Silent returned, carrying three small books. Emily glanced at the titles, checking to make sure she could read them. Void might have promised to ensure she learned some of the older and largely forgotten languages, but she had no illusions about the timescale. It had taken her nearly three years to master the common tongue. The more complex aristocratic language had taken longer. She wondered, sometimes, if the locals had intended to enforce a permanent gap between the upper and lower classes.
They probably did, she thought, as she finished her meal. They would have frozen everything in ice if it helped them keep their power.
Silent backed off, then knelt. Emily tried not to be angry. The maid’s display of submission was creepy. Void didn’t seem to demand it from anyone... she wanted to ask the maid where she’d worked, but she knew the question would be unwelcome. Silent seemed to want to live up to her name. Emily wondered, as she put the tray to one side and picked up the first book, if Silent had chosen the name for herself. It sounded more like a sorcerer’s affectation than an ordinary name.
“You don’t have to kneel,” she said, tiredly. “Really.”
“As My Lady pleases,” Silent said.
Emily gave her a sharp look — the maid hadn’t moved — then gave up and opened the book. It looked rare enough to be expensive, very expensive. It was quite possible there were only a handful of copies in the entire world. She scowled as she turned the pages — her older textbooks had been crammed with references to books that were either vanishingly rare or lost in the mists of time. The writer talked about the mental arts with a frankness that surprised her, considering the danger they represented. She would have thought it was a grimoire if the writer had sounded a tiny bit less rational. As it was... she guessed the book was on the restricted list. There was an entire string of oaths most prospective soul mages had to take before they were allowed to even look at a soul magic textbook.
The writer went into surprising detail, discussing ways of hiding a memory from oneself as well as mind readers. There were a handful of simple ways to recall the memory, although some of them ran the risk of being accidentally triggered. A note to oneself, on the other hand, was safe... as long as the memory wasn’t buried too deeply. It was quite possible for someone to accidentally throw out the key without ever realizing its significance. She remembered Light Yagami wiping his own memory and shuddered. In the real world, his plan would never have worked. There were just too many things that could go wrong.
She frowned as she moved on to the next book. The writer seemed to believe that constant meditation was the only way to truly know yourself. He talked about lying in bed and thinking about why you did this and why you did that, analyzing your own motives until you knew them cold. Emily wasn’t sure what to make of it. People tended to claim high-minded motives, but — in her experience — their real motives were much more self-interested. King Randor had talked about keeping the barons in check, yet... he’d been more concerned with maintaining his own power than doing what was right for his country. She supposed it made a certain kind of sense. Someone who’d been born into power wouldn’t be eager to give it up.
And they were surprised when I walked away from Cockatrice, Emily reminded herself. They couldn’t believe I’d leave the barony to its people.
She rubbed her forehead as she turned to the final book. It felt more like a parchment than a school textbook, faded hints of powerful protective charms tingling around her fingers as she picked it up. She felt her eyes start to slip over the book, as if they didn’t want to see it. She snorted, then pushed the charm aside and opened the book. This time, there was no listed author or introduction. Instead, it launched straight into a series of stories — she couldn’t tell if they were meant to warn or entice — about just what sort of atrocities someone could commit with soul magic and a complete lack of scruples. Some of them she already knew. Others were new... and horrifying. Spells that ripped souls from bodies, spells that copied personas and implanted them in others... and more, each one more horrific than the last. She wished she didn’t believe someone would try them.
The list of horror seemed never-ending. She resolved to work hard, if only to make sure she could keep her mind from being read or warped. It wouldn’t be easy, but... she had to do it. She’d been safe at Whitehall, protected by the Grandmaster and Void and her own reputation. Now, away from the school, she was vulnerable. Her reputation was a liability as much as a blessing. Lady Barb had made it clear there were sorcerers who’d seek to test themselves against her, just to see how strong she really was. It wasn’t going to be fun.
She put the book aside and looked at Silent. The maid hadn’t moved. Emily reminded herself, once again, that the gulf between them was practically unbridgeable. Silent was not her equal and never would be. It would make for a horrifyingly unbalanced friendship...
“Silent,” Emily said. “Please fetch me some Kava, then you may go.”
Silent stood and dropped a curtsy. “Yes, My Lady.”
Emily studied the three books as the maid returned, carrying a steaming jug in one hand and a single mug in another. She curtsied again, then left. Emily watched her go, feeling another pang of guilt. She wanted friends, not someone who’d interpret her slightest wish as a command. It was hard to admit that she felt lonely. The servants were below her and Void was far above. There were limits on how close they could become.
Which is important, Emily reminded herself. Sergeant Miles had never been one of the boys. There’d been an unbreakable barrier between himself and his students. He’d kept it in place even when he’d taken her as a temporary apprentice. There were lines that simply couldn’t be crossed. He can’t be my master and my friend.
She forced herself to stand. Her legs felt stronger, although she still felt a little weak. She wasn’t sure why. Void had neither hit her nor cursed her. Perhaps her body was responding to the mental conflict. It was possible, she supposed, but she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she bruised every time someone shouted at her.
