“And that wouldn’t be easy,” Emily said. She studied the cauldron thoughtfully. It took more magic to brew the potion than one would get out of it afterwards. “There’d be a point of diminishing returns.”
“Pretty much.” Void smiled. “You’ll find a few magicians who do drain magic from potions for power. But they rarely get very far.”
He put the original cauldron to the side. “I’ll have this bottled and shipped down to the town,” he said. “They’ll find a use for it. Meanwhile, we’re going to look at your spell notation. I want you to try and fill in the remaining gaps.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. “I... I’m going to have to practice.”
“Don’t practice this without my presence,” Void said. He tapped the table, firmly. “It can go horribly wrong.”
He met her eyes. “I know, young sorcerers want to push the limits. I was a young sorcerer myself once. I know what it’s like. But don’t defy me on this.”
Emily swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Void smiled. “If you want to defy me, find something more significant,” he added. “You only get to do it once.”
Chapter Seven
EMILY SLUNK INTO THE LIBRARY WITH a feeling of relief.
Void had worked her hard, so hard she honestly hadn’t realized a fortnight had passed until he’d told her she’d be taking the next day off. She’d been astonished, before she’d realized she had no idea what to do. She felt too tired and worn to go walking through the valley, let alone down to Zugzwang. It had been all she could do to write a handful of notes to her friends — to reassure them she was fine and working hard — before heading to the library. She simply hadn’t had time to go before her day off.
The library was a series of interconnecting rooms, the walls lined with shelves and a handful of glass-fronted cabinets. They were smaller than she’d realized, as if someone had turned the library into a giant honeycomb of chambers and bookshelves. There were sections that were so small and cramped she was sure they’d been designed for children- and chambers large enough to hold a dozen adults without problems. She stood in the center of the first chamber and looked around. A pair of comfortable chairs sat in the middle of the room. A reading desk had been placed against the far wall.
She frowned as she saw the portrait hanging over the reading desk. Four boys — they looked to be on the verge of adulthood — standing next to a single older man. The boys looked remarkably alike, although there were enough differences for her to think they weren’t quadruplets. Magical twins were rare, almost completely unknown... she felt her frown deepen as she studied the portrait. There was no background, no hint of when and where the portrait had been painted. And there was nothing to say who the subjects had been, once upon a time.
It could be anyone, she thought. Right?
She put the thought aside as she turned her attention to the bookshelves. There were hundreds of books within eyeshot, some protected by charms that threatened to bite her hand off — or worse — if she touched them without permission. She spotted a couple of titles she only knew by reputation, by vague references in other tomes written before the printing press. Others were clearly written in older — outdated — languages. She knew from grim experience that many would defy a translation spell. Whoever had written the books wanted their readers to work. Or, perhaps, the languages had been more common before the First Faerie War and the Empire.
Her lips quirked as she stepped into the next room. It was larger than she’d thought, dominated by a handful of map rolls. She pulled one out and examined it, finding Zangaria, Whitehall and the Craggy Mountains with ease. There was no sign of Zugzwang. Emily guessed it was too small for the mapmakers to notice. A mid-sized town would be completely unimportant to them, unless it rested in an important part of the world. The locals might feel they were important. It was unlikely the kings and princes agreed. Emily studied the map, realizing dully that it had been drawn well before the necromancers had taken over the Blighted Lands. There were a dozen countries — provinces — that had been wiped out years before she’d known they’d existed. She tried to imagine just how many people the necromancers had killed and drew a blank. The number was just too large to calculate.
She returned the map to the shelf and walked through the rest of the chambers. A couple of rooms forced her to crawl in on her hands and knees, so small she wondered if they’d been designed for children once upon a time. The books were remorselessly adult: magical textbooks, historical textbooks, notebooks and papers from magicians who’d been lost in the mists of time... Emily suspected it would take years to go through the collection and read every book. She’d have to master a handful of lost languages just to catalog them. Void didn’t seem to have bothered. Emily guessed he knew the collection well enough to be sure of finding whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. There was no one else who might seek access to the library.
Except me, Emily thought. And who knows who else?
She made her way through another chamber, crammed with books on myths and legends. A handful, written in Old Speech, talked about the rise of vampire clans and werewolf packs. Emily couldn’t tell if the author’s claims were rooted in fact, complete nonsense, or some strange mixture of the two. He wrote like a nineteenth-century explorer studying tribal communities in India or Africa. On one hand, he saw everything through a racist lens; on the other, he seemed to actively admire his subjects. Emily glanced at the title cover then put the book aside. Werewolves and vampires were rare. They’d been hunted to near extinction after the Faerie Wars.
A well-thumbed book sat on a smaller shelf. Emily picked it up and read the first few pages. The author insisted the gods had really been magicians, supremely powerful magicians. A handwritten note stated that the author had been burnt to death for blasphemy. Emily wasn’t surprised. The priests of the various gods wouldn’t be happy if someone insisted their deities weren’t divine. And yet, they’d never invented a monotheistic religion. Their gods were powerful, but they weren’t omnipotent. They could be beaten by mortal men.
