Schooled in Magic (39 page)

“You should have kept your mouth shut,” Mistress Irene said without heat.

Emily flushed.

“Those who traffic with the dead come to bad ends,” Mistress Irene went on. “Even the most insane of necromancers would think twice before attempting to penetrate the veil between the mortal world and the land of the dead. Your suggestion ... you could have questioned their legitimacy and the status of their mothers and received a less unpleasant response.”

“You could desecrate a temple and receive less of a whipping,” Alassa said. The Princess grinned at her, although there was no real malice in her voice. It seemed that the experience might have changed Alassa for the better. “I’m surprised they didn’t push the demand that you be immediately punished for your carelessness. You could hardly have suggested anything worse.”

Emily looked down, feeling ashamed. She
should
have thought, and the fact that she was tired, hurting and stripped of magic wasn’t a very good excuse. None of the books she’d read had discussed any form of magic that could traffic with the dead in detail, but they
had
warned her that such spells were considered taboo. And then she hadn’t taken the taboo
seriously
.

“They’re always careful about dealing with students from Whitehall,” Mistress Irene said absently, but with an odd cold anger behind her voice. “We have been sending students to Dragon’s Den for years and this is the first kidnapping we’ve
ever
had. The normal problems are students playing jokes on the citizens or discovering that they don’t have enough money to pay for their food after eating themselves silly.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Emily said.

“I can tell my parents that it wasn’t your fault,” Alassa added. She gulped, as if she had just realized something unpleasant. “They’re going to want to discuss it with me, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” Mistress Irene said. Her voice was soft, but somehow
wrong
. “And you can tell them whatever you like. I don’t think that it would make much difference.”

Emily nodded sadly as she looked out of the hatch, towards the darkening sky. It looked as though it was going to rain. As the dark clouds advanced towards the city, strange flickers of multicolored light danced high overhead as
mana
discharged into the lightning. She was sure that the peasants in the fields were already taking their animals into their barns, preparing for the coming downpour. Emily wondered if the coach would be safe as they headed further up the mountains, before realizing that Mistress Irene would have other problems.

Mistress Irene could be fired over this.

Back home, there always had to be someone to blame. Accidents happened, but it was human nature to search for a scapegoat–and there were lawyers ready to make money off someone’s misfortune. Teachers, drivers, farmers...someone would be singled out, cast as the villain and chased until they lost everything. The fact that Whitehall had done everything they could to ensure safety would be lost in the general witch-hunting atmosphere created by the lawyers. Emily still remembered all the petty little rules and regulations created by people desperate to avoid a lawsuit, rules that had never made much sense. And no other school she’d ever visited had included royalty.

She looked away as thunder crackled in the dark sky, followed by a sudden shower of raindrops that grew rapidly into a deluge. Brilliant flashes of lightning illuminated the distant mountain peaks as the rain grew heavier and the carriage started to slip and slide on the muddy road. Emily braced herself and glanced back outside, seeing a small stream of water rushing down from the higher mountains and running under the carriage’s wheels. Small animals were running down with the water, tiny rodents that reassembled mutated hamsters. She couldn’t tell what–if anything–they truly were. A faint squeaking followed them for long moments after the animals had faded away into the growing darkness and mist.

The trip seemed to last for hours before the carriage finally rattled to a stop, outside Whitehall. “You’ll need to go to the Infirmary,” Mistress Irene said, before she opened the door and stepped out into the rain. No charm deflected rainfall as they started to follow her towards the school. “The building will take you there.”

Emily
looked
at her, despite the water soaking her hair and robes. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I do not know,” Mistress Irene said. There was a bitter hopelessness in her voice that stung Emily’s heart. Emily hadn’t
planned
to be kidnapped, but what would that matter? “The Grandmaster will decide my fate.”

“I
HOPED NOT TO HAVE TO SEE
you again,” a middle-aged woman with prematurely grey hair said, to Alassa. “And who exactly is this?”

“Emily,” Emily said tightly. She was too busy worrying about Mistress Irene to be polite. “And who exactly are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Kyla, Healer of Whitehall.” She pointed one long finger towards a pair of doors. “Each of you, pick a door and go inside. When the door is closed, remove all your clothes and lie down on the bed. Whatever that half-baked potions brewer fed you stinks badly enough to poison the entire ward.”

Emily hesitated, then did as she was told. The small room was barely large enough for a bed, a handful of magical tools of unknown purpose, and a single light blazing down from high overhead. She had never been comfortable removing her clothes for a doctor back home, but with her robes drenched in an unfamiliar potion she realized she had no choice. Stripping naked, she lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She hadn’t recognized it earlier, yet there was something almost comforting about the pearly white light.

The door opened and she flinched, hands racing to cover herself. Kyla snorted at her as she closed the door, opened the bag she was carrying and took out a metal wand. She waved it over Emily’s body. Strange lights flickered into existence for long seconds, before fading back into nothingness.

The lights meant nothing to Emily, but they clearly meant something
to the healer.

“Someone
definitely
slipped you a faulty potion,” she said. “The fool’s pretty lucky that it worked as well as it did. A few more drops of Extract of Ebon and it would have killed the pair of you.”

Emily winced. “Can - can you remove it?”

“Most of it has already spent its
mana
and is on the way to passing out of your body,” Kyla said. “I think a simple cleansing potion should speed up the effect, but I’d prefer to have Professor Thande analyze the stains from your robe before we try to feed you anything. A potion that wasn’t properly prepared could react oddly with any standard cure.”

