“The latter, perhaps,” Emily said. Her voice sounded harder than she’d wanted. A break-up wouldn’t be accepted as an excuse, particularly as they’d worked together in the latter half of Fifth Year. “And we might as well commit to finishing the project later.”
“Which won’t be in Whitehall,” Caleb said. “I don’t think he’d care.”
Emily shrugged. Their project had potential. If Gordian had looked at their notes—really looked at them—he might see it too. Coming to think of it, he was the only person who might realize just what their project had seeded, nearly a thousand years ago. And yet, to him, their project had to be just one of many extra credit projects. It was hardly important enough for him to study.
Which will cost him, she thought. Unless he decides to watch my work closely.
She wrote out a brief paragraph explaining the problem, then held it out for his inspection. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Gordian might just let it pass without comment. Or Master Tor might make the decision himself. Master Tor might be working for Gordian, but he wouldn’t want to give up too much of his power by passing the buck to his superior all the time. It would undermine his position in the long term.
Everyone has interests of their own, she recalled Lady Barb saying, years ago. And if you understand them, you can manipulate them.
“I think it sounds convincing,” Caleb said. “But I’m not on the Grandmaster’s shit list.”
“You might be,” Emily said. “You”—a handful of possible words danced across her mind—“dated me. For a time.”
Caleb reddened. “True.”
They sat together in awkward silence. Emily wondered, again, just how Imaiqah had managed to handle her string of boyfriends. Perhaps she’d never really grown attached to any of them. She’d opened her legs—Imaiqah had been very frank when they’d discussed it—but she’d never opened her heart. Emily found that hard to imagine. She couldn’t kiss someone—let alone go all the way—unless she cared about him. And she had—she did—care about Caleb.
But caring means you get hurt, when things go wrong, she told herself. And you have to pick up the pieces afterwards.
“I’ll take the note to Master Tor,” Caleb said. “Unless you want the job.”
Emily shook her head. Better not to remind Master Tor that his least favorite student was the other person involved in the project. Maybe he wouldn’t bother to glance at their names before approving it. Or maybe she was clutching at straws. Whatever his faults, Master Tor wasn’t stupid. Gordian wouldn’t have tolerated a stupid tutor.
Caleb leaned back in his chair. “Have you been spending more time with Frieda lately?”
“Not enough,” Emily said. She’d barely seen Frieda over the last few weeks. “Why?”
“She’s been acting ... odd ... lately.” He sounded reluctant to say much of anything. “Snapping at people, tossing hexes around in the corridors ... she got into a real fight with another student a couple of days ago. And she keeps glaring at me whenever she sees me.”
“She’s not having an easy time,” Emily said, slowly. She didn’t want to talk about Frieda with Caleb. Frieda didn’t like Caleb—she had never liked Caleb—and Emily suspected the feeling was mutual. “Fourth Year isn’t easy.”
“That doesn’t excuse her acting like a little brat,” Caleb warned. “How many times can someone get in trouble before she gets kicked out?”
Emily hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” Caleb said. “Emily, people are talking. Perhaps you should try to find more time to spend with her.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Talking about what?”
“About you.” Caleb glared down at the workbench. “I don’t hear much, because they know we were ... were lovers. But I hear whispers. People are talking about you.”
“They always have,” Emily said. She would have preferred to pass unnoticed. But Void had blown that possibility out of the water when he’d arranged for her to ride a dragon to Whitehall. “There have always been rumors ...”
“These are worse,” Caleb said.
He paused. “Have you even bothered to visit the bookstores in Dragon’s Den?”
Emily shook her head, suddenly unsure if she wanted to hear what he was going to say. The bookstores in Dragon’s Den were crammed with novels, blue books and little else, certainly nothing of value to a magical student. She’d read a handful of what passed for novels in the Nameless World, but most of them hadn’t been very good. It would be a while before the Nameless World produced its own Tolkien, let alone Asimov, Heinlein and Susanna Clarke.
“There are books about you and some of your friends,” Caleb told her. “They’re worse than the ones we saw in Beneficence.”
