She contemplated the problem as she made her way to the gates. The demon must have known she’d intended to cheat it, yet it had left a gaping loophole that allowed her to honor her word to Lord Whitehall as well as keep the letter of her bargain. That seemed odd. It had had her in a blind. Surely it could have driven a harder bargain, knowing that she would take the bargain. Had there been a way to jump forward in time without its help after all? Or had its real goal been to render the books useless?
Or perhaps it wanted some of my blood, she thought. But I made sure to render the blood useless first.
She shook her head. If she’d made a mistake, if she’d been pushed into doing something terribly stupid, she’d find out sooner or later. But she’d seen no alternative.
Whitehall was in chaos, students stumbling around trying to find their classrooms and bedrooms; she passed unnoticed through the throng as she made her way into the kitchen pantry. Sneaking into the pantry was an old tradition at the school, she reminded herself as she hastily located a box of preserved ration bars, but using the wards to ensure she could neither be detected nor caught was probably cheating. She made a mental note to make sure she paid for the supplies as she found a trunk and stuffed it with paper and pencils as well as food and drink, then levitated it back down to the gates. It wouldn’t be too long before Grandmaster Gordian started trying to interrogate the wards, pinning down precisely what had happened.
They won’t tell him I’m in two places at once, she reassured himself. She had to smile darkly at the thought of just what he’d say, when—if—he discovered that she had more access rights to the ward network than he did. But perhaps it would be better to keep it to herself. They won’t tell him I’m here until too late.
There were no guards on the gates as she walked into the lower levels, then down into the underground complex. The wards were already going to work, cleaning the dust and filtering the air, although it would be days before she could walk through the complex without using wards to keep the dust out of her mouth. She hurried down to the second level, bypassing the trap that had snarled her and Cabiria last time and paused outside the control room. It would be so much easier to take the books now, wouldn’t it? But her recollections insisted that she’d seen the books before they’d vanished.
I did take them, she thought, morbidly. Professor Locke had been right, after all, when he’d accused Emily of stealing the books. But I hadn’t taken them when they forced an oath from me.
She checked the control complex, then walked through a hidden door into Master Wolfe’s chamber. It looked as if no one had set foot in the room since his death—she felt a sudden stab of burning rage at how casually Keldor had murdered such a man—and the bedding was nothing more than dust, but it would make a safe place to hide while she waited. She dumped the trunk of food on the floor, opened a bottle of water and drank it gratefully, then tucked into a ration bar. Sergeant Miles had been right when he’d complained that they tasted like cardboard—it seemed to be a universal rule—but they would keep her alive. With a little work, she shouldn’t need to leave the chamber until the time came to take the books.
I’ll have to go steal some bedding too, she thought, as she finished her meal. I won’t be able to sleep on the stone floor.
She checked the wards again, making sure her past self was safe, then sat down at Master Wolfe’s desk, placing a large sheet of paper in front of her. Using a memory charm to jog her thoughts, she slowly worked her way through everything that would have to happen; the theft of the books, the slow collapse of the pocket dimension, Frieda’s disappearance ... she’d have to force herself to do nothing, when that happened. Her recollections insisted that Frieda had been trapped and there was nothing she could do to change it. All she could do was make sure that Frieda survived.
And I’ll have to master blood magic, she reminded herself. I’m going to need it.
The thought made her shudder. To reach into someone’s mind, to alter their perceptions until they were biddable ... it was unthinkable. And to do it to herself ... she’d heard enough horror stories about students who’d cast compulsion charms on themselves to know it wasn’t something to do lightly. She and her past self—her other self—were essentially the same person, after all. They might blur together into one mentality if she screwed up the spell.
And there’s no time to practice, she added, as she rose to her feet. It was nearly night; the lights would be going out all over the castle. She was tempted to try her luck sneaking around without the wards, just to see if she could avoid being caught, but she pushed the thought out of her mind before it could tempt her too much. And who could I practice on?
She slipped back upstairs, then headed to the Armory to steal some bedding. Having access to the wards made it far too easy to avoid the handful of wards Sergeant Miles had placed around the section and remove a bedroll, a chamberpot and some additional supplies. There was no shower within the chamber, nothing she could use to take a bath or wash herself thoroughly; she silently promised herself that she’d sneak into the upper levels long enough to take a shower, once her past self was safely out of the way. Unless that ran the risk of someone seeing her twice and wondering why she was in two places at once ...
... Or why she had a scar covering her cheek.
I just have to be careful, she reminded herself. She could have the scar healed, after her past self was dispatched into the nexus point. Very careful.
She closed her eyes and slept as soon as she returned to the chamber, after setting the wards to alert her if someone passed through the gates and entered the underground complex. Her dreams were odd, half-remembered flickers of memory that faded almost as soon as she opened her eyes. She couldn’t help wondering, as she forced herself awake the following morning, if the demon had given her a little parting gift, although she knew it could easily be caused by close proximity to her past self. She tested and retested her mental defenses, then ate breakfast before settling down to work. She’d only get one shot at sending her past self back in time ...
