The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13)

by Christopher Nuttall

  The Gordian Knot

  (Schooled in Magic XIII)

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Twilight Times Books

  Kingsport Tennessee

  The Gordian Knot

  This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Christopher G. Nuttall

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  Twilight Times Books

  P O Box 3340

  Kingsport TN 37664

  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/

  First Edition, September 2017

  Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

  Except from The Zero Curse © 2017 Christopher G. Nuttall. Reprinted by permission of the author.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Afterword

  The Zero Curse

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Prologue

  “AND FINALLY, I’M GLAD TO ANNOUNCE that both of our picks for replacement Charms and Healing tutors have accepted their offers,” Grandmaster Gordian said. He allowed himself a thin smile at the whisper of relief that ran around the table. It had been a long meeting, even though they’d had a break for lunch. No one wanted to prolong it further. “They’ll arrive tomorrow and take the oaths in the Great Hall.”

  He leaned back in his chair, silently enjoying the moment. Too many of the senior tutors were not bound to him, either through loyalty to Gordian’s predecessor or through ambitions of their own. He could count on them not to do anything that would actively harm Whitehall itself—their oaths would see to that—but he knew better than to expect them to follow him unquestioningly. And it was difficult, even for an experienced political warrior like himself, to edge them out of their positions. They couldn’t be dismissed for anything other than gross misconduct.

  “You’ll be invited to watch and bear witness, of course,” he added. “Now, before we break up for the evening, is there any more business?”

  Professor Lombardi cleared his throat. “The election of a Head Pupil. I believe we are running short of time to nominate one.”

  Gordian nodded, keeping his face expressionless. The senior tutors had the right to elect the Head Pupil for the year, if they wished to use it. He’d refrained from raising the issue, half-hoping they’d choose to leave the matter in his hands. There were pupils—several pupils—he would prefer not to see elected.

  “Very well,” he said. “Nominations?”

  “Emily,” Sergeant Miles said, immediately. “I believe her record speaks for itself.”

  “She had to retake four of her exams,” Gordian said. It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. His feelings about his most troublesome student were decidedly mixed. “That does not suggest a sterling academic record.”

  “She failed the exams because she was summoned to war,” Sergeant Miles countered, his voice unyielding. “And because she was ... involved ... in that mess in Beneficence.”

  Gordian tried not to groan. No two accounts of what had happened in Beneficence seemed to agree on everything, save for one detail. Emily had saved the city, somehow. If the more extreme reports were to be believed, she’d battled a god. Gordian wouldn’t have believed it himself, if he hadn’t read the reports that hadn’t been made public. He hoped the full story—or at least the version he’d heard—never leaked out to the rest of the world. Too many sorcerers—and religious sects—would see it as a challenge.

  “There are others,” Professor Gaunt said. “Melissa has very definite potential.”

  “But she’s politically unacceptable,” Gordian said. “She was disowned by her family.”

  “She does have the talent,” Gaunt insisted. “And she is ... more aware of social situations than Emily.”

  “Cabiria has talent,” Professor Thande said.

  “She was suspended for a year,” Gordian pointed out. “What about Caleb or Cirroc?”

  Sergeant Miles snorted. “And how many students have actually saved the school?”

  Gordian met his eyes. The hell of it was that Sergeant Miles was correct. Emily was the only student who had saved the school once let alone twice. By any reasonable standard—certainly in terms of achievement—she stood head and shoulders above the rest of the students in her year. There had never been any sign that Emily wanted, let alone expected, to be Head Girl, but everyone else probably expected her to walk into the post. And she deserved it.

  And yet, she was a menace too. He’d wanted to expel her last year, when he’d become Grandmaster. Putting her on probation—and forcing her to work with Professor Locke—had been done in the hopes of keeping her out of trouble—or convincing her to quit. It wasn’t as if she would have had problems finding a place at another school, somewhere well away from Whitehall. Gordian certainly wouldn’t have stood in her way.

  She’s not evil, he admitted, privately. Technically, she was a probationary student too, although he’d decided to ignore that as much as possible. But she is disruptive.

  He kept his face impassive as he contemplated his options. Nothing had happened openly—not yet—but he knew that more and more important figures were growing ... concerned about Emily. Child of Destiny, Necromancer’s Bane ... she was a knife that could cut both ways, something that could reshape the world or damage it beyond repair. A sorceress who’d bested two—no, three—necromancers would be alarming enough, but her ... innovations had started a chain reaction she might not be able to control. And she didn’t seem able or willing even to try.

  And she owns the school, Gordian reminded himself.

