The Infused Man

(A Schooled in Magic Spin-Off)

Book II of III

Book One: The Cunning Man
Book Two: The Infused Man

Christopher G. Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net
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https://mewe.com/page/5cd32005dc9f631c9973f058

Cover by Brad Fraunfelter

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All Comments and Reviews Welcome!

Cover Blurb

Adam wanted to be a magician, but now he’s something more ...

The university of Heart’s Eye barely survived the conflict between magical and mundane students, a conflict fanned by an undercover sorcerer hiding in the last place anyone suspected, a conflict that came within moments of destroying the university or delivering the student body into inescapable servitude.  But the fight for academic independence is far from over.  Chaos is spreading across the Allied Lands and the university is being sucked into a vortex that may still destroy Emily’s dreams of a better future for the entire world.

Now, Adam’s blood is infused with magic, magic that may prove the key to saving them all and giving power to the powerless.  But with an old rival coming back into his life and an enemy army laying siege to the university, he may not have time to learn how to use his new gift before it is too late ... 

Author’s Note

This book runs roughly parallel to The Right Side of History and The Face of the Enemy (Schooled in Magic 22 and 23) and, although it is stand-alone, draws on elements mentioned in earlier books, specifically The Sergeant’s Apprentice, The Princess in the Tower, Mirror Image and Oathkeeper.

CGN.

Prologue I

Background: The following is a transcript of a speech given by Mistress Irene, Administrator of Heart’s Eye, shortly after the university was nearly destroyed by a combination of student misbehaviour and outside infiltration.  It was surprisingly well received, as the speech represents one of the very few times senior authority figures acknowledged their own mistakes and their roles in creating a crisis that brought them to the brink of disaster.

***
It is not easy to admit one’s mistakes.

I take no pleasure in looking back at the last few weeks and acknowledging my own role in turning the minor disturbances into a major problem, one that threatened to turn the university into a battleground, if not a smoking crater.  The decisions I made seemed logical at the time, after weighing the issues as carefully as I could, but – in hindsight – I can see my own emotions, and my preconceptions, had their thumbs on the scale.  I allowed them to blur my thinking and lead me to make mistakes, mistakes that led to misjudgements that cannot easily be undone.

In hindsight, the problem is clear.  No one has ever tried to found a university before.  There is no pattern to follow, no past examples we could study so we could emulate their successes or seek to avoid their mistakes.  This should not have surprised us.  Whitehall, Mountaintop and even Laughter did not spring into existence as the schools of magic we know and love, but began as very simple institutions and evolved over time.   We were blinded by our own preconceptions of what an educational institute should be and, when we ran into trouble, we drew on our own experience instead of seeking new answers.  Those of us who are magicians assumed Heart’s Eye would follow the same pattern as the other schools of magic.

We were not the only ones.  Those of us who are craftsmen, tradesmen and mechanics assumed the university would follow an apprenticeship model, in which the master would train his students in his subject and encourage them to band together with other apprentices to share their experiences, exchange tips and – very quietly – pass on warnings about bad or downright abusive masters.  They believed apprentice gangs would rapidly congeal, eventually becoming the core of new craft guilds even though they were strongly discouraged from taking root at Heart’s Eye.  

These misconceptions caused a toxic mess that came very close to destroying the entire university.  The magical students, raised in a culture that encouraged teenagers to hex each other so they’d learn to defend themselves, started using magic on mundanes.  They saw non-magicians as inherently inferior, and refused to admit they might have anything to learn from them.  The mundane apprentices, raised in a culture that expected them to band together against their enemies, started ganging up on the magical students, finding ways to get around wards and protective charms and striking back at the magicians.  They saw magicians as snooty brats who’d lucked into vast power and refused to admit, too, that they might have something to learn from them.

We, your tutors and supervisors and administrators, made the same mistake.  We assumed we’d have to segregate magicians and mundanes.  We assumed we’d have to separate the two groups so completely there would be no contact between them.  We were even on the verge of separating Heart’s Eye and Heart’s Ease …

… And yet, if a young magician and a young mundane had not become friendly, we might have died well before we realised the depth of our mistakes.

This is not what Emily wanted.

It was her belief that progress, real progress, could be achieved by combining the insights of both magical and mundane students and using them to advance towards a better future.  She told us, only a year ago, that we needed to come up with new ideas, to test them through experimentation and learn from our successes as well as our failures.  I will admit that I was sceptical, when I first heard her plans for the university.  It struck me as a waste of time at best, a disaster waiting to happen at worst.  And yet, she was right.  We have made more progress in many areas, from steam engines to magical potions and runic charms, in the last year than has been made over the last few decades.  I can no longer argue with the results of her plans.  We will change the world, if we do not destroy ourselves first.

Our failing – my failing – was that we didn’t clamp down on trouble before it was too late.  We were blinded, as I said; we were convinced we should allow the victims to retaliate rather than protect them.  That ends now.  We will not tolerate open hostility, sabotage and anything else done with bad intentions.  Those who transgress will be given a very clear warning, then expelled from the university if they refuse to shape up.  It is not an easy step for us to take, particularly now, but we have no choice.

These are not easy times for the Allied Lands.  The Necromantic War is over – and yet, it has unleashed chaos in its wake.  Old disputes and grudges, buried while we had to deal with the necromancers, are bursting back into life.  Some kingdoms are adapting well to the new realities, others are restive … perhaps even consumed by revolution.  Many of us want to take sides, want the university to take sides, despite our neutrality.  And yet, we must remain neutral.  Our role is to birth the future, not get dragged into factional fights.

We made mistakes.  We have chosen to learn from them.  And we will not make the same mistakes twice.  If you cannot behave yourself, if you cannot act like a civilised person in a civilised world, you will be expelled.

There will be no further warnings.
Prologue II

The king is dead, Prince Ephialtes of Tarsier thought.  Long live the king.

He stood in the Royal Crypt, staring at his father’s body.  His father had been a good man, and normally Prince Ephialtes – King Ephialtes – would have had no qualms about leaving his father on the throne until he died a natural death.  It wasn’t as if his father had been abusive or kept all the power firmly in his hands.  Prince Ephialtes had been a partner in ruling as soon as he’d come of age, with lands to rule and money to spend and the promise of a princess’s hand in marriage.  Ephialtes had known, when the time came, that he would step into his father’s shoes and rule the kingdom until he passed it down to his son.  It had all seemed so simple.  But then, everything had changed.

Ephialtes struggled, sometimes, to point to the exact moment he’d realised his father needed to be removed for the good of the kingdom.  The old man had done well when the necromantic armies crossed the Desert of Death – somehow – and started an advance towards the capital.  He’d summoned help from the rest of the Allied Lands and it had arrived, spearheaded by Lady Emily herself.  And it had worked!  The necromancer hadn’t just been defeated, he’d been killed.  If matters had ended there, Ephialtes wouldn’t have had a single word of complaint.  But they hadn’t.  Lady Emily had reignited the nexus point at Heart’s Eye, declared the former school her personal property and announced plans to turn it into a university.  Ephialtes wasn’t clear on precisely what a university was, but it didn’t matter.  It had become clear, very quickly, that Heart’s Eye had become a centre for all kinds of subversive activity.  The university – and the growing town nearby – was a source of radical ideas, up to and including suggestions countries didn’t need aristocracies, or monarchies.  And the ideas had been spreading fast.  They were even taking root …

… And his father had done nothing!

Ephialtes understood, a little.  His father had had good reason to be grateful to Lady Emily.  She’d saved the kingdom.  And she had a truly terrifying reputation, although Ephialtes – who’d met her – suspected it had grown in the telling.  And … it didn’t matter.  The kingdom could turn a blind eye to some things, particularly given the long-standing agreements between the monarchy and the schools of magic, but ignoring the waves of subversion spreading from the university was too much.  It was like trying to ignore a sword sweeping towards your neck, threatening to slice through your skin and separate your head from your body.  It could not be done.  The university had to be shut down and quickly, before it was too late.  Ephialtes had tried to convince his father, but the older man hadn’t listened.  He no longer seemed to care about the kingdom his son was going to inherit.

He was scared of Lady Emily, Ephialtes thought.  He didn’t want to provoke her.

His lips twisted into a snarl.  His father had been king of a vast and powerful realm, master of all he surveyed.  The idea of him genuflecting before a slip of a girl was … well, it was unthinkable.  How could he be so weak?  Lady Emily really had done most of the things the tales insisted she’d done – Ephialtes had spent a considerable amount of time and money trying to separate fact from fiction – but she wasn’t all-powerful.  She could be beaten, if one wasn’t hypnotised by her power and reputation.  The kingdom could take steps – easily, with the resources under the king’s direct control – to protect itself.  And his father had refused to take even the first steps towards saving his kingdom for his son.  Ephialtes had wondered, as the seeds of treachery grew in his heart, what sort of kingdom he’d be leaving for his son.  It wasn’t a comforting thought.

He’d been the crown prince.  He’d controlled the secret police.  He knew, all too well, how far the ideas were spreading.  Radical nonsense – peasants should have land rights, taxes should be minimal, laws should be written down, kings should be accountable to their people – were growing embedded, no matter how hard the secret police worked to suppress them.  He’d watched, helplessly, as radicals fled to Heart’s Eye; he’d ground his teeth in frustration as they kept spreading their lies, showing no shame at hiding under Lady Emily’s skirts.  It was an impossible situation.  He’d needed to do something and yet, as long as his father blocked him, there was nothing he could do.  

And then, he’d heard the news.  Lady Emily had been arrested by the White Council.

Ephialtes was an experienced power broker.  He knew most of the people who’d made the decision to arrest her.  He was sure they’d take steps to make sure she never saw the light of day again.  Arresting her was a dangerous gamble, one that would explode in their collective face if they didn’t make it stick.  He was certain they’d rush through a farce of a trial and execute her, before her friends and family could rally to her cause.  And not before time, either.  The uprising in Alluvia was a stark warning to all the monarchies.  Curb radicalism now, before it was too late, or see your kingdoms fall into chaos.

He’d acted, with a little help.  And he’d killed his father.

It was hard not to feel guilty.  He’d sworn to serve his kingdom when he came of age, pledging himself to serve as prince and then rule as king, and the good of the kingdom demanded his father’s death.  And yet, his father was his father.  Ephialtes’s heart twisted as he looked at the body, hoping and praying his father would be treated kindly when he stood before the gods for judgement.  Ephialtes had done the right thing – he must have – but he still felt guilty.  His father hadn’t been a bad man.  He’d just been a poor ruler.  And he’d been on the verge of losing everything.

