Hell of a coincidence, him pushing the reset key, she thought. Or was it keyed to only accept input from a handful of people, people who died hundreds of years ago?
Nearly two hours of increasing boredom—there was nothing to read in the classroom—passed before the door burst open, revealing Gordian, Professor Locke and Sergeant Miles. Gordian looked angry and Professor Locke looked murderous, while Sergeant Miles looked grim. Professor Locke stamped towards her, magic crackling over his hands. He was so angry that Emily found herself checking and rechecking her protections as he loomed over her.
“Emily,” Professor Locke snarled. “Where are the books?”
Emily stared at him, shocked. “The books?”
Professor Locke leaned forward, his face twisting with anger. “The books,” he thundered, reaching for her. “The books we found and left down there. The books that are now gone, with your magical signature scattered all over the room...”
He drew back his hand, as if to slap her. Sergeant Miles caught his wrist before he could let fly. “Enough,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Calm down. Now.”
Emily swallowed hard, concentrating on calming herself. But it made no sense. The books were gone? How? She knew she hadn’t taken them, but no one else should have been able to duplicate her magical signature. Maybe it was a mistake... except Professor Lombardi and Sergeant Miles would both be quite familiar with her signature. They’d have no difficulty isolating her magic from the other traces in the room.
“Get up,” Professor Locke ordered. Emily had never seen him so angry, not in all four years she’d known him. “I’ll thrash the truth out of you...”
“No, you won’t,” Sergeant Miles said. “Sit down and calm yourself, now.”
Cabiria cleared her throat. “Grandmaster,” she said. “What’s happened?”
“The books are gone,” Professor Locke snapped, before Gordian could say a word. “And her signature is all over the room.”
“Emily was with us ever since we entered the underground network,” Cabiria pointed out, calmly. “She was with you until you went back underground, then she was with Master Tor and me. Precisely when is she supposed to have stolen the books? Even a skilled Wardcrafter would need hours, perhaps, to crack those protections and take the books. There is no way that she had enough time to do it without being noticed.”
“Shut up,” Professor Locke snapped. “Emily, get up and...”
“Enough,” Sergeant Miles said, with surprising force. “Cabiria is correct. Emily did not have the means or the opportunity to take the books.”
“She certainly has the motive,” Professor Locke insisted.
“I must confess that Emily does have a habit of acting before thinking,” Master Tor injected, smoothly. Emily cast him a doubtful look. “But I dare say that even she could not be in two places at once.”
“She could have cast a bilocation spell,” Professor Locke said. “If she split herself into two entities...”
Sergeant Miles snorted. “There are very few magicians who can successfully manage a bilocation spell,” he said, rudely. “And Emily does not have the skill to cast it, let alone hold it in place for more than a few seconds.”
“She has the raw power,” Professor Locke said.
“But not the discipline,” Master Tor said.
Emily stared from one to the other, confused and deeply worried. Just what had happened? And why?
“It’s impossible to duplicate a magical signature,” Professor Locke said. He sounded calmer now, but with an undertone of bitter frustration in his voice. Emily would have felt sorry for him, if he hadn’t been threatening to torture her. Losing the books before he’d even had a chance to read them had to sting. “And that chamber is drenched in her magical signature. How do you explain its presence?”
“The ancients were supposed to have arts that are now long forgotten,” Cabiria mused, out loud. “For all we know, one of the wards surrounding the control room copied her signature and used it as a distraction while it hid the books.”
“Impossible,” Master Tor snapped.
“One would hope so,” Sergeant Miles agreed. “A ward capable of sensing and duplicating a magical signature would be a grave security risk.”
Emily nodded in agreement. Most personal wards used blood for identification, but protective wards over schools like Whitehall relied on magical signatures. The spells that guarded her bedroom tested her signature before they allowed her to enter... she wondered, suddenly, if one of the older families did have a way of fooling such a ward. Was that how the letter-writer had managed to get into Tiega’s bedroom? Somehow, she doubted it. There was no way someone like Fulvia would have taught such a trick to a mere schoolgirl, knowing that the trick might be exposed at any moment...
“Use a truth spell,” Professor Locke said.
“She is immune to truth spells,” Master Tor commented. “Her father saw to that. Indeed, even the darker compulsion spells would have little effect on her.”
Emily frowned, then remembered that Master Tor—and Grandmaster Hasdrubal—had tried to interrogate her after the Mimic had begun its rampage. Void’s spell might have protected her mind, but it hadn’t made her life any easier. Rendering oneself immune to truth spells raised a simple question—what was one trying to hide? But Void had been right. There were hundreds of people who wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap and interrogate her if they thought they could get away with it.
Gordian cleared his throat. “It occurs to me that there is a simple way of settling this dispute,” he said, calmly. “Emily. Did you take the books from the underground library?”
“No, sir,” Emily said.
“Are you prepared to swear an oath to that effect?”
Emily heard Cabiria gasp in shock. Sergeant Miles, standing next to Professor Locke, looked outraged. Asking for an oath was a blatant insult, a refusal to accept that her word was good.
“Grandmaster,” Sergeant Miles said. “Demanding an oath from a student is not done.”