“I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She hadn’t seen anything about her in Beneficence, but there had been a number of obscene semi-libels about Alassa. King Randor would have a heart attack, perhaps literally, if he ever read them. Emily didn’t know who benefited by writing such crap, but she was fairly sure they didn’t mean any good. “Caleb ...”
“There are broadsheets questioning everything you’ve done,” Caleb said. “And people are reading them.”
Emily sighed. “There are people who believe that I used the power of love to destroy Shadye,” she snapped.
“And people who believe you’re a necromancer yourself,” Caleb added. “Or someone who might pose a worse threat than all of the remaining necromancers put together.”
“Madness,” Emily said.
“Perhaps.” He met her eyes. “Did Void really make you walk around naked until you learnt to materialize clothing?”
Emily felt her temper flare. “You know perfectly well ...”
She caught herself. “Is that what they’re saying?”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “And that is one of the tamer things.”
Emily sucked in her breath. In a way, it was a backhanded compliment. A skilled magician would have difficulty materializing clothes. Conjuring them into existence was hard enough, but locking them in place was harder. She doubted she could do it now, as a student in her last year at school. There was no way a child could do it, certainly not regularly. And yet, it was also a deliberate dig at her.
And Void, she thought.
“Fuck,” she said, finally. “What else?”
Caleb hesitated.
Emily glared. “What else?”
“That you had affairs with Alassa, Imaiqah and Frieda,” Caleb said. “That you and Jade were lovers before you gave him to Alassa. That you copied ideas from other magicians and merely claimed credit for them. That you ... that you did things with King Randor to get a barony. That you ...”
Emily held up a hand. “Enough.”
“Someone has been spreading lies about you,” Caleb said. “And it started fairly recently.”
Not that recently, Emily thought. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. If she had to hear one more ballad about herself, she was going to show the poor minstrel precisely how Shadye had died. The most popular ballads were the ones that bore no resemblance to the truth. But if someone has been building on it ...
“Fuck,” she said, numbly. She wasn’t sure how to handle this new problem. “What do I do?”
Caleb shrugged. “Concentrate on doing a good job,” he suggested. “And ignore everything else.”
“Hah,” Emily muttered.
“But try to spend some time with Frieda,” Caleb advised. “She probably needs a friendly ear. And maybe a kick up the backside.”
“I’ll try.” Emily rose, feeling irked. She could hex anyone who insulted her to her face, but it was harder to fight back against an anonymous enemy. The only thing in her favor was that it was unlikely anyone senior would pay too much attention to rumors. Anyone who was anyone had their own sources of information. “And thanks, I suppose.”
“You’re welcome,” Caleb said.
He looked down, just for a second. “I know ... I
know things ended badly,” he added. His voice was very quiet. “But ...”
Emily felt cold. Was he going to ask her out again? And what would she say if he did?
“If you need a friendly ear, I will listen.” Caleb met her eyes. “I can’t promise much, but I will listen.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She felt another rush of affection. Perhaps there was hope for their friendship after all. “That means a lot to me.”
Chapter Nineteen
“YOU’RE NOT CONCENTRATING,” SAMRA SAID, SHARPLY. “Focus!”
Emily gritted her teeth as she looked back at the mirror. It hadn’t been a pleasant couple of days. Caleb had been right. No one had said anything to her face—unsurprisingly—but she’d caught a lot of sidelong glances from younger students. Most of the Sixth Years seemed above it, yet both Jacqui and Cerise had been questioning her orders and rules in the dueling club often enough to make her want to throw in the towel and give them the job.
“It isn’t easy to focus,” she said. She’d looked for Frieda, but her younger friend had been nowhere to be found. There hadn’t even been time to arrange a meeting during dueling club. “I need to ...”
“Stop whining,” Samra said. “Focus!”
Emily sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection seemed sharper, somehow; her eyes seemed tired, oddly unfocused. She stared until she felt the image starting to blur, strange sensations spinning around her until she felt as if she was looking at her body from the outside. Her heartbeat was thumping all around her, a steady thump-thump-thump that kept her focused on her body. She could see herself ...
