Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) (46 page)

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your reputation will not survive beating a nineteen-year-old schoolgirl,” Emily said, bitterly. “Even if you manage to survive the repercussions, no one will ever trust or hire you again. You’re throwing away a career for...what? The pleasure of killing me with your bare hands? Who made it worth your while to sacrifice everything?”

“I have always placed the good of the Allied Lands ahead of my personal desires,” Master Grey said, stiffly. “I didn’t need someone to tell me you had to be killed.”

“Your career will come to an end,” Emily said. “Would you really surrender everything that means something to you because you want to kill me?”

“I owe someone a favor I cannot refuse,” Master Grey admitted. “But I did not need to be talked into recognizing you as a possible threat.”

“Fulvia,” Emily guessed. Master Grey had ties to the Ashworths...ties that might not have snapped when he’d become a Mediator. “Who else could it be?”

“You
did
risk her life and that of her entire family,” Master Grey pointed out. It wasn’t a denial. “She has good reason to hate you.”

“She was going to arrange for her eldest granddaughter to be married off against her will,” Emily snapped. She’d known it happened, intellectually, but she still had some problems understanding how anyone could tolerate it. “How is that different from rape?”

“It isn’t,” Master Grey said. She blinked in surprise. “But we must all sacrifice our personal desires to protect the Allied Lands.”

“Says the person who doesn’t have to open his legs for a rapist,” Emily snarled. Cold hatred flared through her voice. It would have been easier, perhaps, if he’d invented a justification for arranging and then forcing marriage. “You’d feel differently if it was
you
being given away as easily as a stud bull.”

Master Grey showed no visible reaction. “I
am
sacrificing my career,” he reminded her. “I don’t have the freedom to deal with you without a price.”

“Damn you,” Emily swore.

“No doubt,” Master Grey said. He rose to his feet. “We are due to meet one final time, Lady Emily, in nine hours. I would advise you to get some sleep, but...”

“You’d prefer to meet me when I’m half-asleep,” Emily muttered. She thought about all the spells she’d invented, all the concepts she’d tested in the spellchambers, when Lady Barb wasn’t beating her into the ground time and time again. How well would they work in a real duel? “Be seeing you.”

Master Grey nodded curtly and stalked off.

Emily turned back to stare out over the darkened lands. It would be easy to walk down to the stable, steal a horse and run. The tutors were too busy dealing with the recovering students to patrol the corridors as thoroughly as they normally did...hell, unless Mistress Irene happened to be monitoring the wards closely, they wouldn’t see her slip down the stairs and out into the gardens. A few hours hard riding would get her far enough from Whitehall that she could lose herself in the nearest city-state, changing her face and hair...

But she was tired of running.

She glanced up as she heard someone opening the heavy door and stepping out onto the battlements. Her heart sank as she saw Frieda, her face pale, wearing a long white nightgown that reflected the moonlight. The younger girl smiled wanly as she saw Emily, hurrying over to sit next to her. Emily let out a sigh, and wrapped her arm around Frieda’s shivering body. She hadn’t even thought to don a coat before sneaking up to the roof.

“You should be resting,” she said, leaning into Emily’s embrace. “Tomorrow...”

“I know,” Emily said. “I have a duel to fight.”

“You’ll win,” Frieda said. “Caleb is panicking, but you’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

“I wish I was,” Emily muttered. At least Caleb hadn’t shown up, something she wasn’t sure was a mercy or a curse. It would be nice to kiss him one final time. “He might well kill me.”

“He won’t,” Frieda said. “You killed two necromancers and a Mimic. I think you’ll beat him.”

“I had help with the Mimic,” Emily said. It had been her idea, but she’d needed help to make it work. And she’d cheated with the necromancers. Master Grey...wouldn’t allow her any room to cheat. “Frieda...”

“And you saved me from Mountaintop,” Frieda continued, smoothly. “There isn’t anything you can’t do, if you put your mind to it.”

Emily rested her head in her hand. “I won’t have a chance to speak to the others,” she said, softly. Jade was still sitting with Alassa - not that she blamed him for putting his fiancée first - and everyone else was still recovering. Imaiqah had opened her eyes briefly, she’d been told, but no one else had shown more than a few weak signs of life. “If I die...”

