The Scholomance (56 page)

“Careful,” Letha
said, popping a sweetmeat onto her tongue. “Thou art but a word away from the
killing wrath of thy well-used seducer.”

“Not half so
well-used as I would like. My dear Mara, do forgive me this spot of humor at
what must seem to be your expense. It is merely my way of whistling past the
proverbial graveyard.” He sketched half a bow, still seated, and winced hugely
before straightening up. “You needn’t stay to pay it witness. I would escort
you myself, but—”

“He’d only fall
on you in passion,” Malavan finished, showing five rows of needle-thin teeth in
a nasty grin. “And lose his eyes after all.”

Some of the
students joined in the lecherous laughter. Mara got a powerful grip on her cup
and said nothing.

“If I were you,”
Horuseps said, eyeing her. “I would follow him sooner rather than later. You’ll
have to trust me when I say he’s not yet as annoyed as he could be, but it’s no
good baiting him.”

“I have no
intention of following him,” Mara said tersely.

“No?” Horuseps
kept one hand between his thighs, propped his chin playfully atop the other. “The
acoustics in this room are quite astounding. I could have sworn witness not
five minutes ago that I heard someone with a similar voice declare she was his,
his own, his property…words to that effect.”

“I’d swear it to
you too, if you ordered me,” Mara countered. “Or to any one of you. It meant
nothing to me.”

“Ah.” Horuseps let
his strained smile die. He reached up to smooth one of his long eyebrows,
smearing it with blood. “Dearest Mara…that is very dangerous.”

“Oh, like I give
a damn! Everything is dangerous here!” she spat, shoving her cup away with such
force that it fell off the table and shattered. “Attending class is dangerous! Staying
in your room is dangerous! Walking the fucking halls is dangerous! This whole
mountain is one big coffin full of corpses too stupid to know they’re already
dead!”

The laughter
stopped, even at the Master’s table.

“Anyone of us
could be killed at any time for any reason! So no, Horuseps, I’m not following
him. I’m his property, sure, why not? I’m yours, too! And yours, and yours…and
you all know where you can find me,” she finished in disgust. Turning on her
heel, she stalked from the room, shoving students out of her way if they didn’t
move fast enough on their own. She was out quickly, but not before Letha could
speak, and though her voice was little more than an intimate murmur, some trick
of the acoustics brought her the words:

“I don’t blame
you at all, brother. Were I certain that Azkeloth could be engaged elsewhere, I
think I’d have a ride myself.”

The High Table
began again to laugh. The students, in anxious sycophancy, joined in. And all
Mara could do was leave.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

K
azuul’s demonstration in the dining hall may
not have had its intended effect, if he truly intended it to send her running
into his arms, but at least he didn’t compound his error by coming after her
again. Or perhaps he’d set out to do just that countless times, but turned
himself back, smart enough to know that if he got in arm’s reach of her as
angry as he was, he’d kill her. Mara didn’t know and didn’t care. As far as she
was concerned, the game between them was over. Unless he showed up with Connie
in his open hands, she meant to have nothing more to do with him, or with any
of the rest of them. She was here to find her friend, and by God, that was all
she was going to do.

For two days,
Mara searched the ephebeum for a girl she already knew was not there. She
opened every door boldly, invading each occupied cell whether its resident
student were at class or not, blasting free every sealed lockplate just in case
the uninhabited cell beyond should hide her target. She had to hurt a lot of
angry people and she didn’t care about that either.

Using a Malleating
touch, she found she could see all the hidden pockets of space around the tiny
cells, and she trained herself to use Sight to detect whether the rock had been
Malleated before. Of course it all had, but the recent touches burned the
brightest, and that was what she used as she went from cell to cell, pulling
walls open. She found cups, robes, slippers, candles. She found hoarded food
and stolen ewers of unwatered wine. She found six bodies, and dragged each one
up into the lyceum for Horuseps to identify, even if they were nothing more
than robes and bones. He tried to speak to her at first, but soon simply sent
for the archivist’s book and kept it with him. At the end of each day, she
returned to her cell exhausted, knowing it was useless but unable to think of
what else to do. And on the third day, she ran out of cells to search.

