She cursed as it shattered, pieces of magic flashing in all directions. She kept her eyes firmly closed as she rebuilt the spell from scratch, trying not to skip even a single step. She’d learned the dangers of taking shortcuts a long time ago. Void didn’t stop brewing the potion, even though he must know she’d lost the spell. Her heart started to race as she locked the spell in place, then started to twist it. The magic crackled in her hand, then exploded. A wave of power slammed into her, picking her up and hurling her across the room. She hit the far wall and fell down, crashing into the ground hard enough to hurt. The sound of smashing debris echoed through the room as she struggled to pick herself up. Her legs felt sore, as if she’d sprained them.
“That could have gone better,” Void said. “Can you stand?”
Emily frowned. The table was a pile of charred debris. Her chair was broken. Void’s chair was lying on the floor. There was no sign of the cauldron or the remaining ingredients. Void himself was walking from the debris, hurrying towards her. His robe was covered in the remnants of the potion. She scowled as she forced herself to stand. She’d thought she was done with alchemical explosions when she’d left the school.
“That definitely could have gone better,” she agreed. Her legs hurt, but didn’t appear to be seriously injured. The bumps and scrapes on the rest of her body didn’t count. “What happened?”
“You lost control,” Void said. “And all the magic you channeled into the spell exploded.”
Emily nodded, running a hand through her hair. It felt unclean. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve been in worse explosions.” Void smirked, then looked her up and down. “Do you want to call it a day?”
“Maybe.” Emily met his eyes. “What’s the right answer?”
“There isn’t one.” Void turned. “I’ll have to find a new table. And a cauldron. You shattered my old cauldron.”
He chuckled. “You’re lucky I don’t take it out of your allowance,” he teased. “You never thought to ask about that, did you?”
“I don’t need the money,” Emily pointed out. She looked down at herself. Her robe was torn and stained. “You’d probably have to charge me for a new robe too.”
“That’s the price of an apprenticeship,” Void said, suddenly serious. “I’m not allowed to charge you for anything you need for the apprenticeship itself. And if you need anything, like I said, let me know.”
Emily nodded. “Thanks.”
Void eyed the debris for a moment. “I’m quite pleased with the result,” he commented. “On one hand, it was a failure. On the other, it showed that your control has improved significantly since your early years.”
“I still don’t understand alchemy,” Emily said. “If I master all the potion-spells” — she paused as a thought struck her — “I could cast the spells without having to brew the potions.”
“That’s the point,” Void reminded her, dryly. “But it’s easier to brew the potions.”
“If you have the ingredients,” Emily countered. “What happens if I don’t?”
“Then you’d better master the spells quickly,” Void said. He picked up a piece of charred wood and eyed it for a moment, then hurled it into the bin. “And consider yourself lucky you’re not studying alchemy itself.”
“I do,” Emily said.
Void glanced at her. “The alchemist masters poison their apprentices and force them to brew the antidote before they die,” he said. “Or give in and drink the master’s antidote. It’s supposed to be a test of nerve as well as skill.”
Emily shuddered. “And students keep taking up apprenticeships?”
“Yes.” Void seemed surprised at her question. “A trained alchemist can live and work anywhere.”
“I see,” Emily said.
Void shrugged. “Go back to your room and wash, then go to the library until lunchtime,” he said. “We’ll be doing something else after lunch.”
“As you keep saying,” Emily said. “It’s not easy to keep everything straight in my mind.”
“No,” Void agreed. “But the most interesting magics are always the hardest. Or the ones that come with dangerous aspects that have to be smoothed over.”
Emily nodded and headed for the door. Her robe clung to her uncomfortably, droplets of potion pressing against her skin. She hoped she didn’t have a bad reaction to the half-completed potion. It was quite possible the magic had been warped by the explosion, twisted into something dangerous. She could feel the magic warring with the charms woven into her robe. It probably wasn’t dangerous, she decided, but it might be irritating.
