“Get undressed,” she ordered, as they entered the bathroom. She didn’t think she wanted to be naked in front of anyone right now, but she didn’t want to leave Frieda alone. The younger girl was still a suicide risk. “We’ll take a quick shower and then have a bite to eat.”
“As you wish,” Frieda said. She sounded tired and depressed. Emily wondered if she should put Frieda in stasis too. “And then ... what?”
Emily sighed. They’d have to face the music, of course. Legally, Frieda couldn’t be blamed for anything she’d been compelled to do, but proving that she’d actually been compelled might be difficult. Daze’s subliminal prompts were already fading into nothingness.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Chapter Forty
WHITEHALL FELT DIFFERENT, EMILY NOTICED, AS they made their way up the drive towards the gatehouse. Daze’s body floated after them, bobbing in the wind. It was late afternoon on a weekend, yet there were no students or tutors in sight, something she knew was almost always a bad sign. The small collection of horses in the gatehouse was worse. Their caparisons suggested that they belonged to mediators or combat sorcerers.
At least they’re not hunting for us, Emily thought, although she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. The hunters would be annoyed if they discovered they’d wasted their time, but at least they’d be out of the way. A single spell-happy idiot who started casting spells before she could explain would be enough to cause a tragedy. But where are they?
Sergeant Miles stepped out of the gatehouse, his arms folded across his chest. “Emily. Frieda.”
Emily swallowed. Beside her, Frieda shivered, brushing against Emily’s arm. Emily shot her a reassuring glance, even though she didn’t feel it. She’d prepared herself to face Gordian, not Sergeant Miles. But in some ways it was a relief. Sergeant Miles would listen to her, at least. She reached out with her senses, but felt nothing within the gatehouse. That didn’t prove he was alone, she reminded herself sharply. Anyone could be hiding inside and she wouldn’t know unless she drew on the wards.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Emily said. It struck her, suddenly, that Sergeant Miles might have deliberately chosen to greet her. He’d be as aware of the potential for disaster as Emily herself. “She was manipulated.”
“I see,” Sergeant Miles said. His face was unreadable, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. It was impossible to tell if he believed her or not. “How?”
“Mind magics,” Emily said. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have in the open air, not when God alone knew who might be listening. “She needs medical attention.”
There was a long, chilling pause. “I will escort her to the infirmary,” Sergeant Miles said, finally. “And you will go straight to the Grandmaster’s office. No detours along the way.”
Emily hesitated, unsure. She didn’t want to let Frieda out of her sight, even escorted by a man she trusted. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t hurt Frieda, she was sure, but Gordian—or someone—could simply order him to hand her over at once. And then ... she wished she knew just what Gordian had told the hunters. They’d be more inclined to attack first and ask questions later if they believed Frieda was an irredeemably insane rogue.
“I won’t let anyone hurt her,” Sergeant Miles added, quietly. “But you do have to speak to the Grandmaster before something else happens.”
“I’ll be fine.” Frieda let go of Emily’s arm. “You go see the Grandmaster.”
“I’ll take the body, too,” Sergeant Miles said. “You won’t want anything distracting you while you’re talking to the Grandmaster.”
Emily nodded, wordlessly.
She felt the castle’s wards grow stronger as she stepped into the building. Gordian had been busy, she thought grimly. The wards weren’t entirely friendly any longer. He knew she’d left the building, then. She wondered, sourly, if Gordian was working hand in glove with Fulvia. But then, he wouldn’t want to put himself too far out for her. A Grandmaster was supposed to be above the political fray.
Emily watched them head down to the infirmary, then climbed the steps slowly to Gordian’s office. The corridors were deserted, the wards humming a warning note to anyone stupid enough to be out of their dorms. Normally, someone sneaking through the school in the middle of the night would be tolerated, as long as they weren’t caught, but not today. Now, everyone was in their dorms ...
And it isn’t even sunset yet, she thought, wryly. The last time everyone had been confined to their dorms, a Mimic had been prowling the school. They’ll be wondering just what the hell is going on.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty air as she walked down the corridor and into the antechamber. There was no sign of Madame Griselda, not at her desk nor poking through her filing cabinets. Instead, the door to the inner office gaped open, invitingly. Emily gathered herself, trying to think of everything Gordian might say, then stepped into the office. The wards brushed against her magic, testing her identity, as she closed the door behind her and looked around. Gordian stood behind his desk, wearing battle robes. One hand was hidden inside his pocket.
“Emily,” Gordian said, shortly. A wave of emotions crossed his face, ending in weary resignation. “I believe I gave you some very specific orders.”
“Frieda was manipulated,” Emily said, flatly. She thought, fast. Gordian was resigned ... but resigned about what? Surely, he didn’t think she was going to dictate to him. “She isn’t responsible for her actions.”
