Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Caleb glanced up at her, the green light washing over his face. “Do you want to try to switch it again?”

  Emily hesitated, then reached forward. Tingles of magic ran down her arm as her fingertips brushed the spellware, carefully altering the setting. The changes flickered through the entire combined spell a moment later, turning the light blue. It grew brighter a second later—she recoiled, covering her eyes just in case it turned blinding—and then faded and died. The entire piece of spellwork collapsed and vanished.

  “Drat,” Emily swore.

  Caleb laughed. “We’ve already done something no one else has ever done,” he said. “A piece of semi-autonomous spellwork!”

  Emily had to smile as he walked around the table and gave her a tight hug. “Do you want to try the second experiment?”

  “We may need to find some way to reinforce the spell structure,” Emily mused. Caleb had flicked the color once, without destroying the spell, but her touch had broken too many pieces of spellwork for the spell to endure. Or had Caleb simply been gentler? “But yes, cast the second spell.”

  She leaned back in her chair as Caleb returned to his, then cast the spell sequence for the second time. Emily watched, shaking her head in delight as the spell-structure took on shape and form. This time, she had a better view. It was perfect, a glittering network of components that worked together in unison. She hadn’t seen anything like it, save for the Mimic—and the spellwork under Whitehall School. The thought that they might be well on their way to duplicating the spellwork made her smile.

  “Try and flip the colors first,” she said. If it had been her touch that had destroyed the previous spell, had it been because she hadn’t been delicate—or because she’d been the one who’d created the spell? “And be careful...”

  “Of course,” Caleb said.

  The light turned from white to green, then blue. Emily leaned forward, shaking her head in irritation. It had been her touch, then, that had destroyed the spellwork. She would have to force herself to be even more delicate... she cursed silently as Caleb changed the spell color one final time, casting a yellow light over the chamber. There was just too much power at her fingertips for her to be delicate.

  “You may have to put in the next component,” she said, as she studied the spellwork. “My touch is too harsh.”

  “Try anyway,” Caleb advised. “We have to prove that the spell can be switched from person to person.”

  Emily nodded reluctantly. If the spell couldn’t be transferred to another person, or altered by that person, all they’d really done was reinvent the ward. Maybe a couple of minor innovations would be usable, in the long term, but they couldn’t claim to have discovered something entirely new. Bracing herself, she reached out and shaped a final spell component in her mind, pushing it forward and into the combined spell. It glowed brightly, just long enough for her to think they’d messed up, then fell into place. She heard Caleb gasp as the spell started to hum, like they’d planned. The new component had gone to work, without changing any of the older components or tearing the spellwork apart.

  “They’re still going to say there are easier ways to do it,” Caleb pointed out.

  “Yep, but this will endure,” Emily countered. The ebb and flow of mana leeched out of the spellwork, only to be returned to the network of spells and recycled. There was a slight outflow—she could measure it now—but by her calculations the spell should last for at least an hour before it fell apart. “An hour, perhaps?”

  “Maybe a little less,” Caleb said. “There’s an entropic cycle affecting the inflow and outflow of mana. We get a little less back every time.”

  Emily nodded and rose to her feet, watching as the spellwork performed its clockwork dance over the table. It would wind down eventually, true, but it was still something new and impressive. Linked to a nexus point—or a battery—it would allow for far greater flexibility in casting spells. They’d just have to find a way to lock the spell in place to prevent future adjustments from destroying the whole structure.

  “I’ve got a preliminary list of other modifications,” Caleb said. “They’re all very low power, though.”

  “The more we ask it to do, the less it can do,” Emily said. “The nexus has a near-infinite supply of power, keeping all the spellwork in being. Here...”

  “It only has what we give it,” Caleb agreed. “But at least you’ve proved the concept.”

  “We’ve proved the concept,” Emily corrected. She leaned forward in irritation as the spell started to come apart, even though it had been meant to last longer. “All we need now is a way to keep surges of magic from overpowering the spell and tearing the spellwork apart.”

