Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Emily swallowed, torn between an odd amusement and outrage. Caleb shared a room with Cirroc, who had had at least three different girlfriends in the last two months. It couldn’t be easy for Caleb to deal with the fact that his roommate was moving from girl to girl, while his relationship seemed to have stalled. But at the same time, she was damned if she was sleeping with him just to preserve the relationship. She wasn’t even sure if she could undress in front of him. The idea of letting him touch her was hard to grasp...

  “I feel like... I don’t know how I feel,” she said, finally. She’d wanted to say she felt like a fool, but she wasn’t sure if that was true. “What do I do?”

  Sergeant Miles shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

  Emily stared down at her hands, feeling miserable. She liked Caleb; hell, part of her was prepared to admit that she loved him. The thought of just pushing him away from her was unbearable. And yet, the notion of making love to him was hard to grasp—and the notion of having to make love to him unthinkable. A shudder ran through her body at the thought of letting him touch her, even though she was sure he wouldn’t try to hurt her...

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “Then sorting that out would be a good first step,” Sergeant Miles said. “Barb would tell you the same.”

  Emily looked up at him. “How did you and Lady Barb get together?”

  Sergeant Miles shrugged. “We’re both a little older than you and considerably more mature,” he said. “We both knew what we wanted when we started the relationship.”

  Emily wanted to ask for details, but she didn’t quite dare. Lady Barb would have torn a strip off her for asking, pointing out that it was none of Emily’s business. She’d never seen Sergeant Miles lose his temper, yet he had ample grounds to give her detention for the rest of her natural life for what she’d done to the spellchamber. There was no point in giving him a reason to demand her punishment.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

  “Give him some time,” Sergeant Miles said. “A young man like that... the problem built up gradually, over time. Let him have the rest of the day to cool down and start thinking with his big head, instead of his little one. Then you can have a proper talk with him.”

  “Thanks,” Emily said. “But what if...?”

  Sergeant Miles reached out and clasped her shoulder, very briefly. “Relationships are hard work, if you want them to last,” he said. “And they rely on both parties doing their utmost for the other. If what you and Caleb have is strong, you will overcome this hitch and carry on; if it isn’t, you’ll have found that out before you actually married him.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What are you going to do on your wedding night?”

  Emily blushed, furiously. It wasn’t a question she wanted to answer.

  “You have to think about it,” Sergeant Miles warned. “He’s not going to want to wait.”

  “You make it sound as though men are animals,” Emily objected.

  “We’re all animals when it comes to sex,” Sergeant Miles said. “Our reactions are governed by our biology. It’s as simple as that.”

  He rose and strode over to the desk. “What do you make of these?”

  Emily scowled, inwardly, as she followed him. A handful of charmed items lay on the desk; five necklaces, several sheets of parchment and a single dagger. She reached out and touched the nearest necklace, blinking in surprise as she realized it carried a powerful tracking hex, one that would last for several weeks without replenishment.

  “The Grandmaster insisted that Professor Locke take a few more safety precautions in the future,” Sergeant Miles informed her. “He was furious at what happened to you.”

  “I thought he wanted to get rid of me,” Emily said, before she could stop herself. Her bottom still ached. “He certainly wasn’t happy...”

  “You were very rude to him,” Sergeant Miles pointed out, mildly. “But I don’t think he wants you dead.”

  He held up one of the necklaces. “There was a big argument yesterday over the whole affair,” he added. “Professor Locke wanted to continue exploring alone, but the Grandmaster overruled him. A number of other tutors and their students will be joining in the exploration.”

  “That’s good,” Emily said. “But wouldn’t it be better to simply seal up the tunnels and pretend nothing ever happened?”

  “We are dependent on the nexus point,” Sergeant Miles pointed out. “But we don’t understand its innermost workings, let alone how Lord Whitehall managed to take control of the power. Replacing the Warden was hard enough, Emily. I dare say that a single problem with the spellware would eventually lead to disaster.”