Gordian’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he said, in precisely the same tone Sergeant Miles had used. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
Emily clasped her hands behind her back, then started to explain how she’d deduced where Frieda was going and gone after her. Gordian listened, yet he only showed real interest when Emily told him about Daze and the bracelet. He sucked in his breath when she mentioned Fulvia, but he didn’t ask any questions. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions about how she’d escaped her bonds either. She didn’t want to tell him she had a lethal snake for a familiar.
“And you used soul magic on Frieda,” Gordian said, when he finished. “You do realize that using soul magic without permission is technically illegal?”
“I could have left her to die, instead,” Emily said, sharply. She would have thought that legality would have been the least of his concerns. “And she would die with everyone thinking she’d gone rogue.”
“True,” Gordian said. “Do you still have the bracelet?”
Emily fished it out of her pocket. She’d cast a pair of protective charms over it, just in case it was still dangerous, but otherwise she’d left it untouched. Gordian took the bracelet and examined it carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. Emily watched, nervously, as he pressed his fingers against the runes, then placed the bracelet on the desk. It didn’t seem inclined to try to bite him.
“Powerless,” Gordian said, finally. “And she made it herself.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it proves nothing,” Gordian said. There was another hint of bitter resignation on his face, briefly visible before it vanished. “Frieda would hardly be the first student to try to devise something to encourage her to study. Or to make a fatal mistake when she put it on.”
“Daze taught her how to make it,” Emily said. In hindsight, the trick should have been obvious. But she’d never thought about it. “And he was working for Fulvia.”
Gordian met her eyes. “Can you prove it?”
“I can swear an oath,” Emily said, sharply. Was Gordian working for Fulvia? Or was he merely concerned at the prospect of another political catfight? There would have been some frank exchanges of views after the near-disaster last year. “And Frieda’s mind ...”
“You can only swear to what you believe to be true,” Gordian said. His voice grew darker as he looked down at the bracelet. “And while I understand precisely why you choose to enter Frieda’s mind, you will have almost certainly made it im
possible for a trained healer to evaluate the damage. It will be tricky to prove that Frieda was under someone’s control and”—he held up a hand before she could speak—“impossible to prove that Fulvia was behind it.”
Emily started. “Daze told me ...”
“Yes,” Gordian said. “But how do you know he wasn’t lying?”
He picked up the bracelet and played with it for a long moment. “Celadon’s family has demanded a formal inquest. They have dispatched a prosecutor to file charges against Frieda. The ... incident involving Adana may be discussed too. It is possible that Marian’s family will also insist on having a say. If Frieda is found guilty, or judged to be too unstable to handle magic, she will be executed.”
“It wasn’t her fault!”
“Prove it,” Gordian said, calmly.
Emily stared at him. “Surely you can attest to her change in behavior ...”
“She would hardly be the first student to go through behavioral changes as she grapples with preparing for her exams,” Gordian said. His voice was hollow. It dawned on Emily that Gordian might have been hoping that she and Frieda vanished without a trace. “Any competent prosecutor would have no trouble knocking holes in that argument. Celadon’s family wants someone to pay. Frieda is the unlucky one who will pay.”
“Unless I can prove she was manipulated,” Emily said, stiffly.
“Correct.” Gordian looked up at her. “I didn’t expel her, not yet. Frieda will get a fair trial, as laid down in the rules. I am obligated to make sure she gets a fair trial. And you will have a chance to prove that your claims—and your charges—are true. But if she is found guilty, she will be handed over for ultimate judgement.”
“Fuck,” Emily said.
Gordian sighed. “On a different note, your behavior has been very poor,” he added. “You were appointed Head Girl, yet you failed to handle an obviously difficult student. You were too emotionally involved for your own good. Frieda ... should have been brought up short, a long time ago. There is a reason we try to keep a social gap between the older and younger students. Their concerns should not have any significance to you.”
And so you want me to turn in my badge, Emily thought, sardonically. You never wanted me to have it in the first place.
“Some students might be allowed a chance to correct their mistakes,” Gordian added. “I could pardon some of your errors, if they weren’t repeated. But I cannot look past blatant insubordination, disobedience and naked favoritism.”
He held out his hand. “Give me the badge.”
Emily reached into her pocket, feeling ... she wasn’t sure how she felt. She’d hadn’t wanted the badge, let alone the responsibilities that came with it. She’d wracked her brain to find a way to get out of being Head Girl. She hadn’t enjoyed disciplining younger students, patrolling the corridors or running the wretched dueling club. And yet, being stripped of her position and authority hurt. It was a punishment every bit as humiliating as being slapped across the face.
She was tempted to throw it at him. Instead, she merely dropped it into his hand.
