There was a sound behind her. She turned, lifting one hand. Silent stood there, flinching. Emily felt a stab of guilt. She shouldn’t be doing something — anything — the poor girl would take as a threat. And yet... Silent had slipped up on her. The maid really did live up to her name.
“My Lady.” Silent lowered her eyes. “His Lordship requests the pleasure of your company for dinner.”
Emily glanced at the clock, then flushed. She was late. She was terribly late. And Void had sent the maid to find her... she turned and hurried back to the entrance, scooping up the parchment as she passed. Void wouldn’t be pleased she was late, but if she showed him the paperwork she thought he’d be distracted. She promised herself she’d write to Jan later, before going to bed. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.
Void sat at the table, an untouched casserole in front of him. He looked more amused than angry as Emily hurried into the room, hastily dropped a curtsy and practically jumped into her chair. It dawned on her, suddenly, that he’d probably managed to get lost in his own thoughts too. She caught her breath, waiting for him to say something. Who knew? Maybe he wasn’t that angry.
“Let us eat,” Void said. He removed the lid, revealing sausages and potatoes in gravy. It smelt thick, as if the cook had used alcohol as well as beef stock. “I trust you were busy?”
“I wasn’t wasting my time,” Emily said. She put the parchments on the table as Void served her. “I came up with something new.”
“Very good.” Void placed her plate in front of her, then served himself. “I trust Lady Barb taught you manners?”
Emily flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just excited.”
“I know the feeling.” Void winked at her. “Don’t do it in front of the older generation. They tend to get unhappy about bad manners from youth.”
“You’re old enough to be my grandfather,” Emily said, dryly. “Aren’t you part of the older generation?”
“Matter of opinion,” Void said. “I’ve certainly never really had the patience to enter magical society. They don’t think kindly of me and I don’t think much of them. But they do have their uses from time to time, so accidentally slighting them is a bad idea. If you’re going to do it, do it deliberately.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. “Why don’t you? I mean... why don’t you live in one of the magical communities?”
Void shrugged. “You must have realized by now that most of the magical aristocracy is obsessed with status, rather than magic itself or securing the borders against the necromancers. Or rebuilding the community we enjoyed before the wars. They’d sooner remain where they are than reach for the stars, if it meant one of their fellows getting the credit. Fulvia was an unpleasant person, but she was hardly the worst. There are people out there who could give her lessons in backstabbing, just to maintain their power.”
“Ouch,” Emily said.
“And there are people who’d want me to involve myself in their petty scrabbles. To assume a leadership role, even though I don’t want it. To get married and have children, the more the better. I’ve had more marriage proposals than you, Emily, either from the girls themselves or their parents. Fulvia even offered me Calicle Ashworth’s hand in marriage. Close enough to the mainline to make me part of the family, far enough to ensure I didn’t wind up running the family.”
Emily blinked. She’d only met Calicle once, but... “She’s my age, isn’t she?”
“A year older, I think,” Void said. “And do you think Fulvia cared one whit about her happiness? Or mine? Or anything, apart from what I could do for her?”
“I’m glad you rejected her,” Emily said, seriously.
“As am I.” Void lifted his glass and studied it thoughtfully. “The magical families have no vision, Emily. Nor do the mundane aristocracies. They can’t work together against the necromancers. It’s hard to convince them to make agreements covering minor issues and they rarely stick to them.”
“I had the same thought,” Emily said. “Why don’t they care?”
“The necromancers don’t teleport,” Void said. “They don’t use ships. There’s only one confirmed case of them using portals. Just one. How far is Zangaria from the Blighted Lands, as the crow flies?”
Emily had to think about it. “Around... three thousand miles?”
“More or less,” Void agreed. “It would take an army a very long time to cover that distance, even if the army is composed of orcs. Far enough, perhaps, for Queen Alassa to forget they exist. Or to decide they’re someone else’s problem.”
“Alassa wouldn’t,” Emily said.
“Are you sure?” Void cocked his head. “She has a lot of other problems, all of which are much closer to home.”
“I’m sure,” Emily said. “Her father became a necromancer.”
“We’ll see,” Void said. “Point is, it’s easy to be distracted by the problem right in front of you and miss the much greater threat looming in the distance.”
He finished his dinner and pushed the plate aside. “What did you bring me?”
Emily passed him the parchments. “I think I solved the teleport problem,” she said. “It should work...”
Void said nothing for a long moment. “It might work,” he said. “How do you account for the curvature of the planet?”
“I tuned the spell so it would curve around the planet, instead of digging a straight line through the planet,” Emily said. “I didn’t think it would give me the correct location if it didn’t account for the curvature.”
“You might want to use points a little closer to you,” Void said, slowly. “Locator spells aren’t always reliable.”
“Yes, but the nexus points don’t move,” Emily countered. She could see his point, but anything lesser than a nexus point could be hidden. “It just makes the spell a little more complex.”
“A little,” Void repeated, dryly. “What’ll happen if you get this wrong?”
“I was planning to test it with something inanimate first,” Emily said. “And then maybe experimenting with an animal.”
