink ... what more could we ask for?”
Emily shrugged. She could think of several answers to that question, but most of them were impractical or impossible. Instead, she put the chat parchment away and met his eyes. Gaius could answer some of her questions.
“What happened to you?” She asked. “I mean ... afterwards.”
Gaius looked oddly amused. “Oh, I was in bad odor for a while,” he said. “My family — we’re a cadet branch, you know — wasn’t too pleased with me. Melissa might have been the one to end things, but ... well, they thought I should have tried harder to court her. So I went back to Master Bone and continued my apprenticeship. The family calmed down after a few months.”
Emily nodded. “Are you happy?”
“I don’t have Fulvia as a grandmother-in-law,” Gaius said. He smirked, not entirely pleasantly. “So yeah ... I’m happy.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Emily said. “What happened to your friends?”
Gaius looked uncomfortable. “They deserted me,” he said, finally. “All our promises meant nothing in the teeth of family displeasure. I haven’t heard from them in months. They ... I hope they’re happy, wherever they are.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Emily said. She’d been lucky. Alassa was still talking to her, even after Emily had humiliated her father and escaped his kingdom. “I hope you find better friends.”
“Cat’s not so bad,” Gaius said. “He thinks he’s in charge—” he winked “—because he got here first, but he’s otherwise not such a bad sort. Sawford isn’t too bad either. Casper is a pretty decent magician when he’s not sulking, which is most of the time. I’m surprised his father hasn’t taken a belt to his bottom yet. Twenty-six years old, and acts like he’s six.”
Emily had to smile, even though she knew it wasn’t funny. Twenty-six years old ... Casper had to consider himself an adult by now. But he still hadn’t completed his apprenticeship, while Jade had completed his at twenty-three. Hell,
Cat would be ... she paused for a moment to work it out. Assuming he was a straight four years older than Emily, he’d be twenty-four or twenty-five. Somehow, she doubted Cat would remain an apprentice for another year.
She leaned back, feeling one of the chat parchments grow warm. “What have you been doing here?”
“Training, mainly,” Gaius said. “We’ve been brewing potions — those of us with some training in healing have been helping the Healers and Chirurgeons. And we’ve been practicing with our swords. I hope you’ve been keeping up with your swordplay.”
Casper would have turned that into a crude joke, Emily was sure. Gaius didn’t seem to notice the double meaning. “I’ve been letting it slide,” she admitted. Sergeant Miles had drummed basic swordplay into her head, but she hadn’t had the time to practice. “I’ll have to catch up.”
“Yes, you will,” Gaius said. “Try not to face Master Grave. He’s the toughest swordsman in the army. A training session with him will leave you covered in bumps and bruises. He’s so good that he uses a real sword to train.”
Emily made a face. Gaius sounded admiring, but she wasn’t impressed. Protective charms or not, using a real sword in training was dangerous. Sergeant Miles had insisted they use wooden blades, charmed to resemble a real sword. A student could get a nasty bruise, but nothing worse. Master Grave was either very confident in his swordsmanship or a complete idiot. She hated to imagine what a dead or injured student’s relatives would say if there was a terrible accident.
“I’ll try not to face him,” she said. Sergeant Miles had made it clear that she would be expected to train hard. “Do we really lead men?”
Gaius glanced at Casper, who had gone back to his book. “Of course not,” he said. “We’re only apprentices. We have some authority, but not that much.”
He leaned closer. “He wasn’t joking about going on patrol, though,” he said. “The masters have been trying to send a magician out with every patrol. You’ll get a chance soon.”
“Great,” Emily lied, sarcastically. Being on horseback was bad enough, but being on horseback with men who would expect her to be an expert horsewoman would be worse. Knowing her luck, they’d probably run into the vanguard of the invading army and have to flee for their lives. “I look forward to it.”
“You will,” Gaius said. “By the time you go on your first patrol, you’ll be desperate for something — anything — that will get you out of the camp.”
Emily looked around the cramped tent and sighed. She had a nasty feeling he was right. The tent wasn’t that bad, but after several days of enduring such close quarters she’d probably volunteer to walk to the Blighted Lands if it got her out of the tent. And the camp wasn’t much better. She was going to have a long and uncomfortable time.
“Get some sleep,” Gaius advised. He rose. “We’ll be up late tonight.”
I’m too wired to sleep, Emily thought. But at least he seems to have reformed himself.
Chapter Ten
EMILY COULD HEAR THE SOUND OF music as she walked through camp towards the big tent, feeling uncomfortably as though she were going to a circus. Lord Fulbright’s tent was massive, easily large enough to pass for a Big Top. A handful of guards stood outside, wearing uniforms that made them stand out like sore thumbs. A flag floated high overhead, barely visible in the semi-darkness. The sun had faded beneath the horizon, but darkness had yet to fall over the camp. Hundreds of fires were clearly visible outside the walls. A spy, watching from a distance, would have no trouble pinpointing the camp’s location.
And Casper had a point, she thought. The necromancer might attack the army before it’s ready to move.
“Well,” Gaius said. He reached out to take her arm. “Shall we go in?”
“She’s engaged, twerp,” Casper said, darkly. “My brother will take it amiss.”