“Another Head Pupil will be selected within the next day or so,” Gordian told her. He looked down at the badge for a long moment, his face unreadable. “You will clear out your rooms and office, of course. Pass student files to your successor, move your own possessions into one of the empty chambers. I expect you to do everything in your power to ensure the transition of power is reasonably smooth.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. She thought she should feel something. But, apart from a dull ache gnawing at her, there was nothing. Too much had happened in too short a space of time for her to feel much. Besides, losing her position was something of a relief. “I’ll see to it tomorrow.”
“Very well.” Gordian stood up. “I’ll ensure that Frieda receives the very best of care, Emily. Hopefully, Madame Samra or Madame Kyla will find evidence to back up your claims. The inquest will not hold Frieda accountable for anything done under any form of mind control.”
As long as it can be proven, Emily thought, numbly. She tried to remember what little she knew of the procedure, but there wasn’t much. She’d never thought she’d need to look up the rules for a formal inquest. Normally, there was a clear and unchallengeable reason for any expulsion. But at least we have hope.
Gordian looked up, sharply. “The Prosecutor has arrived,” he said. “She’s making her way here now.”
Emily nodded, slowly. “I should go.”
“Stay and tell them what happened,” Gordian urged. “She may as well hear the story from your lips.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
She reached out with her mind, trying to sense the prosecutor’s approach, but there was nothing. The wards weren’t being cooperative. Gordian might not have managed to sever her connection to the school’s wards—her connection outranked his—but he had managed to limit her ability to manipulate them. Somehow, she doubted he’d let her get back down to the catacombs to erase his modifications.
I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t simply try to kill me, she thought, morbidly. But he would have no way of knowing how the wards would react.
The door opened. She turned as the prosecutor entered the office...
“Fulvia?”
End of Book Thirteen
The Story Will Continue In
Graduation Day
Afterword
Well, here we are again.
Last year, when I wrote Infinite Regress, I noted that I disliked long-running book series where each book was nothing more than an oversized chapter. I felt—and still do—that the writers pad out their volumes to keep the series going as long as possible, even though it tends to be a little self-defeating. Quite a few people have told me that I would enjoy Game of Thrones, for example, but I have no intention of picking up a volume until the series is concluded.
My intention, regarding Schooled in Magic, was to work hard to ensure that each book would be relatively stand-alone. Obviously, later books would draw on earlier books—this book draws on ideas seeded as far back as The School of Hard Knocks—but they would not force the readers to wait impatiently for the next book. My first failure, insofar as that was concerned, was Infinite Regress/Past Tense. I found that there were two separate plots—the collapsing school and Emily’s journey back in time—and while I could divide them to some extent, I couldn’t tie the first one up without completing the second. Past Tense, therefore, followed on from the cliff hanger at the end of Infinite Regress.
I promised my readers, back then, that I would finish the first draft of Past Tense within two months. And I kept my promise.
The Gordian Knot had the same problem as Infinite Regress. There were elements that needed to be put in place before the original plot could actually begin, but those elements would either consume too much of the book or fail to receive the development they needed. Accordingly, I split the plot into two and ended this volume with a cliff hanger. By way of recompense, I intend to write Graduation Day within two months (September 2017) and—hopefully—have it out by the end of the year.
Thank you for reading!
Christopher G. Nuttall
Edinburgh, 2017.
About the author
Christopher G. Nuttall was born in Edinburgh, studied in Manchester, married in Malaysia and currently living in Scotland, United Kingdom with his wife and baby son. He is the author of twenty-six novels from various publishers and fifty self-published novels.
Current and forthcoming titles published by Twilight Times Books
Schooled in Magic YA fantasy series
Schooled in Magic — book 1
Lessons in Etiquette — book 2
A Study in Slaughter — book 3
Work Experience — book 4
The School of Hard Knocks — book 5
Love’s Labor’s Won — book 6
Trial By Fire — book 7
Wedding Hells — book 8
Infinite Regres
s — book 9
Past Tense — book 10
The Sergeant’s Apprentice — book 11
Fists of Justice – book 12
The Gordian Knot – book 13
The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire military SF series
Barbarians at the Gates — book 1
The Shadow of Cincinnatus — book 2
The Barbarian Bride — book 3
Chris has also produced The Empire’s Corps series, the Outside Context Problem series and many others. He is also responsible for two fan-made Posleen novels, both set in John Ringo’s famous Posleen universe. They can both be downloaded from his site.
Website: http://www.chrishanger.net/
Blog: http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall
The Zero Curse
Caitlyn Aguirre is no magician ...
... But that doesn't make her useless.
After discovering her true talent and uncovering the long-lost secret behind Objects of Power, Cat returns to school intent on showing everyone what she can do. But her mere existence is a threat to the balance of power, convincing some to befriend her, some to try to use her ... and some to remove her.
And when she and her closest friends become the target of a deadly plot, she must use all her wits to save them and escape before she becomes the first casualty in a deadly war.
The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13) Page 38