... The vision blurred around her, as if she was trying to present herself in a way she could comprehend. Her mind was a library, a vast repository of knowledge; her thoughts were librarians, moving from shelf to shelf. She smiled softly, remembering the days she’d considered becoming a librarian. There weren’t many people she missed, back on Earth, but the librarian in her hometown was one. She’d let Emily stay until closing hour and never asked any inconvenient questions. Emily would forgive a great deal in exchange for peace and privacy. The woman had been a gem ...
... Her thoughts spun backwards and forwards, clearly visible. The oath she’d sworn to the Unseelie Court was still there, just inactive. She shivered, knowing that one day that debt would come due. She owed them ... something. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to make the choice between doing something terrible and letting the oath kill her. It was difficult, very difficult, to break a sworn oath and survive. It was impossible to do it and know you’d done it ...
... She saw herself, clearly. The truths and the lies, things she didn’t mind sharing and things she wanted to forget, the attractions she didn’t want to admit, the revulsions she knew she should never have felt, all the little compromises she’d made ... she knew herself. She stood in front of herself, mentally naked. Her thoughts hummed, suggesting little improvements ... she pushed that thought aside, hard. Meddling with her own mind might be utterly disastrous. It was certainly not something to try ...
Emily pulled back, opening her eyes. When had she closed them? She wasn’t sure.
“That was ... that was odd.” She lifted a hand and studied it, just for a moment. It looked oddly translucent, as if her skin had turned to jelly. She blinked, hard. The illusion vanished. “I ... I saw myself.”
“And now you know what everyone else knows about you,” Samra said. “You can’t hide from yourself any longer.”
Emily thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure. Yes, she’d been attracted to people she shouldn’t have been attracted to; yes, she’d been repulsed by people for petty reasons, reasons she was ashamed to admit ...
When one is guided by emotion, one must understand the reason behind one’s emotion, she thought. Lady Barb had said that, years ago. But one must understand that an emotional response is not necessarily an invalid response.
“I think so,” she said, doubtfully. She could feel her own thoughts pulsing inside her head, as if she’d acquired a second heartbeat. It was an odd, somewhat unpleasant sensation. “Do I have to do it again?”
“Not for a while,” Samra said. “Those who seek to obtain a soul magics mastery—or even practice soul magics regularly—look in the mirror every day, just to ensure that they don’t lose touch with their thoughts. But you probably shouldn’t do it unless you intend to use soul magic.”
Emily felt oddly cheated. “Is that it? I mean ... are we done?”
“No.” Samra met Emily’s eyes. “Do you remember what I told you about abusing the magics?”
“You said you’d kill me,” Emily recalled.
“Yes.” Samra made no visible move, but the door opened anyway. “Melissa has volunteered to allow you to practice on her. She feels she owes you something. And if you betray her secrets, I will kill you.”
Emily looked up as Melissa strode through the door. The redhead looked as though she was trying to project an air of confidence, but even Emily could see she was having second—or perhaps third—thoughts. There was an ... edginess in her movements that worried Emily more than she cared to admit. Alassa’s old rival wasn’t precisely a friend, perhaps, but she wasn’t an enemy either.
“You will attempt to see her mind.” Samra rose in one smooth motion. “Melissa, be seated.”
Emily swallowed. “You don’t have to do this ...”
“Yes, she does,” Samra said. “Someone has to do this. And Melissa volunteered.”
“It’s all right,” Melissa said. “You’ll be fine.”
Emily eyed Samra darkly. The tutor stared back, silently daring Emily to say something that could—that would—be held against her. She could have volunteered, Emily thought, but even that would have been a risk. The secrets in Melissa’s mind would be much less damaging than the secrets in Samra’s mind, if Emily abused them. Emily had no doubt that Samra would try to kill her, if she tried to abuse what she learned, but a smart magician would know better than to assume success. It was better to limit the possible fallout than take a chance on being able to put the genie back in the bottle.