Emily pulled away. If she went to an aristocratic ball, perhaps one of King Randor’s entertainments, she would be paired with someone the king chose, yet here ... Casper would probably make sure his father or his brother heard. She wasn’t sure why Casper seemed to dislike her personally, but there was no point in giving him ammunition. It was bad enough that she had to share a tent with him. God alone knew how she was going to wash.
It’s obvious, she told herself. None of the apprentices smelled very good. You’re not going to wash.
She pushed the thought out of her head as she followed Gaius into the tent. A large table had been set up against the side, practically groaning under the weight of an immense amount of food and drink. Beside it, a smaller table held plates, glasses and silver cutlery that wouldn’t have been out of place in King Randor’s castle. Indeed, the plates themselves were fine china — extremely expensive in the Nameless World — that had been charmed to keep them safe from breakage. And, instead of light globes, hundreds of candles filled the air with shimmering light.
“Make sure you take plenty of food,” Gaius muttered, as they headed towards the buffet. “I don’t know how many people have been invited.”
Emily glanced around. A small band was seated in the corner, playing a merry jig on pipes, guitars and drums; a dozen dancers were on the floor, twirling around in a manner that suggested they didn’t actually know what they were doing. Four of them were women, wearing dresses that made Emily feel positively underdressed, but the rest were men. No one seemed to care that six men were dancing together ... she shook her head. Quite apart from the lack of female partners, the Nameless World had never decided that two men who lived together had to be homosexual.
She picked up a plate and looked down at the food. An entire roasted cow, several roasted chickens ... potatoes, steaming jugs of gravy, a distinct shortage of vegetables ... it was a feast King Randor would envy. She rolled her eyes at the waste, then piled her plate with beef, chicken and potatoes. There probably wouldn’t be any more food at night, save for the rations she’d secreted at the bottom of her knapsack.
“Poorly cooked,” Gaius noted, as he chewed a drumstick. “But they won’t have a proper kitchen here.”
Emily rolled her eyes at him. She would have sold her soul for such a feast back on Earth. And three quarters of her new world’s population would have done the same. There was enough food on the table to feed a hundred men, without difficulty. Taking her plate, she turned to survey the room. A stream of cavalrymen was coming through the entrance, some heading straight onto the dance floor while others were heading for the food. Emily tried to keep track of their badges — their uniforms seemed to be individually tailored — but rapidly found it impossible. There were just too many of them.
“Lady Emily,” a familiar voice said. She turned to see Lord Fulbright, holding two glasses of wine. Real glasses, she noted. Even now, glass was still very expensive. Bringing it on campaign was one hell of a gamble. It would impress people, right up until the moment the glasses got smashed or stolen. “I’m pleased you saw fit to accept my invitation.”
He held out one of the glasses, turning it so the goblet sparkled in the light. Emily took it reluctantly and sniffed the dark red liquid. Wine. Strong wine. She pretended to take a sip, silently thanking Lady Barb for her etiquette lessons. It was easy enough to fake drinking, at least until she could pour the wine down the drain or pass it on to someone else. She was no expert, but she would bet good money that the wine was hideously expensive. Lord Fulbright had spared no expense.
“That’s a very rare wine,” Lord Fulbright informed her. He took her arm and led her around the tent, away from Gaius. “My grandfather, may he rest in peace, was very fond of wine. He even planted his own vineyard, the old lush. This—” he took a sip from his own glass “—is the last of his most famous wine. You could buy a small village for what this would cost you.”
Emily didn’t doubt it. Wine — unique wine — commanded a very high price on the Nameless World. She’d heard plenty of men claim that beer was a masculine drink, but she’d never seen any of them turn down a glass of wine. The thought
brought back bitter memories and she closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to focus. Her mother had drunk herself senseless on cheap wine.
“Your master is a very odd man,” Lord Fulbright said, cheerfully. “Did you really apprentice yourself to a sergeant?”
“Yes,” Emily said. Lord Fulbright was probing. But probing for what? “He’s a good man.”
“But also a mere sergeant,” Lord Fulbright pointed out. “Can he give you the lessons you deserve?”
Emily fought down a flash of irritation. It hadn’t been that long ago that Travis — or the Mimic, posing as Travis — had demanded to know why Martial Magic was taught by a pair of sergeants. Surely, he’d asked, General Kip could have taken the class. Sergeant Miles had let it pass, but Sergeant Harkin had pointed out — in no uncertain terms — that sergeants were what made the army work. They had plenty of experience in turning foppish young men into worthy officers. Common-born or not, she respected Sergeant Miles more than she respected Lord Fulbright and his comrades.
“He can give me the lessons I need,” she said, tartly. She turned to face him, still holding the glass. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m curious,” Lord Fulbright said. “Do you plan to continue with the apprenticeship, after you graduate?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She met his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re one of the most important people in the world,” Lord Fulbright pointed out. “Surely, you should apprentice yourself to someone who can open doors for you? Or teach you the social graces you need to make friends and influence people?”
Emily smiled, rather tiredly. She’d never read the book, but at least she’d heard of it.
“I’m happy with him,” she said. She didn’t have the temperament to engage in pointless small talk, let alone try to forge connections. “He’s a good teacher.”
“But you will outgrow him,” Lord Fulbright said. “What will you do then?”
“I’ll think of something,” Emily said. “I have a year and a half before I graduate, whatever happens.”
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 10