“Sit down on the bench,” Master Grey said. “Aloha and I will spar while you watch.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, relieved.
She sat down gratefully as Aloha stepped up, wooden sword in hand. The older girl looked excited, although - for once - there was a hint of trepidation about her movements. She’d had a chance to see Master Grey in action before sparring with him herself and she knew he was both faster and stronger than her. The real question, Emily thought as she rubbed her aching fingers, was if she could turn the tables on him before he overwhelmed her? It didn’t seem very likely...
Master Grey lunged forward, again. Aloha dodged to one side, rather than trying to block - in hindsight, Emily noted, that might have been her mistake - and then slashed out at his chest in a single smooth motion. Master Grey moved with blinding speed, blocking her blow and trying to stab her with his blade. Aloha jumped backwards, tripped, fell on her rear and brought her feet up to kick Master Grey in the chest. Emily cheered inwardly as Master Grey grunted, but groaned as he brought his sword down on Aloha’s chest.
“You’re dead,” he said. He sounded rather more than a little amused. “I should add that trying to be clever in a swordfight is asking for trouble.”
“Yes, sir,” Aloha said. She’d wanted to impress him, Emily realized. At least she’d managed to make him smile. “I didn’t mean to fall backwards.”
“You might well have lost your legs, if I’d had a real blade,” Master Grey said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. “And you would have had bruised ones, if I’d hit you with the wooden sword.”
He turned to look at Emily. “Comments?”
Emily swallowed. “She didn’t have a choice,” she said. “Once she fell over, she was vulnerable.”
Master Grey eyed her for a long moment, but finally nodded. “Stay on your feet, if possible,” he said, turning back to Aloha. “I expect a paper from both of you, next week, on how you could have done better in your duels. You’ll also find the marked papers you handed in yesterday in your lockers. We will discuss any questions you might have on Thursday.”
“Yes, sir,” Aloha said.
“And it is just about time for us to end the session,” Master Grey added. “Go shower, then collect your papers and finish your homework.”
Emily watched Aloha walk off, back to the school, then cleared her throat nervously.
“Emily,” Master Grey said. “Do you have a question?”
“I would like to discuss my future career with you,” Emily said, keeping her voice steady. “Can we talk now?”
“Go shower,” Master Grey said. “I’ll be in my office in” - he glanced at his watch - “twenty minutes, after I’ve showered myself. You can speak to me then.”
Emily nodded, turned, and hurried back to the barracks. Aloha was there, washing herself thoroughly under the shower, her dark skin already showing a handful of nasty bruises. Emily winced and undressed herself, cursing as she saw the mark on her chest where his sword had struck her. It was going to be sore tomorrow, she was sure; her fingers, at least, felt a little better. She eyed the painkilling potions stored on the wall, seriously considering downing one before the meeting, then dismissed the thought. Master Grey wouldn’t be pleased if she turned up under the influence.
“That was fun,” Aloha said, as she stepped out of the shower. “I enjoyed myself.”
“You fell over backwards,” Emily said. She paused as a thought struck her. “Or did you do it deliberately to show him you could recover from a misstep?”
Aloha grinned, showing her teeth. “Whichever one sounds better,” she said. “We’d better get more practice in, though. You need to be better at dodging.”
Emily sighed, showered rapidly and then pulled her robes back over her head. The uniforms would be dumped in the basket for washing - luckily, they weren’t expected to wash their uniforms themselves - and returned to them for Thursday. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, checked her appearance in the mirror and walked out of the barracks. Master Grey’s office - the door warded with more hexes and charms than any other tutor at Whitehall - was just down the corridor. She tapped on the door and waited.
“Enter,” Master Grey called.
Emily opened the door and stepped inside, looking around with interest. The office was a bare stone chamber with a desk, a pair of chairs and a single large wooden trunk, covered in nasty-looking runes. Master Grey was seated behind his desk, reviewing several papers with a gimlet eye. He looked up at her as she closed the door, his cold gaze flickering over her, then silently pointed to the chair. Emily sat and forced herself to wait as Master Grey finished reading his papers. She could be patient, if necessary.
“You wanted to talk about your career,” Master Grey said, suddenly. He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers. “How may I be of service?”
“You were a Mediator,” Emily said. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “It is a career I have been urged to consider.”
“I see,” Master Grey said. “And what has your father said about it?”
“Nothing,” Emily said. Void hadn’t said a word about her future career, at least not to her. “I believe I am expected to choose my own career.”
“Odd,” Master Grey said. His voice was strictly neutral. “Most patriarchs - or matriarchs - take a hand in determining what careers their children will follow.”
Like Fulvia wanted to do with Melissa, Emily thought. If Void had been her real father, he would probably have made a few suggestions. But he isn’t and he didn’t.
“My father has said nothing on the matter,” Emily said, which happened to be the literal truth. “I would like to know what the requirements are to be a Mediator.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t look them up before coming here,” Master Grey observed. “They are a matter of public record.”
Emily flushed. That was true. She’d been so worried about approaching him in person that she hadn’t checked the library.