And hopefully that will never change, she thought. The Nameless World hadn’t had any major religious conflicts. The various faiths managed to get along, somehow. This world has enough problems.
She put the book back on the shelf, then returned to the entrance room. She had no idea where to begin. It was clear she couldn’t even begin to read most of the books. The remainder... she picked a book of magical theory off the nearest shelf, sat down and started to read. The author had either been incredibly powerful or had invented the battery long before she’d entered the Nameless World. Or he’d simply come up with spells that were theoretically possible, but practically impossible. They required more power than a dozen necromancers.
“And maybe they would make him a god,” Emily mused. There were horror stories about people who messed around with nexus points. “What was he trying to do?”
She put the book aside and lay back in the chair, rubbing her forehead. Her body felt... tired and worn. Void really had worked her hard. She knew she should go for a walk, that it would make her feel better if she stepped outside the tower and explored the surrounding countryside, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She didn’t have anyone to go with, either. Silent remained polite, but distant; Barley and the others were a little more friendly, yet they stayed out of sight unless they were summoned. And while she could order one of the maids to accompany her, she knew better. They wouldn’t enjoy being ordered to walk with her.
And yet I have to do something, she thought. But what?
She sighed. She had a whole string of projects she wanted to work on, but... she felt as if she couldn’t trust herself to add two and two together and get the correct answer, let alone perform complex magical equations. She’d probably wind up teleporting herself into the sun, or straight into a mountain, if she messed up the figures. And her counterpart... she was grimly determined to match her counterpart, just in case she wasn’t as dead as Emil
y hoped. It was quite possible that — in some universe — she’d survived.
The chair felt warm and comfortable. She felt her eyes close. A nap wouldn’t kill her. It was her day off. She took a breath, feeling her mind start to drift. She felt safe, yet... there was something there. There was something watching. She wanted to wake up — she wasn’t even sure she was asleep — but she couldn’t. She felt suspended between the waking world and the dreaming. And...
***
She sat up, sharply. Sweat trickled down her back as she looked around, expecting to be jumped at any second. But the library was empty. She shivered, despite the almost feverish heat. Had she been hexed? Or... she gritted her teeth, then cast a spell. It should have revealed any hostile magic in the library. The bookshelves lit up, revealing their protective charms, but nothing seemed to be aimed at her specifically. Perhaps it had just been a nightmare. They seemed to reoccur whenever she slept in an unfamiliar place.
Emily stood, brushing down her robes. Her body ached, even though she’d done nothing more strenuous than eat breakfast and walk through the library all day. She wanted to have a bath, although it felt far too early. Or find Void... she wondered, suddenly, where he was. It was his day off too. She was tempted to send him a message through the wards, to ask him if he could talk to her. She’d never felt so alone before, not even when she’d lost her powers and feared she would never be the same again. Of course, six years ago, being alone wouldn’t have bothered her in the least. She would have welcomed it.
She turned and walked into the next compartment, noting a handful of books that would be worth reading later. Some were forbidden — she was surprised they were shelved next to perfectly legal books — and she was tempted to read them despite her overwhelming fatigue. It wouldn’t be the first time she read an illicit book. The only thing that kept her from opening it immediately was the thought of Void’s reaction. What would he do if he caught her? She wasn’t fool enough to think the library was completely unmonitored. The wards would be keeping an eye on her, just to make sure she didn’t do anything she shouldn’t. She picked up an old history book instead and started to read. She’d known Lord Alfred when she’d been thrown back in time, but she still found the story entertaining. The author seemed to have realized that Lord Alfred had been a stage magician as much as a real magician. It was hard to be sure how many of his feats had been real and how many had been nothing more than mere illusions.
The wards quivered around her, an hour later. She looked up as she heard someone step into the library. The maids? It was unlikely. She didn’t think any of them could read Old Speech, even if they’d mastered the New Learning. It was a rare skill, outside the upper classes. Even Imaiqah hadn’t learned until she’d been sent to Whitehall. Footsteps echoed outside — male footsteps. She wasn’t surprised when Void peered into the room and nodded at her.
“Emily,” he said. “Are you enjoying the library?”
“It’s fantastic!” Emily couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Are you going to teach me to read some of the books?”
“You’d probably need a proper tutor for that,” Void said. He reached for the book in her hand. She gave it to him, not without a twinge of regret. “I’ve never been sure how seriously to take this one.”
“Anything is possible,” Emily said. “You just have to know how to do it.”
Void nodded. “Plucking the moon out of the sky is impossible, at least by any magic we know,” he said. “Crafting a spell to make it look like you’ve pulled the moon out of the sky... that’s a little more possible.”
He put the book back on the shelf. “You’ll have time to read it later,” he said. “Right now, you should relax.”
“I can’t get my mind to focus,” Emily admitted. She waved a hand towards the cramped sections. “Why are some rooms so small I have to crawl to get inside?”