Standing there
in the last one, above the unconscious figure of the man who’d tried to stop
her from entering his personal space, Mara indulged herself in a few poisonous
fantasies mainly concerned with this mountain and a couple crates of
high-explosives. Then she walked out into the ephebeum’s main cavern, found a
bench, and sat.

There were always
a few students milling around here, more now that everyone knew she was poking
around in their rooms, but no one came near her. A wise precaution, considering
her mood. Right now, it took all of her self-control not to mindslap everyone
in sight or Malleate their heads on backwards or…

But she had to
be calm now, had to be. Mara had never been the sort of person who dealt with
anger well, which was why she worked so hard not to get angry at all. Anger was
a useless emotion. It clouded reason and confused judgment, and she didn’t have
either one in abundance. She had to keep focus, remember why she was here, and
above all, stay calm.

The day must be
nearly over by now. It was easy to lose track of time when using the Sight, but
Mara’s stomach told her it had been many hours since first-bell and her sorry
breakfast of roots and gruel. Too late, in other words, to begin another
prolonged search. Tomorrow was soon enough to start over, in the Nave this
time, and then…the lyceum again, she supposed.

And after that?

After that, she’d
open the Black Door.

For a moment,
even her thoughts stilled, as if some part of her were shocked by the idea, but
what was there to be shocked about, really? It was the only place left, the
only door she could think of that she hadn’t opened.

So, what if she
did get it open? She’d be judged, wouldn’t she? She’d be counted towards the
Tenth. And even if she survived and the way out were revealed to her, what if
Connie wasn’t there? Where would she be but back out of this stupid goddamned
mountain, looking for a way back in?

She couldn’t
think like this.

Did she really
think she could get that door open from the other side? Did she think she could
open it at all? Maybe it only opened for demons.

But maybe not. After
all, who was stupid enough to want to try?

“Who indeed?”
muttered Mara, and stood up.

She climbed the
stairs into the Nave as students moved wide around her, tapping at each one by
habit, scarcely aware of them. The Nave was noisy, crowded with students fresh
from class who waited for third-bell and their second meal. She felt them
noticing her, saw their little sparks lighting up the Mindstorm as she passed
them by, but ignored them as much as she could ignore anyone.

The Black Door.

She could see
herself approaching in the dark mirror of its face, growing pale and grimly
distinct one step at a time. The stone was cool to the touch, as smooth as
glass. When she flexed her mind into Sight, she Saw nothing; the magic that had
made it, unchanged since the founding days, had faded entirely from even this
sphere. She willed the door to open, and thought she Saw a flicker of response
deep in the hidden fathoms of its reflection, but it did not move beneath her
hand.

Mara thought a
moment.

“Malleate,” she
said.

“You mustn’t do
that.”

Sight shattered.
Mara pulled back her hand, releasing the Word’s power, but didn’t turn around. She
already knew it was Horuseps. “I want to open it.”

“It is forbidden
for students to cross the threshold before their time.”

“You never said
that at the tribunal.”

“I shouldn’t
have to.” He joined her at the door. His reflection was much clearer than hers,
as if it gave off its own light. “You think she’s behind it, don’t you?”

“Can you swear
she isn’t?”

He gave her a
hard, cold stare. “I shouldn’t have to do that either. I have sworn upon my
life to you once already. I should think that would merit a modicum of trust
now.”

“Sorry,” said
Mara. She wasn’t.

“Hm.” His
glittering eyes returned to the door. He watched her there, gradually losing
his irritation to an expression that was merely thoughtful. “You’re lucky I
happened along when I did, precious. Only those whom you call demons may open
this door, and of those, only those of the high blood may do it safely. All
others are repelled. Violently.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Is the door
open?” he asked gently.

She clenched her
jaw. “No.”