“You won’t,” Frieda said.

“If I die,” Emily repeated, “tell them I’m sorry and...and that there are letters for them, held by Lady Barb.”

She sighed. She’d given Lady Barb her notebooks, cautioning her to keep them to herself. It wasn’t clear if Master Grey could claim anything she gave away before the duel, but there was no point in taking chances. Lady Barb could use the concepts she’d created, including the nuke-spell, if she felt like it. Or burn them, if she thought they were too dangerous to risk unleashing on the world. She’d been there, after all, when the nuke-spell had been used for the first time. She knew, on a very primal level, just what it could do.

“You can tell them yourself,” Frieda said. “I have faith in you.”

“Thank you,” Emily said. She rose to her feet, helping the shivering Frieda to stand. “I had better get some rest.”

Frieda wrapped her arms around Emily and hugged her, tightly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, firmly. “I expect you to win.”

Emily smiled tiredly, and headed downstairs towards the dorms. Madame Beauregard was standing in front of the door, holding a strap in one hand, but she merely nodded and stood aside when Emily stepped past her. Clearly, she had more important things to worry about than punishing two girls for being out of bounds. Frieda followed Emily into her room and settled down on Alassa’s bed, looking determined to resist any attempt to eject her. Emily shrugged, laid down and closed her eyes. It felt like bare minutes had passed before she heard a knock on the door and sat up. Lady Barb stepped into the room, wearing formal robes.

“You have to remain in this room until it’s time to go down to the Great Hall,” she said, shortly. “And I can’t let you run any longer.”

“I understand,” Emily said, climbing out of bed. The cold pit in her stomach was growing worse. “Did you bring my clothes?”

Lady Barb nodded and held up a set of dueling robes. Emily eyed them warily before standing and heading to the shower. She washed herself thoroughly before returning to the bedroom and getting dressed. As soon as she finished, there was a knock at the door. Lady Barb opened it, accepted the plate of breakfast and placed it on the table in front of Emily. Emily felt her stomach twist in protest as she saw the huge sausages, eggs, bacon and fried potatoes, but forced herself to eat as much as she could. She’d need the energy to fight, when the time came.

“Leave the rest here; eat if you feel you can,” Lady Barb ordered. She looked Emily up and down, and nodded critically. “Your staff is in the pocket, shrunk down. I suggest you use the next hour to prime it with the spells you intend to use.”

She glanced at Frieda. “You’d better leave Emily alone now,” she added. “She will need time to think and meditate.”

“I’m staying with her,” Frieda said, firmly. She crossed her arms under her breasts in stubborn determination. “
Someone
needs to stay here.”

Lady Barb glowered at her, clearly reining in her temper. “You have a choice,” she said, flatly. “You can leave now, or I can remove you from the room and send you to face the Warden. Custom dictates that the duelists remain alone until the time comes for them to face one another.”

“Emily,” Frieda began.

“Go,” Emily said. The nervousness in her chest was growing worse. “I’ll see you soon enough.”

Frieda gave her a quick hug, jumped back and fled the room before Lady Barb could catch her. Emily half-hoped she wouldn’t watch the duel - the thought of dying was bad enough, but the thought of dying in front of her friend was worse - yet she knew that it was hard, almost impossible, to deter Frieda once she’d set her heart on something. She
would
watch the duel.

The bitter sensation in her stomach grew stronger. Emily swallowed hard, as if she was on the verge of throwing up. All her thoughts, all her plans, might prove to be useless when she stepped into the dueling circle.

“That’s a good friend you have,” Lady Barb said. “Quite loyal, too.”

“Please take care of her, afterwards,” Emily said. Frieda had discovered her confidence at Mountaintop, but she wouldn’t have an easy life. “Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

“My track record for keeping people from doing stupid things isn’t very impressive,” Lady Barb said, darkly. “You should have run.”

“Not this time,” Emily said, flatly.

“I hope you’re right and you will survive,” Lady Barb said. She reached out and stroked Emily’s hair. “Good luck.”

Emily swallowed. “Thank you.”

