The Scholomance

by R. Lee Smith

  “Then it broke down,” Mara said.

  “Oh, it was nuts! Guards started taking things way too seriously. Throwing their weight around, shoving people, shouting, cursing…acting like the fake prisoners had really been found guilty of something. The second day, there was a riot to protest their treatment, and the guards actually beat on them with fire extinguishers! The second day! And it just got worse and worse, and pretty soon prisoners are having full-scale nervous breakdowns, guards are torturing people, and the professor is just writing it all up, you know? It actually took his girlfriend being all shocked and, I don’t know, probably threatening to tell the school board or something before he suddenly decides to shut the whole thing down. I don’t think it’s exaggerating to say that someone was probably damned close to getting killed in there and do you know how long it all took?”

  “Tell me,” said Mara.

  “Six days.” Devlin shuddered, looked at his knife, and resumed hacking at his hair with even greater vigor. “In six days, twenty-four kids went from ground-zero normal to total psychos. That’s this place, Mara. We’re all these nice, normal kids after the laughing and joking wears off, and it starts to sink in that it’s okay to tie people up and strip them and make them crawl around on the floor. That no one’s going to stop you if you just, oh, bend someone’s arms and legs backwards so they look like a crab and make them scuttle around while you and your friends pitch pebbles at their bellybuttons. Nobody here started out evil, you know? We’re all normal!”

  Mara nodded distractedly, knowing as she had known all her life that normal people were never very nice, deep down. “You’re still okay.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m the guy wearing sandals made out of human skin.”

  “At least it’s your own human skin.”

  “Yeah.” But he didn’t sound very convinced. “So what’s next in your search?”

  Mara scowled, fixing her attention once more on Connie, missing Connie. “I haven’t seen her in the dining hall. I haven’t seen her here, where the students live. I haven’t found her in the lyceum, but—”

  “Not all the doors are open,” Devlin said, nodding. “You have to know some of the arts in order to take some of the lessons. You know, like, Advanced Transmutation 201.”

  “I thought once you’d mastered something—”

  “In the beginning, all you really master is the Word, but you still can’t use it. Most people still can’t use it,” he amended, glancing at her. “The other Masters teach you how to specialize. How to combine arts. That sort of thing. But you can’t do anything until you know the Words, so they keep the doors closed.”

  “Connie might still be—”

  “Sure, she might, but she’d still have to eat, wouldn’t she?”

  “Stop interrupting me, Devlin, it is pissing me off.”

  Devlin shut his mouth and tucked his head, sawing a little faster at his hair and shooting swift, nervous glances at her over his hunched shoulders.

  “Connie might still be taking lessons,” Mara said again. “And hiding from the other students.”

  “Hiding where?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? A lot of tunnels went unexplored in the Scholomance, a lot of doors only opened for demons. If she was hiding, she couldn’t be doing it without help. Assuming that she was hiding and not being held against her will (the image of Malavan’s faceless, twitching Pretty Doll rose in her mind and had to be pushed ruthlessly away), she had to have an arrangement with one of the Masters.

  Horuseps had promised to check every Master’s harem and the promise had been so painful that she had to believe him when he said she hadn’t been there.

  Maybe she’d been moved. Malavan could have easily warned whatever passed for his friends that Horuseps was making inspections. If he thought that one of his friends really had Connie, he might have even hidden her himself. But now that the search was over, she might have been moved back.

  Maybe. Could have. Might. God damn it all, where was she?

  “The advanced theaters are the same as the basic ones, right?” Mara asked. “The Masters who teach there have to live there too?”

  “I guess. Why?” And then he looked at her, half-smiling but faintly alarmed. “She’s not going to be down in one of their rooms! Students aren’t allowed!”

  “I happen to know for a fact that sometimes they are.”

  A puzzled stare was her only answer.

  “When the demons want to fuck—” Mara began patiently.

  He blushed and untied his robe’s sleeves, covering himself up in quick, self-conscious jerks. “They do it right out in the halls.”

  “You aren’t aware that sometimes they keep harems?”

  “No! Well…I don’t know. Maybe.” He was thinking about it now, so Mara tapped restlessly at his thoughts and took whatever seemed relevant for herself. He’d never seen a student go up or down the dark stair at the back of any theater, but he had seen Masters ask this or that one to stay behind after class. For how long, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if roll were called, and Devlin was very good at keeping his head down. In the end, all he could do was shrug at her. “Whatever they do here…you can’t stop it.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She felt another flare of emotion out of him, but this time, it was anger. “You know, you’re not one of them, no matter how hard you try to be!”

  She stared at him.

  “And if you’re not trying to be, then…then that’s even worse, because that’s what it looks like.” He shoved his comb and his knife into his sleeve and glared back at her, his stomach in knots. “Not just to me, to everyone!”

  “Do you honestly think I care what I look like to you?” she snapped.

  “I don’t think you care about anything,” he said, dropping his eyes. “Not even her. You just don’t want anyone else to have her. It’s all about winning.”

  She did not lose her temper. She stayed calm, she stayed cool.

