She checked the wards, carefully, as soon as she walked into the nexus chamber. Her past self was lying in Caleb’s arms, looking surprisingly content. Emily flushed at the thought, then cut her palm and used the blood to draw out a trio of runes on the stone floor. Her awareness of her other self grew stronger, so strong that it nearly dragged her into sleep. She’d never heard of that being a problem, not when blood magic had been used elsewhere, but how often did people cast blood magics on themselves? It didn’t happen.
Gritting her teeth, fighting against a whirlpool that threatened to drag her into a maelstrom, she reached out through the connection and jerked her past self awake. The surge of emotion surprised her, even though she’d prepared for it as best as she could. She hadn’t quite realized what it meant, not when they were the same person. There was no difference between their thoughts.
Get up, she thought, as the link grew stronger. She sent a whole series of calming impressions, trying to make sure there was no flash of anger or fear that would break the spell. Get out of bed.
She pushed the call forward as strongly as she dared, battling hard to keep her past self calm and composed. The flurry of emotions told her, as if she hadn’t already known, that her past self knew that something was wrong; she held the spell in place, tugging at her mind to make it harder for her past self to form a coherent thought. If anything, she thought, she’d underestimated the power of blood magic. A more ruthless practitioner could use blood magics to bind someone to him permanently.
The world seemed to blur around her. Gritting her teeth, she split her attention; one half keeping her past self under control, the other half opening doors and making sure that there was no one in a position to intercept the sleepwalker before it was too late. A pair of girls were blocking her past self’s way; she cast a strong compulsion charm, holding them both in place until her past self had made her way past them. Gordian would know that something was up—she hadn’t been able to find a way to lock him out again without setting off all kinds of alarms—but he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Or so she hoped.
He didn’t, she told herself, firmly. No one got in my way.
Her past self moved slowly, too slowly. But there was no way to force her to move faster, not without risking everything. She didn’t dare lose control, not now. If she did, her past self might be able to put up defenses or scream for help. Either one would be disastrous. She pushed more and more calming impressions into her target’s mind, trying to block the growing awareness that she was being compelled by an outside force. She couldn’t afford to let go, not yet.
A flash of magic impinged on her attention. Gordian was awake and, unfortunately, aware that something was wrong. She hastily uploaded new orders into the wards, locking Gordian out completely. She’d probably be made to pay for it afterwards, but she found it hard to care. It was too difficult keeping her grip on her past self while, at the same time, fending off Gordian’s increasingly desperate attempts to regain control of the wards. He’d uploaded some commands of his own, it seemed, after the command network was repaired.
He’s got a short memory, she thought, nastily. Didn’t he realize that meddling with the system was what damaged it in the first place?
She sucked in her breath as Gordian blasted his bedroom door with a hex she didn’t recognize, blowing it off its hinges and sending the wood crashing to the stone floor. He ran out of the room, hurrying down towards the gates. Emily split her attention—again—and barred his path, altering the corridor so it led right to the top of the castle. Gordian ran into the old barracks and stopped, dead. She hastily repaired the damage she’d done to the corridor, leaving him with ten flights of stairs to run down before he could get to the nexus point.
Her past self stopped, struggling to break free. Emily felt sweat running down her face as she reasserted control, forcing her past self to keep moving. It would have been easier, she thought, to use a direct compulsion spell—the one Robin had thrown at her hovered at the back of her mind—but her past self might well have fought it off. And besides, she needed Void’s protections one last time.
Or Robin would have had me, Emily thought. And any hope of maintaining the timeline would be lost forever.
She concentrated on her past self and pushed her into the corridor leading to the nexus chamber, carefully freezing or deactivating a wide range of hexes intended to keep curious students and intruders out of the area. They hadn’t bitten her before, she recalled, but there was no point in taking chances. Shadye had walked through the defenses, seemingly untouched; she was fairly sure Shadye wasn’t a founder. Unless he was related to one of them ... she dismissed the thought with a flicker of irritation. If Shadye had been related to Whitehall or Wolfe or any of the others, it hadn’t helped him. He’d been such a poor magician that he’d turned to necromancy and lost his mind.
Maybe he was related to Master Chambers, she thought, darkly. He took a whole string of shortcuts too.
Emily glanced back at Gordian and swore, savagely, as she realized he was literally flying down the stairs. She hastily quashed the impulse to interfere with his spell, knowing it would send him slamming into a stone wall; instead, she twisted the dimensions around him, trying to send him back upstairs. But it didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. Gordian had reached out and infiltrated the local command system, making it harder for her to trap him. He was a better magician than she’d realized ...
Is that a honest judgement, her own thoughts mocked, or did you feel he was inferior because you didn’t like him?
She slammed two doors in his path, then reactivated the defenses. Neither would slow him for long—she had no idea if the defenses would target the Grandmaster at all and there was no time to rewrite their spellware—but it should buy her some time. She reached out to the spellware she’d pushed into the nexus point, bringing it online, commanding it to draw power from the nexus itself. The gateway to the past opened up in front of her past self, beckoning her forward. But she stopped.