  Gordian wouldn’t have believed that, either, if Emily hadn’t shown an astonishing prowess at manipulating and duplicating Whitehall’s wards. Even now, a year after she’d told him the full story, he still found it hard to come to terms with it. The Founders of Whitehall had been lost in the mists of time, known only by a handful of contradictory s
tories. And Emily had gone back in time, taught Lord Whitehall and his fellows the secret to controlling a nexus point, then returned to the present. It was unbelievable.

  It was also intolerable. He was Grandmaster, not her. He’d worked hard to secure a position of boundless power and influence, only to see it turn to ashes. He couldn’t have a student in a position to overrule him, perhaps even remove him from the school. He’d already started a very quiet program to do something about the whole situation, but he doubted he’d have time to complete it. Too many people wanted something done, now. And they were pressuring him to force her to divulge her secrets.

  He cleared his throat. “Emily has earned her reputation. I do not dispute that. But would she be a good Head Girl? She is not the most ... sociable of students.”

  “She has a gift for making friends in high and low places,” Sergeant Miles reminded him, dryly. “And that has saved her life, more than once.”

  “She’d be required to do more than make friends,” Gordian countered. “The Head Pupil has to do everything from organizing the mentorship program to carrying out a project of their own. She would be distracted from her work.”

  “The same could be said of almost anyone else,” Madame Rosalinda said. The Housemother smiled at him. “And while she is not that friendly with anyone outside her circle, she doesn’t have many enemies either.”

  Not in the school, perhaps, Gordian thought.

  Madame Rosalinda tapped the table, meaningfully. “Melissa has been disowned from her family. Cabiria is seen as ... as something of a freak. Pandora’s marks are too low to justify promoting her into the Head Girl role. Jacqui and Cerise are ... are too power-hungry to take on the role without causing problems. And The Gorgon is ...”

  “The Gorgon,” Gordian finished. What, in the name of all the gods, had Hasdrubal been thinking? Allowing a Gorgon to study at Whitehall? “Are there no promising prospects amongst the boys?”

  “None who match Emily,” Sergeant Miles said. “Cirroc and Johan are both working on Martial Magic, while Caleb ... has shown evidence of moral weakness. And those three are the best of the bunch.”

  Gordian pressed his fingers together, hiding his irritation. Jacqui had been his choice for Head Pupil, although Cirroc would have been a close second. The Head Pupil would find a multitude of doors opening for her, when she left Whitehall. It would give Emily the skills she needed—and probably keep her out of trouble—but it would also paint an even larger target on her back. Her enemies didn’t need more reasons to step up their plans.

  She might decline the nomination, he thought. Does she understand that that would be held against her?

  “Let us vote,” he said, instead. In hindsight, maybe he should have raised the issue with a handful of tutors privately. If nothing else, he might have been able to get Jacqui or Cirroc nominated before he held the final meeting. “All those in favor of Lady Emily, raise your hands.”

  He counted, slowly. “Ten in favor,” he said. Five tutors hadn’t voted, although that didn’t prove anything. Professor Thande wasn’t known for caring that much about the position—or anything beyond his alchemical experiments. Gordian was surprised he’d even bestirred himself to put Cabiria’s name forward. “The motion passes.”

  “As it should,” Sergeant Miles said.

  Gordian shot him a sharp look. If he were forced to be honest, one of the reasons he’d allowed Sergeant Miles to take Emily to the war was an unexpressed hope she wouldn’t come back. The war could have lasted months, if not years. She might have been killed or moved straight to a more regular apprenticeship. Instead, she’d bested her third necromancer and returned to Whitehall.

  “She’s due to re-sit her exams tomorrow,” Gordian said, calmly. There was one last card to play. “They’ll be marked immediately afterwards. If she passes—if she can enter Sixth Year—I will inform her of her nomination.”

  There were no objections. He hadn’t expected any.

  “I’ll see you all at the Last Feast,” he added. “Until then ... dismissed.”

  He kept his face impassive as his senior tutors filed out of the room, some clearly intending to head down to Dragon’s Den for a drink before the students started arriving to re-sit their exams. When they were gone, he sealed the wards and sat back in his chair, forcing himself to think. He was caught in a knot of conflicting obligations, of promises he’d made and rules he could not break ...

  And others are already moving against her, he thought. He’d heard rumors. Some of them had been nightmarish. What will happen when their plans come to term?

  Chapter One

  EMILY PLACED THE BRACELET ON THE table, closed her eyes and undid the spell.