  Emily swallowed. If the combined spells Caleb and she had created decayed slowly—and it seemed as though they did—she dreaded to imagine what would happen if something went badly wrong to the governing spellware in the nexus point. Whitehall might explode outwards as the pocket dimensions expanded... or the entire system might simply collapse in on itself, just like the dimension she’d used to trap and kill Shadye. She glanced at the walls, despite herself. Were they as solid as she believed?

  “So we try to understand how the system works without breaking anything,” she said. “If we have more explorers... surely, there’d be a risk of something being broken.”

  “Yes, there would be,” Sergeant Miles agreed, shortly. “Professor Locke made the same argument. But the Grandmaster feels that we should have more people involved in exploring the underground tunnels.”

  He tapped one of the sheets of parchment. “I was hoping to sketch a map, using the magic traces as a guide,” he added. “But neither I nor Professor Lombardi can draw the details from the spellware governing the tunnel network. It’s deliberately designed to make it hard to trace.”

  “Ouch,” Emily said.

  “Quite,” Sergeant Miles agreed.

  He turned to face her, his expression suddenly stern. “Now, about the spellchamber...”

  Emily swallowed, bracing herself for the worst. Repairing a spellchamber was a hideously complex task at the best of times. It would probably be better to take the spellchamber apart and replace it completely. If nothing else, it would cost Sergeant Miles and Professor Lombardi—and several other charms tutors—a great deal of time, effort and money. And there was no way she could do it for them.

  “You really don’t have time for detentions,” Sergeant Miles said, after a moment. “And you’re already sore.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll arrange something unpleasant after your first set of exams,” he added, darkly. “Probably using you as a teaching assistant in martial magic. It will teach you a number of useful skills as well as a lesson or two.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Emily said.

  “Don’t thank me,” Sergeant Miles said. “I have every intention of working you to death when you have a free moment. Playing at being a hostage is not fun.”

  He smiled, then nodded toward the door. Emily turned and hurried out, feeling oddly disconcerted as she walked slowly up the stairs. Part of her wanted to go find Caleb, even though it might lead to another fight; the rest of her just wanted to follow the sergeant’s advice and give him time. But how long should she wait before she spoke to him? She had no idea.

  “Emily,” a voice called.

  Emily scowled, inwardly, as she saw Tiega sitting on the stairs, looking unhappy. “Tiega,” she said, finally. It was hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. “What’s happened?”

  “Another note,” Tiega said, grimly. “It was on my bedside cabinet.”

  “Show me,” Emily ordered.

  She followed Tiega into the dorms, thinking hard. She’d checked both Adana and Julia, neither of whom had planted any of the notes... she didn’t know how the writer had managed to hide even one note in Tiega’s room, let alone two. It was easier to imagine how one might have been hidden in the classrooms, despite the risk of being caught. The bedroom was empty when they entered, m
uch to Emily’s relief. Tiega picked up the note and passed it to her, her face crumpling. Emily felt a stab of bitter sympathy, even though she knew Tiega had been scrubbing caldrons for the last week after throwing an herb into Lillian’s alchemical project, causing a giant explosion. No one deserved to be tormented by a coward who could only write rude notes.

  “It was here when I returned from detention,” Tiega said. Her hands were red and raw, even though she would probably have worn gloves. Professor Thande didn’t give many detentions, but the ones he did give were savage. “No one else was in the room.”

  Emily scowled as she checked the note. Again, it was written in blocky letters, without either a magical signature or fingerprints. And it had somehow wafted through the wards protecting the bedroom. Only Adana or Julia could have entered the room... yet she’d checked them both. Unless they’d decided to start writing notes after the first one had been written... it was possible, she supposed. She’d have to check with them again.

  “Damn it,” she said. “How are they doing it?”

  “I don’t know,” Tiega said. “But I...”

  Emily cast—very carefully—a truth spell. “Are you writing the notes yourself?”