“I see.” Void looked at her, thoughtfully. “I’m going to go through this very carefully, to make sure it works. And then we can try it out.”
Emily felt her heart sink. “I want to try it...”
“You will.” Void corrected himself. “We will. But first, let me check your math.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, sullenly.
Void met her eyes. “Haven’t you got into enough trouble by rushing ahead without bothering to check your work? Or to get someone else to check it for you?”
“Yes, sir.” Emily sighed, inwardly. “I had that lecture at school.”
“Perhaps you should have listened a little bit more,” Void said. He looked mock-astonished. “When did I become the mature one? I’m old!”
He grinned. “We will try it, if the math works out,” he said. “Until then... get some rest. We’re going to try something different tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Chapter Seventeen
“SO,” VOID SAID, WHEN EMILY ENTERED the workroom the following morning. “Can you identify this potion?”
Emily leaned over and peered into the cauldron. The liquid was a sickly yellow color that looked distressingly unsafe. It smelt even worse than it looked. She knew, from grim experience, that it tasted a lot worse than it smelled. Professor Thande had taught her how to make it, back in third year. He’d called it a broad-base counter-potion. It wasn’t always reliable, because it wasn’t tuned to any specific potion, but it generally worked on anything a student might encounter before entering their fifth year.
“A basic counter potion,” she said, shortly. She hadn’t slept too well. “You add...”
Void held up a hand. “I’m not going to ask you to brew it,” he said, as he decanted a small portion of the liquid into a glass. “I want you to sense the magic flowing through the potion.”
He passed her the glass. Emily frowne
d, noting that he’d ladled out a precise dose. It smelt worse up close, as if something had thrown up in the liquid and then died. She shuddered, recalling how hard it had been to drink it the first time. Professor Thande had warned her she might have to use compulsion spells to force someone to drink it, before it was too late. The thought made her scowl as she rested the glass on her hand, carefully feeling for the magic running through the liquid. It was both surprisingly simple and devilishly complex. She had the odd feeling that the potion was suspended on the brink of activation. It needed a flash of magic — or potion — to make it work.
She forced herself to work out the whorls and spirals of power running through the liquid. There was a pattern, a logic she could follow, yet... she felt her frown deepen as she plotted it out. The magic was a whole, not a set of individual components that she could put together at leisure. She thought she understood, for the first time, just why alchemy was such a difficult art. The slightest mistake could lead to a useless cauldron of slop — or an explosion.
“Hold the pattern in your mind,” Void said. “I want you to be ready to cast the spell.”
Emily gritted her teeth. It hadn’t worked out well, the last time he’d forced her to try to duplicate the magic. It was just so different from everything else that it was terrifyingly hard to make it work. She had a nasty suspicion that the art was dangerous, that it might impede her ability to learn higher magics, although it was so complex she wasn’t sure. Void certainly didn’t seem worried. But then, he had ensured she only tried one potion every two or three days.
“I have it,” she said, slowly. The spell hung in her mind, glittering like a piece of priceless jewelry. It seemed to draw away from her as she focused, as if it blurred every time she looked at it too closely. “I think...”
“Good,” Void said. “Are you ready?”
Emily looked up. “Ready for what?”
Void paced across the room and opened a door, beckoning for her to follow. The door opened into a smaller chamber, a patient’s bedroom. Barley lay on the bed naked, her hands resting by her sides. She was so inhumanly still that Emily thought, for a fearful moment, that she was dead. It wasn’t until she saw Barley’s chest start to rise and fall that she knew the maid was alive. But... Emily hurried forward, blanching. There was a nasty tinge around the maid’s mouth. She’d drunk something dangerous. She’d drunk something poisonous.
Emily stared at Void. “What have you done?”
“Barley has drunk a dangerous potion,” Void said. His voice was so calm he might as well have been talking about the weather. “You are going to cure her.”
“You...” Emily bit off the angry response that came to mind and turned to the maid. “What did she drink?”
“I am not going to tell you,” Void said. “Cure her.”
Emily hesitated, then forced herself to hurry through the healing procedures Lady Barb had drilled into her. Barley’s skin was cool, dangerously so. Her heartbeat was slow; her eyes were open, but staring at nothing. Emily prodded the girl’s chest and shuddered at the lack of reaction. She would have preferred a punch in the face to the maid lying there and taking it. A punch would have proved the girl was still fighting for life. Whatever she’d drunk had been strong.
She scowled. Barley lived in a sorcerer’s tower. She knew better than to drink something dangerous. No, Void had ordered her or forced her to drink... Emily felt sick, even as she cast a pair of diagnostic spells. She hoped Barley had volunteered, although... Emily wouldn’t have volunteered to be a test subject for an apprentice mage. A tiny mistake could easily get her killed.
“Cure her,” Void repeated.
Emily glanced at him, then carefully shaped the potion-spell in her mind. Barley felt cooler now, even though a faint sheen of cold sweat had appeared on her brow. Emily rested her hand on the girl’s forehead, trying to gauge what had happened to her. Magic — grey magic — flowed through Barley’s body, steadily getting stronger. She couldn’t tell what it was doing, but... she shook her head. It didn’t matter. It was killing the poor girl. And the spell Void had forced her to learn might be her only hope.