  “Without wasting power keeping the spellwork intact,” Caleb added.

  Emily nodded, shortly. The power demands would rise, exponentially. Eventually, the demands would be so high that nothing short of a nexus point could meet them. Or necromancy, she admitted, privately. The Mimic had to have used a form of necromancy to power itself, combined with soul magics. And the reason the Mimic hadn’t gone insane...

  It must have been capable of absorbing the excess power, she thought. The spellwork she’d seen holding the Mimic together had been fantastically complex. And that would mean...

  Caleb rose and walked around the table. “Emily, we’ve done something remarkable,” he said. “This will change everything.”

  Emily had to smile as she turned to face him. “If we can get it to last,” she said. It did offer a chance to turn her batteries into something more than a one-shot weapon, but the spellwork wasn’t anything like advanced enough yet. “If...”

  “We will,” Caleb said. He took her in his arms and kissed her, hard. “I have faith in you.”

  His kisses grew more passionate as she wrapped her arms around him. Emily felt her heart start to race as his hands stroked her back, then he drew back so his hand could caress her breasts. She shivered at his touch, feeling a conflicting wave of passion and fear. Her entire body tensed as his hand fumbled with the clasp at the back of her neck, threatening to remove her dress. She was torn, hopelessly torn, between running and just freezing...

  It was Caleb, she told herself; it wasn’t someone who wanted to hurt her. Part of her wanted to let him touch her and to touch him in return. And yet, the thought of letting him undress her was terrifying. She pushed him back without quite realizing what she was doing until it was too late, her heart pounding so hard that she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

  His eyes went wide with hurt. “Emily...”

  Emily found it hard to speak. “I...”

  Caleb’s eyes met hers. When he spoke, it was clear he was trying to keep his voice under control. “Why not?”

  “I...” Emily hastily readjusted her dress, trying to think. But she was too shaken to think clearly. Caleb was hurting... why? “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” Caleb repeated. “Why are you...”

  His voice hardened. “Why have you no time for me now?”

  Emily felt a surge of anger that threatened to overwhelm her. How could he? She had to do her coursework, then work with the students she was supposed to mentor, then slave for Professor Locke and then take additional combat lessons from Mistress Danielle... she barely had any time to herself. He understood that, didn’t he?

  “I’m here with you, right now,” she snapped. “I...”

  Caleb’s eyes flashed. “Are we courting or aren’t we?”

  Emily felt magic boiling beneath her skin, responding to her anger. She pushed it back down, savagely. “We’re courting!”

  “Then why won’t you let me touch you?” Caleb demanded. “What are you going to do on the wedding night?”

  Emily flinched, despite herself.

  “I’ve convinced my family that we can make a courtship work,” Caleb snapped. He hadn’t missed her flinch. “But if you’re not serious about it, say so now! Because you’re not acting as through you’re serious!”

  �
��Because I won’t make love to you?” Emily snapped back. “Or because I’m overworked?”

  “Both,” Caleb said. “Emily, what is the problem?”

  He made a visible effort to lower his voice, to calm himself. “I love you,” he said. “But it feels as if you’re not interested in me any longer.”

  “I don’t have time,” Emily said, immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say. “I...”

  “You don’t have time,” Caleb snapped. “Am I so unimportant to you that you can’t be bothered making time?”

  Emily felt her temper snap. “Would you rather I failed my exams? Or got expelled by the Grandmaster for not slaving for Professor Locke? Or got killed by someone because I didn’t know how to defend myself?”

  “Of course not,” Caleb snapped. He reached for her, but she stepped backwards and he stopped. “I do want to spend time with you!”

  “In my bed?” Emily snapped back. “I...”

  Rage billowed through her. How dare he? She wasn’t Imaiqah! She wasn’t going to casually fall in and out of relationships, a new partner every week. It had been hard to bring herself to kiss Caleb, the first time, let alone sit on her bed and let him hold her. She wasn’t ready to go further! He could wait for her, surely. Had she really misjudged him so badly?

