“Yield?”
Emily froze. How had he known the dagger was there? She hadn’t shown it to anyone! But Casper did have a combat sorceress for a mother. She’d probably taught her daughters how to conceal and use virgin blades. Casper had probably known what to look for, long before he’d understood what the blades were actually for. And if he wanted to cut her throat ... she could cast a spell, but he’d sense it forming before it was ready. She was at his mercy.
“Yield,” she croaked. She had to fight to clear her throat. Her mouth still tasted of blood. “I yield.”
Casper looked down at her for a long moment, just long enough to make her uncomfortable, then pulled back the dagger and rolled off her. Emily forced herself to sit upright, despite the throbbing pain in her jaw and back. Casper was heavier than Caleb, part of her mind noted darkly. But then, Caleb hadn’t tried to hold her down.
The other apprentices were cheering and hollering. They hadn’t seen it, they hadn’t seen the tiny window she’d offered him. But he’d seen it. She silently congratulated him as he helped her to her feet. Whatever else could be said about him, he’d seen the chance and taken it before it was lost. In truth, he had come very close to winning on his own, without help.
“Well done,” Master Grave said.
“Beating a girl six years younger than you,” Gaius put in. “Very heroic.”
“Oh, shut up,” Casper said, without heat. “It wasn’t easy.”
Emily shook her head, feeling an odd mix of emotions as General Pollack congratulated his son. There was genuine pride in his eyes, something she’d never seen from either her mother or her stepfather. Lady Barb and Void had shown pride, but they weren’t quite the same. He — Casper — had no idea how lucky he was.
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles said. He caught her hand and tugged her towards the door. “Come with me.”
Emily sucked in her breath, hard. It was time to face the music.
Chapter Twenty
“PERHAPS YOU COULD EXPLAIN TO ME,” Sergeant Miles said, as soon as the door was locked and securely warded, “precisely what you were thinking?”
Emily tried hard to meet his gaze, but it was impossible. She’d never seen the sergeant angry before, not with her. Sergeant Harkin had bellowed like a bull; Sergeant Miles had always been calm, composed and friendly. But now ... his face was red, as if he was too angry to think clearly. He looked as though he was on the verge of striking her.
Her gaze wandered around the office, trying to avoid his eyes. A table, a pair of wooden chairs, a large map on the wall, a rucksack lying near the door ... an angry grunt brought her attention back, sharply, to the sergeant. He looked as though he was struggling to maintain control of himself.
“You shouldn’t have accepted the challenge,” Sergeant Miles said, after a long chilling moment. “And you certainly shouldn’t have thrown the match!”
“I didn’t,” she protested.
“You’re not a very good liar,” Sergeant Miles told her, sharply. “And I’ve seen you practicing your spells. I don’t think anyone else saw it, but I did. You threw the match.”
Emily lowered her eyes. “Yes.”
Sergeant Miles took a long breath. “Then perhaps you could explain to me,” he said, his voice under tight control, “precisely why you threw the match? And why I shouldn’t strip the skin from your back?”
Emily took a moment to formulate her argument. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t listen to appeals to emotion, but he would listen to cold logic. If, of course, she had cold logic. She’d assumed — carelessly — that no one would notice the window of opportunity she’d offered Casper. It was a plausible mistake. But Sergeant Miles had caught it. She hoped, desperately, that he was right and no one else had caught it. If someone had, the whole affair would be worse than useless.
“First,” she said, “Casper needed a victory, something that would give him hope.”
“Really,” Sergeant Miles said. “And how do you figure that?”
“It’s obvious,” Emily said. “He’s worn down by his own failure to live up to his father’s reputation — and his inability to complete his apprenticeship. He needed something that would convince him that he could win, that he could progress. And he came very close to winning the duel without me offering him a chance to win.”
“There are no prizes for coming in second,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “And Casper’s problems, whatever they are, are not our concern.”
“Yes, they are,” Emily said. “He’s having problems sharing himself when we practice rituals. His lack of confidence gets in the way. And if we cannot share magic, we cannot cast the battle spells.”
“Point,” Sergeant Miles conceded.
“If he thinks he can win, if he thinks he can see the finish line, he will put forward more effort,” Emily said, pressing her advantage. “And his increased confidence will make it easier for him to take part in rituals. It might make the difference between success and failure.”
“It might,” Sergeant Miles agreed. “But you chose a very chancy way to bolster his confidence.”
“He did challenge me before, the first time we met,” Emily said. “I declined at the time.”
“Perhaps you should have declined now,” Sergeant Miles said.
Emily pushed on. “And he will be my brother-in-law,” she added. “I thought it was worth some effort — and risk — to conciliate him. To help him meet his goals. Otherwise his bitterness and resentment will eat away at him until he does something stupid.”
Sergeant Miles snorted. “Are you sure you didn’t do something stupid?”
He ticked points off on his fingers. “First, his new status as a dueling champion isn’t going to last very long,” he warned. “You have been in school for the last few months. Gordian would not allow a would-be champion to enter the school purely to challenge you. Casper could be found and challenged easily. And while he did come close to beating you, you and I both know he didn’t. What’s going to happen when he faces someone who isn’t inclined to give him a free victory?