She met Melissa’s eyes, feeling another flash of respect. Melissa knew the dangers, knew how much could go wrong ... and she was going to do it anyway. She was going to strip naked in front of Emily—metaphorically, if not literally—and let Emily inspect her mind, knowing that far too many of her secrets might be revealed. Maybe she did owe Emily something, after everything. It was still one hell of a gutsy move.
“Thank you,” she said, quietly.
“You know how to touch your own mind now,” Samra said. “Focus on that sensation, then reach out and touch Melissa.”
Emily wondered, sourly, if they were going to mind-meld—then closed her eyes, focusing on her own mind. The sensation came easier now, without blinding headaches. Samra had been right to tell her that practice made it better, although she still disliked it. Her thoughts were hers, marked as hers ...
“Reach out and touch Melissa’s hand,” Samra ordered. “Or her forehead, if you like.”
Emily opened her eyes, trying to keep in touch with her thoughts. The sensation threatened to fade as she reached towards Melissa, as if she couldn’t keep her eyes open and feel herself think. She closed her eyes again as she touched Melissa’s hand, suddenly very aware of Melissa’s presence. Her thoughts beat against the air, thrumming so loudly that Emily was surprised she was the only person who could hear them. And yet, there was still a barrier between them. She could no more read Melissa’s thoughts than Melissa could read hers.
She shivered, realizing—to the very depths of her soul—just how dangerous soul magic could be. Truth spells and potions couldn’t force someone to bare themselves completely, but soul magic could. She knew she should push forward, she knew she should try to reach into Melissa’s mind, but she didn’t want to. The sense that she was doing something fundamentally wrong was growing stronger by the second.
“You’re not movi
ng,” Samra said. “Glide into her thoughts.”
Emily swallowed several sharp responses and concentrated. Mental communication and combat was all about how one represented themselves, at least on the mental plane. She wasn’t bound by the normal limits, not when the encounter was in her mind. It was easy, suddenly, to imagine herself as a ghost, leaning forward and sliding into Melissa’s mind ...
... Her thoughts were suddenly very loud, a tangled web of words, feelings and factoids that battered against Emily’s mind. She pulled back hastily, gritting her teeth as a torrent of images lanced into her mind: Fulvia casting a spell, a grim-faced Caelian telling her that she’d have to get married, her own face wiped clean of everything save her eyes ... Markus, his eyes bright with lust as he walked towards her ...
Emily pulled back, hard. The memory had been so strong that she wasn’t sure it was Melissa’s, rather than hers. She’d never slept with Markus—she knew she’d never slept with Markus—and yet it was hard to escape the impression that she had. Melissa’s embarrassment boiled around her, the emotions driving other memories towards Emily’s mind. Markus and Melissa had clearly worked their way through every sexual position they knew and then invented some more.
“Concentrate,” Samra said. “I wish you to find a particular thought.”
Emily braced herself, then glided back into Melissa’s thoughts. Another torrent of images roared at her, each one carrying its own baggage. Fulvia staring down at a tiny Melissa, terrifying her; an older boy, screaming in pain ... Melissa waking up in pain, only to feel relief—even joy—when she discovered the blood on the sheets. A ceremony had followed, a welcoming into womanhood. Emily couldn’t help feeling a flicker of envy. Her first period had been a nightmare. She’d had to go to the school nurse for advice.
The roaring grew louder. Images blurred together; Alassa and Imaiqah, Jacqui and Cerise, Markus ... Emily fought to hold on to something—anything—but it was like being caught in a tidal wave. She couldn’t keep her thoughts together any longer ...
Something slapped her face, hard. Emily staggered, breaking contact. Her head swam, her body falling ... she caught herself, somehow, before she fell out of the chair. Melissa was suddenly gone, as if she’d never been there. Emily had to peer through suddenly sore eyes to make sure that Melissa was still alive. Her jaw ached, hard. She hadn’t felt so sore since someone had slapped her ...
The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13) Page 18