Infinite Regress

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Emily swallowed as Caleb answered. “There would have been an explosion,” he said. “Or a poisoned brew.”

  “Quite,” Professor Thande agreed. “There are easier ways to poison yourself, if you wish to try.”

  Emily sighed, inwardly, as Professor Thande started to hand out more ingredients for them to dissect and prepare for use. He strode up and down the classroom, after telling them precisely how to cut open the roots, pointing out mistakes with a grim coldness that surprised her. But a glance at the textbook told her that a single mistake with these roots would ruin the entire brew... and that the roots were very expensive. Professor Thande had been forced to watch as several thousand gold coins worth of supplies rotted away in front of him.

  Just having us do the work is going to cost him, she thought. Normally, he’d do it himself.

  She felt unclean, her hands and robes covered in dirt, as the class finally came to an end and they made their escape. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be scrubbing caldrons for the next hour, unlike too many others. Emily wasn’t sure if she’d erred too much on the side of caution or not, but at least it had spared them an unpleasant detention. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure if there was enough water to clean their hands before they went to the next class.

  “It could have been worse,” Caleb said.

  Emily glanced at him. “How?”

  “When I was eight or nine, Croce was seven and Karan was six,” Caleb said. “Marian was four and having a particularly bad time of it, for some reason. Mother took us harvesting, as always, but she didn’t have the energy to supervise us as closely as she would have done normally. Croce and Karan were sent out to pick mushrooms rather than look for anything she could use for magic—the people there use mushrooms for just about everything.”

  He sighed. “They picked a whole bunch of them, then decided—because they were children—that uncooked mushrooms were safe to eat,” he added. “Both of them got very sick before mother managed to force some purgatives down their throats, which didn’t make them feel any better for a long time afterwards. I always think of that when I harvest, just to remind myself to be careful.”

  Emily shuddered. Sergeant Miles had taught her class a great deal about testing unfamiliar plants to see what was safe to eat, but it required a considerable amount of mental discipline to keep from eating as much as possible. If she was starving, she doubted she’d have the patience to wait to see if there were any ill-effects before she started to stuff herself in earnest. Thankfully, she’d never had to try.

  “They must have had a very bad time,” she said, sympathetically.

  “They did,” Caleb confirmed. “Mother grounded them for the rest of the trip; she wouldn’t let them leave the house unless she escorted them. They threw a big fit as soon as they got home, whining to father about how mother was so mean to them. Father was not amused.”

  “He wouldn’t have been,” Emily agreed. Poisonous mushrooms could be lethal. Better to be grounded than poisoned. “What did Casper say?”

  “Complained that it had ruined his life,” Caleb said. “He was... friendly... with a girl in the nearest village, you see.”

  “Oh,” Emily said.

  She shook her head as she walked into the dining hall. The tables had been lined up; grim-faced staff stood behind the hatches, handing out barely enough food to keep a young magician alive for a few more hours. She wrinkled her nose as she took a serving of stew and mashed potatoes, then told herself not to be silly. There had been a time, only a scant few years ago, when she would have been glad to get it.

  “I’ve got ritual magic after lunch,” she said, as they sat down. “You?”

  “Free period,” Caleb said. “I thought I’d take another look at the spellware.”

  “Good luck,” Emily said. She smiled, tiredly, as she started to eat. The stew tasted thick, almost oily. “See if you can get a copy of the diagram. I want to take another look at it.”

  “I’ll try,” Caleb said. “But I don’t think Professor Lombardi will let it out of his sight.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “EMILY,” ALOHA SAID, AS EMILY ENTERED the ritual magic classroom. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “No,” Emily said, flatly. She’d finished the plate of stew, but there had been no hope of seconds—or, for that matter, of almost anything else to eat. “Did you?”

  “We have to stretch out our supplies,” Aloha reminded her. She paused. “Do you know who’s teaching this class?”

