Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “Tiega,” she said, quietly. “What’s wrong?”

  Tiega rolled over to stare at Emily through watery eyes. Emily studied her back, looking for signs of unpleasant hexes or jinxes. Melissa had been fond of a particularly nasty hex that made a victim’s face turn blotchy and horrific, but Tiega looked normal. It certainly didn’t look as though she was having trouble moving. She was clutching a piece of paper in one chubby hand, holding it so tightly that the paper was threatening to crumple...

  “Tiega,” Emily repeated. “What’s wrong?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tiega said. “You can’t help.”

  Emily frowned. A fight with one of her roommates? Neither Adana nor Julia had seemed to be in pain, let alone turned into a frog or hexed into silence. Or a disagreement with one of the tutors? Surely that wouldn’t have bothered Tiega this much. She certainly hadn’t been given detention or she would have been kept behind after class. Or a note from home...

  She allowed her voice to harden. “What happened?”

  Tiega uncurled her fingers and passed Emily the note. It was nothing more than three sentences, written using English letters. UGLY FAT GIRL. USELESS FAT SMELLY GIRL. EAT SHIT AND DIE. Emily recoiled in shock, shaking her head in stunned disbelief. Bullying at Whitehall was normally physical, not emotional. She’d certainly never been sent any unsigned notes.

  “I found it on my bed,” Tiega said. She sounded shocked. “Whoever left it here could get into my room!”

  Her roommates, Emily thought. The housemother or a tutor could enter, of course, but she rather doubted a staff member would be leaving poisonous messages on Tiega’s bed. It had to be Adana or Julia.

  She frowned. Maybe she was required to turn a blind eye to students hexing other students, but there were limits. If she was told off for intervening... well, she’d cope with it. She’d coped with worse in the last four years.

  “You need to protect your bed,” she said. “Didn’t you ward it against intruders?”

  “Just the bedside cabinet and the trunk,” Tiega said. She stood and reached for the trunk, positioned neatly at the foot of her bed. “Only a member of my family should be able to open it.”

  Emily tested the clasp, gingerly. The trunk looked old enough to belong to Tiega’s grandmother, but there was nothing wrong with the spells protecting it from harm. Whoever had crafted the trunk had done a very good job, although she didn’t recognize the spellwork. She suspected that anyone less capable than Professor Lombardi—or a blood relative—would have real problems trying to break into the trunk.

  “You probably need to protect the bed as well,” Emily said, as she tested the bedside cabinet thoughtfully. Tiega had used a set of very basic spells, but she doubted that anyone below Third Year could have unlocked the cabinet without being caught in the spell. “Someone could hex your bed if they wished.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t something she’d had to endure, but Alassa had had problems with her first set of roommates and they’d hexed her bed a few times. Never enough to keep her from class, yet always badly enough to make her life uncomfortable. If Tiega was having problems with her roommates...

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” she said. “I promise.”

  Gritting her teeth, she tested the paper for hints of someone’s magical signature, but found nothing. That was odd. A skilled magician would be able to keep their power in check long enough to write the message without tainting the paper, yet she would have been surprised if any student below Fourth Year had that sort of precision. Adana, Lillian and Tiega herself had all been raised in magical communities, but none of them were that good. She frowned in bemusement, then tested for fingerprints. The only ones that appeared were Tiega’s and her own.

  “Odd,” she said, puzzled.

  She scowled. It was hard to imagine an older student writing poisonous notes to Tiega. If nothing else, they’d be lucky not to be expelled when they were caught. But she found it hard to believe that any of the younger students could write the note without leaving either traces of their magic or fingerprints. Hell, hardly anyone knew to watch for fingerprints. It had only been two years since the fingerprint spell had been invented.

  “Someone hates me,” Tiega said. She sounded as though she was going to start crying again, her voice torn between anger and dismay. “They can’t even face me!”

  Emily nodded. Hexing Tiega wouldn’t have been pleasant, but at least it would have been out in the open. Sending notes was far more cowardly. Tiega would feel worse because she had no idea who was sending them. But Emily would have bet good money that either Adana or Julia had sent the notes. No one else had access to the bedroom.

  “I’ll deal with it,” she said, quietly. “You have a rest until dinnertime.”

  She took the note and placed it neatly into her pocket, then rose to her feet and walked out of the door, back to the common room. Adana and Julia weren’t the only students there; five boys and six girls sat around a table, playing what looked to be an immensely complicated game of cards. Their eyes went wide as they saw Emily.

  “You two,” Emily snapped, glancing at her charges. “With me. Now.”

  Adana looked puzzled, but rose at once. Julia followed a little more slowly, her face so perfectly controlled that she betrayed no hint of reaction. Emily led them both down the corridor to one of the interview rooms, then stepped aside and motioned for them to enter the small room. There was really nothing inside, save for a table and a set of chairs. They were used, she’d been told, for private discussions between the housemother and her charges.

  “Sit,” she ordered, as she closed the door and cast a privacy ward. “Which of you put the note on Tiega’s bed?”