A small pile of letters awaited her as she entered her room. She glanced at the handwriting, frowned as she realized that several of them came from strangers, then hurried into the shower. The letters could wait. She put the robe in the basket, made a mental note to warn Silent to be careful, then washed herself thoroughly. The warm water left her feeling human again. It had been an interesting day, but...
He’ll make me practice on another maid, she thought. She was sure of it. He’d need to test her spells under controlled conditions. And what am I going to do then?
She sighed as she dried herself and changed into a fresh robe. There was nothing she could do, not if the maids volunteered. And they might well volunteer, if Void offered them extra pay... even the chance to make their money and leave his service early. And... Emily swallowed. She’d never been comfortable with people selling themselves, even though she knew too many people had no choice. It was easy to pass judgment when one was warm and comfortable. It was harder to cling to morals on the streets.
I’ll just have to be careful, she thought, as she picked up the letters, stuffed them in her pocket and headed to the library. And make sure none of them get hurt.
Chapter Eighteen
THE AIR FELT FRESH AND CLEAR, cool enough to be comfortable without being too cold for her to enjoy the walk. Emily felt invigorated as she walked down the mountain path towards Zugzwang, hearing the sound of birds cheeping as they flew through the air. She passed a pair of shepherdesses, young girls watching the flocks while their fathers and brothers worked the distant fields. They looked at her with a strange mixture of awe and fear, as if she were a creature from another world. She might as well be, Emily reflected, as far as the locals were concerned. Her life as a sorcerer’s apprentice was so different than theirs, there were few points of comparison.
She let out a breath as she left the young girls behind and followed the tiny river down to the town. It had been a hard couple of weeks. Void had pressed her, forcing her to rewrite a dozen spells on the fly and then drilling her mercilessly in everything from mental defense to practical wardcrafting. There were times when she thought she saw magic as a whole, a glimmering promise at the corner of her eye, and times when she thought he was simply working her to death. She’d found herself waiting for the day off almost desperately, even though she was enjoying her apprenticeship. She simply needed a break.
Zugzwang was larger than she’d realized, she noted, as she reached the foot of the mountain and peered through the streets. There were dozens of homes half-hidden within the trees, as if someone had blended a mid-sized town with a woodland park. Magic hung in the air, dozens of protective spells blurring together into a faint haze. Zugzwang played host to hundreds of magicians, she reminded herself. They wanted to remain aloof from the aristocratic power struggles. She wondered what the rest of the population thought of the magicians in their midst. Protectors? Tormentors? Or just people?
She walked past a row of shops, selling everything from books — she was amused to note a pile of blue books in the window — to more mundane food and drink. A blacksmith’s shop sat next to a cobbler, just across the road from a fishmonger and an apothecary. There seemed to be more shops than the town could support, although that could be an illusion. People could come from all over the country. Her lips quirked as she spotted an entire street full of pubs. There seemed to be more pubs than th
e town could reasonably support.
The thought amused her as she made her way down to the coachhouse. A large stagecoach sat outside, two black horses neighing impatiently as a pair of elderly women were helped into the vehicle. They looked wealthy enough to be important, Emily decided, although they could easily be big fish in a small pond. She’d met aristocrats who were small fry at court, but lords and masters in their own domain. They seemed to be happier ruling their people than kowtowing to the king.
A line of children ran past her, whooping and hollering as they fled the schoolhouse. Emily felt a twinge of envy mingled with pity. A small town where everyone knew everyone else would be a great place to grow up, perhaps. She could see the appeal. People were friendly, neighbors helped each other out... as long as they conformed. People who didn’t fit in were shunned. There were advantages to growing up in a big city too, but... she shook her head tiredly as she rounded the coachhouse. Jan stood outside the inn, waiting for her.
“Emily,” he called. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Emily said. She found herself oddly hesitant. “How are you?”
“Tired too.” Jan dropped a bow. “My master is too lazy to dismiss me, so he’s working me to death instead.”