  Emily frowned. Professor Lombardi was down in the control room, unless he’d been dragged back up and told to take his class. Indeed, she was surprised that the classes were being held at all. Professor Lombardi was busy, along with the remainder of the charms tutors. Who would take the class?

  “I don’t know,” she said, finally. Ritual magic was important—but only if they managed to get out of the lobster pot. If they remained trapped—and starved to death—it wouldn’t matter if she took the class or not. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  She sat down and leaned against one of the cushions, feeling her stomach growling unpleasantly. She’d been told, like all other magicians, that she had to eat whenever she felt hungry, if only to recharge her magic. It was very—very—rare to see an overweight magician. But now, with so little food to go around, it wouldn’t be long before the students found their magic strongly limited. Gordian might be trying to keep things normal for now, but it wouldn’t be possible for long. The only upside was that it might make it harder for the younger students to start hexing one another.

  The door opened. Gordian strode into the room.

  Emily hastily got to her feet, along with the other students, as the door closed behind the Grandmaster. Gordian was teaching the class? She had no idea if he was qualified or not, although she doubted he’d be foolish enough to try and teach if he didn’t know what he was doing. It would be a good way to wind up with egg on his face in front of the entire class.

  “I’ve reviewed Professor Lombardi’s notes,” Gordian said, as he reached the front of the room and turned to face them. “He informs me that you have all mastered the art of extruding magic while working with a partner.”

  He paused. Emily frowned, inwardly. How closely had he reviewed the notes? Aloha was the only student she’d been able to share magic with, a student who was a year older and considerably more practiced than herself. And that would probably cost her later in life, if she couldn’t work with a student at the same level...

  “We will be trying something a little different here,” Gordian continued, calmly. “We will be attempting to take that magic and cast a spell.”

  He turned and walked towards the barren floor, beckoning the students to follow him. Emily couldn’t help noticing that someone had swept it clean, destroying all traces of previous runes and spellwork. Picking up a piece of chalk, Gordian started to draw a large circle with practiced ease, then surrounded it with a set of runes and tiny drawings. Emily recognized some of the runes, but not others. They all seemed to be concerned with directing power.

  “Check the runes,” he ordered, as he added a second circle inside the first. “Tell me at once if you spot any errors.”

  Emily frowned. Professor Lombardi had said the same thing—he’d been remarkably merciful to students who’d thought they’d seen a mistake, even if they’d been wrong—but she didn’t recognize some of the runes Gordian had added. Were they meant to recognize them—or admit they didn’t recognize them? Professor Lombardi would expect the latter, she knew, yet would Gordian?

  She took the plunge. “Sir,” she said, “I don’t know several of those runes.”

  “They’re part of the spell,” Gordian said. “Take out your notebooks.”

  He pointed at each rune in turn, briefly outlining its function and how it interacted with the others. Emily felt her head starting to pound, again, as she tried to unpick the runic designs while Gordian finished his work and stepped backwards,
carefully placing the chalk where he’d found it. Even something as minor as stepping on the chalk patterns would be enough to disrupt them beyond repair.

  “I want eight of you to take positions inside the outer circle, but outside the inner circle, facing the center,” Gordian ordered. “Aloha, as you have done this before, I want you to be the master magician. Take your place inside the inner circle.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster,” Aloha said.

  Emily sucked in her breath as she sat down, uneasily aware that she was sitting between Prunella and Cirroc. Neither of them had worked well with her; Caleb had even told her, in private, that Cirroc was impressed that Caleb was dating her. She’d scared him more than she’d realized, she suspected. This time, at least, she wouldn’t be working with only one of them. Perhaps it would be easier.

  “When I issue the command,” Gordian continued, “extrude magic towards Aloha. She will direct it into the spell.”

  He paused, giving them a moment to center themselves. “Now.”