“These are extraordinary circumstances,” Gordian pointed out. He sounded oddly amused by his words. “We cannot account for her magical signature being there, even though she didn’t have the time to steal anything from the library. Therefore, we need to rule out any possibility that she stole the books, either through bilocation or some other spell.”
His gaze fixed on Emily. “Are you willing to swear such an oath?”
“Grandmaster,” Master Tor said. “I...”
Emily took a breath. “I am,” she said. There was no point in trying to avoid it. Besides, she knew she was innocent. She held up her hand, shaping the spell in her mind. Magic spun around her, binding her words. “I swear by my name, I swear by my blood, I swear by my power that I did not steal any books from the underground library.”
“Well,” Sergeant Miles said. He gave Professor Locke a nasty look. “You nearly beat an innocent girl to death.”
“This is serious,” Professor Locke snapped. “Without those books...”
“Without those books, we will have to crack the secrets ourselves before we run out of food or air,” Gordian said. He sounded tired. “Professor Lombardi has already started studying the spellwork. I have no doubt that he will solve the riddle before too long.”
“The secrets of the ancients are not so easily unravelled,” Professor Locke insisted. “I must demand...”
“You demand?” Gordian snapped. He rounded on the older man, his eyes flashing fire. “I am the Grandmaster. Who are you to demand anything of me?”
“This is my project,” Professor Locke snapped back. “The rules...”
“But my school,” Gordian said. He made a visible effort to calm himself. “Agreeing to let you run wild underground was a mistake on my part, for which I bear full responsibility. If—when—we regain contact with the outside world, I will pay for that. Until then, you are not to re-enter the tunnels. Go back to your office and see if you can pull anything useful from your
papers.”
Professor Locke wilted. Emily felt a stab of sympathy, despite herself. Locke had been desperate to unlock the ancient secrets before he died, yet when he’d finally had his chance he’d blown it. Losing the books was bad enough, but collapsing the links between Whitehall and the outside world was disastrous. He might die in the next few days, if the dimension collapsed... and if they did manage to escape, he would go down in history as the man who’d destroyed Whitehall. Even Shadye had never managed to bring the school to the very brink of complete disaster.
“Yes, Grandmaster,” he said, finally.
Gordian watched him balefully until he left the room, then looked at Sergeant Miles. “We will gather the students in the Great Hall,” he said, curtly. “We need to do a proper headcount, if nothing else. All classes are cancelled for at least the next two days. I’m sure they’ll be very upset to hear it.”
Sergeant Miles nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Escort Emily and Cabiria to the Great Hall,” Gordian added. His eyes fixed on Emily for a long, cold moment. She couldn’t help wondering if he blamed her for the looming disaster, even though it hadn’t been her who’d touched the console. “Keep a sharp eye on them. I don’t want either of them out of your sight for a moment.”
“As you command,” Sergeant Miles said. He nodded to Emily, then Cabiria. “Come on, please.”
Emily rose and followed him out of the room, feeling Gordian’s eyes burning into her back as she left. There had been no apology for forcing her to swear the oath, no apology for how she’d been treated... it made her wonder just what would have happened if Sergeant Miles hadn’t been there. She’d be damned if she’d let Professor Locke try to beat a confession out of her, no matter how angry he was. It would be thoroughly pointless...
But I shouldn’t expect to be treated any better, she thought, grimly. If we can’t fix the damage, the school is doomed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE GREAT HALL WAS ALMOST DESERTED when Sergeant Miles led Emily and Cabiria into the chamber, save for a pair of fourth-year boys who were roughhousing on the floor. The sergeant motioned the girls to a pair of seats, then hurried over to separate the two boys before they could do any real damage to themselves or the hall. Emily sagged into the seat, suddenly feeling exhausted. Too much had happened in too short a space of time for her to feel anything but weary.
“The Grandmaster really doesn’t like you,” Cabiria said. “And to think I thought I got it bad.”
“You just broke into the library,” Emily pointed out. “He sees me as a walking disaster area.”
She forced herself to sit upright and think as students began to filter into the Great Hall, talking to one another in low voices. Normally, the staff could call an emergency assembly through the wards at any time, but now the wards were non-responsive. It would take hours, perhaps longer, to gather all the students in one place and do a headcount. And even if they did, she couldn’t help doubting its worth. The interior could shift again and again, quickly rendering the headcount worthless.
“Emily,” Caleb called. He looked relieved to see her. “Are you all right?”
“Just tired,” Emily said, as he sat down next to her. “You?”
“I was in the workroom,” Caleb said. “And then I walked out the door into the sixth-year common room. They were not pleased to see me.”
“I bet they weren’t,” Emily said. She snuggled up to him, sighing in relief as he wrapped an arm around her. “How badly did you get hexed?”
“They were too busy being shocked that I walked out of their toilets,” Caleb said. He smirked. “I have no idea where their toilets have gone.”
Emily snickered. She couldn’t help herself, even though she knew it was serious. Her bedroom could be anywhere, from the lower levels to the battlements; hell, she might never find it. And even if she did find it before bedtime, who knew what all the shifting had done to the security wards? She might not even recognize her room when she found it.