“I think there’s a flaw in his logic,” Emily said. She tried to remember if she should curtsy too, then decided it didn’t matter. “Surely it would be easier to dismiss you.”
Jan’s eyes widened with mock horror. “All that paperwork!”
Emily had to laugh. “How terrible.”
“Yeah.” Jan held out a hand. Emily hesitated, then took it. “How’ve you been?”
“My master is working me to death too,” Emily said. “But I’m also learning a lot.”
“Me too,” Jan said. “He’s got me stringing so many charms together that I keep losing track of what I’m trying to do.”
“I know the feeling,” Emily said. She glanced down the street. “I’ve never been here before. Where do you want to go?”
“Over there.” Jan pointed to a small inn. “I’ve never been here either, so we might as well pick at random.”
Emily nodded and allowed him to lead her into the building. It was larger on the inside than she’d realized, with a small cluster of chairs and tables positioned against the walls. A large blackboard hung against the far wall, listing the local specialties. The prices were higher than she’d expected. She guessed the inn catered to stagecoach passengers, rather than the local population. They wouldn’t haggle quite so much over cheese toast or a game pie.
A young girl hurried over to them, wearing a simple black dress. “Welcome,” she said, waving to the tables. “Sit wherever you like, please.”
“Thank you,” Emily said.
The girl curtsied. “What can I get you?”
Jan glanced at the menu. “I’d like a game pie with water,” he said. “Emily?”
Emily frowned. “I’ll try the game pie too,” she said. “And perhaps a glass of milk.”
“Of course,” the girl said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Jan grinned as the girl hurried off. “Master Lucknow wants me to buy some cheese before I go home,” he said. “Zugzwang is known for its cheese.”
“And not its magic,” Emily mused. “Why is that?”
“Some places just prefer to be quiet,” Jan said. “And others are supposed to remain unknown.”
Emily nodded, feeling suddenly at a loss for words. She’d gone out to dinner before, with Caleb and Cat and Jade and her girlfriends, but... she wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t as if they could talk — much — about their apprenticeships. Void had made it clear she wasn’t to talk about any of the specifics, with anyone. She found it hard to believe Jan intended to spy on her, but... she scowled, inwardly. Sorcerers seemed to spend half their time spying on each other. Master Lucknow might be trying to spy on Void.
“You graduated from Mountaintop,” she said. “What was that like?”
“Before or after you turned the place upside down?” Jan winked at her. “It was... interesting. I learned a great deal from my tutors. On the other hand... I also learned how cruel some people could be.”
“I know,” Emily said. Something clicked in her mind. “You’re a newborn, aren’t you?”
“First in my family to have magic,” Jan said, with a hint of pride. “I guess I was lucky. My... master, when I was a Shadow, expected me to do more than just polish his boots and brush his coat. He drilled me in magic, filling in the gaps in my knowledge. It helped that I was from a merchant family. I already knew how to read and write before I was sent to Mountaintop.”
“And now you have an apprenticeship,” Emily mused. “What do you intend to do with your life?”
“Charms master, perhaps,” Jan said. “They said I had a facility for combat magic... a couple of my tutors thought I should aim to become a combat sorcerer, or at least serve a term guarding the borders. I haven’t decided. I wanted to become a teacher, then I had nightmares about teaching some odious little brat called Jan.”
Emily smiled. “Your guilty conscience catching up with you?”
“I’ll have you know I was a very well-behaved student,” Jan said with a deadpan expression on his face. “The reports in my file are lies, all lies!”
“Oh dear,” Emily teased.
Jan grinned. “I probably wasn’t the best of students,” he admitted. “In my dream, I was rebelling against myself.”
“A very guilty conscience,” Emily said. “What did you do?”
“Nothing I want to talk about,” Jan said. “How about you? You were born to magic.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Emily said. She felt a pang of guilt. She couldn’t tell him the truth, yet... she didn’t want to lie either. “I had some basic training as I grew up, but nothing too serious until I entered Whitehall. My father didn’t want to push me too hard.”