I will fix it, Father, Ephialtes told himself, as he turned and walked back to the private meeting room.  And I will raise a statue in your name when all is done.

The magician sat waiting for him, hands resting on his lap.  Ephialtes swallowed a flash of annoyance.  The magician should be on his feet, bowing before the king, even though – as a magician – he was de facto nobility.  He’d come well-recommended, and he’d lived up to his reputation, but … Ephialtes scowled, inwardly, as he nodded curtly and took his father’s chair.  His chair.  He wasn’t keen on engaging people he knew little about, even if they were deniable assets.  They could easily vanish and tell everything from a safe distance.  And who knew what would happen then?

He’d be hunted across the Allied Lands, Ephialtes thought.  But I’d still suffer the shame of patricide as well as regicide.

“It was well done,” he said, once the privacy wards were in place.  He was used to being careful.  He’d had little privacy as the crown prince and he’d have even less, now he was the king.  “I don’t believe anyone was suspicious.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” the magician said.  His voice was as bland as his face.  He was a man who could vanish in an empty room.  “There was no evidence for the court magicians to find.”

Ephialtes kept his face blank.  His father had loved to hunt.  It had been the one bit of freedom he’d had, the one time he could escape the endless rites and rituals of the court and pretend he was a free-spirited man of leisure instead of a king, the ruler who was also the ruled.  And he’d suffered a tragic accident that was nothing of the sort, his horse tripping at precisely the right moment to throw its rider into a tree … Ephialtes shuddered, despite himself.  His father had deserved better.  Really, he had.  

“I trust you will keep your part of the bargain,” the magician stated.  It wasn’t a question.  “The window of opportunity is already closing.   We must act fast.”

“My forces are already being prepared,” Ephialtes said.  “But I must be crowned first.”

A flash of irritation crossed the magician’s face.  “Lady Emily may already be free,” he said, calmly.  “Her enemies were unable to execute her before her allies came to her aid.”

Ephialtes blanched.  “But that means …”

“I believe she is going to be occupied for the foreseeable future,” the magician told him, calmly.  “But you must act fast.  If you fail, your entire kingdom will pay the price.”

He stood.  “And please let me be the first one to congratulate you on your ascension,” he added.  There was a hint of mocking amusement in his tone.  “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

Ephialtes shivered.
Chapter One

Adam felt … weird.

It was hard, so hard, to put the feeling into words.  His body felt … liquid, as if he’d drunk so much he could feel it sloshing around.  His skin felt paper-thin; his body felt strong and yet weak … he honestly wasn’t sure, as he stared down at his hands, if he was imagining the feeling or if it was real.  Flashes of heat washed through him, followed by waves of searing cold … he thought he saw, just for a second, lights pulsing beneath his skin, the radiance gone almost as soon as he recognized it.  The magic infused into his blood seemed to shimmer at the edge of his awareness, like something that would vanish the moment he turned to look.  It was hard to believe, at times, that there was anything there … 

He closed his eyes, trying to gain a better sense of his own body.  He hadn’t known what would happen when he’d thrown himself onto the clockwork device threatening to destabilise the nexus point and destroy the entire university.  He’d known it was possible to use blood as a storage medium for magic – he’d proved that himself, only a few short months ago – but the idea of infusing magic into blood within his bloodstream had seemed impossible.  He knew he was lucky to survive, yet … he wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or deeply worried.  It was galling to now have magic and still be completely incapable of using it.

A low hum echoed through the spellchamber as the last of the wards fell into place.  Adam opened his eyes.  Lilith stood at the edge of the circle, her green eyes watching him thoughtfully.  Adam smiled at her, despite his nervousness.  Their relationship was … odd.  They were boyfriend and girlfriend and yet, she was a magician and he was a mundane and their relationship had always been complicated.  It didn’t help, he admitted, that they’d spent a lot of time sharpening their claws on each other.  Lilith was smart and beautiful – the white coat she wore did nothing to hide either her red hair or her figure – but Adam couldn’t help wondering what she saw in him.  What could he offer that someone born with actual magic couldn’t?

At least I tried to befriend her, when we first met, he thought.  The rest of the university treated her like a pariah because her father wanted to turn back the clock and chase the mundanes out.

“Adam,” Lilith said.  “Are you ready?”

“I think so.”  Adam felt a twinge of excitement, mingled with fear.  He’d only just gotten out of the infirmary.  He didn’t want to wind up back there in a hurry.  “Are you?”

Lilith nodded, curtly.  Adam wasn’t reassured.  Lilith had a sharp tongue and their new relationship had done nothing to change it.  The fact that she wasn’t making a sarcastic remark was deeply worrying, even though they’d gone through the plans time and time again before reserving the spellchamber and isolating it from the rest of the university.  He knew what to do, yet they were heading into unexplored territory.  The whole experiment could easily blow up in their face.

“Do it,” she ordered.

Adam took a breath, gathering himself as he raised his hands.  He’d hoped, once, that he’d discover a talent for magic.  He’d clung to that hope even after he’d flunked the magic test time and time again, even working in an apothecary in a bid to be as close to his dream as possible.  And at Heart’s Eye, he’d made a breakthrough that he thought would change the world.  He’d proved mundanes had a place at the university and, perhaps more importantly, he’d won Lilith’s respect.

And you didn’t realise what Arnold was doing until it was far too late, his thoughts mocked.  He still had nightmares about the final confrontation, when Arnold had threatened to take him as a slave – or worse.  Arnold had been a magician, hiding in plain sight, and Adam had missed the signs completely.  He was playing you all the way and you fell for it like a chump.

He let out the breath slowly, trying to centre his mind.  It wasn’t easy.  The entire world felt as though it was holding its breath.  Lady Emily had been arrested, Heart’s Eye had come within a heartbeat of being destroyed, King Vanunu of Tarsier had died in a hunting accident and … Adam had felt it, when he’d been allowed to get out of bed.  Everyone was waiting for something to happen.  The university rested on a knife-edge.  It was hard to escape the feeling disaster was rushing towards them at terrifying speed.

Lilith cleared her throat.  “Get on with it.”

Adam smiled, then started moving his hands as he chanted the spell.  It was a basic charm, one of the first taught to novice magicians.  Lilith had told him she’d felt the magic moving around her, shaped by her will.  Adam felt vaguely silly, as if he were doing a dance without music or partner.  His hands finished the motions and dropped to his lap.  A wave of disappointment washed over him.  The spell should have produced a light, hovering in front of him.  Instead, the air was empty.  He hadn’t really expected it to work, but …

“Try again,” Lilith said.  He thought he heard dismay in her voice.  If he was any judge, people were already talking about their relationship.  She’d probably already been teased for dating a powerless man.  It would be so much easier for her – and him – if he had power.  “This time, focus your mind.”

“I’m trying,” Adam said.  “It feels as though I’m trying to swim without water.”

He went through the motions again, chanting the words one by one.  His first master had humoured him, just a little, by drilling precision into him, insisting that everything had to be just right at all times.  Adam knew how to cut roots perfectly, how to pluck seeds from plants and grind them into powder, how to measure weights so precisely there was no need to hastily adapt the potions recipe because something wasn’t quite right.  He knew better than to let even the slightest mistake get passed on, when his master might take it as an excuse to end the apprenticeship.  Adam had loved Master Pittwater like a father, but he knew – all too well – that the old man had thought he was indulging his apprentice.  Matt, Master Pittwater’s real apprentice, had pointed it out repeatedly.  And if Master Pittwater hadn’t sent Adam to Heart’s Eye …

“It doesn’t work,” he said, finally.  “I don’t even feel as if anything is happening.”

“And yet, you have a reserve of magic inside you,” Lilith said, as she cancelled the protective spells.  “You should be able to make some use of it.”

Adam nodded in agreement, although he feared it was impossible.  No one had been able to isolate the precise difference between a person with magic and a person without, but it was clear he was missing something.  His blood might be charged with magic, fully the equal of hers, yet … he couldn’t make use of it.  It bothered him to think all that power might be sloshing through his bloodstream, doing … what?  He didn’t know, but he’d heard all sorts of horror stories about people who walked into high magic areas and came out changed.  Was he becoming something else?  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He stepped over the circle, feeling oddly desolate.  He’d thought he’d come to terms with his lack of magic when he’d discovered how to use his blood to provide the power he needed to brew potions. When he’d changed the world, he could hardly deny he’d done something remarkable.  He’d even given the mundanes the tools they needed to teach the magicians a lesson … he cursed inwardly, all too aware he’d also given Arnold the tools he needed to bring the university to the brink of destruction.  He wanted to think he’d been enchanted, that Arnold had twisted his thoughts until he could no longer tell the difference between right and wrong, but he knew better.  The wretched sorcerer hadn’t used any sort of compulsion, yet he’d still been able to manipulate Adam effortlessly.

“We could try something else,” Lilith said.  “What if we cut your hand and allowed the blood to pool in your palm, while you cast the spell?”

Adam frowned.  “Would that work for you?”

“I don’t know,” Lilith said.  She sounded doubtful.  “It wouldn’t be easy to cast the spell through the blood.”

“No,” Adam agreed.  “You’d be too used to casting the spells normally.”

He studied her thoughtfully, understanding the frustration she couldn’t quite hide.  Lilith was powerful, perhaps one of the most powerful students at the university, but she’d never been allowed to develop her abilities.  Her father’s obsession with regaining Heart’s Eye, and turning it back into a magic school, had ensured she didn’t have the chance to win an apprenticeship more suited to her talents.  Arnold had beguiled her with the promise of proper training and, even though Lilith professed to have no regrets, Adam knew she’d been tempted.  He wondered, not for the first time, if that was the one thing they had in common.  They both thought they’d been unfairly held down …

She could have left her father at any moment, he thought, tiredly.  And yet she chose to stay.

“There are other things we could try,” Lilith said.  “We should go to the lab, see if your blood can be used in spells …”

“You mean, like yours?”  Adam glanced at her notes.  “We already know mine can be used to store magic.”

“Yeah, but can you do it without taking the time to charge it?”  Lilith grinned as she picked up her notebooks and headed for the door.  “Coming?”

Adam followed her through the door and down a long series of corridors.  They were surprisingly empty, even though it was a weekend.  Someone had hung a pair of signs on the walls – FREE EMILY, JOIN THE MILITIA TODAY – and added their contact details underneath.  Someone else had added a set of notes about events in Heart’s Ease, ranging from plays and music performances to political speeches and rallies.  Adam hoped, now that Arnold was gone, the events would go ahead without incident.  In hindsight, Arnold had done a hell of a lot of damage.  He’d had magical and mundane students at each other’s throats, giving him all the cover he needed to make his bid for power.  And he’d come very close to destroying the entire university.