  “No,” Tiega said. “I... I don’t know who’s writing them!”

  “And all the suspects have already been checked,” Emily muttered. She thought fast, considering different options. Rounding up all the first year students and interrogating them one by one was impossible. The tutors would flatly refuse her permission to try, if she asked, and she’d get in hellish trouble if she did it on her own. “Can you leave the room for a few minutes? There are some detection spells I want to try.”

  Tiega nodded and headed for the door. Emily watched her go, then cast the most powerful detection spell she could, hoping to sense a magical signature that was out of place. But there was nothing, save for the ever-present wards thrumming gently in the background. Emily wasn’t too surprised. It was unlikely, really, that any of the students in the bedroom had enough of a presence to leave a signature floating around for hours.

  Shaking her head, she cast a tripwire spell over the bed and keyed it to herself. If anyone, apart from Tiega, went close enough to the bed—and the cabinet—to leave a note, the tripwire would sound the alarm. It wouldn’t trap the perpetrator, unfortunately, but it would leave a very tiny trace on their magical field. She’d be able to identify the writer with a quick sweep through the dorms.

  The door opened. Tiega stepped back into the room. Emily took a moment to check the spell was working as advertised, then turned to face the younger girl. She didn’t look to be coping well, she saw. Tiega could have hexed—or thumped—anyone who confronted her face-to-face, but fighting a shadow depressed her. Emily found it hard to blame her.

  “Nothing,” she said. Tiega shouldn’t be able to sense the tripwire—and Emily wasn’t about to tell her it was there. The fewer people who knew, the greater the chance of catching the writer in the act. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to tell my parents,” Tiega said. “What if I fail my exams?”

  “You have enough time to catch up,” Emily said, as reassuringly as she could. “It’s only the first set of exams.”

  “My parents will kill me if I don’t do well,” Tiega said. She sounded bitter. “Jasmine is already ahead of me and Julia is catching up.”

  “You only have a year or two of practical magic ahead of her,” Emily pointed out. “And you do have more raw power.”

  “Power without control is nothing,” Tiega said. “My parents already hate me.”

  “No, they don’t,” Emily said. She wasn’t really sure it was true, but it had to be said. “I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

  “I’m not,” Tiega said. “They didn’t really want to keep me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  EMILY HAD HOPED, DEEP IN HER heart, that everything would return to normal the following morning, that Caleb would join her for breakfast and all would be well with the world. But as she made her way through the day, it became clear that nothing had returned to normal overnight. Caleb ate his breakfast with Cirroc, not even looking at her as she entered the dining hall, then sat next to Sven in their shared classes. Emily was aware, all too aware, of other students glancing between her and Caleb, clearly wondering just what had happened between them. By the time classes finally came to an end, she was nursing a growing headache and a sense of bitter resentment, combined with grief and anger.

  “You’re quite distracted,” Professor Armstrong said, catching her before she could make her escape. “You may have to replace your hearthstone.”

  Emily scowled. The spells she’d attempted to infuse into the hearthstone had damaged it, even though she’d tried hard to keep the power under control. Thankfully, it hadn’t cracked, but she’d need to sand the rock down if she didn’t replace it completely. A damaged stone would weaken her spells, leaving a chink in her defenses a skilled opponent could exploit...

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “I would also advise dealing with your personal problems,” Professor Armstrong added, sharply. “Anger and hate lead to the dark arts.”

  The dark side, Emily thought. There was some truth in it, too. Spellwork cast with emotion, tainted with emotion, could be very dangerous. I need to talk to Caleb.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said.

  She walked back up to the dorm, wondering if she should change out of her school robes before dismissing the idea. Caleb needed to know she’d come straight to him... or was that a mistake? She’d used the chat parchment extensively the previous night, discussing the problem with Alassa and Imaiqah, but neither of them had been able to offer her any good advice. Maybe it would be better to make him wait, yet she needed to know—now—if they still had a relationship. She could come to terms with losing him, if necessary, but hanging in the open, unsure where she stood, was wearing her down.