History says I will succeed, she told herself, firmly. But it could be wrong.
It was the waiting that got to her, she discovered, over the next few weeks. She’d never deliberately sought out someone else’s company since she’d been taken from Earth, but she couldn’t help feeling trapped and isolated in the ancient chamber. It would be easy, she kept thinking, to walk up to the other levels and spend some time with Frieda, Caleb or the Gorgon, yet it would run the risk of shattering the timeline. She raided the library, read countless books and worked hard to catch up with her schoolwork while waiting, but she still felt alone.
I should rewrite the history books, she thought, one evening. She’d reread all the history books she’d read in first year and noted just how many inaccuracies were classed as gospel truth. Professor Locke would appreciate it.
She shook her head at the thought. Whitehall—Lord and Master Whitehall—hadn’t quite lived up to his reputation, while others were distorted or simply erased from the history books. There was no mention of Master Chambers or Master Gila, as far as she could tell; Master Keldor was barely mentioned, his writings long-since lost to time. But there was no suggestion that he’d betrayed Whitehall. Perhaps the real Whitehall had chosen to suppress that part of history, knowing that no one would reveal the truth. It wouldn’t do to have anyone think he could make a mistake.
The thought caused her a stab of pain. To her, Bernard and Julianne were living, breathing individuals; to history, they were dust and less than dust. She would never see them again, unless they’d found a way to fall forward into the future. Their children—somehow, she was sure Bernard and Julianne would have had children—were dust. If there were any descendants left, it was unlikely they knew anything about their ancestors. The Grandmasters would hardly have welcomed anyone who had a claim on their school.
And now, I have a claim on the school, she thought. Gordian is really not going to like that.
I’m sorry, she thought, thinking of her past self. Professor Locke was going to accuse her of stealing the books, even though she was innocent. But I suppose I got told off before I actually did the crime.
She took the books back to her chamber and started to go through them, using the wards to keep the fragile parchment intact. Most of Master Wolfe’s notes were there—she couldn’t help noticing that several other people had added their own impressions afterwards—enough to let her complete the work her past self had begun. Or would begin, several weeks in the future ... she scribbled a series of notes to herself, working out the sequence of events, then finished hunting through the pile of books and scrolls. The final scroll practically leapt into her hand the moment she touched it, magic flickering around it. She cursed her own carelessness as she checked the spell, realizing that the scroll was tied to her magic. It was a more subtle spell than she would have expected from the past.
The spell seemed safe enough, so she carefully unrolled the parchment and began to read. It wasn’t easy; Bernard—his sigil was at the top of the sheet—had written in a language she didn’t know, using an alphabet she didn’t recognize. She cast several different spells to help her translate the words, but none of them seemed to work perfectly. Far too many words were hazy, suggesting that the spell couldn’t decipher them completely.
Emily, she read. If you are reading this ...
She felt the tears well up, again, as she worked her way through the scroll. Bernard and Julianne had had children, one of them named after Emily herself. She shook her head—Emily was an uncommon name, suggesting that history had forgotten the other Emily—and then read onwards. Bernard admitted, gently, that the stories surrounding her had already gotten out of hand, even after his father-in-law had started trying to suppress them. It hadn’t been until later, much later, that Whitehall had told Bernard the truth.
We argued, Bernard wrote. I accused him of trying to hide your involvement, of trying to hide everyone’s involvement. We were arguing so badly that I didn’t quite believe it when he told me that you were from the future. We nearly fought a duel over it.
Emily stared. Whitehall and Bernard had nearly fought a duel? Bernard hadn’t believed his old master? But he would have found the truth unbelievable ...
And then he stopped telling everyone about me, Emily thought. The Dark Lady would become a half-remembered myth, a woman who might well not have existed at all. Her stories would grow and change until they were completely unrecognizable. And that ensured that history remained on course.
The last section noted that the tunnels would be sealed, ensuring that no one could gain access to the control spellware. Reading between the lines, Emily suspected that someone had tried to do just that ... Bernard referred to a handful of events without actually going into details. It was frustrating—he’d probably assumed she could just look up the details in a history book—but there was nothing she could do about it. Her friends had long since passed away, leaving a legacy that had changed the world.
She read the final line, then closed her eyes in pain. To her, Bernard, Julianne and Lord Whitehall were living, but they had lived and died nearly a thousand years in the past. She would never see them again; no one would. And so much had been forgotten that the full story would never be known. It would be buried in the depths of history ...
I’m sorry, she thought. I wish ...
She blinked away tears, then rolled up the scroll and went back to work. Master Wolfe’s notes, books “borrowed” from the Black Vault, her own observations ... she had everything she needed to plan her next move. And when her past self came to fix the damage Professor Locke had inadvertently inflicted on the school, she’d be ready.