There was no sign of Master Landis as they entered the lab.  Lilith set up a cauldron and started to brew with practiced ease, while Adam carefully cut his palm and allowed droplets of blood to fall into a glass bowl.  It wasn’t easy to measure the droplets – he knew better than to guess, when magical blood was involved – but he did it.  Thankfully, it didn’t seem to matter how powerful the magician was, when it came to donating blood for potions.  There was no need to calculate his own power, then determine how much blood he needed.  It was curious …

“Ready,” Lilith said.

“Here.”  Adam passed her the bowl and watched her drip the blood into the mixture.  “If we …”

He broke off as light flared, the cauldron shaking as the magic transmuted the liquid into potion.  He gritted his teeth, fighting back a flare of bitter frustration and resentment.  There was no way he could have brewed that potion, even if he’d had rune-charged blood.  No wonder he’d been relegated to cutting, chopping and other preparations, while Lilith and Matt and the rest of their counterparts had done the exciting part.  And to think some of them were completely blasé about the wonders in the palms of their hands.

“It works like mine,” Lilith said.  “Interesting.”

Adam nodded, passing her a rack of vials.  “Does it have the same effect?”

“It should,” Lilith said.  She filled the vials one by one, giving him time to wash the bowl and dispose of his blood.  “But I’ll run them past the master first.”

Her lips twisted, slightly.  Adam understood.  Master Landis wasn’t a bad master – Adam knew there were far worse out there, from the ones who exploited their apprentices to the ones who abused them – but he wasn’t what Lilith needed.  She needed someone better, someone who could push her right to the limits ... he wondered, numbly, if she’d leave the university if she found someone more suitable.  And what would happen to them then?

He slipped into the backroom and put the kettle on, then found a pair of mugs.  “Kava?  Or something else?”

“Kava,” Lilith called.  “And biscuits.”

Adam smiled wryly as he filled the mugs with water, then picked up the tin of biscuits and placed them on a tray.  “Coming …”

He stepped back into the main room, just as the door opened.  Master Landis stepped into the room, nodding politely to his two apprentices.  He looked tired after a long session with the staff council.  Adam guessed they’d been debating the situation – Emily’s arrest, the uprising in Alluvia, the king’s death in Tarsier – and trying to decide what, if anything, they could do about it.  There was no easy solution.  The neighbouring kingdom had grown increasingly hostile to the university even before the king had died in an accident.  Adam had heard theories – and he knew many students shared them – that the king had accidentally stabbed himself in the back repeatedly.  The claim it had been a hunting accident was just a little difficult to believe. 

“Master,” Lilith said.  “How did it go?”

“Poorly.”  Master Landis sat, resting his hands on the table.  “Did your experiments bear fruit?”

Adam passed Master Landis his mug.  “We learnt I can’t cast spells myself,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  “And that my blood is a fair substitute for a magician’s blood in a blood-based potion.”

“Which may be useful,” Master Landis said, sipping his drink.  “It is always risky to use one’s own blood in brewing, as it is hard to determine where your magic stops and the blood begins.”

“It was easier to brew using Adam’s blood,” Lilith said.  “But there was no real difference between using his and using yours.”

“You’ll need to do a little more research,” Master Landis said.  He looked up, meeting Adam’s eyes.  “The council and I discussed your case extensively.  It was their feeling it would be better if you were released from your apprenticeship, so you could continue your experiments without obligations to me.  You and your friends” – his eyes flickered to Lilith, then back again – “are entering unexplored territory.  It would be unwise to limit your development by forcing you to remain within the strictures of a formal apprenticeship.”

Adam said nothing for a long moment, torn between the awareness the council was probably right and the grim sense that he was being effectively dismissed.  His thoughts were a tangled mess.  He had some savings, from his allowance, but they wouldn’t last long, even if he stayed in the university.  And if he wanted another apprenticeship later on … it would look as though Master Landis had kicked him out.  No master would give him a fair hearing …

Lilith’s thoughts were clearly running along the same lines.  “Will the council give him a research grant?”

“Yes.”  Master Landis looked torn between surprise and amusement.  “Adam will be given a grant, which should fund his research.  He will also be given free bed and board in the dorms, at least for the next five years.  Should he make progress, I am sure the council will look kindly on making additional grants and suchlike.”

He smiled at Adam.  “I think this is for the best,” he said.  “It will certainly offer you a better chance of making a mark than staying with me.”

Adam nodded, slowly.  “I’ll take the grant and do what I can.”

“Don’t spend it all at once,” Master Landis advised, mischievously.  “You may have to account for every crown you spend.”

Lilith cleared her throat.  “Master, I must request to be released from my apprenticeship too.”

“You must?”  Master Landis studied her for a long moment.  “Might I ask why?”

“First, I am not suited to a potions apprenticeship,” Lilith said.  Her voice was calm, but Adam could tell she was nervous.  “Second, Adam will need help exploring his discoveries and figuring out how to turn his theories into practical magics.  I can assist him while applying for an apprenticeship more suited to my talents.”

Master Landis frowned.  “Your father will not be pleased.”

“I am old enough to make the decision for myself,” Lilith said, flatly.  “And” – she hesitated, noticeably – “I believe that is my problem.”

Unless Master Dagon makes it Master Landis’s problem too, Adam thought.  He called in a lot of favours to ensure Master Landis would take Lilith as an apprentice.

“And not mine.”  Master Landis smiled, rather dryly.  “You will discover, I should warn you, that your next master may not be as forgiving as I.”

“I know,” Lilith said.

“Very well.”  Master Landis finished his drink and placed the mug on the table.  “I’ll prepare the paperwork for your release.  If you change your mind in the next couple of days, let me know and I’ll destroy them.  If not … come back and we can sign the paperwork then, after we discuss what access you, both of you, will have to the lab.  It won’t be your workplace any longer.”

Adam nodded.  “Yes, Master.”

“You probably don’t have to call me master any longer,” Master Landis said.  He grinned, suddenly.  “I’m going to need a new apprentice, aren’t I?”
Chapter Two

“You should ask Mistress Irene,” Adam said, when they left the lab.  “She could take you on as a student.”

“She already has an apprentice,” Lilith pointed out.  He could hear the smile in her voice.  “And so do most of the other masters here.”

Her smile grew wider as she turned and gave Adam a tight hug.  “If I can get a better master …”

“One more suited to you,” Adam said.  He could see her delight – and, at the same time, her fear.  Her father was not going to be pleased.  He wanted his daughter to stay at Heart’s Eye and would try to insist she took a new apprenticeship at the university.  “Is there anyone here who can teach you?”

His heart twisted.  There was a very good chance the answer was no.  Lilith might not be able to find someone suitable, certainly not at the university.  She might have to leave … he didn’t want her to leave.  And yet, he didn’t want to stand in her way either.  She needed time to undertake a proper apprenticeship, once she decided what she wanted to do with her life.  She could leave, if she wished.  She was a magician.  She didn’t need her father’s permission – or her husband’s – to leave her home and find a master somewhere else.

“I don’t think so.”  Lilith turned, leading the way down the corridor.  “The majority of the magical tutors have apprentices already, or simply don’t take them.  And …”

Her voice trailed off.  Her father served on the staff council.  It was unlikely any prospective master would be pleased that his apprentice’s father was so close.  Adam was mildly surprised Master Landis had put up with it, although he’d clearly owed Master Dagon a favour or two.  It made it harder for the apprentice to grow into an independent person in their own right.  

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Adam said, although he wasn’t sure he wanted her to find anyone.  He told that part of him to shut up.  It wasn’t as if she couldn’t visit – or he couldn’t go see her.  “How do you normally find a master?”

Lilith looked downcast.  “It’s normally arranged by the school, or the family,” she said, slowly.  “And my father won’t lift a finger to help.”

Adam winced.  “You could always ask your old tutors,” he said.  “They might be willing to help.”

“It’s been too long since I was at school,” Lilith said.  They walked past a cluster of craftsman apprentices, talking in low voices.  “They’ll be looking for masters for the current crop, not the girls who graduated more than a year or two ago.”

“I’m sorry.”  Adam squeezed her hand, lightly.  “What about Master Caleb?”

“Too young,” Lilith said.  Her voice was very definite.  “And I’m not sure he’s actually qualified to teach anything.”

Adam nodded, slowly.  Master Caleb couldn’t be more than three or four years older than Lilith or Adam himself, if that.  People would talk.  He remembered how the townspeople had gossiped, back in Beneficence, when steam masters had started taking apprentices no older than themselves.  It had been unavoidable – it wasn’t as if there’d been steam masters a decade ago – but people had still treated it as a scandal.  He frowned as a thought struck him.  There was another option …

“You could always ask your father,” he said, slowly.  “Lady Emily apprenticed under her father.”

Lilith shot him a sharp look.  “Lady Emily clearly has a better relationship with her father than I,” she said, tartly.  “And it would make it harder for people to take me seriously afterwards.”

“Sorry.”  Adam sighed inwardly.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ll just have to check the books,” Lilith said.  “And see who might be interested in taking me.”

Adam nodded, feeling a twinge of dismay as they turned the corner.  Someone had covered the wall with notices, informing the students that there was going to be a giant protest – FREE EMILY – in Heart’s Ease.  Adam made a mental note to attend, although he doubted the White Council and the Allied Lands would give much of a damn.  The rumours kept growing in the telling, each one more absurd than the last.  He felt a hot flash of hatred for the distant monarchs and their servants. Lady Emily had saved Whitehall School, introduced new and better ways of doing things and ended the Necromantic War itself … and how did they reward her?  By putting her on trial for … for what?  He had a feeling the councillors hadn’t thought ahead.  The days when they could act decisively before anyone outside the council knew what they were doing were gone.  

“We can go to the town later, if you want,” Lilith said, reading his thoughts.  “And we can get some dinner too.”

Adam frowned.  “Do you still have an allowance?”

“Good question.”  Lilith’s lips twisted.  “We’ll see.”

“Be careful,” Adam advised.  “And save what you’ve got.”

