by M. J. Putney
Tory laughed. “Let me guess. Before you came to Lackland, your parents disapproved of you marrying a man whose family is in trade, but now they’re glad that a young man from a prosperous family is in love with you.”
Elaine nodded vigorously. “My parents forbade me to see Harry before my unfortunate talents were discovered. They said he wasn’t good enough for me. Now they’ve resigned themselves to the fact that I’m lucky to get him even if his family is in trade, so the banns will be read right away. In a month we’ll be married!”
“I’m so happy for you,” Tory said sincerely. She stepped back as another girl approached to offer congratulations. Elaine’s situation gave everyone hope since her magical talent had actually removed the obstacles to marrying the man she loved. Tory didn’t think Elaine had a great deal of power, and she didn’t seem to have any regrets about having it locked down. She was lucky.
A servant approached and handed Tory a letter. “For you, Miss Mansfield.”
The letter was franked by her father, which meant “Fairmount” was scrawled across the upper right corner in his bold hand. Peers of the realm like her father had franking privileges, so they could send letters for free. Tory never used to wonder why rich men had free use of the Royal Mail while impoverished scullery maids and farm laborers had to pay, but it now struck her as unfair.
Lord Fairmount hadn’t written to Tory in the two months since he’d banished her to Lackland. This letter was from her mother, who wrote weekly with news of the estate and the neighbors. Tory’s situation was never mentioned. Though not very satisfying, at least the letters proved that she hadn’t been entirely forgotten.
After a paragraph of which tenants were ill and how her mother had taken jellies and syrups to the invalids, her mother turned serious.
Darling, I know how much you’ve been looking forward to coming home for Christmas and Sarah’s wedding. Unfortunately, your father has forbidden it. He feels that the more time you spend at Lackland, the sooner you’ll be cured. I shall be very sad not to see you, but I will write every detail of the wedding. Study hard, my dearest girl.
Tory almost wept with disappointment. She wanted so much to return to her home and sleep in her own bed, even if was only for a fortnight. How could she miss Sarah’s wedding?
She reread the letter as if that might change the words, and realized what her mother was too tactful to say: Her father didn’t want other guests at the wedding to see the disgraced daughter who had been sent to Lackland.
Though the earl hadn’t officially disowned her, he was ashamed of her. Perhaps he would never allow her to return to Fairmount Hall. How long would it take for people to forget that the Lord Fairmount had a younger daughter?
She was disappearing already.
CHAPTER 17
Tory’s mood was bleak when she headed into the Labyrinth that evening. At least she was welcome here, if not in her own home.
Not wanting to deal with Cynthia, she let the other girl go first and followed a few minutes later. Tonight she was scheduled for a tutorial with Miss Wheaton. When she reached the central workroom, she found the teacher writing notes at a table. Approaching, she said, “Good evening, Miss Wheaton. What am I to learn tonight?”
The teacher looked up with a smile. “How to husband your power carefully so you won’t use it up too quickly and become exhausted.”
“I can definitely use that!” Tory said, taking a seat at the table.
“It’s one of the most valuable skills a mage can have.” Miss Wheaton pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I must talk to Mr. Stephens about holding a drill on how to behave if the Labyrinth is raided. There hasn’t been a raid in some time, so we’ve become rather lax. But half a dozen or so new Irregulars have joined us, so we need to make sure everyone knows what to do.”
Tory frowned. “What does one do if the authorities raid us?”
“Basically, run,” Miss Wheaton said with a laugh.
“Like chickens when a fox enters the yard?” Tory asked doubtfully.
“No, there are prefects for the three groups,” the teacher explained. “Allarde for the Lackland boys, Elspeth for the girls, and Jack Rainford for the local students. They make sure all their people are moving out safely. There’s time to get everyone organized because magical sensors on the entrances let us know when a raid is beginning. When the alarm sounds, most of the mage lights will go out, so the raiders will have a hard time recognizing anyone. There is just enough light left so people won’t run into walls. The tunnels are such a maze that it’s easy to avoid raiders. If a tunnel or exit is guarded, there are always other choices.”
“What happens to a student who is caught? Or has that never happened?”
“It has happened, though rarely. The student is caned, which is bad enough. What’s worse is that anyone caught down here practicing magic is locked in every night for as long as he or she remains at the school.”
“How dreadful to be cut off from the rest of the Irregulars!” Tory exclaimed, thinking how her fellow mages had become her friends and her community.
“Most students find some way to compensate. Several become good at picking the locks to their doors. Others slip down to the Labyrinth during the day so they can practice their magic. But it’s not the same as regular sessions, of course.”
An understatement. Tory vowed to spend more time learning the tunnels to ensure she’d never be caught. Lackland was enough of a prison already. Being locked into her room at night would be a prison within a prison.
“Good evening, Victoria.”
A tingle rang down her spine as she recognized Allarde’s voice. She turned and greeted him with a smile, hoping she wasn’t beaming like a madwoman. “Good evening to you, Allarde. Are you part of Miss Wheaton’s tutorial this evening?”
“Yes. So is my friend Colin here. Have you two worked together before?”