  “This is pretty tough talk for a man with a bunny tattoo,” she remarked. “And I really have to wonder if you’d still be saying it if I’d come here to find you.”

  He flinched, inside and out, and kept his eyes averted. His hands drew up into fists, and then opened again. He stared at his sandals and didn’t dare to speak.

  “You’re fine,” Mara said with a short sigh. She headed for the door. “Go on up. Get some breakfast before they ring the bells on you.”

  And Devlin, of course, followed her. “Where are you going?”

  “To do that thing I mentioned before I talk myself out of it.” She glanced at him. “And I don’t want a witness.”

  “Are you going to kill someone?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  “I don’t kill people,” she said crossly, and walked faster.

  “But you could if you wanted to!” he insisted, trotting after her.

  Mara stopped on the stair and swung on him. “Want to know who I’d start with?”

  He drew up fast, trapped in her hot stare, then sidled around her and fled for the dining hall.

  “Idiot,” muttered Mara, and let him go.

  She passed several students as she made her way across the Nave and into the hive-like open cavern of the lyceum, including a few who bathed with a complete lack of self-consciousness in the fountain there. Some just wanted a place to eat their hard-won breakfast outside the noise and confusion of the dining hall. Others gathered in small groups to practice a particular art or gossip about their instructors. They all saw her, recognized her, and paid her no mind as she climbed the spiraling stair to the top. She was just another student to them, attempting an early start on some lesson or another.

  True enough, she supposed. And the lesson for today was how to balance deception with need.

  More and more, she was certain that she needed Kazuul. She wasn’t sure yet just why, but she was used to trusting her instincts. And until she figured it out, it couldn’t hurt her cause to bask in the king’s favor w
hile she continued searching his kingdom.

  But if Kazuul knew or even suspected how essential he had become to her plans, any advantage she might have over him was gone. And Kazuul was a telepath. A telepath who would be touching her in a very short time, flesh to flesh.

  None of these thoughts were any changed from those that had tumbled around her head in the past few days, and she supposed there was no point in wrestling with them again now. Nothing had changed. Whether she needed him or not, Kazuul still wanted her, which meant it was only a matter of time before he took her. If she wanted that on her terms, this was the only way. Anything else was really a secondary consideration. She would have to be careful, that was all. Armor her mind, control her emotions, and say…

  Say what?

  She had reached the last stair now and stepped out into the long tunnel that led to the demon’s door. The time for manufacturing clever lies was running out.

  Well, how clever did it have to be, really? Most men of Mara’s experience had no trouble at all believing in their own irresistibility, and whatever else he was, Kazuul was a man. A man who was used to getting what he wanted without resistance. A man who had invested a great deal of time and energy trying to get her on her back. Would he really care how that happened as long as he got it?

  Yes, Mara decided, staring at the portrait carved into his door. He’d care, and if he was at all suspicious of her reasons, he’d never touch her. He wasn’t stupid, even if he was horny, and he knew she was a telepath too.

  But perhaps there was a way to use that to her advantage. Tongues could lie, after all, and thoughts could deceive with practice, but a body never could.

  Mara gazed into the stone eyes of the carved Kazuul, then stepped back into the Panic Room. After a lifetime of habit, she checked the Mindstorm first, but the hundreds of people she knew were with her in this mountain had dulled through layers of stone into a murky darkness which no single thought illuminated. It was disconcerting.

  Mara turned away and focused on the monitors, making the body raise its robe and moving one hand to her smooth sex. It was better here, undistracted by sensation and alert to any discovery. From here, she could fine-tune every nerve’s reaction without the inconvenience of having to experience it. Masturbation was a work of fine motor skill, difficult to manage from the Panic Room, but she’d always been quick to respond even to rough stimulation. She couldn’t feel her fingers playing over her clit, but she could watch the body’s health monitor and see the tidal wash of orgasmic blue as she brought herself to climax.

  Now she was committed.

  She gave herself a slow count of ten to wind down, then dropped back into herself and wiped her fingers on her robe. She could still feel the glow of her cumming pulsing deep in her womb, but it could be ignored. By her, anyway. She readied her defenses and opened Kazuul’s door.

  A chill breeze blew up the stairs, bringing with it the smell of trees and earth and clean rain. She descended, not bothering to light the lamps along the way, but when she saw the curtains blowing across her path, she knew she’d reached the bottom.

  She looked for daylight first as she crossed into Kazuul’s bedchamber and saw a grey sky filled with bruised clouds that hid the setting sun. She walked to the aerie, seeing no one, hearing nothing, and put out her hand to feel the rain.

  A scrape of claws over stone.

  She smiled. “Hello, Kazuul.”

  There was no reply, not even the drifting ghost of a thought, but on the other side of the room, a candle sputtered into life. She looked that way and saw the shadow of his longest spikes cutting off into darkness.

  “Am I interrupting you?” she asked. “Because I can leave.”

  His growl emanated from all sides.

  Mara came away from the aerie. “Are you surprised to see me?”

  “I knew thou wouldst return.”

  “Naturally,” she said, letting him know his subtle invitations were not as subtle as he may have thought. “I come when I’m called.”