“You can shrink yourself,” Void said, dryly. “And to answer your question, I don’t know.”
“Children?” Emily frowned. She could shrink herself, but it was dangerous. “Or was the designer just trying to make people work to get the books?”
“Perhaps.” Void turned and led her back to the entrance chamber. “My master never had children, as far as I know. It might have been his master who reconfigured the library or someone so far down the chain that I wouldn’t recognize the name if you mentioned it.”
He stopped and waved Emily to one of the chairs. “Why aren’t you resting?”
Emily sighed. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“I just feel too tired,” she said, finally. She was all too aware she was probably whining. Lady Barb wouldn’t have put up with it. Nor would Sergeant Miles. “Tired and alone.”
“You can teleport,” Void pointed out. “Go somewhere. Go anywhere. Just be back before midnight.”
“I don’t have the energy,” Emily said. She corrected herself. “It’s not that I don’t have the energy. It’s just that I’m mentally tired.”
“Then do something mindless,” Void advised. He made a show of looking from side to side, as if he expected a teacher to show up at any moment, then opened a hidden drawer in the writing desk to reveal a kingmaker board and pieces. “Do you play?”
Emily had to smile. “I don’t think that’s mindless.”
“Kingmaker is not about being the king,” Void said. He set the board up with practiced ease. “It’s about being the power behind the king. On the surface, you might look like a bored young nobleman or court wizard. Underneath, you pull the strings. You’re the one in charge, even if no one knows it. There are even some players who argue that you’re actually the board itself” — he tapped one of the squares — “rather than any of the pieces. What do you think of that?”
Emily frowned. She’d never really liked kingmaker. Imaiqah had taught her the rules, but they were too complex for Emily’s liking. It was too close to chess for her to play properly. But chess had a fixed set of rules. Kingmaker's rules changed depending on what was happening. There was a degree of randomness to the gameplay that bothered her.
“It makes no sense,” she said, finally. “The board is the territory the two sides are fighting over. It doesn’t have a will of its own.”
“Are you sure?” Void met her eyes. “Law and custom are as much a part of the terrain as castles and counties. They can change, depending on who interprets them.”
“Yes,” Emily said slowly, “but they’re not... they’re not part of either side. They’re just there.”
She tapped the king. “And if I controlled the board, rather than the pieces, wouldn’t that make me a third side?”
“Perhaps.” Void moved a piece thoughtfully. “On the surface, the king appears to have all the advantages. He has power and agency. However, he’s also vulnerable to sneak attack — and his enemies, and turncoats, aren’t always easy to spot. He has to be visible, while his opponents can hide in the shadows. The appearance of power is often just as important as the reality of power.”
“It doesn’t matter what someone looks like,” Emily said. “If they have power...”
Void smiled. “How many times have you run into trouble because someone underestimated you? Because you didn’t look threatening?”
“Too many.” Emily conceded the point with a nod. “What happens if you don’t want to be threatening?”
“Then you have to accept the price of being underestimated,” Void pointed out.
“But at least people won’t think of you as a bullying asshole,” Emily said. She was too tired to dissemble. “Or a bitch.”
Void shrugged. If he was surprised by her words, he didn’t show it. “There are advantages and disadvantages to everything,” he said, as he moved another piece forward. “You mustn’t forget it.”
“I know.” Emily moved a piece of her own. “It never changes, does it?”
She frowned, deliberately changing the subject. “Would you mind if I went down to the town?”
“No,
like I said.” Void didn’t seem bothered by the sudden change. “Go anywhere. Just be back before midnight.”
“Yes, Dad,” Emily said.
“You’re my apprentice,” Void pointed out. “In a sense, you are my daughter as long as you remain under my roof. I have parental responsibilities as well as rights.”
He smiled. “And if you turn up with a hangover, I will be very sarcastic indeed.”
“I don’t drink,” Emily said. She remembered her mother and shuddered. “You know it.”
“It’s astonishing how many students forget the rules when they graduate,” Void commented, darkly. He moved another piece forward. “You wouldn’t be the first to see what happens when you break them. The sight of young sorcerers getting completely blotto for the first time is not for the faint of heart.”
“I already know,” Emily said, quietly.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry for taking you away from your day off too.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Void said. “On a different note, what happened to the spellbook I gave you?”
Emily flushed. “I left it in Dragon’s Den,” she said. She kicked herself, mentally. She should have thought to bring it. But there just hadn’t been time to do more than snatch a handful of bare essentials before teleporting to the tower. “I deciphered about a third of the spells.”
“Pick it up when you have a moment,” Void said. He didn’t sound particularly concerned. “I’ll want you to try some of them later.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. Dragon’s Den... she could time the visit so she could meet Frieda. Or Lady Barb. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more time.”
“You weren’t ready for some of the spells,” Void said. He moved another piece, then waited for Emily to make her move. “But you will be when you finish your apprenticeship.”
The Artful Apprentice Page 7