He frowned as they paused outside Lilith’s room.  Master Dagon had given her a huge allowance, huge enough to make the average aristocrat burn with envy.  Lilith had spent freely, for as long as Adam had known her … his heart sank as he realised her father might cut her off, using money to pressure her into falling back into line.  Could he?  He was the master of his tiny household, wasn’t he?  Adam didn’t pretend to understand the inter-family politics – Lilith hadn’t been interested in discussing how her family actually worked – but he’d known merchant fathers who cut their sons off when they’d refused to go into the family business.  Would a magician do the same?  Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Give me a moment,” Lilith said.  “I’ll be back in a flash.”

Adam nodded and leaned against the wall nonchalantly as Lilith slipped into her room, closing the door behind her.  He wanted to go inside, to spend some private time with her, but he knew better.  Her father’s wards wouldn’t take kindly to his intrusion.  Lilith had cautioned him he might wind up a frog, or worse.  The idea of her having to go to her father to ask him to undo the spell … Adam cringed at the thought, feeling a rush of embarrassment even though it had never happened.  The hell of it was that Master Dagon was, by the standards of Beneficence, a very liberal father.  Adam knew fathers who had no qualms about locking up their daughters, at least until their marriages were arranged.  And beating prospective boyfriends to bloody pulps.

Lilith returned with a pair of books tucked under her arm.  “Shall we go?”

“We can find a study room in the library,” Adam said.  “Unless you want to go down to the town now …?”

“Not yet.”  Lilith scowled.  “We can go later, after my father …”

“I’ll be here for you,” Adam said, although he knew it was pointless.  “I could always split the grant with you.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Lilith said.  She shook her head.  “I could be worrying about nothing.  He might just let me go without an argument.”

Adam kept his thoughts to himself as they made their way to the library.  Master Dagon was unlikely to be pleased, even if Lilith found a new master before her father found out what she’d done.  And then … Adam wondered, idly, if Lilith would have to get a job if she wanted to stay at the university.  Would her father kick her out of her suite?  Or … he wondered if she could stay in his dorm, then dismissed the thought a second later.  Perhaps she could just get a bed in one of the female dorms.  Or …

The library was bustling with life, students and staff flowing in and out in a continuous stream.  Adam pushed through the crowd, spotting a pair of familiar faces handing out broadsheets, and led the way to the study rooms at the rear.  They were normally fully booked, but a couple were permanently set aside for apprentices … thankfully, the library staff didn’t know Adam and Lilith were no longer apprentices.  Adam told himself they’d have to fess up later, once the change percolated its way through the university system, but right now … it didn’t matter.  They needed a room where they could work in relative privacy.

“I should apply for a room of my own,” he said, as he sat at the table and dug his notebook out of his knapsack.  “Do you think they’d give me one?”

Lilith shrugged.  “You could probably make a convincing case,” she said.  “We will need a workroom of our own, if we’re going to continue with our experiments.”

And perhaps for other uses too, Adam thought, looking up at her.  Lilith was beautiful.  It was hard to believe she was interested in him, particularly after they’d had so many problems when they’d first met.  Even after he’d proven himself … he shook his head, inwardly.  He had to stop doubting himself.  She chose to be with me.

Lilith met his eyes and winked.  Adam felt a rush of warmth, mingled with something he didn’t want to look at too closely.  He cleared his throat and reached for a pencil.  

“My blood is infused with magic,” he said, ignoring her snort.  She already knew that, but saying it out loud helped to centre his thoughts.  “Does the magic regenerate?  Or … do I only have a limited supply?  And is it oozing out of my body?”

“No.”  Lilith sounded very certain.  “They checked that before they let you out of bed.  They were very surprised.”

Adam nodded, slowly.  He knew the theory.  Magicians stored their power within their wards, but there was always some leakage.  A powerful magician who lacked the control he needed to keep his magic under control would be very noticeable, particularly to other magicians.  Adam didn’t have the power he needed to keep the infused magic within his body and yet, it didn’t seem to be leaking out.  It made very little sense.  They were missing something.

“So … what happens if I keep using my blood for power?”  Adam stared down at his fingertips.  “Will I eventually run out?”

“Good question,” Lilith said.  “Logically, you should run out of power …”

She paused as a thought struck her.  “We could try to use your power to charge a wand,” she said.  “Or even channel power through a primed wand.”

Adam nodded, slowly.  “I might not be able to cast spells, or even emit power without proper preparation,” he said.  “But if I stuck a wand through my hand …”

He hastily wrote down the idea, making a mental note to run it past Senior Craftswoman Yvonne and Enchanter Praxis.  They were the experts when it came to craftsmanship … he frowned, wondering if they could devise a prosthetic arm with a wand woven into the wood to channel magic.  It seemed a little bit extreme to cut off his arm to see if he could replace it with something to cast spells … he shook his head, then made a note of the idea anyway.  It might be interesting to try, if they devised a means of infusing power into someone else’s blood.  He wasn’t sure it was possible, at least not without further research and a great deal of luck.

“We know what I built for Arnold,” he said.  He couldn’t help feeling guilty.  Arnold had convinced Adam that Master Dagon was the villain of the piece, playing on Adam’s prejudices to keep him from thinking clearly.  “But I don’t think we’ll be allowed to try anything with the nexus point.”

“No,” Lilith agreed.  “But we could use a new windmill to gather power and channel it into your blood.”

“We’ll have to hope the windmill can be rebuilt quickly,” Adam said.  “But it won’t produce more than a trickle of power.”

He sighed, staring down at his notes.  The windmill was a great idea – he was very proud of the concept – but it didn’t produce enough power.  Not yet.  He’d worked out how to channel the magic, and others had added their own refinements, but the spells had been stripped down to the bare essentials and some still hadn’t worked properly.  It was frustrating.  He was sure he was on the verge of a real breakthrough, one to match his earlier insights, but he didn’t know how to make it happen.  Perhaps if he messed around with more runic tiles …

“We need more time to experiment,” he said, finally.  “And a clear idea of what we’re doing.”

Lilith snorted.  “This is a new field of magic,” she reminded him.  “There’s no guarantee we’ll be the ones who make the breakthroughs.”

“I know.”  Adam looked up, meeting her eyes.  “Is it wrong that I want to make them myself?”

“No,” Lilith said.  “I want to make them too.”

Adam nodded, returning his gaze to his notes.  He’d studied the history of magic.  New insights were rare.  Master Pittwater had told him, once, that most of the great discoveries in alchemy built on earlier discoveries … some of them, he’d cautioned, had even foreclosed other discoveries until someone went back and realised there was a road not taken lurking in the shadows.  It was chilling to realise how many discoveries might never have been made if the researchers hadn’t gone back to first principles.  It was like finding a path through a desert and never realising, once the path was carefully charted, that there might be others hidden in the dunes.  And yet …

“We should be able to come up with more tiles,” he said.  “And refine the ones we’ve already got.”

He smiled.  “Why can’t we turn a cancellation tile into a protective amulet?”

“It would work,” Lilith pointed out.  “But it would also explode.”

“It should be possible to project a protective field,” Adam said.  “Why can’t we?”

He scowled at his notes.  In theory, protective charms were simple.  They were designed to simply rip apart incoming spells, rendering the spellwork harmless before it reached its target.  Adam had seen suits of charmed armour designed to protect their wearers from magic, although he’d been cautioned they could be overpowered by powerful or cunning sorcerers.  And yet, they had to be crafted by enchanters.  If he could find a way to do it without a magician …

“Not enough power,” Lilith said.  “The incoming spell would survive long enough to reach its target, even if the target was wearing a runic tile.  And the explosion would kill the wearer anyway.”

“The healing was successful,” Adam muttered.  Master Pittwater had said that more than once, when he’d explained that some healing potions put one hell of a strain on the drinker’s body.  The cure could easily be worse than the disease.  “But the patient died.”

“Yeah.”  Lilith stood and started to pace the room.  “All of that energy has to go somewhere.”

Adam nodded.  He’d figured out how to carve runic tiles to break down pieces of spellware, but they could only be used once.  He had a theory they might last longer if he used tougher materials, yet … he shook his head.  The tougher the material, the harder it would be to carve the rune properly.  They’d already had too much wastage, even when they’d been able to melt the tile down and recycle the metal.  Perhaps if they dampened the blowback instead …

“We need to find a workroom, then sit down with Taffy and decide what to do next,” Lilith said.  “She’d probably have a few insights too.”

“She did help with the others,” Adam agreed.  “If we go find her now …”

Lilith smiled at him.  “We don’t have to do everything at once,” she pointed out, sitting on the table.  “We have time.”

Adam wasn’t so sure.  He had the feeling they were running out of time.  The university would demand something in exchange for the grant, wouldn’t it?  And … he wanted, he needed, something to show Master Dagon when Lilith’s father found out she’d ditched her apprenticeship.  His heart sank as he realised her father probably already knew.  How would he react?  His earlier thoughts came back to haunt him.  Master Dagon couldn’t lock up his daughter, or beat her until she changed her mind, but he could cut her off.  If they could prove they were doing something useful, he might step back and let them get on with it.

Lilith looked down at him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.  Adam stood slowly, their legs brushing as he leaned in for a kiss.  Their lips touched lightly … he felt her entire body shiver as the kiss grew and deepened.  He wrapped his arms around her, trying to resist the urge to slip his hand under her dress.  He had no idea how she’d react to that.  Back home, a girl would either let him touch her or shove his hand away.  Here … 

“This isn’t the best place,” Lilith said, drawing back.  Her lips were slightly puffy.  “We’d better go find her.”

Adam nodded, adjusting his trousers.  “Yeah,” he said.  He wanted to kiss her again and yet he knew it would be better to let her set the pace.  Probably.  He had a feeling that pretty much everything he’d been told about female magicians was nonsense, dangerous nonsense told by boys who knew less of girls than himself.  “We had better.”
Chapter Three

Adam’s heart was still pounding as they went downstairs and into the workshops under the university.  The feel of her lips, the feel of her body … he felt his manhood stiffen at the thought and forced himself to concentrate until he could think clearly again.  It was hard to believe they had a future.  They were from very different worlds.  It was impossible to imagine Lilith as a belligerent fishwife, or a merchant’s penny-pinching shopkeeper, or even a demure and submissive – at least in public – upper-class woman who’d married into quality.  He wondered what she’d make of his old home, let alone his family.  And he had no one he could ask for advice.

He sighed inwardly.  He’d been given a lot of advice about girls and women, when he’d been younger, but most of it had been terrible.  The older boys had assured him that girls loved men who took the lead, who pushed through their show of reluctance and took the girls to bed.  Adam silently thanked all the gods that he’d realised that was bad advice before he’d tried it, although it had never been replaced with better advice.  There was something to be said for arranged marriages, he decided reluctantly.  It made courtship so much easier for everyone.  But then, he was all too aware there was no way he’d be happy with an arranged match.