“Not really,” Colin said. Medium-sized and red-haired, he had freckles and an infectious smile. “Only in the joining circles.”
“It’s time to remedy that,” she replied. “Do you have a magical specialty, Colin?”
“I’m a good finder if something or someone is lost.” He chuckled. “It’s not a glamorous skill, but it’s useful.”
“Splendid!” she exclaimed. “Can you tell me where I lost a silver brooch that my sister gave me? Or do you have to search for an item yourself?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Did you lose it about three days ago?”
When she nodded, Colin closed his eyes. “The catch broke when you were crossing the cloister garden. The brooch is on the west side, about a yard from the fountain. You’ll have to poke around in the grass a bit. I think someone stepped on the brooch after rain and it got pushed into the earth, but you should be able to retrieve it without too much effort.”
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “I was very sorry to have lost it.”
“As I said, my talent is a useful one.” Mary Janeway joined them, and Colin’s attention shifted. “Good evening, Mary. I’m glad we’re working together tonight.”
Mary gave him a bashful smile. Tory saw a soft pink glow between the two, and guessed that romance was budding.
As the two began to talk, Tory turned and found Allarde studying her with disquieting intensity. Feeling a little reckless, she said, “Is it my imagination, or do you often watch me in a way that is not casual?”
His gaze dropped. “It’s not your imagination. I’m sorry. I am not usually rude, but there is … something about you. Ever since you first came to the Labyrinth, I’ve felt a connection that I don’t understand. Do you feel it, too?”
“Yes, and I don’t understand it, either,” Tory replied. “But Elspeth observed us that first day, and she says that connections are of many types. Perhaps our energies will blend together particularly well when we work together.”
Allarde’s expression eased. “That must be it. I can’t imagine what other sort of connection there might be between us
.”
He certainly was eager for that twang of energy to be about magic, not romance, Tory thought regretfully. But Elspeth’s explanation made him look more relaxed with her, and that was good.
Miss Wheaton said, “Time for this tutorial to begin. Colin—”
Before she could finish, a horn blared and most of the mage lights extinguished, leaving the hall dim and shadowed. Miss Wheaton caught her breath. “Raiders!”
After a frozen moment, Mr. Stephens stepped up onto the dais and raised his voice to carry through the room. “The raiders are using the blue tunnels on both sides, the green tunnel on the boys’ side,” he hesitated, concentrating, “and the red tunnel on the girls’ side. Prefects, look to your charges. There are only about a dozen raiders and since they’re using just four tunnels, you can all escape easily. We’ll meet again next week.”
Despite the teacher’s calm words, anxiety swept through the hall like a cold wind. Chairs scraped and voices rose as students headed for the exits. Allarde hesitated, his expression torn. “I must go. Just do as Elspeth says and you’ll be all right.”
“I will be fine,” she assured him. “You have your duty. I shall see you at the next study session.”
He touched her hair for an instant, then whirled and went off to collect the boys he was responsible for. Surprise held Tory still for a moment. Allarde was not acting like a mere colleague in magical study.
Setting that aside to consider later, she swung around and spotted Elspeth briskly marshaling the Lackland girls. Tory headed for the group that was gathering, telling herself that this happened regularly and the raiders almost never caught anyone. Mostly they just wanted to disrupt the classes and perhaps scare away the most timid.
“I’ll go first,” Elspeth called, rapidly scanning the girls gathering around her. “If I see a raider, I’ll throw an illusion at him and call a warning to split into smaller groups and take other routes. There will be mages among the raiders, so your stealth stones won’t help, but don’t worry. They haven’t caught a student in the years I’ve been here.”
Most of the other girls had done evacuation drills, so there was no panic as they followed Elspeth into the green tunnel. Tory and Cynthia were the last to arrive, so they were at the back of the group. The other girl had lost her usual languid elegance and was visibly distraught. “If my father finds out I’m studying magic, he’ll kill me!”
“He won’t find out,” Tory said soothingly. “It’s not chance this is called the Labyrinth. We’ll avoid the raiders and be safe in our beds in a few minutes.”
“What if I get lost down here?”
“You won’t. If we have to split up, just use the color codes to take yourself to the surface. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Tory dropped back and let Cynthia go ahead of her.
The girls were all moving as fast as they could, but most wore light slippers that weren’t designed for running. Tory’s anxiety increased as she heard the pounding of heavy feet nearby. A man shouted, then others joined in, bellowing like a pack of hounds after a fox. The furious voices echoed through the tunnels, harsh and threatening.
Wishing she hadn’t thought of hunters galloping after their prey, Tory had to force herself to stay calm. If only the other girls were faster! Being last was making her nerves crawl.
As she whisked past a cross tunnel, a hoarse voice shouted, “There’s one of the chits! Grab her!”
Her pulse spiked with fear. Realizing she was the only girl to have been spotted, Tory spun around and headed back the way she’d come, hoping to lead the pursuers away from the group. In her sensible shoes, she was able to run full speed, which felt good.
Her ruse worked. Far too close behind her, the same voice shouted, “This way!”
How far to the next cross tunnel? Too far, too far!
She reached a cross tunnel and darted to the left.