Your mind draws on your magic, she thought. And the magic makes the damage real.
She paced the room until she felt better, her mind running in circles. There were all kinds of secrets in her mind, ideas and concepts she intended to develop over the next few years. How many of them had leaked out? She didn’t know. If her mind had been read... she made a face as she stopped by the window and peered over the valley. How many people had she touched over the last six years? How many hands had she shook? How many... she felt a flicker of paranoia, mingled with the awareness that soul mages were rare. It was unlikely an unregistered soul mage had had a chance to read her mind.
Void must be unregistered, she reminded herself. He would have had to take the oaths if he’d learned the normal way.
She poured herself a mug of Kava and drank it slowly, savoring the harsh taste. It jerked her awake, brushing the last of the cobwebs from her mind. She put the books on the table, then reached out and touched the wards. Void would know she was ready. She just hoped he wasn’t going to force her to do something too strenuous. She really didn’t feel up to doing something more complicated than reading books or studying magical theory.
Void stepped into the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Emily said. “But I felt terrible until I drank the potion.”
“Most people do,” Void said. He sat on the other armchair. “It’s like flexing a muscle you don’t use very often. If you work it, you get aches and pains... for a while, before you get used to it. There will come a time, after you work on it, when detecting intrusions will be very easy.”
Emily sat, facing him. “Can you detect someone trying to read your mind?”
“Yes.” Void spoke as if it were a simple statement of fact. “And, because I know myself very well, I can do more than simply toss the intruder out of my mind. I can peer back at him, through the link he forged, or string together a set of memories to create a false impression. It’s imp
ossible to lie deliberately, mind-to-mind, but...”
“Why?” Emily caught herself, a second too late. Her face reddened. “Why can’t you lie with your mind?”
Void looked irked. “Your thoughts are not pages in a book,” he said. “Your lies would be tainted by your awareness that they’re lies. The mind reader would pick up on that and know you were trying to lie.”
He shrugged. “If you string together a set of memories to create a misleading impression, however, you might get away with it. Might.”
Emily had to smile. “Might?”
“The memories wouldn’t blur together perfectly,” Void said. “The connection between them would be thin, at best. That alone would be enough to alert a wary mind reader. And then... you could splice your memories of your first lover into your second, but there would be enough discrepancies to suggest you were trying to confuse the intruder. And, as I said, you’d have to avoid a direct lie. It would be impossible to miss.”
“I see, I think,” Emily said. Her fingers touched the bracelet on her wrist. “Does it ever work for long?”
“It depends,” Void said. “Like I said, you can mislead. It helps that their memories of your memories might be incomplete. But the more complex the tissue of half-truths you’re trying to sell him, the greater the risk of him seeing through it. And that would alert him to your skill in mental combat.”
“I’m not that good,” Emily said, quietly.
“Not yet,” Void said. “You’ll get there.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day. Go to the library. Go to bed. Go do whatever you want to do, as long as it’s relaxing. Tonight... if you don’t want to join me for dinner, I’ll understand.”
Emily shook her head. “I’ll be there.”
“If you feel up to it,” Void said, sharply. “You cannot take another dose of potion for at least twenty-four hours. If your head starts to hurt again, go to bed and stay there. Silent will bring you something to eat.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, reluctantly. She enjoyed dining with Void. He was happy to chat about the different magical branches and how they interacted, drawing links between theory and practice she’d never been taught at school. “Tomorrow...”
“It’s your day off,” Void reminded her. “Do you have a plan?”
“I was going to go to Dragon’s Den,” Emily said. “I need to collect your book. And a few other things.”
“And meet someone, I have no doubt,” Void said. “Just remember to be back before midnight.”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “What happens if I get back a minute after midnight?”
Void snorted. “Don’t play rules lawyer with me, young lady.”
His eyes flickered with amusement. “By custom, I would technically have the right to claim you were late for your lessons,” he said. “That would give me the right to punish you. By practice... I expect you to be sensible. You need at least seven hours sleep between a night on the town and a day of lessons. If you don’t get enough sleep, you won’t enjoy the lessons very much. And I will insist on going ahead with them.”
“A very efficient punishment,” Emily commented.
“You’re a grown woman now,” Void reminded her. “If you don’t act like it, people won’t treat you like it. Particularly the ones who have real children. It’s astonishing how little tolerance they have for childish behavior from adults.”
Emily nodded. “I’m not surprised.”
“Children don’t know better,” Void said. “Adults are supposed to know better.”
He said nothing for a long moment. Emily watched him, wondering if he was talking from experience. Did Void have children? She didn’t know. Everyone thought she was Void’s daughter, but... there was no way to know. Void was in his second century. He could have children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren by now. They could have made their lives somewhere else and left him behind.
She wanted to ask, but she didn’t dare. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Void looked up at her. “Who are you going to meet?”
“Frieda,” Emily said. “If she can make it. She said she’d try, but...”