“That can be dangerous,” Jan said. “Kids who come into their magic too early rarely survive long enough to reach adulthood.”
Emily nodded, one hand playing with the snake-bracelet. Aurelius — the original Aurelius — had had a daughter who’d come into her magic too early. He’d put her in stasis in a desperate bid to save her life. And... he’d thought Emily might have done the same and survived. And he’d been wrong. He’d wanted to force her — and Void — to give up a secret that simply didn’t exist.
“I know,” she said. “I wish I’d learned more earlier, though.”
“And then you might have killed your first necromancer a year or two earlier,” Jan said. “Or you might have died when your magic overloaded and killed you.”
Emily said nothing as the serving girl returned, carrying a heavy wooden tray. The game pies were larger than she’d expected, although she knew from experience that the pies wouldn’t be bursting at the seams with meat. She took a sip of her milk, nodding to herself. She’d never understood how people could write paeans to fresh milk until she’d drunk it herself. It tasted heavenly.
Jan picked up a spoon and dug into his pie. “What’s the meat?”
“It could be anything,” Emily said. “Venison and pheasant to beef and chicken...”
She took a bite herself. The meat was cooked in a strong sauce, probably to hide the flavor. Something common, then. She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. It didn’t matter. The pie was delicious. She didn’t need to know what had gone into it. She might not like the answer.
“When do you think you’ll graduate?” Jan looked up from his food. “Master Lucknow says I have another year to go.”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She’d long since given up hope of matching or exceeding Jade’s record. “Every time I think I know what I’m doing, I discover another aspect of magic. I’m only scratching the surface.”
“I know the feeling.” Jan took a sip of his water. “I feel like my head is going to burst with all the spells I’ve memorized, yet... they just keep coming.”
&nb
sp; Emily frowned. “Are you rewriting the spells? Or devising new ones?”
“Both,” Jan said. “Rewriting the spells is easier, believe me. Master Lucknow says I haven’t really come up with anything new.”
“It gets harder,” Emily agreed. “All the really great discoveries have already been made.”
“I do wonder about that,” Jan said. “We seem to be brushing the limits of what we can do. But what if we find a way past those limits?”
Like a battery, Emily thought. Or a spell processor.
She groaned, inwardly. She’d tried to devise a spell processor. It hadn’t worked. She’d wound up with something that looked and acted like a magical typewriter, something she could use to write her essays... but very little else. She was sure it was possible to find a way around human limitations, yet... she wasn’t sure she should. The nuke-spell was quite bad enough. What would happen if everyone got access to magic-manipulating tools?
“I think we’d have to understand the limits first,” she said, carefully. “And then we can start trying to figure out a way to break them.”
“I know,” Jan said. He finished his pie and pushed the empty bowl to one side. “But it’s frustrating. I keep coming up with absolutely brilliant ideas and Master Lucknow tells me someone else got there first. Even me, at one point.”
Emily blinked. “Pardon?”
“I wrote out a spell,” Jan said. “And then I wrote out a second spell that was so like the first Master Lucknow told me I’d plagiarized myself.”
“Ouch,” Emily said. She finished her own pie, then nodded to the serving girl. “Can we have the bill?”
“Let me pay for it,” Jan said. “My treat.”
Emily glanced at the prices, unsure if she should let him. “If you’re sure...”
“Master Lucknow gives me plenty of pocket money,” Jan said. “It’ll be fine.”
Emily nodded, then hid a tip under the bowl. The serving girl would have a chance to make it disappear before her superiors saw it. Emily had no idea how things worked in Zugzwang, but she knew — all too well — how they worked in Dragon’s Den. Better to give the girl a chance to choose for herself, rather than force her to own up to getting the tip. Who knew? The girl could be anything from the owner’s daughter to an indentured servant.
The Artful Apprentice Page 17