Her eyes flickered, briefly around the office. It had changed too; the room was bare, save for a large wooden desk and a chair. A single scroll rested on the desk, but otherwise it was empty. The bookshelves and paintings had been removed, leaving the walls completely bare of anything to catch the eye. It served a double purpose, she realized, as the door closed behind her. There was nothing that would tell her anything about the room’s occupant, no hint as to his personality and disposition; there was also nothing that would distract her from him.
Gordian studied her back with equal interest. “Lady Emily,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
I wasn’t aware I had a choice, Emily thought.
She resisted the urge to say it aloud. Lady Barb had warned her to be on her best behavior, no matter what provocation she faced. The Grandmaster would seize on any excuse to expel her from Whitehall, casting her adrift to an uncertain future. Emily had no idea what she’d do, if she couldn’t return to Whitehall. Go to Mountaintop? Or try Stronghold? Caleb had told her too many horror stories about that school to make her want to go there unless she had no other choice.
“I do not want you at this school,” Gordian said, bluntly. She’d expected it, but his words still stung badly. “You are a disruptive influence. Whitehall’s existence has been placed in danger, because of you. The Kingdom of Zangaria has been turned upside down, because of you. The Allied Lands themselves have been changed, because of you.”
Emily kept her mouth firmly closed. It was true enough, she supposed, that Whitehall had been in danger because of her, but she hadn’t done any of it deliberately. She’d never even known about magic before Shadye had kidnapped her, let alone just how much power her knowledge—from a far more advanced world—gave her in the Allied Lands. And she had to admit that her ideas, her innovations, had wrought considerable change for good and ill. She’d unleashed forces that might never be tamed by the current ruling class.
“You are reckless, headstrong and dangerous,” Gordian continued. His voice was calm, but she had no difficulty in hearing the underlying anger. “If it were up to me, you would have been expelled back in your second year. You chose to ignore rules devised for your safety and the safety of your fellow students. Grandmaster Hasdrubal should have expelled you on the spot. It set a poor precedent for later disciplinary action. Challenging a tutor to a duel...”
“He manipulated me into challenging him,” Emily said, unable to keep her mouth closed any longer. “If he hadn’t wanted the duel, he could have refused the challenge...”
“Yes, he could have,” Gordian agreed. He made an odd gesture with his hand; it took her a moment to recognize that he’d conceded her point. “But a student challenging a tutor does set a grim precedent.”
Emily met his eyes. “And a tutor accepting a duel does... what?”
It was hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice, the grim awareness that Master Grey had meant to kill her leaking through. He would have killed her too, if she’d lost. And it would have been perfectly legal. There would have been some consequences for him, she was sure, but he could never have been charged with her murder. As far as the Allied Lands were concerned, an idiotic student would have been killed before she got anyone else in trouble.
Gordian ignored her point. “And then you turned Zangaria upside down,” he said, repeating his earlier point. “Teleporting out of King Randor’s castle, tearing his wards down in the process... what do you think that did to his reputation?”
“You’re the one who told me to divest myself of my holdings in Zangaria,” Emily pointed out. Hindsight told her she’d been wrong; hindsight told her that King Randor hadn’t intended to order her to unleash a holocaust on countless rebels and everyone else caught up in the blast radius. But by then it had been far too late. “He thought he could use me to his own ends.”
“I’m afraid you will find that’s true of almost everyone,” Gordian said. “And you have not—quite—divested yourself of your holdings, have you?”
Emily frowned. Alassa had patched together a compromise, ensuring that while Emily was persona non grata in Zangaria for the moment, she wasn’t exiled for good. Imaiqah would rule the Barony of Cockatrice in Emily’s absence. In truth, Emily wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She’d never wanted to be a great feudal landholder, she’d certainly never wanted to rule the lives of countless people she would never meet. And yet, throwing the barony back in King Randor’s face almost guaranteed that whoever took her place would try to roll back her reforms. Imaiqah, at the very least, would hold the barony in stasis.
“They are no longer in my possession.” Emily said, flatly.
Gordian studied her for a long moment. “You should have been expelled several times over,” he said. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. It struck her, suddenly, that she should have been calling him "sir" all along. Calling attention to it might have been a very bad move. But it wasn’t something she’d done with his predecessor. “I understand.”
“If Grandmaster Hasdrubal saw no reason to expel you, I have no legal right to do so,” Gordian added, slowly. “But I can refuse to allow you to return to Whitehall, if you refuse to attend on my terms.”
Emily waited, not trusting herself to speak.
“You will be a probationary student for a set period of time,” Gordian told her. “During that period, you will be under close supervision, from both myself and the other tutors. I will be keeping a very sharp eye on you. Should you do anything that concerns me, you will be formally expelled from the school. Your father will have no legal grounds for protest.”
She’d known it was coming. Lady Barb had warned her. But it still hurt.
“I understand, sir,” Emily said, quietly.