She shrugged as she held her wand over Emily’s head for a long moment. “You know you have a cut here, on your cheek?”

“No,” Emily said, reaching up to touch her face. The sorcerer–Malefic - had slapped her, hard. “Is it infected?”

Kyla shot her a sharp look. “It should be fine,” she said after a moment. “The same goes for the bumps and scratches on your hands and wrists. Whatever you did to break free wounded you. I’d suggest a day or two of rest before you return to your studies.”

Emily looked down at her hands and winced. She’d been so relieved at escaping her bonds that she hadn’t noticed the pain, or the marks on her arms. Kyla passed her a small gourd of lotion and instructed her to rub it on her arm, making most of the damage simply fade away into nothingness. She hoped that the other signs of trauma would fade just as quickly.

“I’ll do my best,” Emily promised. She had to speak to the Grandmaster, and perhaps to Void. “I –“

“You’ll stay right here until I let you go,” Kyla interrupted. “I’ve known plenty of young magicians get themselves badly hurt because they thought they were healed when the hard work had only just begun. Your magic may make you feel better, but it is nothing more than an illusion.”

Emily opened her mouth to protest as Kyla started waving the wand over her again. “You’re definitely not from around here,” Kyla said after another moment. “There are some interesting traces in your bloodstream ... one day, I must study your blood and determine if it could be harnessed. And someone has given you a spell to boost your system against disease and perhaps even bodily harm. A very good precaution, I’d say.”

“Oh,” Emily said. She was really too tired to care, even though she knew it was important. “What else can I expect as the potion wears off?”

“Stay near a toilet,” Kyla advised. “And when your magic starts to flicker back to life, resist the impulse to use it until I give permission. You are in a very delicate state.”

She passed Emily a loose shift–Emily couldn’t help thinking of it as a hospital gown - and watched as she donned it automatically. “I’m going to assign you a bed in the sleeping ward. You will be next to your friend and you can have books sent up to you from the library, but you are
not
to try to leave the room without my permission. I am allowed to use charms to keep
you in bed, if necessary.”

Emily stood up, feeling the room starting to spin around her. “I won’t leave,” she said, as the Healer took her arm and guided her through another door into a much larger chamber. The bed was small and simple, but right then it was just what she needed. “I just need something to eat.”

“Lie down,” Kyla said. “I will have something sent up as soon as I have seen to your friend.”

Emily closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, light streamed in through a side window and The Grandmaster sat next to her, leafing through an old parchment-bound book that he had to have taken from the library. She felt oddly flattered that the master of the school had taken such an interest in her, even though he was probably more interested in Alassa.

The Grandmaster looked up. His eyes met hers, then he placed the book on the table and leaned forward.

“I have heard from Dragon’s Den,” he said. “They have been unable to locate the Sorcerer Malefic.”

“I see,” Emily rasped. Her mouth tasted better than it had yesterday, but it was far from normal. The Grandmaster picked up a glass of water and passed it to her. She sipped it gratefully. “What happened to Mistress Irene?”

The Grandmaster gave her a sharp look. “The Princess took pains to make it clear to her parents that Mistress Irene was not responsible for what happened.” He nodded towards the next bed, where Alassa’s blonde tresses dangled down the side of the bed. “Not that I would have held her completely responsible in any case. We had no reason to assume that anyone would be stupid enough to kidnap one of our children.”

Emily finished her water and looked around, hoping to see a jug.

The Grandmaster snapped his fingers and the glass refilled, automatically.

“She has been given a stern warning, but I feel that there is no need to continue,” the Grandmaster added. “I am the Master of Whitehall. My opinion is paramount.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “The real question is simple. Which of you–Alassa or yourself–was the real target?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. She hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at her since the kidnapping. “Is Malefic a necromancer?”

“Unlikely,” the Grandmaster said. “The sheer level of power within a necromancer’s wards should have alerted any other sorcerer nearby. And then he had to take commissions from stupid people and a necromancer would probably have lost control once or twice while dealing with them. But he is, very definitely, a Dark Wizard.”

His eyes narrowed. “And stupid magicians don’t tend to live very long, but what he did to you was stupid. Unless there was something else involved that we’re not seeing.”

Emily listened as he spoke. He seemed astonishingly verbose, but as he continued it dawned on her that he was trying to reassure her. A Dark Wizard was bad; a necromancer would be far worse.

“Malefic simply had too much at risk for too little gain,” the Grandmaster said. “He had to know that Whitehall would hunt for you, and that he was no match for a combat sorcerer. And then Alassa’s parents would tear the city apart looking for her. The insane plot involved kidnapping the two children who would be sure to provoke a very powerful response, so why even try? What made him think that he could kidnap you and survive?”

“It was too easy to escape,” Emily said, after a moment. “Maybe we weren’t intended to remain kidnapped for long.”

“But that raises other issues,” the Grandmaster pointed out. “Did he want to embarrass the City Fathers, or alarm Alassa’s parents, or even provoke a response from your patron? Or is there something here that we’re not seeing?”

Emily frowned. “Maybe we were a diversion,” she said, carefully. “Did something
else
happen while we were kidnapped?”

“Interesting thought,” the Grandmaster said. “Nothing happened that we know about, but with necromancers involved we can never know for sure.”

“My head is spinning,” Emily complained. “What’s going to happen now?”

The Grandmaster shrugged. “We’re going to have to take another look at the security precautions for trips outside the wards. I’m afraid that we will have to do something to make it safer, or else restrict the number of children who can go on them.”