“Then consider
yourself fortunate. Failure may be a bitter wine for you to swallow, but you
are alive to swallow it.”

“How nice to
know you’re looking out for me.”

Horuseps said nothing,
and the longer that silence stretched out, the snottier those last words
seemed. Mara touched the door again, stroking her fingertips just once across
its glossy surface. She glanced at him, the real him, and not just his
reflection. “Are you okay?” she asked.

His surprise was
not manufactured. Then he understood, and his next smile was somewhat softer. “We
aren’t human,” he said. “Mending our flesh is no more than a thought. And a
Word.”

“I really didn’t
think he’d do that.”

Horuseps
shrugged. “I did.”

“I hope it
didn’t ruin your night with Proteus.”

“Proteus.” Horuseps
started a theatric sigh and ended with one of his ugly, spidery laughs. “Oh, I
couldn’t go through with it. I looked at him…I remembered you.” He made a few
passes with his fingers through her hair, then patted her shoulder. “You really
need to go to him.”

She didn’t even
bother asking who.

“No.”

“Mara—”

“He humiliated
me in front of a roomful of people. He can kiss my ass, but he’ll never get it
in bed again.”

“Kazuul—”

“Is your lord,
not mine.” She glared at the door, seeing it all over again. “He’s done nothing
but waste my time. I’m done with him.”

“You can’t—”

Mara yanked her
shoulder out from under his hand. “And I’m done with you too, if all you’re
going to do is pimp me out!”

Horuseps stepped
back, bowing to her in sarcastic servility. “My only desire is to answer your
every need. You wish to Malleate the threshold? So be it. You! Come here.”

Horuseps
beckoned, and from the uneasy crowd watching them came a familiar man in a black
robe. “Venice,” the demon said, patting the man’s shoulder. “A master of Malleation,
specializing in stone.”

“We’ve met,”
said Mara.

“Have you?”
Horuseps murmured, too casually. He drew the silent Venice with him towards the
door and pointed. “An opening, if you please. Mara, dearest, you may want to
stand back.”

Venice stared at
the Black Door without moving as Horuseps removed himself to a deliberate
distance. The Nave was very quiet now. After a moment, the man looked at Mara. He
hadn’t been sleeping well, she thought, or eating much. He’d lost a lot of that
easy, handsome charm he thought served him so well in his business, and now,
with his eyes glassy and unblinking and his lips pressed whitely together, he
looked like a man pulled too early from his sickbed. Or his deathbed.

“Perhaps I
haven’t made myself clear.” Horuseps crossed his arms to rest his long hands on
his shoulders. He wasn’t blinking either. “I command you to Malleate that
door.”

“Please…”

“Oh, but you
like to open holes in rock, don’t you?” The demon’s smile was a razor beneath
his sparking eyes. “Show me how it’s done.”

Venice raised
his hand and put it on the glossy stone face of the door. His mind was a tangle
of wordless fear—of Horuseps, Mara and Connie all torn together into terrible
new shapes. He knew he was about to die.

Mara moved back,
looking warily from man to demon. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, and
even she didn’t know who she was telling.

“Malleate,” said
Venice, but there was no will behind it, and the Word was just a harmless
sound.

“There are so many
worse fates to suffer than death,” said Horuseps softly. His fingers curled
over his shoulders slowly, like the legs of a dying spider. “And we are about
to explore them, you and I.”

One tear, only
one, overspilled the man’s right eye. His hand shook, leaving sweaty smears on
the rock. “Malleate!” Venice shouted, and this time, Mara felt it when he
pushed that power into the door.

She almost
couldn’t see what happened next. An explosion of some sort, soundless,
blastless. Venice was thrown back too fast for the eye to easily follow, but he
didn’t fall right away. It took Mara a second or two to see the black spears
that impaled him, not just once or twice, but
everywhere
. They held him
in place, supported him, gave the blood something to trickle along, but they
didn’t kill him. As many as there were, as awful as it was, it didn’t kill him.