  “As any well-trained bitch.”

  He lunged from the darkness then, not out of the shadows where she’d thought him to be, but leaping down from the broken top of a pillar to land heavily just before her. She jumped back and hated him at once for grinning, for knowing he could make her jump whenever he wanted. The only thing that kept her from lashing out at him was the certainty that he would enjoy her anger as much, if not more, than her fear.

  “I knew thou wouldst come,” he murmured, gazing down at her as she fumed in silence. “But dost thou know why thee did?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  He reached out to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger in what he no doubt believed a sultry gesture. “For that thou art fascinated,” he purred. “Thou hast recognized thy lord, thy mate and Master, and I do take thee in to fall upon thy knees and worship me.”

  It wasn’t hard at all to maintain a dry, unamused stare, or to armor the surface of her thoughts with the same emotion. “I see.”

  Kazuul shrugged and dropped his arm, rattling the bone-spears that stabbed out from his back and shoulders. “What then?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand the analogy, but having some jackass lean on your doorbell all day and night is irritating. Besides,” she went on his eyes narrowed, “I would have come to see you again anyway.”

  “Indeed?” His smile returned, but did not touch his eyes as he reached up to take a lock of her hair. He inspected it, then drew his hand slowly down all the way to the tips, squeezing out several drops of bathwater which he rubbed between his fingers. “And thou hast made ready for the occasion.”

  “I’m actually in the habit of bathing every day, particularly when my days consist of climbing a lot of stairs, but you go on and think it’s for you if that helps.”

  “Helps.” His eyes came back to hers, cool. “Hast thou come to beg aid in thy quest?”

  “If I thought you had aid to give me, I might. But I know you don’t.”

  “Then why? For if I’ve nothing to offer thee, how then shall I meet thy bargain? Ah, but wait!” he said, lifting one finger in feigned illumination before sweeping it under her chin again, tilting back her head almost to the point of pain so that he could smile into her face from an inch away. “I have just recalled that I am Master here, and so there is no need to bargain. Whatsoever I desire, I have only to demand.”

  Mara rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. She didn’t say another word, not even a “Never mind, then.” She just went and he let her get all the way out of the room and halfway up the stairs to the empty theater before he tried to call her back. Very aware of the laws of the school, Mara nevertheless did not consider either her name or, ‘Hold!’ to be specifically an order. She kept going, rounded a tight curve in the winding steps, and nearly smacked into Kazuul’s naked chest.

  Once more, she made that hated backwards flinch, and probably would have taken a very bad tumble if he hadn’t reached lackadaisically out and snagged her by the robe. He didn’t pull her back, exactly, just kept her hooked on him until she found her feet, making his enjoyment of her awkwardness quite obvious. Once she was settled, he opened his fist and showed her his empty palms.

  “How the hell did you get in front of me?” she snapped.

  “Truly, thou shouldst attend more lessons. Didst thou not hear me call thee back?”

  “You didn’t say ‘Simon Says.’ If you’re going to insist that we students follow your orders, you’re going to have to start making those orders clear.”

  “Thou drawest a fine line, my bitter sip, twixt reason and rebellion.” His eyes smoldered briefly, lighting up his cragged face goblin-green, but then dimmed. “Speak. I hear thee.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “This mountain is full of women who’ll cheerfully be your walking joke, but I’m not one of them. So forget it. I was wrong to come here. Get out of my way.”

  “I’ll not be moved until I learn
the reason for thy coming.” His smile grew dangerous. “Do not force me to have it out of thee, Mara. Thy mind is not impervious to determined assault and thy flesh is fragile yet.”

  “Why did I come?” She affected a hard, bitter laugh for him, her thoughts bristling with a sense of self-recrimination she knew would amuse him. So far, so good. Now it got tricky. “I came because I was restless and bored. I came because I was lonely. I came—”

  His eyes and mind sparked at the same time. He leaned back on his heels and studied her, wary.

  “—because I found you the least objectionable option open to me,” she went on without pause, and laughed again. “Looks aren’t everything, clearly. I’ll show myself out.” She tried to push past him.

  He would not be moved in any part, save for his head, which turned to follow her efforts as she sought a way around him on the narrow stair. There was none, unless she physically climbed over him, and that, she was sure, would only degenerate into a wrestling match she couldn’t possibly win. In the end, she retreated, as they had both known she would, and glared at him.

  “Shall thee feign surprise when I say I do not believe thee?” he asked calmly.

  “And why shouldn’t you, when you built a damned bed just for that purpose? I’ve been told it’s the done thing here for students who would really rather not sleep on the ground, which I have done now for several days, and if you believe nothing else, you can believe I’m sick of that. And for Christ’s sake, what was I supposed to do while I was here? Stay celibate? Pick up one of these chanting asses so they can try to turn some simple fucking into an experiment in fake magic?”

  His expression hadn’t changed, not so much as a flicker of light in the green glow of his eyes. “There are others than I to meet thee, brothers more accessible.”

  “That was actually one of your selling points,” Mara said. “I don’t need the whole mountain knowing my business. I thought you might be discreet, since most of these fools don’t even know you exist.”