  “Anywhere,” Caleb snapped back. “I want to spend the day with you in Dragon’s Den instead of wandering through the shops, waiting for you to finish your lessons!”

  Emily felt a stab to the heart. She wouldn’t have liked being asked to wait for a couple of hours, even if she’d had a library or a bookshop to explore. And yet, she needed those lessons with Mistress Danielle...

  “You don’t trust me,” Caleb snapped. He sounded more hurt than angry. “After everything we’ve done together, you don’t trust me!”

  Emily wilted, just a little. It was hard for her to trust anyone male, certainly not someone the same age as herself. She trusted Void—and she’d trusted the Grandmaster—but they were both decades older than her. Professors Thande and Lombardi were in their sixties, she believed. Even Sergeant Miles was in his late forties.

  “If you don’t trust me,” Caleb added, “how can this relationship work?”

  Emily had no answer. She had been unfair to him. But, at the same time, she didn’t see any other choice. Should she have gone to Dragon’s Den on her own? Or tried to arrange matters so she only met Mistress Danielle every second week? Or even planned a meeting after hours, despite the risk of being caught?

  She hadn’t had a choice, she reminded herself. Anger flared through her, again. She hadn’t had a choice!

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I don’t know either,” Caleb said. His face twisted, bitterly. “And I’m sorry too.”

  He turned and stalked out of the workroom, slamming the door behind him. Emily stared after him, feeling power boiling through her mind and threatening to break loose. She followed him through the door and walked to the nearest spellchamber, silently relieved that they were so close to the armory. The training dummies at the far side of the chamber came to life as the door closed, raising their wands and advancing towards her with threatening intent. Emily felt the power boiling through her and lashed out, directing a stream of unshaped magic towards the first dummy. It shattered, blowing traces of magic and splinters of wood right across the room.

  “Die,” Emily snarled, as the second dummy cast a training hex towards her. It stung, but she ignored the pain and threw a blasting hex of her own. The dummy flew backwards, knocking the two behind it to the ground. They scrambled to their feet, only to be smashed by hexes aimed at them. The dummies never even managed to get a second hex off before it was far too late. “Die, you...”

  Magic raged through her, pressing against the spellchamber’s wards. The dummies didn’t stand a chance. She ripped them apart one by one, lashing out in a fit of fury and rage that refused to abate until the final dummy was nothing more than charred ruins. It crossed her mind that she might wind up paying for the dummies, but she was too angry to care. She gathered her remaining magic and hurled it at the wards, watching as they fought to contain her outburst. The entire chamber seemed to wobble, the wards quivering backwards and forwards...

  She turned as she heard the door opening behind her. Sergeant Miles stepped into the room, his eyes showing no trace of a reaction. Emily felt her anger fading, to be replaced by horror at her own rage and a dull throbbing guilt. If she’d taken her anger out on a fellow student, that student would have been badly injured, perhaps crippled... or killed. Hell, she’d damaged a spellchamber. That didn’t happen every day.

  “So,” Sergeant Miles said. He didn’t sound angry, but that only made it worse. “Boy troubles?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  EMILY STARED AT HIM, THEN SANK to the floor, feeling torn between the urge to start crying and an even worse numbness. Caleb and she had just had their first real fight... and, to make it worse, she’d practically destroyed a spellchamber. No one had ever destroyed a spellchamber, as far as she knew. The wards ensuring that students couldn’t hurt themselves and spells wouldn’t get out of control were formidable. It was difficult to unravel them even from the outside...

  “Yes,” she confessed, finally. Perhaps she was about to be expelled for good. Or beaten to within an inch of her life. “I’m sorry.”

  Sergeant Miles sat down on the floor, facing her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” Emily said. She wiped her eyes, feeling too tired to cry. “I just feel... I don’t know how I feel.”