“A probationary student is apprenticed to a tutor, until they are either removed from probation or expelled,” Gordian continued. “That tutor will take responsibility for their conduct, in exchange for which they will work for him in whatever manner the tutor deems suitable. You will be apprenticed to Professor Locke. He has a... research project that could use your input. Your free time will be his as long as he has a use for you.”
Emily scowled. She would have preferred to be apprenticed to Lady Barb or Sergeant Miles, but Lady Barb was leaving Whitehall and Sergeant Miles had too much else on his plate. She liked the history professor, yet she knew from Aloha that Fifth Year was hard, very hard. If she spent all of her free time, such as there was of it, on his project, how would she manage to keep up with her fellow students? She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do with her life after leaving Whitehall, but she did know that higher grades would help open doors in the future.
And besides, she thought, remembering the ring on her finger, I don’t want to let Void down.
“I understand, sir,” she said. She’d have to find a book on probationary students and read it quickly, just to discover what else she’d be expected to do. “What is his research project?”
“I believe he would prefer to tell you himself,” Gordian said. “It is his project, after all.”
He cleared his throat, then unwrapped the scroll. “Your exam results,” he said. “They would normally be sent out a week from today, but I made the decision to unseal yours early.”
Emily leaned forward, torn between anticipation and dread. She’d never cared about her exam results on Earth—it wasn’t as if they would have any bearing on her life—but on the Nameless World they were the difference between a brilliant career and remaining just another sorceress. She would never be poor—she could brew Manaskol, if nothing else—yet she wanted to do more with her life, even if she wasn’t quite sure what yet.
“You passed all of your exams,” Gordian said. It didn’t sound as though he was deliberately dragging out the moment, but it certainly felt that way. “Overall, I would have no hesitation—barring the current issue—in allowing you to progress into Fifth Year and take the courses you requested, as well as
continuing your joint project. As it is, there will be one major change.”
Emily felt cold. Lady Barb hadn’t warned her about this.
“You have requested permission to continue to study combat sorcery under Sergeant Miles,” Gordian said. “He ensured that you would take the theoretical side of the Military Magic exam, which you passed. However, I am not minded to allow you to continue in your studies, even in exchange for working as a teaching assistant. Your apprenticeship to Professor Locke will preclude any other such commitments.”
“I need the training,” Emily said.
She swallowed, hard. Nanette was still out there, along with Fulvia and countless other enemies who resented the changes she’d brought to their world. She needed to know how to defend herself. Lady Barb had taught her, more than once, that raw power alone didn’t guarantee victory. As it was, her enhanced magic made her a target for more than just the necromancers.
“Regardless, you will not be training under Sergeant Miles,” Gordian said, flatly. “It would not be proper.”
Emily fought down the urge to say something sharp and unpleasant. She needed that training, but there were several other options. Mistress Danielle had offered private lessons, after all. She made a mental note to write to the older woman once she escaped the office, then looked up at the Grandmaster. He was regarding her with an unreadable expression.
“I advise you to remain in Whitehall until the start of term,” Gordian added. “Griselda has the details of your classes, reading lists and other details. Collect them from her, then Lady Barb will show you to your bedroom. Your... friend... will also be staying here.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. Lady Barb had warned her to expect it, so she’d shut up the house before calling the carriage and heading to the school. Besides, there was only a week until the Fifth Year students were expected to return. A week sharing a room with Frieda wouldn’t be unpleasant. “And thank you.”
Gordian eyed her, darkly. “I’ve done you no favors, Lady Emily,” he said. His voice was suddenly very cold. “And I would advise you not to think otherwise.”
He pointed a finger at the door, which opened. “When you see Lady Barb, ask her to attend upon me when it’s convenient,” he added. “And I hope I don’t see you in here again.”
Because I’ll be in trouble, Emily finished, silently. And you’ll be expelling me.
She dropped a curtsey, then turned and walked out of the room. Griselda—Emily had to admit that the name suited the sour-faced secretary—passed her a sheaf of papers, then nodded toward the door. Emily walked through, sweat prickling down her back, and caught sight of the portrait of the former Grandmaster. His death meant that nothing would ever be the same again.
Behind her, the door slammed closed.
Chapter Two
“EMILY,” FRIEDA CALLED, AS EMILY STEPPED into the common room. She was sitting on the sofa, while Lady Barb leaned against the wall behind her, studying a manuscript book. “How did it go?”
“It could have gone better,” Emily said. She walked over to the sideboard and poured herself a mug of Kava. Her throat felt parched. “But I suppose it could have gone worse, too.”
“You accepted the probationary period,” Lady Barb said. It wasn’t a question. She’d known what Emily planned to do. “Gordian, I suspect, was hoping you wouldn’t.”
“He wants to see you,” Emily said. “As soon as convenient, he said...”
“You shouldn’t have,” Frieda interrupted. “Emily, there isn’t a school in the Allied Lands that wouldn’t take you. Or an apprenticeship...”
Emily shook her head. She didn’t want to leave Whitehall. Besides, she’d seen too much of Mountaintop to want to go back, even with a different MageMaster in control. And it would mean leaving Caleb and Frieda behind. She didn’t want to leave them either.