  Emily gathered herself and extruded magic, allowing it to drift like smoke towards Aloha. It was hard to steer without pushing it along, yet trying to force it forward might send it haywire and spoil the ritual. The others did the same, directing their magic into the inner circle. And then Aloha worked the spell. A blaze of light flared overhead, a light globe far larger than Emily had dared to try for herself. It glowed a shade too brightly for her comfort, but at least the ritual had worked.

  She smiled as the light dimmed, then faded completely into nothingness. A faint hint of burning touched her nose. When she looked down, she saw the chalk had turned to smoldering ash. Gordian had designed it that way deliberately, she realized. If something went wrong, no matter what, the spell wouldn’t last for more than a few seconds. It was, in hindsight, a sensible precaution.

  “Very good,” Gordian said. He snapped his fingers. A gust of wind picked up the ash and deposited it on the far side of the room. “There are bottles of water in the cabinets. Take one and drink it, completely.”

  Emily was only too glad to obey. Her throat felt parched and raw, as if she hadn’t drunk anything for hours, perhaps days. She took one of the bottles, opened it and drank quickly, frowning at the slightly-unpleasant taste. The water had been filtered and recycled, probably more than once. She didn’t want to think about what it had been used for before.

  “That was very well done,” Gordian said. He sounded pleased. “Several of you extruded far too much mana towards Aloha, but she was able to compensate for the additional power. It will not be hard for you to learn how to regulate and control the flow of mana.”

  Emily frowned, inwardly, as Gordian started to draw another circle and runic diagram on the floor. Controlling the flow of mana was difficult, something she’d discovered when she’d started to produce batteries. She could cast one overpowered spell, she knew, at the cost of expending everything in the battery. Even now, she had no time to experiment with the batteries and see if some of her more interesting theories were workable. She might never have the chance to try.

  “This time, we’re going to try something more complex,” Gordian said. “How many of you have danced the Wizard’s Circle?”

  Emily felt her frown growing deeper as all of her classmates nodded. The Wizard’s Circle was a complex dance, one that depended on the dancers knowing precisely how their six partners were going to move... and being ready to compensate, within seconds, for any mistakes. A single mistake that wasn’t countered instantly could send the entire group tumbling to the floor, with their audience laughing at them. She’d never been very good at the dance routine. It left her feeling clumsy and useless.

  “Using this ritual is very much like it,” Gordian explained. “Instead of a single master magician directing the spell, like we did earlier, you’ll be working in unison to shape and direct the mana. You’ll find this a very difficult task, as you will be trying to compensate for any mistakes your partners might make...”

  “Which will set off a chain reaction that might destabilize the entire spell,” Emily said, out loud.

  “Quite right,” Gordian agreed.

  Emily flushed. She’d been so wrapped in her own thoughts she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.

  “The spell here is a very basic spell,” Gordian said. He pulled a white feather from his robes and placed it in the exact center of the circle. “All you have to do is use the runes to channel the magic and lift the feather into the air.”

  Aloha frowned. “Grandmaster...”

  “You will sit this one out,” Gordian informed her. He clapped his hands. “Everyone else, take your places.”

  Emily braced herself, nervously, as she took her place and sat down. The runes slowly gathered power, creating a faint network of wards that hovered right at the edge of her awareness. They were present, yet gossamer-thin, as if a single touch would send them crashing down into ruins. A spider’s web would have more substance...

  It isn’t the power that matters, she reminded herself. It’s what you do with it.

  “Begin,” Gordian ordered.

  Emily gathered herself and started to extrude magic, pushing it towards the runes. Beside her, Prunella and Cirroc did the same, their magic blurring into hers and sending it spinning in all directions. Emily realized, as she sensed the spell starting to fail before it had even fairly begun, that they needed to keep a grip on their magic, yet not tight enough to ruin the entire spell. She leaned forward, trying to keep the magic going, but Prunella and Cirroc pulled back. Their trepidation left her steering their combined mana...