“To be considered, you would need to earn high marks in everything from Martial Magic to Charms,” Master Grey said. For once, he didn’t seem inclined to berate her for her oversight. “Alchemy and Healing are considered lesser requirements, but you are expected to have alpha or beta certificates by the time you graduate from Whitehall or private tutoring afterwards. You would also need to take the oaths as a citizen of the Allied Lands, rather than a citizen of any single state.”
He gave her a tight smile. “You would have to give up Cockatrice,” he added.
Emily looked down at the floor, cursing King Randor under her breath. If she’d known what she was getting into, she would have refused the Barony, even though it would have been in public. Defying the king so openly would probably have landed her in hot water, but it would be better than being caught between her dreams and her obligations. And the longer she kept it, the harder it would be to give it up.
She frowned, not looking up. “I couldn’t leave it in someone else’s hands?”
“Look at me when you talk to me,” Master Grey said, sternly. Emily lifted her gaze to meet his. “You could not be a great noblewoman, with obligations to a single country, and be expected to serve the Allied Lands. It would be a major conflict of interest.”
He smiled, rather coldly. “Prospective Mediators apprentice themselves to two or more Mediators, rather than just a single master,” he continued. “You would be expected to serve as a combat sorcerer, but also as a diplomat and judge, sorting out problems that bedevil the Allied Lands and make it impossible for us to focus on our true enemy. One day, you might be tracking down a rogue sorcerer, one who needs to be stopped; the next, you might be standing between two armies and convincing them to stand down. People will learn they can rely on you to serve as an impartial representative of the Allied Lands, with the power to bind and loose as you see fit.
“Should the necromancers invade, you will find yourself helping to command a multinational army, smoothing out the problems c
aused by too many egos in too small a space. You will be expected to be the first in any charge and the last in any retreat, placing yourself and your powers completely at the army’s disposal. It may well be that you find yourself trying to prevent soldiers from fleeing, if the battle goes against us, or captured, held by one of the necromancers.”
Emily shivered. She’d been Shadye’s prisoner, back when he’d plucked her from her own world with the intention of sacrificing her for power. What would another necromancer, one who knew who she was, do to her? The safest course of action would be to kill her at once, she thought, but necromancers weren’t known for being rational. Maybe they’d see her as a prospective sacrifice...or maybe they’d see her as something far worse.
“Life is hard,” Master Grey admitted. “There will be nights when you sleep in the open air, shivering from the cold and rain and the thought of what tomorrow will bring. There will be days when you look upon the handiwork of rogue sorcerers and curse the very human race. And there will be days when you will find yourself trying to broker peace between two warring factions, when all you want them to do is hurry up and kill each other so you can sit down and rest. You...”
He paused for a long moment. “I was required to pass judgement in a dispute between the King of Alluvia, King Jorlem, and the nearby city-state of Tarzana. You may have heard of them.”
“I’ve met King Jorlem,” Emily said. “His son was one of the possible candidates for marrying Alassa.”
“Not a pleasant fate,” Master Gray stated. Emily wasn’t sure which of them was being insulted, Alassa or Prince Hedrick. “King Jorlem pushed his claim quite forcibly, threatening to cut off the city-state’s water supply if they refused to uphold his rights. The men and women of Tarzana were running out of water when I arrived, having been tasked to hear the dispute. I reviewed the documents, checked everything I could...and wound up having to rule in the king’s favor.”
Emily blinked. “Why did you do that?”
“Because he was in the right,” Master Grey said, simply. “Unpleasant, cruel, calculating, sadistic...but also in the right. I couldn’t have done anything else, Lady Emily, once the facts were at my disposal. The king was in the right and the city-state was in the wrong.”
He tapped the table, impatiently. “The river started in the king’s lands,” he said. “By long-standing agreement, the city-state was supposed to render the king due honors and a certain amount of support in exchange for water. For various reasons, the city-state was never called upon to honor its side of the agreement. They had grown used to considering themselves totally independent by the time King Jorlem came to the throne.”
“And most of them might not have known the agreement existed,” Emily mused.
“Quite,” Master Grey said. He gave her a pinched smile. “The king was not interfering within the city, not directly. He was merely threatening to dam a river on his lands.”
“Which would have had an effect on the city,” Emily pointed out.
“But not quite the same as sending an army to burn the city to the ground,” Master Grey countered, dryly. “King Jorlem was not breaking the agreement, merely...ensuring the city-state had an incentive to keep its side of the agreement.”
Emily scowled. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? I might find myself helping someone I personally dislike.”
“Well, quite,” Master Grey said.
He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “It’s a hard life,” he said, “and harder still for a woman. Your mentor” - his face flickered, briefly - “was one of the few to endure the long marches, the intensive training and being forced to share cramped quarters with male trainees. There is no privacy in such quarters. You can expect to be pushed to the limits and beyond. And...if you get captured, you can expect worse than simple death. There are thousands of people out there who hate us and everything we stand for.”
“I see,” Emily said. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “Is it a rewarding job?”