Emily bit her tongue to keep from swearing as her past self stood in front of the nexus point, swaying on her feet. The blood had turned black, like the sigals in the Book of Pacts; it was no longer usable for magic. And her past self was free.
Move forward, Emily urged, silently. Gordian was running down the corridor at terrifying speed, magic spinning around him as he readied himself for battle. Move, you stupid ...
Her past self started to turn. Emily ran forward in desperate frustration, slamming into her contemporary self’s back and shoving her into the nexus point. Her contemporary self fell, her entire body twisting in directions Emily’s mind couldn’t quite grasp. It was all she could do, as she hastily cancelled the spells, not to fall into the gateway herself. If she did ...
... Would she have been forced to repeat everything, again and again?
She stumbled and collapsed to her knees, suddenly very tired. The nexus point was glimmering in front of her, calling her on. She wondered, vaguely, what would happen if she walked into it, now the spells were gone. Would she really be trapped inside? Or would she emerge warped and twisted, if she emerged at all? Somehow, she pulled herself to her feet and cast a cleaning spell on the floor, destroying all the evidence of her blood ritual. Gordian probably had plenty of grounds to expel her, if he wished, but there was no point in giving him extra ammunition.
The Grandmaster burst through the door, wearing a long nightshirt that looked like a tattered old robe. He stared at Emily in shock, one hand raised in a casting pose; she braced herself, unsure what would happen if he tried to curse her. She’d rebuilt her defenses as best as she could, while she waited under the school, but Gordian was a formidable magician and she was so—so—tired. She wasn’t even sure what had woken him in the first place.
“Emily,” Gordian said, finally. “What have you been doing?”
He looked her up and down, his eyes disbelieving. Emily didn’t really blame him. Her clothes were dusty and threatening to fa
ll apart, her hair was practically grey from dust and her face and hands felt dry, too dry. And she stank. She’d been able to steal a few sponges to wash herself, but she hadn’t dared go for a shower. There had been too much danger of accidentally being seen.
And he doesn’t know how I took control of the wards, she thought. She still didn’t know what had alerted him, if anything. Perhaps he’d just had a bad feeling and snapped awake. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the right to cast monitoring spells, ones not connected to the wards or the nexus point. He has to be worried ...
“It’s a long story,” she managed, finally. She still didn’t like Gordian, but he had a right to know the truth. Besides, the kink in the timeline was now past. It wasn’t as if she needed to dissemble any longer. Or hide what she could do. “Might I suggest that we go to your office and discuss it—alone?”
Gordian lifted his eyebrows. “After your last discussion in my office?”
Emily winced. To her, the last meeting had been months ago; to him, it had taken place only a few hours ago. She rubbed her forehead as she tried to think. From her point of view, she hadn’t seen Caleb for months, but from his point of view she hadn’t been gone at all. She had the feeling she was going to be suffering from something very much like jet lag for months to come.
“Yes, sir,” she said. She took a long breath. She’d had jet lag before, after using portals to step across the entire continent in an instant, but this was going to be different. She was several months older, yet no one would ever know it. If nothing else, calculating her birthday would be a major headache. “We have to talk.”
Gordian nodded and led her back upstairs. She wondered why he was being so trusting—she would have been deeply concerned about a student breaking into the nexus chamber—and then decided he probably already knew that things had changed. She’d twisted the school around him, after all. Perhaps she should be surprised he hadn’t tried to stun her on sight. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the power, particularly when she was so tired ...
And he must be wondering just what the hell is going on, she thought. His world has turned upside down.
“Please, be seated,” Gordian said, as they entered his office. He must have sent a message through the wards, because a servant entered a moment later, carrying two steaming mugs of Kava. She took a grateful sip, and smiled. She’d missed Kava, desperately. “Now ... what were you doing in the nexus chamber?”
Emily took a deep breath. “I fell back in time,” she said, finally. His eyes went wide with shock. “And I was there when the school was founded.”
Chapter Forty
GORDIAN WAS A GOOD LISTENER, EMILY had to admit. He didn’t interrupt, he didn’t ask useless questions; he just sat and listened to her with every appearance of attentiveness. She was careful to make it clear that there were few true secrets from the past, few spells that were genuinely superior to anything from their era; she was very careful not to discuss the mimic-spell in any real detail. It would make a hell of a weapon against the necromancers, she was sure, but in the wrong hands it would turn into a nightmare.
Or more of a nightmare, she thought, as she finished her story. Master Wolfe thought he could use the spell to become immortal. Someone else is bound to have the same idea ...
She sighed, inwardly, sipping her Kava as he contemplated her. Professor Locke would be disappointed; hell, he’d be shocked if he ever worked out the truth. Whitehall was unique because later spellcrafters had accidentally streamlined the spellwork that went into tapping the nexus point and using the power to create the school. They’d actually done a better job of keeping the power under control, but it had precluded any realistic chance of developing an adaptive system, let alone a form of intelligence. It would be simple enough, now, to tap a new nexus point and turn it into a second Whitehall, yet it would take decades before the project came to fruition.