  And I’m tired, she thought, as she stopped outside his door. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

  She knocked, loudly. The door swung open a moment later, revealing Caleb sitting at his desk and Cirroc lying on his bed, gazing up at nothing. Caleb turned slowly, his eyes going wide as he saw her. He hadn’t expected her, Emily realized. He’d probably assumed she would expect him to chase her, not the other way around. And maybe that was what she should have done.

  “We need to talk,” she said. Alassa—Jade, she suspected—had advised her to be blunt, rather than coy. “Cirroc, can you give us an hour or two to chat?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cirroc said, sitting up. “Should I leave the two of you alone?”

  “Yes,” Emily snapped. Magic boiled around her for a long second, no longer hidden within her wards. Cirroc started backwards, stunned. Just for a second, Emily reflected, all the stories about her had to seem very real indeed. “Leave us alone.”

  Cirroc hesitated, then stepped past her with icy dignity and walked through the door, closing it behind him. Emily felt a flicker of shame and guilt—she’d intimidated him, as casually as King Randor had tried to intimidate her—and then forced it down. Caleb still sat at his desk, his face an expressionless mask. Had she been wrong about him? Or was he terrified of showing any weakness in front of her? Or...

  “He’ll complain to the housemother,” Caleb observed, finally. “Kicking someone out of his own bedroom.”

  Emily snorted. She doubted Cirroc would do any such thing. No matter her reputation, she was still a student, a younger student. Cirroc would be too prideful to admit that she’d intimidated him. And even if he wasn’t, she found it hard to care. Madame Rosalinda could bawl her out afterwards, if she wished. Talking to Caleb privately was more important.

  But now they were together, she found it hard to speak.

  “We need to talk,” she admitted.

  “Yes,” Caleb agreed. “We do.”

  He wasn’t going to make it easy for her, Emily noted. And
part of her didn’t really blame him, even though the rest of her was angry with him. It was hard, so hard, for her to push herself forward. There was a part of her that would be happy to come to a halt, to just stay where she was...

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, then cast a series of privacy wards, one after the other. The first set were standard, the type any student learnt in her first year if she wanted to keep any secrets; the remainder, a great deal stronger, had been hammered into her head by Lady Barb and, later, Void. If Gordian was using the school’s wards to keep an eye on her, he wasn’t going to find it very productive.

  And if he isn’t, she thought, he isn’t going to know that I’ve cast more than one ward.

  Caleb’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know that one,” he said, as the last ward fell into place. “Where did you learn it?”

  “Lady Barb told me there’d be no dinner until I mastered it,” Emily said. “I can teach you, if you like.”

  She finished casting the wards and sat down on his bed, feeling the magic settling uncomfortably around her. It felt as if she were wrapped in invisible cotton wool, pressing in against her body. Caleb looked as comfortable as she felt.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said. Perhaps she should have told him earlier, even though she’d been worried about his reaction. “And... I need your word it won’t go any further.”

  Caleb studied her for a long moment. She wondered if he was going to accuse her, again, of not trusting him, but instead he merely nodded. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief, then swallowed hard. In truth, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

  “I... I didn’t come from here,” she said.

  Caleb blinked. “From Whitehall? Or the Allied Lands?”

  Stupid, Emily told herself. How many magicians know that alternate dimensions even exist?

  She looked down at her hands for a long moment. Void hadn’t shown any reaction to her arrival, but Lady Barb and Alassa had been astonished. King Randor, when he’d pulled the secret from his daughter’s unwilling lips, had had real problems comprehending what he was being told. The former Grandmaster had been keen to keep the number of people who knew the truth as low as possible, pointing out the dangers of fiddling with interdimensional barriers. If Emily alone had turned the world upside down, who knew what someone with genuine training and experience could do?