And then I can step back into the school, she thought. She couldn’t wait to see everyone again. She’d seen a few of her friends through the wards, before she’d forced herself not to do it again. Looking at Caleb had only made her heart ache. And perhaps the rest of the term will pass uneventfully.
The thought made her smile, sardonically. She knew she wouldn’t get her wish.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
HERE WE GO, EMILY THOUGHT, WATCHING as her past self ran into the control room and blasted Professor Lombardi. Professor Jayne had barely any time to react before she was hexed too, although she shrugged off the hex within seconds. Here we go ...
Her past self touched the column and thrust her mind into the network. Emily altered the wards just a little, enough to ensure that neither of the professors could intervene, then touched the control systems herself. The repair work was already well underway, but it was inadequate. She cringed at the thought of just how close they’d come to complete disaster as she started to complete the job, fixing mistakes in the programming as soon as her past self made them. It wasn’t an easy task, but she had the advantage of knowing precisely what she’d done in the seemingly recent weeks of hard work to identify and devise solutions to each of the problems.
And some of my additions held even after the entire structure started to collapse, she thought, morbidly. She checked on the tutors as her past self finished the job. They didn’t seem inclined to interfere, thankfully. Emily didn’t want to hurt either of them. The rest of the programming could be smoothed out too.
She shook her head, hastily. Master Wolfe’s core programming was still in existence, even though it had grown until it was almost unrecognizable, but she doubted that smoothing it out would be a good idea. Unpicking every last spell component would take decades; it made her think, suddenly, of some of the stories she’d heard about really old computers. They’d had programs that ran, automatically, at preset times ... and no one, at least no one still working for the owners, had known what they did, or why they’d been written.
And they were afraid of what would happen if they took them out of the system, she recalled, wryly. They just didn’t want to rock the boat.
Her past self tried to scan the school for the books. Emily pushed, hard; she thrust her past self right out of the network. She watched through the wards, grimly, as Professor Lombardi put her past self to sleep, then levitated her up and out of the chamber. He was going to bear a grudge, she suspected, even though he had forsaken—or would forsake—the right of vengeance. She, a mere student, had blasted an experienced professor into the wall.
My grades are going to suffer, she thought. Professor Lombardi would probably be justified in demanding higher standards from her now, although his standards were already terrifyingly high. And Professor Jayne won’t be much better.
She watched and listened, through the wards, as Professor Lombardi told Grandmaster Gordian what had happened. Emily couldn’t help wondering—not for the first time—just how strong the temptation had been, for Gordian, to slit her throat while she slept. But he merely listened to the explanation, without saying a word. Perhaps he was a better man than she’d thought.
And it’s time to make the final set of preparations, she told herself. And if I mess this up, history is screwed.
Gordian, thankfully, had banned all further visits to the control room, using the wards to seal the chamber. He hadn’t realized—yet—that Emily would always be able to go in and out of the chamber, unless she removed her own access permissions from the spellware. Hell, Professor Locke would never have discovered the chamber in th
e first place, if Emily hadn’t been with him. She checked to make sure he was taken out of the castle, as Gordian had told her, then started to work. Blood magic was complex and dangerous even when used on a different person.
And all my defenses will be useless against myself, she thought. And her thoughts might slip into my mind.
The nexus point, she discovered as she went to work, existed at all points of time simultaneously. She couldn’t help wondering if it was linked to the demons in some manner—they too existed outside normal space and time—although it didn’t seem to have a will of its own. And yet, setting up the equations to send her past self back in time proved a daunting challenge, particularly as she had to pop out at a specific point. She had a feeling that it might be easier to jump to another nexus point—she’d heard stories of people walking into one nexus point and coming out of another—but she worked on the problem until she thought she had a solution. If she appeared a handful of seconds before her magic started to weave itself into the spells taming the nexus point, it should work.
She rubbed her forehead as she hurried back to the chamber to get some sleep. Just how far could history be bent before unleashing havoc? She had no idea ... she swore, under her breath, as she realized the demon might have been bluffing. Demonic predictions had to come true, didn’t they? And all but one of the predictions involving her had yet to take place ... she might just have been able to force the demon to help anyway or risk setting off a cascade of failure. And who knew what would have happened then?
I suppose I will never know, she thought.
The wards alerted her the moment her past self awoke and spoke to the Grandmaster, before asking Caleb to share a bed with her. Emily watched, feeling oddly annoyed at her own conduct; Caleb had his flaws, but he was no Robin. Or Bernard, for that matter. His mother would never have let him get away with treating women like objects, as if their thoughts and feelings were of no concern. And he was a good man. She made a quiet resolution in the privacy of her own mind, then walked into the nexus chamber and cast a series of wards into the air. It was vitally important, she knew, that her past self never laid eyes on her.
Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10) Page 37