And no one would have paired me up with Lilith either, he reflected, as they passed through a pair of double doors.  They’d be more likely to match me with the baker’s creepy daughter.

The workshops were buzzing with life, students and craftsmen working at benches or carrying crates of supplies from place to place.  Adam stopped to look around, eyes darting over everything from muskets and rifles to printing presses and devices he couldn’t even begin to identify.  The craftsmen were working hard, clearly determined to churn out as much as possible before the shit hit the fan.  Adam watched a line of students run into a side room, pick up a set of crates and rush them back out of the chamber.  He remembered being told about weapons training in the town and wondered, numbly, if he should be trying to join the militia.  The university might come under attack, sooner or later.

“Adam, Lilith.”  Senior Craftswoman Yvonne nodded to them as she stepped into their path.  “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for Taffy,” Adam said.  Yvonne was dating a magician … he knew he should ask her for advice, but he would sooner pull out his teeth one by one than have that conversation with an older woman.  It had been hard enough discussing the birds and the bees with his mother, although she’d been careful to debunk most of the nonsense the older boys had told him.  “And we need to reserve a workroom.”

“For the foreseeable future,” Lilith added.  “We need a place for our experiments that’s ours.”

“Yours?”  Yvonne smiled, then shrugged.  “You can have Workroom Nineteen, if it suits you.  Anything bigger may have to be cleared with the council.  As you can see, we’re very busy here.”

Adam nodded.  “And Taffy?”

“She’s in the green room,” Yvonne said.  “She’s not having an easy time of it.”

Adam scowled.  Taffy had been Arnold’s lover, before the truth had come out.  She’d been tricked too, as surely as Adam and everyone else in the university, but no one seemed interested in giving her a break.  She was a friendly soul and yet, she’d been given the cold shoulder by everyone, save Adam and – surprisingly – Lilith.  Adam ground his teeth in anger and frustration.  They’d all been conned, including a bunch of older magicians who should have been able to sense that Arnold was one of them.  It just wasn’t fair.  Taffy was hardly the only girl in the world to get lured into bed by honeyed words and false promises.

“I know,” he said, finally.  “We’ll take her out for the evening too.”

He picked his way through the crowded workroom.  Lilith hadn’t been very popular either, but Taffy … Adam suspected her reputation would never recover.  She’d been fucked and fucked again, in all senses of the word.  He felt a surge of hatred for Arnold, wishing he could have a chance to meet the magician again even though he knew it would likely end badly.  Arnold had underestimated Adam and Lilith, the last time they’d met.  Adam feared Arnold wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

And he could be lurking in town now, watching and waiting for another chance to strike, Adam thought.  Heart’s Ease had no walls, no guards … nothing to stop Arnold from donning another disguise and simply walking into the town.  We might notice nothing until it’s far too late.

He sighed, noticing a pair of craftsmen nodding at him and then glancing away from Lilith.  Arnold had fooled everyone.  Adam hated to admit it, but he hadn’t had the slightest idea something was wrong until Arnold had made his bid for power.  He’d played the entire university for fools, manipulating their prejudices to cloak himself.  And it was Taffy who was getting the blame …?  Bastards.  He’d make sure to keep her close, in hopes of convincing her peers he considered her blameless.  And if it failed, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

The air seemed to grow quieter as he stepped into the green room.  Taffy stood at one end of a workbench, alone.  She looked … beaten as she bowed her head over her work, using a tool Adam didn’t recognise to push a piece of metal into the correct shape.  Adam felt a surge of protectiveness that surprised him.  Taffy reminded him of his sisters, although it was hard to imagine either of them putting up with such treatment for long.  Whoever said girls were meek and submissive had clearly never met either of them.

Taffy looked up, then smiled.  “Adam!”

“And Lilith,” Lilith said.  “Can we borrow you?  Or do you want to stay here?”

“Give me a moment,” Taffy said.  A flash of pain crossed her face.  “I just need to finish this, then I can come.”

Adam felt a flicker of fellow-feeling.  It wasn’t easy for a young woman to enter a traditionally male occupation.  Female craftsmen had been rare, before Lady Emily, and even now they were outnumbered heavily by their male counterparts.  Taffy was lucky she worked under Yvonne, rather than someone who’d penalise her for being female or simply try to take advantage of her.  And she’d had a chance to prove herself.

And she doesn’t need magic to succeed, Adam thought.  He’d been incredibly lucky to find a way to brew potions himself, without inherent magic.  The rules of craftsmanship work for her as well as everyone else.

Taffy straightened.  “Done,” she said.  “Where are we going?”

“Room Nineteen,” Adam said.  “Shall we go?”

Taffy hesitated, just for a second, then walked out of the workroom.  Adam winced inwardly, remembering how hard it had been to walk through the magic quarter when he’d been a magicless apprentice in Beneficence.  The magicians had regarded him as a useless interloper, taking a place better reserved for a real magician.  They hadn’t seemed to care that Master Pittwater had two apprentices … Adam wondered, sourly, what had happened to Matt.  Master Pittwater had hinted Matt would inherit the apothecary when he completed his apprenticeship … 

And he might have finished by now, Adam reflected.  He’d written to Master Pittwater a few days ago, before he’d been allowed to leave the infirmary, but his old master hadn’t replied.  He was probably too busy training Matt and arguing with the guild.  He was already well on the way to completing his apprenticeship when I left.

He forced himself to keep pace with Taffy as they walked through the other workrooms, then into a side corridor leading to the smaller chamber.  He’d wished someone would walk with him when he’d been younger, as a show of solidarity if nothing else, but no one had given enough of a damn to try.  It had hurt more than he cared to admit.  Normal apprentices stood up for each other, because it was drilled into them that they had to back their peers even if it meant picking a hopeless fight.  He’d been alone and isolated, ignored by the mundanes and mocked by the magicians.  He was damned if he was leaving someone else in the same mess.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, when they were alone.  “We were all fooled.”

Taffy nodded, although she didn’t seem convinced.  Adam understood.  She’d given herself to Arnold, something that would have cast a baleful shadow over her life even if he’d been an asshole rather than a traitor.  Lady Emily might have revised the laws, ensuring young women at Heart’s Eye could have whatever relationships they liked, but it would be years before society changed to match.  Taffy wasn’t a magician, capable of preventing pregnancy or rape.  And it would be a long time before anyone let her forget what she’d done.

Adam sighed, then pushed open the door to the workroom.  It was bigger and cleaner than he’d expected, although there was a shortage of tools and seats and a faintly unpleasant smell hung in the air.  He made a mental list of things they’d need as he glanced into the back room, finding nothing beyond a simple stove and rusty kettle.  Clearly, someone had raided the workroom and stripped it of everything useful.

“I’m surprised this space didn’t get put to use,” Lilith said, as she closed the door and muttered a pair of spells to clear the air.  “Should we be worried?”

“I think it was earmarked for a craftsman who changed his mind and never came,” Taffy said, as she checked the wooden benches and drawers.  “We never needed it, so it just got abandoned until now.”

“Good.”  Adam dug his notebook out of his knapsack and placed it on the table.  “If Lilith and I fetch the magic gear we’ll need, can you sort out the tools?”

“I can try,” Taffy said, doubtfully.

“You go with her,” Lilith advised.  “You’re the hero of the hour.”

Adam hesitated, unsure what to say.  “Do you need help carrying the supplies?”

“I’ll be fine.”  Lilith winked at him.  “I do remember how to levitate things, you know.”

She turned and left the room.  Taffy giggled.  “I think she likes you.”

Adam flushed.  “We’d better do our share of the work,” he said, hastily changing the subject.  “We can’t do anything without a better kettle and a bunch of other tools.”

“No,” Taffy agreed.

She led the way through the door and down to the storage rooms, where they joined the line for supplies and tools.  Adam frowned inwardly, vaguely remembering Master Landis saying something about it being harder to procure potions ingredients over the last few weeks.  That was worrying.  The guilds were normally very good at obtaining and distributing basic supplies, even the rarer ingredients like dragon scales or unicorn horns, but if they were having problems … Adam wasn’t sure what to make of it.  He’d never thought the end of the war would lead to chaos, with supply lines weakening or even being cut.  And if it wasn’t just potion ingredients …

The supply clerk looked as if he wanted to reject the list – and perhaps would, if Taffy had come alone.  “I don’t have half of these,” he said, curtly.  “You’ll have to use the tools in the main workroom.”

Adam met his eyes.  “Why not?”

“Because we have been unable to obtain replacements,” the clerk said.  Adam could hear the sneer in his voice.  “We simply don’t have some of the things on your list and some of the others have been reserved for war-related uses.  I cannot give them to you.”

“I see.”  Adam hesitated, unsure if there was anything to be gained from pushing harder.  “I’ll speak to the Senior Craftswoman about it.  Send what you can to Workroom Nineteen and be quick about it.”

The clerk scowled, but nodded.  Adam gave him the list, then led the way back to the workroom.  Lilith was already there, floating crates of magical supplies into the room.  Adam took a moment to watch, feeling a twinge of awe and admiration.  She looked as if she were glowing, her hair rippling with magic as she lowered the crates to the floor.  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her and yet, with Taffy right behind him, he didn’t dare.  Arnold had probably made things worse for her by making their relationship clear for all to see.

“We’re short on supplies,” Taffy said, shortly.  “And we may have to rely on the workshops to churn out what we need.”

“So I hear,” Lilith said.  “It doesn’t bode well for the future.”

Adam nodded, opening his notebook so Taffy could see.  “I want to draw out something like this,” he said.  “First with chalk and then with actual metal.”

“The chalk will be easy,” Taffy said.  “But I’m not convinced it will channel magic.”

“That’s the problem with subtle magic,” Lilith agreed.  “The more power you try to channel into the runes, the greater the chance you’ll accidentally destroy them.”

“Yes,” Adam agreed.  “Take a look at the plans, while Lilith and I sort out the gear.  Then we can decide what we want to do first.”

It spoke well of Lilith, he decided as they carefully unpacked the crates and transferred the supplies to the cupboards and backroom, that she worked hard to put everything in place.  Matt had done as little as he could get away with, relying on Adam to find supplies for him when he needed them.  Adam suspected that had come back to bite the arrogant young magician very quickly, if he hadn’t managed to find the time to study the layout and determine where to find everything he needed.  Master Pittwater wouldn’t have been very tolerant of someone putting jars in the wrong places, let alone mixing up ingredients … hell, if Matt had mislabelled something, he’d have been lucky not to get kicked out in disgrace.  No alchemist worthy of the title would ever let an apprentice get away with such carelessness.  It was a good way to get someone killed.