“I see,” he said, finally. “And how much of that story is true?”
“All of it,” Emily said. She scowled at him. She’d left out the details about the demon—and the bargain she’d made with it—but she hadn’t told him any lies. “Would you like an oath?”
A conflicting flurry of emotions flickered across his face, then vanished. “That will not be necessary,” he said, stiffly. “Your ability to influence the wards is quite enough.”
Emily felt a sudden stab of pity. She outranked him, literally. The only people who could have removed her access rights to the wards were dead and gone, nearly a thousand years ago. She could shut him out, she could take the school for herself, she could ... she shook her head, tiredly. She shouldn’t even consider the possibilities unless there was no other choice.
“I don’t intend to abuse it,” she assured him.
“Good,” Gordian said. She rather suspected that he needed time to think about everything that had happened, including the possible consequences. “I think you’ll have to write out a true account of everything that happened, back in the past.”
“I already have, sir,” Emily said. She closed her eyes, remembering Whitehall and Chambers, Bernard and Robin; the Manavores, the Gathering, the Book of Pacts ... she’d decided to leave some of the details out, although she had no intention of telling anyone that. The complete truth would only cause problems in the future. “It’s just a short account, as factual as possible.”
“I suggest you let me read it first,” Gordian said.
Emily nodded, frowning as something fell into place. The demon might just have intended to manipulate her into allowing knowledge of demons to become common once again. Perhaps the real endgame lay there, with magicians starting to summon demons back into the Nameless World. And they would, she knew; Shadye and his ilk had driven themselves mad just to boost their power. Were the books, in the end, completely irrelevant? Or was she just jumping at shadows?
I’ll be second-guessing myself a lot, in the future, she thought, bitterly. And I may never know the truth.
“And that leads neatly to another point,” Gordian added. “What did happen to the books?”
“I took them, after I returned from the past,” Emily confessed. “Leaving them in place would have upset the timeline.”
“Oh,” Gordian said. “I think they should be returned, don’t you?”
“They should be kept in the Black Vault,” Emily said, reluctantly. Giving up the books went against the grain, but she had to admit he had a point. Besides, she knew enough to recreate Master Wolfe’s work ... perhaps she could sell the knowledge to Mountaintop, if they’d managed to lay claim to a nexus point. “Some of them are quite dangerous.”
She sighed, inwardly. The third Book of Pacts would be added to the others and then tossed into a pocket dimension. She thought it had expired long ago, but there was no way to be sure.
“Very well,” Gordian said.
He sighed. “But everyone will try to travel in time now, won’t they?”
“They can’t,” Emily said. “I used my own magics as a guide—anyone else will just be jumping blind.”
“Really,” Gordian said. “And if you succeeded ... why not someone else?”
“I succeeded because I had succeeded,” Emily explained. “What came first—the chicken or the egg?”
Gordian shook his head slowly. “I shall meditate on that,” he said. “For the moment, perhaps the whole story should be kept secret.”
Emily nodded. There was a loophole in what she’d told him. No one could jump back in time now, not without a navigational beacon, but Gordian could create a beacon for himself in the present and then jump backwards in time from the future. If, of course, the spellwork surrounding the nexus point was disposed to allow him. Emily hoped—prayed—that her tampering had made any future time jumping impossible.
It’s too dangerous to mess with, she thought.
“I will keep it a secret,” she said. “Perhaps some of the truth can be told another way.”
“Perhaps,” Gordian agreed. “Do you have
anything else you want to tell me?”
“I want to become a teacher,” Emily said. She’d taught Frieda and Julianne and quite a few others in the past. And she’d enjoyed it. “That’s what I want to do with my life.”
Gordian’s face froze, just for a second. “You’ll need experience,” he said, finally. “But I dare say you have the”—his face twisted—“clout to win a post at Whitehall.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
“We shall see,” Gordian told her.
He rose. “You’re excused from classes for the next two days, in any case,” he added. “I believe Sergeant Miles wishes to ... discuss ... certain matters with you.”
The theft of supplies from the Armory, Emily thought, numbly. Sergeant Miles would have noticed the supplies were missing. He had more of an eye for detail than just about every other magician she had met. And he’s not going to be pleased about it.
“For what it’s worth,” Gordian told her, “you have my full approval if you wish to take him up on his offer.”
Emily blinked. “His offer?”
“His offer,” Gordian said. He looked her up and down, then sighed. “And I suggest you have a shower, perhaps more than one, before you go to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. “I’ll find and return the books tomorrow.”
She’d expected worse, she thought, as she left his office. Gordian had every reason to be angry with her, even though she’d had very good reasons for preventing him from entering the nexus chamber ahead of time. But she did have access to the wards. Trying to expel her might have been difficult, particularly as she’d made it clear she wanted to stay. Maintaining the status quo might have been the best of a set of bad options.
Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10) Page 38