Master Grey smiled. She thought it was the first time he’d given her a genuinely open smile.
“It’s the best position in the Allied Lands,” he said. His face fell, slightly. “If, of course, you make it through all the hurdles. Seven out of ten trainees quit within the first year. You’ll see sights that will sap your faith in human decency, but you will also have a chance to make a real difference...if you don’t wind up dead, or in the Halfway House. I think you’ll see some of the failures on Friday. Take note of what happened to them.”
He paused. “Do you have any questions?”
Emily frowned. “Why are the requirements so high?”
“We need to know that a prospective recruit has all the skills we need,” Master Grey said, simply. “And then we need to know if he - or she - can use them while under pressure.”
He rose to his feet. “After hearing all that, Lady Emily, are you still interested in the job?”
“I think so,” Emily said.
“Then you will have to work very hard,” he said, flatly. “For starters, you can hand in an essay this time next week on the requirements for becoming a Mediator and why they exist, giving examples of what might happen if they are ignored. You’ll find all the information you need in the library, within the careers section. I suggest you consider the possible consequences for yourself, rather than simply mirroring the examples given in the books.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. Another essay...at least it sounded easier than the essay Professor Thande had assigned them, on Manaskol. “I’ll get it back to you next week.”
“See that you do,” Master Grey said. He reached out and caught her hands before she could draw them back, stroking the knuckles with a delicate touch before letting go of them. “You don’t seem to be in pain any longer.”
“There’s just a dull ache,” Emily said. It was true; her fingers tingled, but they weren’t in real pain. “My chest hurts more.”
“Go to the Healer if you’re still sore tomorrow morning,” Master Grey ordered. “It shouldn’t be hard for you to get a potion, if necessary.”
Emily nodded, curtly.
“You may also wish to talk to some trainees who didn’t make it through,” he added. “I can give you contact details, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She hesitated, then plunged on. “Would they talk to me?”
“Some would,” Master Grey said. He met her eyes. “Understanding your strengths and weaknesses is a core part of being a sorcerer. Even I have areas where I bow to other masters. To believe that you don’t have weaknesses is to court insanity - or death.”
And that’s what you’re trying to teach me, Emily thought.
“Dismissed,” Master Grey said. He rose to his feet, slowly. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Emily nodded and left the room, feeling oddly respectful for the first time. He was trying to teach her something, even if it was clear he had his doubts about her career prospects. She’d look up the requirements in the library, complete her essay and then...
She shook her head, bitterly. Was there nothing she could do without abandoning Cockatrice? She should have asked when she would have to make that choice. The end of Sixth Year, she assumed, but...
Later, she told herself. She needed to eat dinner, meet Caleb and then make a start on the next set of essays. I’ll worry about it when the time comes.
Chapter Sixteen
IT WAS, EMILY DISCOVERED, HARD TO keep her resolve to listen to Master Grey with an open mind longer than a couple of days. Thursday afternoon was spent running through Blackhall again, this time without using magic themselves. It ended badly, as Emily had privately expected, and by the time Master Grey had finished detailing their mistakes she was tired, headachy and drained. She crawled into bed as soon as she’d finished eating dinner, and sleepwalked through her classes on Friday morning. By the time Alassa dragged her to lunch and poured Kava down her throat, it was almost too late to reach the Port
al Chamber before Lady Barb took her group to the Halfway House.
“You’re all dressed properly,” Lady Barb said, as they assembled in front of the inactive portal. “I expect you to remember what I told you about defending yourselves, understand?”
Emily nodded. The outfit she wore made Whitehall’s robes look immodest. It was loose, concealing the shape of her body, while a headscarf hid her hair from prying eyes. The charms woven into the dress, she’d discovered, made it hard for anyone to focus on anything, apart from her face. She checked herself one final time, and hastily prepared for the jump through the portal. Based on past experience, it was going to hurt.
“Be careful,” Imaiqah said, catching her hand. The portal flickered into existence, a single white square of light in front of them. “Come on.”
Lady Barb gave them all one final look before leading the way into the light. Emily braced herself, feeling a stab of pain and disorientation as she walked through the magic, and staggered as she came out of the far end. Imaiqah held her long enough for her to regain her footing, but she couldn’t help feeling sick. It took her several swallows to be sure she wasn’t going to vomit, then she gathered herself and looked up. She’d seen the interior of an emergency treatment clinic on Earth, years ago, but this was nothing like it. It looked more like the entrance to a jail cell.
They used to lock up madmen, she recalled. Drugs that could help people with mental problems live a normal life were a relatively new invention on Earth - and completely unknown on the Nameless World. Here, when those madmen have magic, keeping them anywhere else might be actively dangerous.
“Follow me,” Lady Barb ordered. She led them through a large door, practically crawling with defensive wards. Emily hadn’t sensed anything so complex since Mountaintop, where the school had guarded its innermost secrets thoroughly. “Do not try to probe the wards.”
“They’re keyed to specific people,” Imaiqah muttered. “I think they must be designed to keep the patients in, rather than others out.”
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