  There was a surge of feeling as Aurelius came to life, a wave of strange animalistic emotions that ran down the familiar link and through her mind. The Death Viper wasn’t hungry—she’d fed him weeks ago, before changing him back to the bracelet—but he was a little confused. Emily steadied her mind, forcing herself to peer through the snake’s eyes. Her head ached as Aurelius looked around, tongue flickering in and out of his mouth. It was hard to reconcile her vision of the room with his. To her, the room was tiny; to him, it was vast and cold.

  She shivered, despite the warm air. The Death Viper wanted something warmer. His head moved from side to side, hunting for a warmer part of the room. Emily smiled, wanly, as the Death Viper looked at her, then she reached out and picked up the snake. Aurelius curled into her hands, enjoying the warmth. She looked warm to her familiar’s eyes.

  He sees into the infrared, she reminded herself. And he wants to be warm.

  She felt an odd flicker of affection as she cradled the snake in her arms. It wasn’t something she could do very often. The familiar bond kept the viper’s poisonous skin—the rotting touch—from harming her, but the poison would be terrifyingly dangerous to anyone else. She’d have to make very sure she cleaned herself—and the room—before she left. Even a drop could do someone a serious injury. The handful of people who knew about Aurelius had been horrified, knowing—all too well—that accidents could happen. She simply didn’t dare take the snake out to play too often.

  The snake brushed against her fingertips, another wave of warm sensations washing down the bond. Emily opened her eyes and peered at the snake, admiring the blue-gold scales running along its back. Death Vipers hadn’t evolved to remain unnoticed amongst the greenery. There was certainly no way they could hide from hawks, eagles and other predators. But they were so dangerous, so poisonous, that almost every other living creature gave them a wide berth. A hawk foolish enough to snatch a Death Viper off the ground would be dead before it could claw its way back into the sky.

  Emily shook her head, slowly, as Aurelius started to climb into her sleeve and up her arm. It was a shame, really, that she couldn’t keep the snake with her—other magicians had far stronger bonds with their familiars—but the danger was just too great. And besides, Aurelius was a secret weapon. The fewer people who knew about him, the better. She caught the snake as he poked his head out of her collar, then put him back on the table. Aurelius shot her a wave of betrayed emotions, silently pleading for her to pick him back up again. The familiar bond drove him to remain close to her at all times.

  “Sorry,” Emily muttered.

  She worked the spell quickly, before she could talk herself into spending an hour playing with the snake. Aurelius shimmered, then became a silver bracelet. Emily felt her head spin, just for a second, as the familiar vanished from her mind. She picked it up and played with it for a long moment, then placed it back on the table and closed her eyes for a second, centering herself. It had been a long day.

  And it isn’t over yet, she thought, as she turned to the bathroom. Lady Barb said she’d return in an hour.

  Her reflection looked back at her as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She looked pale, her face almost drained of color. The summer should have been a time to rest and relax, but she’d spent th
e last two months desperately cramming before retaking her exams. Lady Barb and Sergeant Miles had been merciless tutors, drilling her in everything from advanced charms to fiendishly complex potion brewing. And then she’d returned to the school to retake the exams.

  She ran her hands through her brown hair, feeling drained. The exams had been harder than she’d expected, even though Lady Barb had told her—time and time again—that retaking the exams was always harder. She’d been expected to display a breadth of knowledge and comprehension that had been lacking from the original exams, something that irritated her even though she understood the logic behind it. A person who failed the exams might have failed because they hadn’t been paying attention, rather than going to war. She’d lost weeks of study during the fighting—and another week in Beneficence—and it had cost her. She hadn’t managed to catch up in time to pass the exams.

  I suppose I should be relieved I didn’t fail them all, she thought, as she removed her dress and stepped into the shower. It was a very near thing.

  The warm water was almost hypnotic, cascading over her body and washing away the dirt and grime. She wanted to stay in the shower for hours—or perhaps years—but she knew she didn’t have the time. Lady Barb had promised her she’d have her exam results today, even if that meant having the papers marked in a hurry. Emily wasn’t sure she wanted to know, not after spending the summer desperately reviewing everything she’d learnt over the past year. If she failed—again—she’d have to retake Fifth Year from the start.

  Which is a serious problem, she told herself. She climbed out of the shower, using a spell to dry her body. I’d have to find a way to tackle the joint project without Caleb.

  The thought cost her a pang. Breaking up with Caleb had hurt, but she hadn’t been able to cut him out of her life completely. They’d needed to finish their project—or at least show they’d moved forward over the past year—or they would both have been threatened with being forced to retake the year. The hell of it was that she didn’t want to cut him out of her life, despite everything. And yet ... Her emotions were a jumbled mess. There were times, when she’d been lying alone in bed, when she’d wanted to call him ... and times when she’d wanted to make sure she never saw him again.