Lady Barb nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind her. Emily felt a locking ward slide into place; not strong enough to keep her from leaving, but perfectly capable of alerting Lady Barb if Emily tried to leave. She was trapped. God alone knew what would happen if she was
caught
trying to escape, now that the duel was barely half an hour away, but she doubted it would be good. Gritting her teeth, she strode to the dressing table and sat down facing the mirror.

Her face looked back at her, pale and wan. Alassa had told her, more than once, that brushing her hair was relaxing - she made sure to brush her hair one hundred times before bed - but Emily had never seen the attraction. She’d never really seen the point of taking care of herself before Shadye had kidnapped her; if she looked good, she’d feared, it would just mark her out for attention. But now...she looked resolute, as if she’d finally grown into her looks. Her long brown hair fanned out around the dark leather shirt, loose enough to allow her to move freely...

I look like an adult
, she thought, suddenly.

She pushed the thought aside and reached for the hairbrush, brushing her hair before tying it back into a long ponytail. It was relaxing, the monotony of the task helping to calm her thoughts, even though she couldn’t escape the thought of the duel for long. Putting down the hairbrush - she couldn’t be bothered to count the strokes - she reached for the staff, restored it to normal size and started inputting spells, one by one. Master Grey would expect her to use something offensive, she was sure; instead, she intended to use the staff to defend herself, as she’d done when he’d pitted her against the Third Years. It would keep him off balance.

She hoped.

The staff seemed to be humming with power when she had finished, dozens of spells ready to be triggered on command. Emily put the staff down and rose to her feet. There was nothing else to do but wait. She tried to force herself to choke down some more food, but her stomach rebelled, threatening to reject everything she’d eaten. Emily reached for a book, glanced at the first page, and shook her head. There was no way she could concentrate on anything but the impending duel.

She looked back at the mirror, wondering just what the Grandmaster would have thought if he’d seen her. Had he expected her to run? He had to have known that Master Grey would move at once, claiming the right to set the time and place of the duel as soon as the Grandmaster had died. Or had he thought that Master Grey would wait? Or that someone the Grandmaster had known would pressure Master Grey to abandon the duel? Or...

There was a knock on the door. “Come in!”

Lady Barb entered, holding a staff of her own in one hand. “It’s time,” she said. “Emily...”

“Don’t worry,” Emily said. She had to fight down the overwhelming urge to run. “I made my choice.”

“Yes, you did,” Lady Barb said. “Come with me.”

Emily nodded. “Who’s his second?”

“Lady Daniele,” Lady Barb said. The name meant nothing to Emily. “She’s a Mediator, one of his former apprentices. Not someone to be underestimated.”

“I know,” Emily said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lady Barb’s lips thinned. “I told the Grandmaster I thought that I couldn’t give you the harsh training you needed without snapping your mind,” she said, flatly. He face was impassive, as if she were determined to show no sign of emotion. “You would not have responded well, I think, to me acting like him. If I’d said anything else...”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Emily repeated. She wanted the older woman to believe that, if nothing else. “And thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Head held high, she walked out of the room, through the corridors and into the Great Hall.

T
HE GREAT HALL WAS BRIGHTLY LIT
when she stepped through the door, the tables and chairs cleared away and a large dueling circle drawn on the floor. Mistress Irene stood beside a handful of the staff, while over forty students stood leaning against the stone walls, watching and waiting as the two duelists entered the chamber. Master Grey waited on the other side of the dueling circle, his eyes meeting Emily as soon as she appeared and never leaving her face. A dark-skinned woman with long white hair - Lady Daniele, Emily assumed - stood next to him. There was a tart expression on her face, as if she’d bitten into something unpleasant. If Sergeant Miles had refused to serve as Master Grey’s second, Emily wondered, what pressure had he put on Lady Daniele to take the role?

She refused to show any sign of fear as she walked up to the edge of the circle, feeling almost as if she were watching herself from outside. The wards gently pressed against her magic; she tested them, satisfying herself that they only served as protective walls, rather than reflecting spells in all directions. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Master Grey bouncing a spell off the wards and striking her in the back. She’d had that happen to her once before and it had been embarrassing, to say the least. Perhaps, part of her mind noted, she should have paid more attention in dueling lessons. They had seemed immaterial to her, at Mountaintop, but now they would have come in handy.