“Second, your reputation is going to suffer,” he added. “You lost to an apprentice — a mere apprentice. And that will probably have an effect on morale here. The mighty Necromancer’s Bane gets thumped by an apprentice! You may discover that the long-term effects of your decision haunt you for the rest of your life.
“And third, seeing you’re so concerned with his family, what are your suitor and the rest of his family going to think?”
Emily flushed, but held her voice steady. “We fought a non-lethal duel,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Duelists” — it hadn’t been that long since she’d learnt the basics at Mountaintop — “would understand that I was fighting with one hand tied behind my back. I couldn’t lash out with the more dangerous spells — or raw magic — because that would have killed him. Better magicians than me have lost when faced with strict limits on what they could do.”
“And that is why dueling was banned at Whitehall,” Sergeant Miles muttered. “Gordian was talking about bringing it back.”
He cleared his throat. “Someone could also make the argument that you’re still the dueling champion ... because your opponent didn’t face you in a lethal duel.”
Emily shrugged. “If that was the case, half the duelists on the list would be disqualified,” she pointed out. Master Grey had only accepted lethal challenges, but other duelists felt differently. “Casper won fairly, as far as he knows.”
She met his eyes. “And I still beat two necromancers and a combat sorcerer, facing them without rules,” she added. “My reputation is not going to take a beating.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “I was knocked down once or twice in the camp.”
“When you weren’t fighting to keep the title,” Sergeant Miles pointed out.
Emily nodded. A challenge had to be issued and accepted for the title itself to be at stake. If not, Mistress Danielle would be the ch
ampion. She’d certainly flattened Emily several times over the last few months. But she hadn’t seemed interested in claiming her old mentor’s title from his killer.
And I cheated when I killed the necromancers, Emily thought. It can’t be repeated easily.
“You may be right,” Sergeant Miles added. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
“I won’t,” Emily said. She sighed. “It was what he wanted — and needed.”
Sergeant Miles quirked his bushy eyebrows. “And what is his family going to make of it?”
Emily winced. Caleb wouldn’t be pleased. His big brother now had something real to boast about. Although, to be fair, that had always been true. Casper had just never appreciated what he had. She didn’t know his younger siblings very well and she had no idea what they would make of it, but his parents would be proud. Or at least his father would be proud.
And if he isn’t, Emily thought quietly, it might be time for Casper to leave the family and change his name.
“What happens if Casper dies, when he gets challenged?” Sergeant Miles asked. “You know there will be challenges.”
“He can choose a non-lethal duel,” Emily reminded him.
“Accidents happen,” Sergeant Miles snapped. “You know that, don’t you?”
Emily nodded. She’d never been that interested in dueling, but she’d been forced to study the topic at Mountaintop. Sergeant Miles was right. Accidents did happen, even when the combatants were supposed to keep their spells non-lethal. A duelist who’d spent half of his career fighting lethal duels might lose control and kill his opponent, simply because he’d been taught not to hesitate.
“He knows the risks,” Emily said. Casper had been raised to understand the risks. She rather suspected he’d been a duelist at Stronghold. It was the sort of thing his father would have insisted upon. “He could just let the title lapse, afterwards.”
Sergeant Miles snorted. “Do you know any young man who’d just let the title lapse?”
He pressed on before Emily could answer. “And if he doesn’t, he’ll still be on the dueling table unless he removes himself completely,” he added. “He’ll just keep sliding down on it ... what will that do to his morale?”
Emily hesitated. The ruthlessly pragmatic answer was that those duels would take place after the war, when Casper’s morale no longer mattered, but she knew better than to say that out loud. Sergeant Miles would take a very dim view of it.
“He came very close to winning,” she said, instead. “I don’t think he’ll do that badly if he stays a duelist.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sergeant Miles snapped. “There are duelists out there who will do everything in their power to win.”
Like Casper, Emily thought.
She sighed, inwardly. The dueling league was perfectly capable of accepting that the reigning champion might have a bad day — or slip on a banana peel — and lose, without suddenly becoming a rank amateur. Her position wouldn’t be weakened that badly by losing the match ... or perhaps it would be, depending on which version of the rules were taken into consideration. She might have been knocked down to second place ... or she might have been bumped all the way down to wherever Casper had been, yesterday. It was why taking and holding the position was considered more important than a single victory, solid or not.
And I wouldn’t have kept the title anyway, she thought. I would have just let it lapse.
“He had a point,” she said, instead. “I was being favored.”
“Casper’s feelings are not our concern,” Sergeant Miles reminded her.
“They might be, if they affect his ability to work with us,” Emily said. “Why did General Pollack invite me to his tent?”
“Politics,” Sergeant Miles said. “Your presence, even if you said nothing, would be a mark in his favor. And Casper should be smart enough to understand his father’s problems.”
“He’s twenty-six,” Emily reminded him.
“There are soldiers in this camp who enlisted at fourteen,” Sergeant Miles snapped. “Casper is not a little boy, not any longer. He’s a grown man ...”