  Julia blinked, showing the first hint of an actual reaction. Adana’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Emily stared at them both, silently channeling Lady Barb. The older woman had shown no mercy to her charges and very few students would have dared to cross her. If she’d caught Emily doing something she shouldn’t, Emily would have confessed at once. There was no point in trying to claim innocence.

  “I didn’t,” Adana protested. “I don’t know what she was so upset about.”

  Emily met her eyes, silently daring her to try to lie. Adana had means, motive and opportunity. She could get into the room, she disliked Tiega and she probably had been in the room—alone—between lunch and the final class of the day. The only real question was how she’d written the note, with neither fingerprints nor magical signature, but if Tiega could master spells a year or two above her grade, surely Adana could do the same.

  “I didn’t write the note,” Adana insisted. “I didn’t!”

  “Right,” Emily said. Casting a truth spell wasn’t easy, certainly not without betraying what she was doing, but she managed it on her second try. “Tell me that again, please.”

  “I didn’t write the note,” Adana said.

  Emily blinked in surprise. Fooling a truth spell wasn’t easy. Professor Lombardi or Lady Barb could have done it, but she doubted Adana could. Hell, she would have had difficulty if Void hadn’t tilted the odds in her favor. She looked at Julia, wondering if she’d decided to place the note instead, even though her magical training was far less advanced than Adana’s...

  “I didn’t put the note on her bed,” Julia said, quietly.

  Emily scowled. Were they playing games with her? Or...

  “Adana,” she said, quietly. “Did you have anything to do with the note?”

  “No,” Adana said. “I didn’t!”

  Julia echoed her a moment later. Emily had wondered, despite herself, if Julia had written the note and Adana put it on the bed, thus evading the spell without actually lying, but she doubted that anyone could have predicted what questions she would ask. It looked as though Adana and Julia were innocent, which bemused her. Either someone had managed to get through the door without permission or... or Tiega had written the note herself. But unless she was a far better actress than Emily believed
possible, that was unlikely...

  She cursed under her breath. Using the truth spell on her charges was likely to get her into trouble, if anyone noticed... the wards would definitely notice. She looked from one to the other, then stepped backwards. Adana looked indignant; Julia merely looked resigned, from what little showed on her face. Given her background, she probably wouldn’t be surprised if she was blamed for the note anyway.

  “Leave Tiega alone until dinnertime,” she ordered, curtly. “And if you happen to find out who wrote the note, let me know.”

  Adana nodded, then headed for the door. Julia cast one last look at Emily, as if she wanted to say something, but followed Adana silently. Emily sat down as the door closed, suddenly feeling very tired. Casting the truth spell shouldn’t have drained her, but it had been a very long day. She dispelled the remainder of the spell, then forced herself to relax. There was at least an hour until dinnertime.

  I could go back to Caleb, she thought. The chair, thankfully, wasn’t comfortable. She would have fallen asleep if it had been. We have work to do.

  She removed the note from her pocket and stared down at it, hoping to find something she’d missed the first time around. But there was nothing. The writing was blocky, the letters drawn so plainly that there was nothing distinctive about them; the paper itself was one of tens of thousands of sheets prepared for Whitehall each year. If she decided to suspect everyone who could have obtained a piece of paper, she’d have to suspect everyone in Whitehall. It wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  The door opened. Aloha stepped in.

  “I heard you dragged two of your charges out by their ears,” she said, as she closed the door behind her. “And then that you flogged them bloody. How much of that is actually true?”

  “I ordered them to come with me,” Emily said. Flogging students bloody was harsh even for Mountaintop, let alone Whitehall. “Apart from that...”

  She held out the note. “Tell me what you make of this?”

  Aloha sighed. “We get one or two of these every year,” she said, resigned. She sat down on the chair facing Emily and crossed her legs. “Some bitch who thinks writing cowardly notes is funny.”

  “Someone who managed to get through the bedroom door,” Emily pointed out. She ran through the details, one by one. “Is that normal?”

  “No, but you won’t be able to convince a tutor to check the wards unless you have clear proof that it was a senior student,” Aloha said. She frowned. “Did it occur to you that Tiega might have written the note herself?”

  “You didn’t see her,” Emily said, quietly. “She was very distraught.”

  “It could have been a good job of acting,” Aloha said. “A person from that background would be schooled in how to conceal their true feelings almost as soon as they learned to walk and talk.”

  Emily shook her head, firmly.

  “But no matter,” Aloha said. “It will burn itself out, sooner or later. Leave it alone.”

  “I can’t leave it alone,” Emily said. “This isn’t someone casting hexes in the corridors.”

  Aloha met her eyes. “Magic requires a degree of mental toughness, a degree of adaptability, that cannot be forged if you hold their hands all the time,” she said, sternly. “You have already brushed against the limits of acceptable behavior by teaching them some basic defensive spells.”

  “Which they needed to learn,” Emily snapped.

  “Which they could have found in the library,” Aloha reminded her. “I believe that was what you did, when you first came to Whitehall. How many times do we have to have this discussion?”

  She leaned forward. “This person—” she held out the note “—will eventually be caught by one of Tiega’s protective hexes. When she is, Tiega will no doubt mete out sufficient punishment—if the writer hasn’t already done something to earn punishment from the tutors. And they probably will, because this sort of attitude always leads to trouble.”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “But...”