  “Not uncommon,” Sergeant Miles observed, dryly. He rose and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “Come to my office, Emily. We’ll talk there.”

  Emily allowed him to help her up, taking one last look at the ruined dummies before she followed him through the door and out into the corridor. Smoke rose from one of the dummies, suggesting she’d overheated the spellwork that animated them. Sergeant Miles closed and locked the door behind them, slamming a complex ward Emily didn’t recognize into place, then led the way down to his office. Emily had only visited it once, two years ago; it hadn’t changed much from the very basic room she remembered. The only big change was a large map of the Allied Lands, hanging from one wall. Someone had sketched a set of notes regarding orc sightings near the Desert of Death.

  Sergeant Miles closed the door, then turned to the sideboard. “Kava?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Emily said. She took a seat and crossed her legs, feeling oddly isolated and alone. Caleb and she... were they still together? She wanted him to kiss her again. Or had they just separated for good? “I’m sorry.”

  Sergeant Miles passed her a mug of Kava and she sipped it gratefully, wrinkling her nose slightly at the taste. He drank his Kava black, without any milk, cream or sugar. He’d even told his students to get used to it, if they genuinely wanted to be combat sorcerers. Emily hadn’t liked the taste, but she’d forced herself to endure it on camping trips. There had been no milk out in the field.

  “So,” Sergeant Miles said. “What happened?”

  Emily hesitated, then outlined the fight. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t understand,” she finished. “He... I thought he did understand.”

  “There’s something of a difference between knowing something intellectually and believing it,” Sergeant Miles observed. “Caleb probably assumed you would have plenty of time for him, even though he should have known better.”

  “He must have known better,” Emily protested. “Really...”

  “I doubt he did,” Sergeant Miles said.

  “And he tried to make love to me,” Emily added, after a moment. She cringed at the thought of discussing the problem with a man, even someone she liked and trusted, but she doubted she had a choice. “I... I wasn’t ready.”

  “That would explain a bit,” Sergeant Miles noted. He didn’t seem judgemental. If anything, he seemed oddly amused. “Frustration can be a powerful
force.”

  “He shouldn’t be frustrated,” Emily said. She frowned. “Should he?”

  Sergeant Miles snorted. “Would you like the polite answer to that or the honest one?”

  “The honest one,” Emily said. Lady Barb had taught her that honesty was more important than politeness. “Please.”

  “Let me tell you how a man—a young man—thinks,” Sergeant Miles said. “When he has a relationship with a woman, he feels possessive... but at the same time, he feels insecure, unsure of himself. That woman might turn her attentions to someone else at any moment.”

  “I’m not going to find someone else,” Emily insisted.

  Sergeant Miles held up a hand. “Let me finish,” he said. “The young man finds reassurance in physical expressions of love. On one hand, he doesn’t want the girl to surrender to him easily, because if she does it suggests she will surrender just as quickly to another man. But on the other hand, he does want the girl to surrender to him. He wants—he needs—that contact to convince him that the relationship is solid.”

  He sighed. “Matters are not helped by the fact that young men brag—they lie—about sex,” he added. “Very few men will openly admit to being virgins. A young man will grow up hearing about all the escapades his fellows have, while knowing he has none of his own.”

  Emily frowned. She wanted to believe the sergeant was wrong, but she’d overheard far too many conversations on Earth that supported his words. “Surely he’d know they were lying.”

  “He doesn’t want to believe they’re lying,” Sergeant Miles said. “If they’re telling the truth, there’s a chance he might have the same experiences. And so he chooses to believe them.”

  “That makes no sense,” Emily objected.

  “You’re applying logic and reason to something that isn’t governed by logic and reason,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “Deep inside, there’s a bit of Caleb that feels insecure because you’re not making love to him. And that little nugget of doubt is threatening to grow larger and rip your relationship apart. He knows, intellectually, that you have problems; emotionally, he doesn’t really believe it.”