“... Who has grown up in the shadow of his father,” Emily said. She remembered some of Alassa’s stories and shivered. “How many noblemen ruined their own lives because they could never live up to their parents — and everyone made sure they knew it? I don’t think his father ever gave him a chance to find his own way.”
“The firstborn son is rarely trained to do anything other than follow his father,” Sergeant Miles said. “Casper is expected to take his father’s place when he dies.”
He cleared his throat. “You may be right. I hope you are right. But if you’re wrong ...”
Emily bowed her head. “I’ll take the consequences,” she said.
“Casper will take the consequences,” Sergeant Miles told her, darkly. “You do realize you could easily have just set him up to die?”
“It was what he wanted,” Emily said. “And if he’s a grown man, shouldn’t he have the right to make his own decisions?”
Sergeant Miles shrugged. “It depends on his family,” he said. “And there’s no telling how his father will react to the news.”
“He looked proud,” Emily said.
“Maybe,” Sergeant Miles said. “And what will happen, do you think, if he figures out the truth?”
Emily swallowed. “Are you going to tell him?”
“No,” Sergeant Miles said. “And I will pray to all the gods that it doesn’t come back to haunt me.”
He stepped back from her. “There is no way he should have challenged you in the middle of a war,” he added. “And there is no way you should have accepted the challenge.”
“I would have lost by default,” Emily said. The challenged had the right to decline, but that would have cost her the title. Master Grey had insisted on lethal duels to keep down the number of challenges without having to surrender his title. “And what would have happened then?”
“Good question,” Sergeant Miles said. “Casper was never ranked very high ...”
He shrugged, then jabbed a finger at the floor. “Start doing press-ups,” he ordered, as he turned and walked towards the table. “Now.”
Emily blinked in surprise. “How many?”
“Keep going until I say stop,” Sergeant Miles said.
“Yes, Master,” Emily said.
There was no point in trying to argue. Sergeant Miles had always handed out intensive physical exercise as punishment. She dropped to the ground, quietly counting the press-ups as she performed them. Sergeant Miles didn’t look as though he was paying attention to her, but she knew better than to let her mind wander. Miscounting the press-ups would just mean more press-ups. She knew that from bitter experience.
Her arms were aching and her back was covered in sweat by the time Sergeant Miles ordered her to stop doing press-ups and start doing jumping jacks instead. Emily forced herself to obey, despite the growing pain. Her body felt as though she’d been in a boxing match, instead of a magical duel. But Sergeant Miles was merciless. When she stopped doing jumping jacks, she moved to running on the spot and then weightlifting with a set of weights Sergeant Miles had carried all the way from Whitehall.
“I’ll be talking to the general,” Sergeant Miles said. Emily knew better than to stop hefting the weights. “There won’t be any more duels until after the war.”
“Thank you,” Emily gasped. It was growing hard to breathe. “I ...”
“I won’t expect you to challenge him to regain your title,” Sergeant Miles said. “But I do expect you to spend time sparring with him. He’s going to need some preparation for the dueling league.”
Emily was too tired and sore to argue. “Yes, Master.”
“Consider it additional punishment,” Sergeant Miles said.
He held up a hand. Emily stopped gratefully, putting the weights down before she dropped them on her toes. Her entire body sagged, but somehow she managed to keep from falling to her
knees. She forced herself to remain focused, somehow. Her clothes were damp and sticky with sweat.
“There will be a small dinner tonight,” Sergeant Miles told her. “Just masters and apprentices and the general. You’ll be expected to serve him at dinner.”
Emily nodded, tiredly. The thought of Master Grey serving his opponent dinner, after a loss ... she would have giggled, if she’d had the energy. But then, his duels had always been lethal. She’d been his first opponent who’d survived a duel with him for the last five years — and he hadn’t survived. She wondered, absurdly, if he would have handled the tradition with good grace or if he would have hurled the platter into her face. Perhaps the latter. He’d never liked her.
“Tell me something,” Sergeant Miles added. “Did you come up with your justifications before you accepted the duel — or afterwards, when you were questioned?”
Emily hesitated. “A little of both,” she said, finally. “I knew it had to be done.”
“Be careful,” Sergeant Miles said. “And I’ll leave you to explain this to Lady Barb and the Grandmaster.”
“Oh,” Emily said. If Gordian really was talking about bringing back dueling ... she wondered, suddenly, just how many students would want to challenge her. All of them ... or none of them? But it didn’t matter now. The title was gone. “Are you going to tell them?”
“I suggest you write a letter to Barb,” Sergeant Miles said. He made a show of glancing at his watch. “And you might want to go for a bath. Dinner will be at sunset.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said. “What should I wear?”
Sergeant Miles snorted. “Something you can fight in,” he said. “The necromancer hasn’t moved, but that will change soon.”
Emily cocked her head as a thought struck her. “Are we sure he is a necromancer? He’s not acting like a necromancer.”
“Interesting thought,” Sergeant Miles mused. “There is proof he was taking and sacrificing victims, but he doesn’t seem to be as mad as some of the others. It’s possible he was a senior magician before falling prey to the lust for power.”
11- The Sergeant's Apprentice Page 20