  “But nothing,” Aloha said. “I understand how you feel, Emily. But tell me. How far is this going to go?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to hold their hands when they walk to class?” Aloha asked. “Are you going to measure alchemical ingredients for them, then whisper answers as they try to work their way through a research paper? Are you going to wrap them up in so many protective spells they can barely move? Are you going to undress them at night like dolls?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Emily snapped.

  “It’s a serious point,” Aloha said. She didn’t seem offended by Emily’s tone. “Are you going to dress them up nicely, like those silly useless girls who came to the wedding and fainted when all the excitement began? Are you going to hamper their development because you can’t bear to see them upset?”

  “It’s not like that,” Emily protested.

  “Yes, it is,” Aloha said. “You feel responsible for them. You want to protect them. But tell me. What’s going to happen after you’re gone?”

  She rose and headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to Emily. “I’m not going to report your use of a truth spell,” she added. “But I strongly suggest you don’t do it again.”

  Emily rose as Aloha left the room, thinking hard. It was a meaningless statement. Aloha might have checked with the wards, just to see what had happened in the interview room, but she wasn’t the only one with access. Gordian might not be able to use it to expel her, given the context, yet it could certainly be held against her. She shook her head, then left the room and headed for the Fifth Year dorms. If she was lucky, she’d have time to change into something more comfortable before heading down to meet Caleb for dinner.

  And then we can go for a walk, she thought, hopefully. I...

  “Emily,” a voice called. She turned to see Frieda running up behind her. “I haven’t seen you for years.”

  “Days,” Emily corrected. She assumed Frieda had gone down to Dragon’s Den on Saturday, but she had no idea what she might have been doing on Sunday. “How was your weekend?”

  “I had my first Martial Magic class this afternoon,” Frieda said. “I’m just glad Jade told me to work so very hard when we were talking before Alassa’s wedding. How did you manage to keep up in your first year?”

  “With difficulty,” Emily said. It had been far from easy. She’d been the youngest student in the class by over a year. “Work hard; do whatever the sergeants tell you to do.”

  “I will,” Frieda said, cheerfully. She linked her arm through Emily’s as they walked down the corridor, evading a pair of younger students with the ease of long practice. “Did you really find a monster under the school?”

  “No,” Emily said. She shook her head in amusement. Was that the latest rumor going around the student body? “Just... just a few hints of the past.”

  “Better to look to the future,” Frieda said. She squeezed Emily’s arm. “The past cannot be changed, can it?”

  Emily shrugged. If she’d had a time machine, she would have gone back and kicked her father in the nuts for leaving her. And then forced a sobering potion down her mother’s throat. But no manipulation of pocket dimensions could produce a route backwards in time, as far as she knew. It seemed impossible.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, finally. She didn’t blame Frieda for not wanting to think about her past, not really. “But that doesn’t stop us from trying to learn from it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WOULD HAVE been enjoyable, Emily conceded privately, if she hadn’t been worked almost to death. Classes had started in earnest, with tutors driving their charges forward savagely, leaving her with very little time for anything apart from coursework. And yet, she’d almost enjoyed exploring the tunnels under Whitehall. The map they’d started to compose of the underworld was growing larger, including the map room, the lower hall and several other oddities. She would have been happier, though, if they’d located the statue—or a
t least come up with a convincing explanation for its existence.

  And Aloha had been wrong. The notes hadn’t stopped.

  She’d done everything she could think of to identify the writer, but found nothing. The notes—twelve in all—had appeared in places ranging from Tiega’s desk in history class to her locker outside Care of Magical Creatures. Emily had no idea how anyone could hide so many notes without being seen, even if they hadn’t managed to sneak another note back into Tiega’s bedroom. And Tiega was taking it badly, very badly. She’d grown more and more depressed as the notes kept coming, lashing out at her roommates and the rest of the students in her year. Emily had even been warned, privately, that if Tiega’s behavior continued to worsen, she might well be expelled. It was just another thing to worry about, quite apart from her own grades and Caleb...

  “You’re not focusing,” Mistress Danielle said. “Concentrate.”

  She threw a nasty hex that slashed against Emily’s protections, forcing her to jump to the side as a second—and darker—hex threatened to burn through her weakened protections and strike her bare skin. Emily threw back a hex of her own, only to see Mistress Danielle dodge it with almost contemptuous ease. Her third and final hex picked Emily up and threw her against the spellchamber wall; she gasped in pain as she struck the stone and slid down to the floor. Moments later, Mistress Danielle marched over and placed a foot to Emily’s throat.

  “I win,” she said, firmly. “You’re still not casting your spells fast enough.”

  Emily scowled, inwardly, as she pulled herself to her feet. It said something about how hard she’d been working that going to Dragon’s Den was something of a break, but Mistress Danielle had no concept of mercy. Her lessons were practical and demanding. She showed no inclination to go easy on Emily, merely to keep pushing her to develop her skills—or break. She’d even admitted, outright, that it would be preferable if Emily broke now than when she was in a real fight. Emily couldn’t help wondering if Danielle was taking a subtle revenge for the death of her former master.