“She might be busy,” Void said. “She’s in her fifth year now. She’ll have a lot of work to do. Don’t push her too hard.”
“I won’t,” Emily promised. “I remember my fifth year.”
“The school fell apart,” Void commented, dryly. “Hopefully, her year will be a little less exciting.”
He met her eyes. “Do you have a relationship at the moment?”
Emily colored, caught by surprise. “No,” she managed, finally. “Cat left me and...”
She shook her head, irritated. It was none of his business. He might be her master, but it was none of his business. Not that it mattered, she supposed. There wasn’t anyone.
“Good,” Void said. “You’ll find it hard to maintain a relationship during your apprenticeship.”
“I know.” Emily tried to keep the irritation off her face, but she feared he saw it anyway. “I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
“You might be surprised,” Void said. “I have a whole collection of letters asking for your hand in marriage. I wouldn’t be too surprised if more suitors start coming out of the woodwork, now you’ve graduated. It’s something to bear in mind.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I thought you were going to tell them no.”
“I did,” Void said. “But six years ago, I was your guardian. I was in a position to forbid you from marrying. Now... you’re a grown woman. You can expect to receive all sorts of missives, all asking for you to consider possible suitors.”
“Madness,” Emily said. “They’re insane.”
“No,” Void corrected her. “You’re a young sorceress with — as far as they know — an enviable family background. You have enough magic to ensure your children will have powerful magic too. Given the right father, they might even have more raw talent than the average sorcerer. They have every reason to seek your hand in marriage.”
“I don’t want to marry a stranger,” Emily said. The thought was appalling. “Can’t you say no?”
“You’re a grown woman,” Void said. “There are some things I can do for you, as both your presumed father and your master. I can forbid you from certain things, if you want an excuse. But other things... you have to do them for yourself, unless you want people thinking you’re permanently under my thumb. It won’t reflect well on you.”
Emily nodded, reluctantly. “Can I just burn the letters without reading them?”
“As long as that’s your decision,” Void said. “I do advise you to read them first. You might be interested to know which of your former classmates are being suggested for marriage.”
“That would be worse than a stranger,” Emily said. The thought made her cringe. How many of the boys she’d known would be suggested to her? “How would I ever be able to look them in the eye again?”
Void shrugged. “It’ll help if you remember they’re not the brain behind the proposal,” he said, as he stood. “Still, you shouldn’t be doing anything formal until you complete your apprenticeship. You’ll find I am an excellent scapegoat in certain matters. Just ask the White Council.”
Emily had to smile. She’d ask what he meant later. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Go do something relaxing,” Void said. He headed for the door, then stopped. “And try not to be too late tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. “I’ll be home well before midnight.”
Chapter Ten
EMILY GRITTED HER TEETH AS A wave of cold air struck her the moment the teleport field faded back into nothingness. Dragon’s Den was further north than Void’s tower, she suspected, and winter was steadily approaching, winds blowing down from the Craggy Mountains and blasting over the town. The gloomy sky promised snow, sooner rather than later. Her robes suddenly felt very thin, despite the heating charms woven into the material
. She cast an extra charm as she made her way off the teleport pad and into the town. It didn’t seem to have changed at all in the last few months.
She smiled as she made her way through the streets, remembering the first time she’d set foot in Dragon’s Den. The town had struck her as utterly disgusting, streets covered in filth and air smelling of too many humans in too close proximity. Things had gotten better after the New Learning had swept through the town, but... she shook her head. There were limits to how fast things could change. The locals were often quite conservative, even when they lived close to a magic school. They couldn’t afford to try something new and discover, too late, that they’d made a dreadful mistake.
The streets thronged with students despite the cold. Emily felt an odd little pang as she watched them flow in and out of the shops or stopping to eat in the local cafes or restaurants. Hawkers marched the streets, selling everything from clothes to basic street food that practically promised a stomach ache — at best — to anyone unwary enough to buy it; prostitutes hung on street corners, making eyes at students with more money than sense. Emily shivered, feeling a wave of pity as well as revulsion. If things had been different, she could have ended up like that... or worse.
She put the thought aside as she walked into the richer part of the town. The streets were quieter here, the walled houses and gardens surrounded by wards that promised nasty surprises for anyone stupid enough to enter without permission. There were fewer students in evidence, save for the ones who had relatives within the town. Emily had never been sure if she should envy them. Having one’s parents within hailing distance wasn’t always a good thing. Void had certainly never hovered behind her, ready to intervene if she made a mistake. She knew she should be grateful for his distance. It had let her learn how to handle things on her own.
The wards — her wards — bubbled around her as she reached the gate. The Grandmaster’s old house was smaller than some of the buildings on the street, although it was still larger than anything she’d dreamed of possessing back home. She felt the wards open at her touch and stepped inside, closing the gate behind her. The house was hers, yet... it didn’t feel like home. She supposed she hadn’t had time to make an impression on it. The majority of the rooms remained unchanged.
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