“Go back and get some of the potion,” she snapped, heedless that she was barking orders at her master. “If I fail...”
“She’s already too far gone to drink the potion,” Void told her. “Cast the spell.”
Barley quivered under Emily’s hand. Emily swallowed hard, then shaped and reshaped the spell before placing her palm on Barley’s chest and casting the spell. A rush of magic shot through the maid, blossoming out from her stomach and flowing into the rest of her body. Emily smiled, almost despite herself, as the maid’s body grew warmer. It was starting to reject whatever she’d drunk...
The spell nearly came apart. Emily gritted her teeth, then forced herself to hold the magic in place. Barley jerked again, her face reddening as sweat beaded on her brow. She twisted to one side, her mouth opening and closing as she swallowed hard. Emily forced herself to stand still as the maid vomited, throwing up the remnants of the poison. She’d seen worse. She told herself, firmly, that she’d seen worse.
Barley sat up, dislodging Emily’s hand. She stared from Emily to Void and back again, then seemed to realize she was topless and grabbed for the towel. Emily hesitated, then muttered a spell to remove the vomit and sweat before casting a pair of spells to check the girl’s condition. The potion she’d drunk, whatever it was, seemed to have faded into the background. It didn’t look as if there’d be any long-term effects.
“My Lady,” Barley managed. “I...”
“It’s alright,” Emily said. She knew she was angry, but she wasn’t angry at the maid. “Sit still for a moment, until you feel up to walking.”
“You can take the rest of the day off,” Void added. It was difficult to tell what he was feeling. His voice was almost painfully devoid of emotion. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Barley nodded. “Thank you, My Lord.”
“You could have killed her,” Emily protested, swinging around to stare at him. “If I’d gotten the spell wrong...”
“You didn’t,” Void pointed out. “You countered the potion.”
Emily glared. She ignored the tiny gasp from behind her. “She could have died!”
Void looked, just for a second, irritated. “But she didn’t,” he said. “She drank suspension fluid. The worst that could have happened, barring a terrible mistake on your part, is her spending the next week in a coma. And you countered the potion before it really took effect.”
“And if it had been something else,” Emily said, “I might have killed her...”
“It wasn’t,” Void said. “Normally, when people learn to juggle, they don’t start with swords.”
He turned. “Take a moment to compose yourself, then join me in the workroom.”
Emily watched him go, torn between anger and a certain grim understanding. Lady Barb and her other tutors had forced her to practice on the injured or the cursed, but none of them had been deliberately wounded so the class could practice. But Void... she understood his logic, she understood the need to test her magic, yet... she shook her head. Void had been right there, right behind her. He could have saved Barley if Emily had failed.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” Barley whispered. “I... My Lady, I...”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, tartly. “How are you feeling?”
Barley clutched the blanket to her chest. “Cold,” she said. “But otherwise fine.”
“Good.” Emily took a breath. “Go back to your room, have a warm bath and then rest. And if you feel anything else, anything at all, come straight back to us.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Barley said. “Thank you.”
Emily leaned forward, suddenly. “Where do you come from? I mean... why do you work here?”
Barley colored, slightly. “If I work here for five years, I get a nest egg for my future,” she said. “I want to open my own shop, not spend the rest of m
y life in the fields.”
“I understand,” Emily said. She’d never liked the idea of being a farmer — or a farmwife — either. The life was hard, even without the local aristocracy taxing the peasants into destitution. It was astonishing how much more the farmers produced when they weren’t losing most of their crops to their overlords. “Good luck.”
Barley stood, dropped an unsteady curtsy and headed to the door. Emily shook her head, then turned and walked back into the workroom. Void was seated at the table, examining a pile of ingredients that looked rare and expensive. His face was unreadable. Emily felt her heart skip a beat. She’d mouthed off to him. She knew from Jade and Cat that masters didn’t like their apprentices being cheeky. And she’d done it in front of the maid...
“I understand your feelings,” Void said, as he motioned for her to sit in front of an empty cauldron. “But sometimes you have to put your feelings aside for the greater good.”
“You could have killed her,” Emily said, flatly. “I hope you’re going to reward her.”
“Yes,” Void said. He stood and picked up a jug of water, pouring it into the cauldron. “I’m going to brew a different potion. I want you to cast the spell alongside me, following the magic as it takes shape. If it falls apart, start again from the beginning. Don’t try to pick up where you left off.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
“Close your eyes, if you have to,” Void advised. “You don’t want any distractions.”
Emily nodded, resting her elbows on the table as Void lit the flame under the cauldron. The heat brushed against her skin. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses as Void put the first ingredient into the water. The base liquid started to change, magic flowing through the water and flowering into something new. Emily followed it as best as she could, shaping the spell in her mind before casting it. It shimmered over her fingers, feeling as if it was constantly on the verge of jumping away from her. The magic shifted as Void dropped more ingredients into the liquid, changing and changing again. Emily felt sweat trickling down her back as she tried to keep up, holding the magic in place by sheer willpower. The spell grew more complex...
The Artful Apprentice Page 16