“She’s gone left!” the hoarse voice called.
Damnation, the raiders were close enough to see her! They had good lights, too, so strong and steady that they had to be mage lights. That confirmed that there were mages with the raiders. Traitors! Elspeth said that mages didn’t hurt mages, but the ones down here didn’t seem to know that.
The men could run faster than she could, and they were gaining on her. Panting, she shot into another tunnel, then bolted into another. She didn’t bother with the color codes. What mattered was losing the devils pursuing her. She could figure out where she was after she was safely away.
“There she is!” Once more they had her in their sights.
Desperate, she raced into another passage. She wished she could douse the dim mage light she carried, but without it she risked running into a wall and cracking her skull. They’d have her then.
Another turn—and to her horror, she saw that this passage came to a dead end. There was nowhere else to go.
She wanted to cry. Scream. Pray. She closed her eyes for an instant, trying not to think of spending the rest of her years at Lackland locked into a cell every night.
No! She opened her eyes, and saw that the tunnel now ended in a full-length silver mirror. Where the devil had that come from? She would have sworn that it wasn’t there a moment ago. The mirror was almost as wide and tall as the passage, and the shining surface reflected her and the dim light in her hand as she pounded toward it.
“She must’ve turned down that one!” the hoarse voice shouted.
Tory slowed as she approached the mirror, reaching out in the hope she could move it to one side and hide behind it. She touched the surface, it turned black as an abyss …
… and she fell into hell.
CHAPTER 18
Lackland, WWII
Tory tumbled helplessly forward into darkness. She was falling, falling, being torn into screaming pieces.…
She slammed hard to the ground and the world turned dark.
* * *
Awareness returned with patchy slowness. Cold, damp stone under her belly. Absolute blackness. Shivering and disoriented, she tried to understand what had happened. Where the devil was she? She could no longer hear sounds of pursuit. There was only darkness and silence.
She must still be in the tunnel. The ground beneath her had the slightly irregular texture of chalk, and the air held a familiar damp coolness. So she must be in the Labyrinth. If she’d been unconscious for a while, the raiders might have left by now.
There had been a mirror, and touching the surface seemed to have transported her to this place. Was the mirror a magical portal to safety? Slowly she pushed herself to a sitting position and felt around. Her fingertips brushed a chalk wall, but she couldn’t find the mirror.
Her stomach was queasy, and she’d have some dramatic bruises in the morning, but no serious damage had been done despite those horrifying moments when she thought she was being ripped apart. She closed her eyes and pulled her jagged energy into her center. When she had her balance, she used the heat magic she’d learned from Alice Ripley to warm herself to a more comfortable temperature.
Since there was still no sound from the raiders, she created a mage lamp, keeping it dim just in case. The light confirmed that she was in a Labyrinth tunnel, though this one looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Dust made a gritty layer on the floor and no footprints marked it. There was no sign of the mirror.
The portal must have moved her into a disused passage. She prayed it wasn’t sealed. No, she could feel a faint current of air moving through. She got to her feet and moved toward the source of the air, all senses at full alert.
She was relieved to come to a cross tunnel, but she couldn’t see a color code patch. This passage must not be part of the main Labyrinth.
She kept moving ahead. At the next intersection, she looked for the color code again. Nothing. This time she stretched up and touched the spot where the colors were usually found.
A glow appeared, so faint that she wasn’t sure of the color. It might be blue, gray, or even silver. The magic had faded to almost
nothing, but even so, it was comforting. She sent power to the patch, renewing the color to a recognizable blue so she could find her way back later.
She turned into the cross passage since it had the color code. She was still moving through undisturbed dust, leaving small, neat tracks. If anyone followed, she would be easy to find. But she didn’t have the feeling there was anyone down here.
She was relieved again when the tunnel ended in a flight of dusty steps leading upward. The steps looked familiar, yet the dust proved it wasn’t a passage that her fellow magelings used regularly. She climbed to the landing and touched the color coding area.
There was a dim glow of color and the door creaked, but it didn’t open. Tory frowned. There had been mages among the raiders; they’d proved it by having mage lights. Could they have performed some great sorcery that sucked most of the magic out of the Labyrinth? She’d never heard of such a thing, but the early religious orders had managed to concentrate Lackland’s magic below the surface, so perhaps the process could have been reversed.
She touched the magical patch again, this time pouring her own power into it. Groaning horribly, the heavy door opened in a series of small jerks. She darted through as soon as the gap was wide enough. She didn’t want to be in the Labyrinth if the magic failed entirely and the door closed again.
She stepped into what seemed like a stone cellar, except there was no roof overhead. It was still night, so she hadn’t been unconscious for too long. Cool moonlight illuminated piles of rubble on the floor. The cellar didn’t look at all familiar. Perhaps she’d come up on the boys’ side.
She looked up into the sky and frowned. Wasn’t the moon only starting to wax? It should have been just a crescent, but the moon over her head was nearly full. She must have been so busy with school and the Irregulars that she’d lost track of the moon phases.
Still, it was convenient that the moon was bright enough to light her way out of the cellar. She let the mage lamp fade out. Since she didn’t know where she was, it was best not to draw attention.