“We may have to borrow more supplies from Master Landis,” Lilith said.  “And I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Adam scowled.  Normally, he thought Master Landis would let them borrow whatever they needed.  The alchemist was a good man and he knew Adam’s experiments had already borne fruit.  Now … if there was a shortage, Master Landis might hesitate to hand over anything that was already in short supply.  No one knew what would happen, now that Lady Emily had been arrested and King Vanunu of Tarsier was dead.  The alchemists might find themselves called upon to make healing potions, or alchemical weapons, or …

“We’ll just have to see,” he said, finally.  “Did your father say anything to you about supply shortages?”

“I haven’t spoken to him privately since they pulled us out of the nexus chamber,” Lilith said, bluntly.  It was hard to tell how she felt about it.  “He’s been very busy.  The only times I’ve seen him have been in the dining hall and I can’t talk to him there …”

The door rattled.  Adam opened it to reveal a trio of workers carrying everything from folding wooden chairs to a collection of tools and supplies … the latter, he knew without looking, alarmingly incomplete.  Taffy took command and ordered the workmen to place the supplies around the room, her dark expression silently daring them to challenge her.  Adam was mildly surprised they didn’t, although he suspected they knew better.  The craftsmen apprentices – there were too many of them for traditional apprentices – got paid extra for fetching and carrying, when they weren’t attending to their masters.  They wouldn’t want to risk a formal complaint.  It would cost them the chance to save proper nest eggs before they completed their apprenticeships and were unleashed upon the world.

And Lilith may have to join them, he thought.  Unless she can come to terms with Master Landis, offering services for pay.

“Well, at least we can sit down,” Taffy said, when the workmen were gone.  She unfolded a chair and pushed it to Adam, then offered a second chair to Lilith.  “And I think we can work something into the runic diagrams, if we do them properly.”

Lilith gave Taffy an odd look as she started to unpack one of the boxes.  “What is that?”

Adam frowned.  “You’re going to make chalk?”

“It won’t work,” Lilith said.  She sounded very certain.  “Chalk simply isn’t strong enough to channel even a little magic.  That’s why wardcrafters use it to show their apprentices how to draw out the runes.  They don’t last for more than a few seconds before they just … blow away.”

“Perhaps,” Taffy agreed.  She kept putting pots of plaster and other supplies on the wooden workbench, followed by a mixing bowl that wouldn’t have been out of place in a kitchen.  “But I’ve been thinking.  What if we infuse the blood into the chalk?”

“You mean blood-charged wards?”  Lilith sounded sceptical.  “You do realise that’s not quite how they work?”

“I have something else in mind,” Taffy said.  She shot Lilith an annoyed glance.  “Look, you have to charge a rune to make it work.  Right?  And half the runes don’t work because the charge is too low and the results useless or the charge is too high and the rune destroys itself.  So … why don’t we infuse charged blood into the chalk and see what happens?”
Chapter Four

“If you feel uneasy, if you have the slightest sense that something is going wrong, say so at once,” Lilith ordered, quietly.  “Anything involving blood is potentially very dangerous.”

Adam nodded, trying to keep his face under control.  They’d taken a little of his blood and worked it into the chalk mixture, then used a spell to speed up the setting process so the chalk – sitting in the mould – was as hard as stone.  It looked faintly unnatural, nothing like the chalks he’d used in the schoolroom when he’d been a little boy.  They’d been hewn from the quarries further down the coast, if he recalled correctly, and then shipped to the city.  It was funny, but he’d never given any thought to making chalk from scratch until now.

“I mean it.”  Lilith took his hand and squeezed it.  “If you feel anything, stop at once.”

“Please,” Taffy said.  “We can try with someone else’s blood if yours is too risky.”

“We need to show some progress,” Adam said, firmly.  He had no idea how much time Mistress Irene was prepared to give them, after the grant ran out, but he wanted – needed – to impress Master Dagon.  “And my blood is already infused with magic.”

Lilith scowled. Adam was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking.  Taffy had read the words blood-charged wards and jumped to entirely the wrong conclusions about how they worked.  Adam wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by her thinking outside the box if she’d never been inside the box in the first place.  Lilith had made it clear the experiment could end badly, even with a very basic runic charm.  Adam knew they had to try and yet … it was hard, as he picked up one of the pieces of chalk, not to have second thoughts.

“Be careful,” Lilith said.  Her voice was calm, too calm.  She sounded as if she was unsure if she wanted the experiment to go ahead, or if she wanted to freeze the other two and ask for advice from older magicians.  “If you make a mistake, we’ll have to wipe the floor and start again.”

Adam swallowed as he bent down and started to draw out a runic pattern on the stone floor.  He’d practiced drawing the rune with his pencil – in hindsight, he told himself he should have drawn the lines on the floor first, so he had something to follow – but the chalk felt different, somehow feeling both hard and crumbly in his hand.  He felt … something … shift as he drew the lines one by one, following the lessons he’d found in the books on subtle magic.  It felt thrilling and yet scary, as if he were poised between apotheosis and nemesis.  If it worked …

A rustle ran through the room as the last line fell into place.  Adam felt oddly warm, just for a second, as the rune started to glow.  The lightspell didn’t look right – it should have produced a lightglobe, hovering over the rune – but it was clearly doing something.  Lilith leaned forward, extending her fingers in hopes of sensing the magic pulsing through the rune.  Her eyes narrowed as the light grew brighter, then faded to nothingness.  The rune turned to soot and ash a moment later, shifting as if it were being blown by an invisible wind.  Adam felt a rush of excitement.  He wasn’t sure quite what had happened – the lightspell hadn’t worked right – but it hadn’t failed.  They were clearly on to something.

“Interesting,” Lilith said, finally.  “The spellwork went wonky very quickly.”

She reached for her notepad and scribbled down what she’d seen.  Adam reached for a dustpan and brush to clean up the mess, trying to hide a pang of envy.  Lilith could see magic and parse out the spellwork to see how it worked.  He knew a great deal of magical theory and yet, he was the blind man in the kingdom of the sighted.  No matter what he did, no matter how he messed with runes and infused blood, he would never match her.  And that would never change.

Lilith looked at him, sharply.  “Did you feel anything?”

“Not really,” Adam assured her.  He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.  If he’d felt something … he wasn’t sure what it would have meant, but it would have been an interesting datum.  “It just felt warm, just for a second.”

Taffy leaned forward.  “Do you feel anything, when you use your blood in spells?”

“… No,” Lilith said.

She let out a breath.  “I use blood in potions, when the magic is carefully primed to ensure every last drop goes into the spellwork,” she said, after a moment.  “There’s nothing left for … anything else.  Here … I just don’t know.”

Adam nodded, slowly.  “I didn’t feel anything when I used my blood in potions earlier.”

“So you said,” Lilith agreed.  “But your blood was separated from your body before it became infused with magic.  Here …”

“We need to try again,” Adam said.  “Carefully.”

Lilith didn’t look pleased.  Adam understood.  There was no shortage of horror stories about people who’d been cursed at a distance, once a hostile magician had gotten hold of some of their blood.  Magicians were taught to always snap the link between themselves and their blood, once it left their body.  Mundanes took their chances … he knew, in hindsight, he’d been very lucky when he’d carried out his first experiments.  He could easily have cursed himself.  The only reason there were no horror stories about that, Master Landis had pointed out afterwards, was that no one had had the imagination, and the complete lack of common sense, to try.  

“We’ll have to rewrite the spell,” Adam added, after a moment.  “I think it was designed for a regular magician, not a runic base.”

“Yeah.”  Lilith made a face.  “We may have to ask for help.  I don’t think we can rework a spell on the fly.”

Taffy stood.  “We should take a break,” she said, heading for the backroom.  “I’ll put the kettle on.  You can find the grains.”

Adam caught her eye.  “Did they start work on rebuilding the windmill?”

“They’ve got plans for five now,” Taffy said.  She grinned, rather tiredly.  “Now he’s not around, they think the windmills will work fine.  They’ve done a lot of work to improve the design, trying to squeeze every last drop of magic they can from the air.  And then …”

Adam listened as she chatted happily, torn between pride in his concept and a strange sense of resentment that others had taken his idea and improved upon it.  He didn’t know – he didn’t pretend to know – how Lady Emily had coped, when the craftsmen had taken the printing press she’d invented and turned it into something she probably couldn’t recognise as hers.  Adam had been told she’d wanted the printing press to get better, even if it meant letting others take the credit, but … he told himself he was being stupid.  He wasn’t a craftsman.  He couldn’t have built the first windmill all by himself, let alone kept others from duplicating and improving on his work.  And besides, he had quite a few other ideas he wanted to explore.

“We’ve also been building a hot air balloon,” Taffy added.  Her smile was almost infectious.  “We can go flying without magic.”

“I heard of something like it, in Cockatrice,” Adam said, thoughtfully.  “They used it during the civil war.  Or so I was told.”

“And what happens when someone puts a fireball through the balloon?”  Lilith didn’t sound impressed.  “It’ll come crashing down in flames.”

“We’re working on it,” Taffy said.  “We do have a few ideas …”

Adam sighed as he found the kava grains.  “We might be able to come up with something,” he said.  “If nothing else, we can layer protective spells over the balloon.”

“It might work,” Lilith said.  “But it would be risky.  The slightest mistake and boom.  They won’t even find a body.”

“You’d have no shortage of volunteers,” Adam said.  He poured water into the mugs and added a spoonful of powdered milk.  “The first railway accidents didn’t stop young men from trying to become railway drivers.”

“There’s a difference between a calculated risk and certain death,” Lilith pointed out.  “I was a firstie at Laughter when … something happened, in the middle of the flying display.  A lot of students were badly injured.  I don’t think they ever got to the bottom of it.”

Adam frowned.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”  Lilith allowed a hint of irritation to enter her voice.  She had never liked things being kept from her.  “I was just a firstie.  I heard a bunch of explanations, afterwards, but none of them really made sense.  I always had the impression the staff didn’t really know what had happened, or that they were covering it up for some reason.  I just don’t know.”

Taffy frowned.  “Maybe one of the flyers crashed into another, setting off a chain reaction that knocked them all out of the sky,” she said.  “I saw that happen to a flight of birds once.”