“Everything has changed,” she said, as more and more students filed into the room. Sergeant Miles marched from row to row, sorting the students out by year and glaring particularly annoying chatterboxes into silence. The Great Hall was normally as large as it needed to be, but now it felt cramped. It took Emily a moment to realize that the walls were no longer expanding to accommodate the crowds. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
Silence fell, sharply, as Gordian marched up to the podium and turned to face the gathered students, his staff carrying out a quick headcount. Emily glanced from side to side, silently counting the fifth year students. Everyone seemed to be present, save for Pandora. It struck her, suddenly, that some students might well have been in Dragon’s Den when the pocket dimensions were separated from the castle doors. They’d be unable to re-enter the school... what the hell would they do?
At least Mistress Danielle will hear rumors, she thought. She’ll know what happened to me.
“There has been an... incident,” Gordian said, without preamble. “The school’s interior has been rearranged, again, and we have been cut off from the outside world. We hope to fix this problem as quickly as possible, but for the moment all classes have been cancelled”—a low hum of approval ran through the hall—“and first to fourth year students will remain on this level until we have a better idea of the scale of the crisis. Fifth and sixth year students will assist the staff in handling the situation.”
Caleb nudged Emily. “What does he want us to do?”
Emily shrugged. Some of the older students might be able to assist with the charms work, although she rather doubted they’d have the chance. Gordian would prefer to leave matters in Professor Lombardi’s hands. Perhaps he’d want the older students to keep the younger ones under control. Four hundred students, from sixteen to twenty, trapped in the hall... it was going to be chaotic, even if the hexes didn’t start flying. She looked for her charges, sitting near the front of the hall and sighed, inwardly. Their backs were facing her, so she couldn’t see their faces, but their postures showed they were clearly worried. Did they understand just how bad matters had become?
And once lines start developing to go to the toilet, she thought, all hell will break loose.
“All fifth and sixth year students are to proceed to the dining hall,” Gordian added. “The remaining students are to remain here.”
“Come on,” Caleb said.
He held her hand as they walked through the door, down a corridor that was suddenly four times as long as she remembered, and into the dining hall. It was a mess; hundreds of plates and glasses lay broken on the floor, where they’d been thrown when the entire building shook. The staff clearly hadn’t had time to begin tidying up the mess... hell, she wasn’t even sure what had happened to the kitchens. She peered towards the hatches where food was served and saw nothing but bare walls. The kitchen had been relocated somewhere else.
Crap, she thought. There were some sandwiches and a bottle of water in her knapsack—she’d kept hold of it, despite everything—but it wouldn’t last very long, even if she refused to share with anyone. What do we do if we can’t cook food?
“If I could have your attention,” Master Tor said. He stood on one of the tables, using magic to amplify his voice. “The situation is dire.”
He paused as silence fell over the room. “It has been suggested that the doors to the outside world may have been relocated,” he continued, after a long moment. “You students will search the castle for the remainder of the day or until they are found.”
Emily frowned, inwardly, as he detailed how he wanted them to chart the castle’s new dimensions and the precautions he expected them to take. He’d definitely put more thought into the whole affair than Professor Locke, but she had the feeling that trying to chart the castle was a waste of time. The corridors could shift at any moment, rendering the charts worse than useless. But at least it would keep the students occupied. They were far from stupid. It wouldn’t b
e too long before the hopelessness of their situation dawned on them.
And if they knew what I did to Shadye, Emily thought, as she collected her supplies from Master Tor, they’d be even more terrified.
“Good luck,” Master Tor said. He didn’t seem inclined to credit her for the idea of searching for the doors, which she appreciated. She didn’t want to be blamed for the whole crisis—again. “Check in regularly, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, briskly. He’d insisted on accompanying Emily, leaving Cabiria to join Cirroc. “We’ll be very careful.”
“They thought I stole the books,” Emily said, as soon as they were heading up to what had once been the fourth floor. She ran through the whole story from start to finish. “They even made me swear an oath...”
Caleb caught her arm. “They made you swear an oath?”
Emily nodded, sullenly. “Yeah.”
“He must be out of his mind,” Caleb said. “Your father... you’re...”
He hesitated. “Asking someone to swear an oath is terrifyingly rude!”
“I know,” Emily said. She shook her head. “I still don’t know how my magical signature turned up down there.”
“Maybe they made a mistake,” Caleb said, doubtfully.
Emily shrugged as they reached the top of the stairwell and walked slowly into the darkened corridor. Normally, the charms classroom would be in front of them, as soon as they left the stairwell, but this time they found themselves peering into an alchemy lab. The faint, but unpleasant, smell emanating from the cupboard in the far corner suggested that a number of containers had shattered or otherwise leaked when everything shifted position. They should have been unbreakable, she knew, yet no one had ever anticipated an earthquake. She’d have to warn Professor Thande to dispose of the chemicals before it was too late.
“I don’t think they would,” she said, glumly. “Professor Lombardi was teaching me how to work magic from day one. Sergeant Miles had me for three years of martial magic. I think they’d know me by now.”
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