“There aren’t many masters who will take her as a full-fledged apprentice, now,” Lady Barb commented. “Her education is not complete. Anyone who would take her now is likely to do it for the wrong reasons.”
“Because they want the honor of training the Necromancer’s Bane,” Emily said. She sighed, inwardly. She’d never really come to terms with her fame, particularly outside Whitehall. Frieda and she had needed to travel the country incognito to ensure they weren’t recognized. “And they might make mistakes.”
“They would make mistakes,” Lady Barb said. She walked around the sofa and rested a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “But it’s definitely an option.”
Emily shook her head. No tutor, not even Void, could give her access to Whitehall’s massive collection of textbooks and ancient tomes, let alone the chance to speak to masters specializing in a dozen different subjects. Magic had fascinated her since the day she’d first set foot in the Nameless World. She didn’t want to give up the library either.
“It hardly seems fair,” Frieda grumbled. “They expect you to spend all your free time working for the history professor, of all people. After all you’ve done for them!”
“There may not be much free time in any case,” Lady Barb said. “This is your fifth year, Emily. Students have been known to retake the year even without having to work on a professor’s private project.”
Emily leaned forward. “Do you know what it is?”
“No,” Lady Barb said. “But you might find it interesting.”
“It’s history,” Frieda protested. “It isn’t interesting.”
“Those who don’t learn from history,” Emily said, “are doomed to repeat it.”
She snorted at the thought as she finished her drink. She’d always loved history, both the history of Earth and the history of the Nameless World. Indeed, there were so many gaps in the latter that she’d wondered just how many of the history textbooks they’d studied were actually accurate. Professor Locke had even told them, back during their first set of lessons, that there were hundreds of question marks over anything that had happened more than three hundred years ago. An event might have one date in one textbook, but a different date in another; the outcome of a particular battle might differ, depending on which book one read. It was impossible to know for sure what had happened.
“We shall see,” Emily said, finally.
“Mistress Irene offered me a chance to go to Stronghold,” Frieda said. “A chance to study there for a couple of years...”
Emily stared at her. “She offered it to you now?”
“Just now, while we were waiting,” Frieda confirmed.
Emily swallowed. The thought of being alone in Whitehall—her friends elsewhere—made her uneasy. There had been a time when she’d had no friends, but that had been before Whitehall, before the Nameless World. Now, she found herself enjoying the company of others more than she cared to admit. Frieda was a friend too...
And was she offered the chance to go, she asked herself, to keep me isolated?
“I said I was staying,” Frieda told her. “I’m not leaving you alone here.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She felt a wave of relief and gratitude that surprised her. “I...”
“And I’m going to be Ken Captain,” Frieda added, sticking out her tongue. “And I don’t want to go to a third school in as many years.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a great captain,” Emily said. She’d always loathed team sports, but Alassa—and Frieda—loved them. Alassa had founded the team, then left it to Frieda after her departure from Whitehall. “Just remember, you’re not allowed to cheat.”
“You’re not allowed to get caught cheating,” Frieda pointed out.
Emily laughed, despite herself. “True,” she agreed. “But the referee has seen every cheating trick in the book.”
“Then I’ll have to invent some new ones,” Frieda said.
Lady Barb cleared her throat, drawing Emily’s attention back to her. “Grandmaster Gordian inherited a mess from his predecessor,” she said, curtly. “Your situation is one of many... issues... confronting him right now. I believe he’s
doing his best to clear the decks before the term starts.”
“I thought he meant well, when he was giving me career advice,” Emily said, sullenly.
“He probably did,” Lady Barb said. “But it will take time for his position to solidify. He needs to avoid anything that might convince the White Council that they made a mistake in appointing him to the post. I suspect he fears that you were allowed to get away with far too much.”
Emily scowled, but conceded the point. Any other student would probably have been expelled for experimenting with pocket dimensions within Whitehall, even though she’d had two different excuses. Neither one, she suspected, would be considered valid, certainly not by a man who wanted to get rid of her by any means necessary. Given what had been at stake, Grandmaster Hasdrubal’s punishments hadn’t remotely fitted the crime.
“But she saved the school,” Frieda protested.
“There’s a case to be made that bringing Emily to Whitehall also endangered it,” Lady Barb said. She held up a hand before either of them could protest. “And Gordian doesn’t have anything like the freedom of action Hasdrubal enjoyed.”
She met Emily’s eyes. “It’s not too late to apply to Stronghold or Mountaintop,” she added, gently. “I can take you to either of them now.”
“I’m staying,” Emily said. She didn’t want to leave Whitehall. And besides, the school had been her first real home. She would be damned if she was allowing Gordian to drive her away merely because he found her inconvenient. “Will Frieda and I be sharing a room for the next week?”
“I’m afraid not,” Lady Barb said. “You’ll have been assigned a room in the fifth year dormitories. I believe your roommate is already there. Frieda will have a room in the third year dorms. I’ll escort you both to your rooms now.”
Infinite Regress Page 2