“Could be.”  Lilith shrugged.  “It wasn’t enough to convince the staff to stop teaching the girls how to fly.”

“I rest my case,” Adam said.

Lilith laughed.  “Point.”

Taffy cleared her throat.  “And there’s a few other things we’re doing, one by one,” she added.  “I’m not sure I’m allowed to talk about them.”

“We understand,” Adam said.  “And we look forward to seeing them.”

“I should be able to keep helping you, though,” Taffy added.  She sagged into her chair, suddenly downcast.  “No one really wants me, back there.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lilith said.  She sounded as though she was trying to be reassuring.  “I was right next to the bastard and I never even sensed a hint of magic.”

“I was sleeping with him,” Taffy said.  The bitterness in her voice was almost palpable.  “I … I let him con me, because I didn’t stop to think.”

“None of us did,” Adam said.  They’d all travelled hundreds of miles, if not more, to reach Heart’s Eye.  They hadn’t thought to calculate the odds of Taffy’s prospective husband tracking her down from the other side of the Allied Lands.  In hindsight, it was all too clear Arnold had told him where to find the runaway, perhaps even provided the money to fund his trip.  “We were all fooled.”

“And now …”

Taffy broke off as someone knocked on the door, hard.  Adam frowned.  He’d put the red flag outside, when they’d started their experiments, and never bothered to take it down.  No one should be interrupting them, unless it was a real emergency.  Who could it be?  Yvonne and Praxis would honour the flag, while … Lilith’s father?  He was certainly arrogant enough to ignore the warning and knock on the door.  It opened, before Adam could decide if they should open the door or blatantly ignore the knocking.  Jasper, and a girl Adam didn’t recognise, stepped into the room.

“Well, this is nice.”  Jasper’s eyes swept the room, somehow managing to convey both envy and a sense he’d walked right into a pigsty.  “A room of your very own, for a young man and his lovers.  And to think, Kati and I couldn’t get a room no matter how much we pleaded.”

Adam felt his heart sink.  Jasper was a magician and a complete asshole, although – Adam had to admit – he’d been no match for Arnold when it came to being thoroughly unpleasant to everyone around him.  Adam cursed under his breath as Jasper leered at him.  He didn’t have any gas capsules on him, nor any other protections … Jasper would have no trouble hexing or cursing him, if he wished.  And then … Adam tried to keep the dismay off his face.  He’d either suffer the indignity of being turned into a frog or wind up being saved by Lilith, which would be almost worse.  He would never have lived it down, if it had happened in Beneficence.  Here …

“It’s hardly fair,” Jasper said.  “Why can’t we have a room?”

Adam gritted his teeth.  “What are you doing that needs a room?”

Jasper smirked.  “You made a pretty good show, when you had a magician helping you,” he said.  “No wonder you were able to get into our dorms.  Without him, what are you?”

“I made the gas,” Adam said, knowing they were already in an untenable situation.  “I didn’t need help to make it for myself.”

“And he did the rest,” Jasper said.  His eyes glittered with cold humour.  “Are you sure he didn’t do the gas too?”

Adam swallowed his annoyance.  Jasper hadn’t changed.  He’d rationalised his defeat, and that of the other magicians, by blaming everything on Arnold.  No one knew anything about the traitor sorcerer, but he’d clearly been older and more experienced than any of the students – magical or mundane – he’d manipulated.  Adam would have laughed, if the situation hadn’t been so dire.  Jasper had convinced himself Arnold had done everything, just to keep from facing up to the truth.  Better to think he’d been beaten by an older and far more powerful sorcerer than a powerless mundane.

And he might just get away with it too, Adam thought, bitterly.  It was an old story, the well-born – with magic or without – got away with everything.  We can’t even make an official complaint …

Taffy cleared her throat.  “Do you really want to be expelled?”

Jasper stared at her.  “What was that, you little slut?”

Adam started forward.  Lilith put a hand on his arm as Taffy gave Jasper a cold, and yet savage, smile.  “The rules have changed.  Did you not hear Mistress Irene?  They’re just looking for someone breaking the new rules, so they can make an example of him.  You start hexing and you’ll be gone by the end of the day.”

“Oh, really?”  Jasper leaned forward, trying to loom over her.  “And are you going to tattle on me?”

No, Adam thought.  He knew the rules.  A sneak had no friends, no family, no nothing.  Better to take the beatings than risk telling the adults.  She won’t.

“Yes.”  Taffy looked back at him, evenly.  “Do you think I can fall any further?  Sleeping with the enemy and tattling on a stupid magician with bad breath?  How will I get anywhere with a record like that?”

Kati giggled.  Jasper reddened, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hit Taffy or curse her.  Adam braced himself, ready to dart forward and slam into the bully if he started to move.  Kati would probably hex him a second later, but … Jasper would have to live with the shame of being saved by his girlfriend.  Probably.  He’d grown up in a magical community.  He might not see it as shameful.

Jasper scowled and glared at Adam.  “You think you have magic now?  You think …”

His eyes lingered on Lilith for a long moment, before he turned and stalked away.  Kati nodded to Lilith, then followed her boyfriend out the door, closing it behind her.  Adam let out a breath.  He’d been told Mistress Irene had warned the students they were to behave themselves, or be expelled, but he had no idea if she actually intended to enforce it.  Or if she could.  There were sorcerers, he was sure, who’d pitch a fit and then leave if she expelled their apprentices.  

“Bastard.”  Taffy spoke without heat.  “What’s up with him?”

“He’ll never be anything,” Lilith said.  The sheer certainty in her voice was striking.  “And it burns at him.”

Adam refused to feel sympathy for the lout, but he was curious.  “What do you mean?”

“Think about it.”  Lilith stood and paced the room.  “He’s not a very powerful magician.  He might make something of himself, if he worked hard on his studies, but he doesn’t have the self-discipline to do it.  He comes here because he can’t get a proper apprenticeship with a proper master, only to discover he’s still outclassed by me and Master Caleb and the Gorgon and quite a few others.  So he looks down on the mundanes and what happens?  A mundane gets an apprenticeship and makes a magical breakthrough, one that strips his power from him.  It’s a shock.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Adam said, sarcastically.

Lilith smirked.  “And then, he gets the wool pulled over his eyes by another sorcerer, one far more powerful and capable than he will ever be,” she added.  “And he knows he was hoodwinked as surely as anyone else.  And that he just can’t compete.”

Adam met her eyes.  “Are you sorry for him?”

“No.”  Lilith smoothed down her dress.  “I’ve known too many young men like him.  They want things, from magical skills to leadership roles, but they’re unwilling or simply too prideful to put in the work to get them.  You could give Jasper an apprenticeship on a plate and he wouldn’t be able to do much of anything with it.  He doesn’t have the drive.  He’s just a bitter idiot who needs to be slapped around the head repeatedly, until he gets the idea or runs off.”

“And let’s hope he goes off sooner rather than later,” Adam said.  He stared at the remains of their chalk, fighting down a yawn.  It had been a long day.  “Do you want to go to town now?”

“We may as well.”  Lilith turned to face him, suddenly looking unsure of herself.  “I’ll have to face my father soon.  A good meal will make it a little easier.  Perhaps.”

“Tell him to take Jasper as a student,” Taffy said.  “That’ll keep them both out of trouble.”

Lilith looked at her in mock horror.  “What did my poor father ever do to deserve him?”
Chapter Five

Adam felt, not for the first time, that he was utterly alone as he started to make his way down to Heart’s Ease, even though Taffy and Lilith were right beside him.  The desert was eerie, even in late afternoon.  The sun was high, hanging as if the world was condemned to sunlight, yet it was impossible to escape the sense of darkness.  He took a breath, tasting the scent of tainted magic.  The Desert of Death lived up to its name.  A person who stepped off the beaten track in front of them might never be seen again.

He glanced at Taffy and Lilith, then led the way down the road.  It had been repaired, in the years since Lady Emily had killed Dua Kepala and reignited the nexus point, but it was still wrapped in a sense of perpetual decay.  The heavy stones looked to have been torn from the ground, scattered randomly by sandstorms or rogue flickers of magic.  It was hard to keep your footing.  The vast numbers of students, staff and visitors coming and going every day didn’t help.  The plans to lay a new road between the university and the town, perhaps even a railway track, had been placed on hold when crisis began to grip the Allied Lands.

“A storm is coming,” Taffy muttered, so quietly Adam could barely hear her.  “I can feel it in the air.”

Adam nodded, picking up the pace as they made their way down to town.  Sandstorms were common – and dangerous.  He’d been cautioned to hunker down and wait if he was caught on the road, although it might not be enough to save his life.  The storms were strong enough to pick up a lone human and carry him for miles, before dropping him to the hard ground.  Adam had heard tales of people who’d landed safely, but he was fairly sure they weren’t true.  Even a magician who knew how to fly would have trouble surviving a storm.

Lilith was oddly quiet as Heart’s Ease came into view, a sprawling mass of ancient stone buildings, modern wooden barracks, and endless rows of makeshift housing surrounding the town.  Adam was sure it grew bigger with every passing day, as more and more people flowed in to try their luck at the university.  The best and the brightest of the world’s craftsmen – and magicians, who felt they couldn’t rise under the old system – were drawn to Heart’s Eye, to see if they could make something of themselves.  Adam knew he wouldn’t have become so prominent if he hadn’t gone to the university.  And he would never have met Lilith.

He glanced at her, concerned.  It was rare to see her so worried.  She was stubborn, prideful and unwilling to tolerate fools … it was hard to imagine her having doubts, let alone showing them so openly.  She’d been harsh, when they’d first met.  It had taken her weeks to realise his apprenticeship wasn’t a sham, that he might actually make something of himself … that he might be worth knowing.  She’d never apologised, either.  He wondered what was bothering her, then told himself not to be stupid.  He knew.  Lilith was worried, deeply worried, about what her father would say about her ending her apprenticeship.  And about her dating him.  He’d thought the older magician had accepted it, but ...

The wind shifted, carrying the stench of too many people in too close of a proximity.  Adam grimaced.  Heart’s Ease had received thousands of refugees in the past few days, too many for even the ever-expanding town to quickly assimilate.  He saw young men looking for work, going from place to place in hopes of finding something to do; he also saw women, young and old, selling themselves for a few coins.  The town was completely overwhelmed, unable to provide more than the bare necessities.  He shivered, remembering how Beneficence had reacted when refugees started fleeing the chaos in Zangaria.  There’d been far fewer refugees – Cockatrice had remained relatively stable, even during the worst of the Zangarian Civil War – and yet, they’d been about as welcome as a plague.  The apprentices had even been talking about barricading the bridges, an act that could easily have sparked a war, when the fighting had come to an end and the refugees had returned home.  Adam had been younger then, but even he’d felt it.