  She pushed forward, silently willing them to help her. It was suddenly easy to sense Pandora on the other side of the circle, pushing forward like her, but the others were fading shadows. The magic started to spread out of control, blurring into a shapeless mass; desperately, she pushed forward as hard as she could. There was a brilliant flash of light and a colossal force picked her up and hurled her right across the room. She heard someone cry out in shock, just before her back slammed into the wall and she fell, crumpling to the ground. There was a final spark of magic from the remains of the circle, then silence.

  “Too much power,” Gordian said, calmly. “And too little cooperation.”

  Emily had to fight to keep from swearing at him as she struggled to her feet. Nothing felt broken, thankfully, but her back was sore. If she’d gone face-first into the wall it would have broken her nose, knocked her out, or killed her outright. She glowered at Gordian’s back as he inspected the remains of the chalk patterns, then schooled her face into passive immobility as he turned to face them. Aloha was bending over Pandora, whose leg seemed to be broken. She’d crashed right into the wall.

  “Get her to the infirmary,” Gordian ordered. “Is anyone else seriously hurt?”

  “I have a nosebleed,” Cirroc said. “Is that normal?”

  Gordian ignored him. “So tell me,” he said. “What went wrong?”

  “Too much power,” Emily said, repeating his words. She ached too much to keep her tone respectful, but luckily he didn’t seem to notice. “We weren’t cooperating.”

  “Correct,” Gordian said. “You and Pandora were the only ones who even tried to steer the magic and direct it into the runic network. It was nowhere near enough to keep the spell in being. Instead, the magic flared and you were all thrown out of the circle. Next time, you will have to work harder to cooperate.”

  “It’s not like playing a ball game,” Cirroc protested. Blood dripped from his nose, but otherwise he seemed fine. “We didn’t expect it to be like... like that.”

  “No one ever does,” Gordian admitted. “Working in rituals is nothing like casting normal spells. It’s a skill that no amount of blether will prepare you for.”

  He paused, his eyes scanning the classroom and resting, very briefly, on Emily. “I was not expecting a complete success, not on the first try,” he said. “Tomorrow, we will try again. We’ll keep trying until you can cast the
spell successfully, then start working on altering the spellware to adjust the spell midway through the ritual. I’m afraid there is nothing easy about this.”

  Emily groaned, inwardly. He was right. She wasn’t sure she could join another ritual, even if the others cooperated with her. It was nowhere near as intrusive as working with soul magic, but the prospect of either revealing something she shouldn’t or getting physically hurt was a great deal higher. And she had felt tired before she’d stepped into the classroom. Now, she just wanted to go back to her bedroom—up twelve flights of stairs—and catch some sleep.

  You’re meant to be babysitting tonight, she reminded herself, sternly. Perhaps an hour or two of sleep would help. She needed it. I could set a spell to wake me at dinnertime...

  “Emily,” Gordian said. “Pay attention.”

  He went on, bluntly. “Mastery of rituals is very important, later in life,” he continued, sternly. “Those of you who fail to do it under reasonably controlled conditions will never be able to do it in the midst of a war.”

  Emily looked up, interested. She’d heard a great deal about Battle Magic, but she hadn’t learned much about it, save for a few comments from Sergeant Miles and a number of books from Mountaintop. Aurelius had been more focused on teaching her spells she could use alone, rather than anything that required more than one person to cast. Battle Magic was the closest thing the Nameless World had had to Weapons of Mass Destruction, at least until she came along.

  “I expect you all to be able to take part in rituals at the end of this year,” Gordian concluded, sternly. “Emily, remain behind. Everyone else, dismissed.”

  “Hard luck,” Prunella muttered, as she headed for the door. “Bad idea to let him catch you not paying attention.”

  Emily swallowed the response that came to mind, then stood upright as the last of the students left the room, closing the door behind them. Gordian studied her for a long moment, his eyes taking in every last detail. Emily had to fight to stare back at him, knowing all too well that he was trying to make her uncomfortable—or nervous. And yet she knew he had every right to be annoyed. She hadn’t been paying attention in his class, after all.