No one wants to admit that sympathy has its limits, he mused.  Everyone wants to help, as long as helping doesn’t hurt themselves.

He pushed the thought aside as they passed the militia training field.  Rows of men – and a handful of women – marched up and down, put through their paces by tough-looking sergeants and firearms instructors.  They carried muskets and, on command, broke out of the column, assumed firing positions, and mimed shooting at the targets positioned at the far end of the field.  Adam hadn’t seen many soldiers, and it was hard to escape the old suspicion the army was nothing more than a plague of locusts on the land, but he thought the militia looked professional.  He hoped they’d be able to stand up to the reactionaries, if they ever attacked the university.  He’d been cautioned, more than once, that the monarchs simply couldn’t allow the town and university to exist.

Taffy had the same thought.  “Can they defend the town, if we’re attacked?”

Lilith snorted.  “If they pick a fight with a magician, they’ll be dead before they know what hit them.”

Adam shrugged.  No one knew what was going to happen.  The news kept changing, with ever-growing rumours of coups, uprisings, revolutions and outright wars spreading across the Allied Lands.  Some stories had been confirmed – it was clear there really had been a successful rebellion in Alluvia – but others were impossible to confirm or deny.  He scowled as he saw a pair of uniformed officers marching around, looking like peacocks in fancy uniforms as they hunted for likely lads.  It was hard to escape the sense the officers were nothing more than dilettantes, fools playing at war.   They just didn’t look as serious as the sergeants on the drill field.  And yet …

He shook his head.   If the town and university did come under attack, the militia might be all that stood between the population and a painful death.

The town grew busier as they made their way through the shacks – on the verge of becoming slums – and into the more settled districts.  Men and women – mundanes and magicians, aristocrats and commoners, merchants and shopkeepers – bustled around, a faint air of urgency pervading the scene as they carried supplies back to their homes.  Heralds stood on corners, trying to outshout each other as they relayed the news to the crowd; broadsheet sellers hurried up and down, selling the latest editions before they were superseded by an even later one.  A young girl held out a broadsheet, but Adam shook his head.  He doubted there was anything new in the broadsheet.

“We can go over there,” Lilith said, pointing at an expensive diner.  “It might be the last time.”

“We can go to a stall instead,” Taffy pointed out.  “There are some good ones further down the road …”

Lilith shook her head.  Adam understood.  Heart’s Ease had very strict rules about sanitation, and they were ruthlessly enforced, yet roadside stalls were often unsafe unless one had a very strong stomach.  He thought he could handle it – the worst food he’d seen in Heart’s Ease was head and shoulders above the best he’d eaten in Beneficence – but Lilith was used to better things.  And besides, she was right.  It might be the last time she could spend freely, without having to worry about the cost.

He felt a twinge of unease as they stepped into the diner.  It felt wrong to have her pay for him, now that they were dating.  It had been bad enough when they’d been fellow apprentices, but then he’d been able to tell himself that Master Landis had been the one picking up the tab.  Now … he was torn between insisting he could pay for his own meal, if not for hers, and the grim awareness he couldn’t do anything of the sort.  The prices on the chalkboard seemed to have risen sharply in the last few weeks.  There was no way he could afford even the cheapest thing on the menu without blowing a hole in his budget.

And there’s no way I can tell her that, he reflected, tiredly.  She just won’t understand.

The waiter appeared, looking tired and wary.  Adam eyed him thoughtfully.  The diner was too expensive to be really popular, although a number of magicians and upper-class merchants were regular visitors.  There was no way the diner could draw in more customers unless it lowered prices and started catering to the common man, which would ruin their existing customer base without guaranteeing they’d have a replacement.  And … he scowled inwardly, remembering the chaos that had swept through the university.  There wouldn’t have been many customers over the last few weeks, not with the entire region on the verge of exploding.  No wonder prices were skyrocketing.  The business might be about to fail.

“A large meat pizza and fries, please,” Lilith said.  “And fruit juice for all three of us.”

The waiter bowed, then hurried off.  Adam took a breath.  Lady Emily had invented pizza, if the story was true, and it had spread right across the known world.  It was simple enough for anyone to duplicate, allowing the poor to have a taste of aristocratic food.  And yet … Adam shook his head, glancing at the wanted posters hanging on the wall.  Someone had drawn out a very good likeness of Arnold, with a line underneath saying WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE; someone else had scribbled a note under the first line adding PREFERABLY DEAD.  Adam guessed the latter had been one of the reformers Arnold had fooled, when he’d been pretending to be one of them.  He’d known too much about their plans for anyone’s peace of mind.  No wonder they wanted him dead without the formality of a trial.  

Lilith followed his gaze.  “He could be right in front of the guardsmen,” she said sourly, “and they’d never know it.”

Adam nodded, curtly.  Arnold was a master of disguise.  He could pass as a magician or a mundane, as an aristocrat or a commoner … hell, he could pass as a woman.  He’d had no qualms about posing as a powerless mundane … there weren’t many men who’d willingly wear dresses and skirts, to the point it was hard to believe Arnold would do it.  And yet, he’d posed as a mundane.  Why would he not pretend to be a girl?

“He might have been acting all along, playing a role,” Adam muttered.  He’d met a pair of actors once.  They’d been nothing like the characters they played on stage.  “What sort of person is he really?”

Taffy scowled.  “Can we talk about something else?  Please.”

“Yeah.”  Lilith shook her head.  “What would you like to talk about?”

“No experiments, not here,” Adam said, quickly.  “What about …?”

His voice trailed off.  He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to allow his friends to do the talking.  And yet, here he was … he didn’t know what to say.  Or do.  What could they talk about that didn’t involve either Arnold or their experiments?  He just didn’t know.

Lilith leaned forward.  “Lady Emily has apparently been sent to Alluvia,” she said, pitching her voice to ensure only her friends could hear.  “I have it on good authority it’s a face-saving deal.”

Adam frowned, unsure what to make of it.  “They just let her go?”

“Not quite.”  Lilith stared at her hands.  “They went to a lot of trouble to arrest her.  She very nearly escaped, if the rumours are true.  Some even insist she killed a number of mediators.  After that … the council would want to save face, even if they had to let her go.  They’d need to come up with something to make it look as though they hadn’t surrendered to the inevitable.”

“Ouch.”  Adam met Lilith’s eyes.  “What do they expect her to do in Alluvia?”

“I have no idea,” Lilith said.  “They might think she can tell the rebels to stop being rebels and present themselves for execution.  Or they might think sending her is a good way to say nice doggy while they prepare a big stick.  Or … or maybe they’d just insist they’re doing something, without actually doing anything.  It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“There’s no way the rebels will back down,” Taffy said.  “They can’t.”

Adam nodded in agreement.  Peasant revolts weren’t uncommon – and they tended to follow the same basic pattern.  The rebels forced the aristocrats to make some concessions, then went home while the aristocrats prepared the forces to give the rebels a thrashing, execute their leaders and roll back all the concessions and more besides.  Now … the rebels knew what had happened to their predecessors, which meant they were unlikely to agree to anything that left the aristocracy in a position to take revenge later.  He felt a surge of hope for the future, mingled with fear.  The aristocracy had to feel mortally threatened by an uprising that left no room for them.  They’d do everything in their power to crush the rebellion and grind the rebels under their boots.

The pizza arrived, looking and smelling yummy.  Adam pretended not to notice there were actually fewer toppings on the cheese, compared to last week, as he cut the pizza and handed out the slices.  The diner was hardly a roadside stall, selling cheese and tomato pizza without even a hint of meat … he scowled inwardly, suspecting it was a bad sign.  Heart’s Ease couldn’t support itself for long, if it was cut off from the neighbouring kingdom.  There were limits to how much food could be brought through the portals.  

“The story could be nonsense,” Taffy said, as she took a bite.  “Do we have any proof?”

“None.”  Lilith cut up her pizza with a knife and fork, then plunged a piece into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.  “But I did hear it through a pair of older magicians, so it’s probably true …”

Adam wasn’t so sure.  Lady Emily was brilliant, a powerful sorcerer and a genius inventor, and yet … what could she do in Alluvia?  The rebels wouldn’t back down.  The aristocracy wouldn’t concede defeat and leave the kingdom.  How could she square the circle between the two?  It was impossible.  She’d have to either choose a side or stand back and let the two fight it out.  And yet, even that would be difficult.  The Allied Lands were unlikely to sit back and watch, not when the rebellion might spread from country to country like a wildfire on dry grass.  They’d give all the help they could to the aristocrats, in hopes of putting the genie back in the bottle before it was too late.

“Perhaps we should talk about something else,” Taffy said.  “Who do you think will win the upcoming football games?”

“I have no idea,” Lilith said.  “Is it important?”

“It could be,” Taffy said.  “There are a bunch of new teams entering the field.”

Adam shrugged, inwardly, as they chatted about nothing.  He’d never been a sportsman.  He’d played roadside football as a child, kicking a ball around the streets while avoiding angry parents and guardsmen, but playing in the more serious leagues had always been beyond him.  It had been serious business, to the point football players were threatened by the other side’s players – and their fans – and then beaten up by their own supporters if they lost.  He’d never understood why the city council allowed the games to go on, or why they’d been imported to Heart’s Eye.  Perhaps someone thought it was a good way to let people work out their aggression without risking serious bloodshed.  If so, Adam thought whoever had come up with the idea was being optimistic.

He sat back as they finished the pizza, then stood as Lilith paid the bill.  The waiter didn’t look pleased at the tip, even though it was bigger than he’d get from anyone else.  Adam suspected it was a bad sign.  The waiter’s salary might not have gone down, but it might as well have done if there were fewer customers.  Adam hoped the man had a garret – or something – over the diner.  It wouldn’t be easy to stay in town if he couldn’t afford the rent.  

“I don’t want to go back just yet,” Lilith said, taking his hand.  “Can we walk around the edge of town?”

Adam nodded, despite his misgivings.  Heart’s Ease was a lot safer than Beneficence, particularly at night, but there were too many desperate men in the town.  Lilith had magic, and Adam had his fists … he scowled, inwardly, as they made their way through the door and onto the bustling streets.  They seemed even busier, somehow.  A line of militiamen marched down the middle of the road, chanting a vulgar ditty as they passed.  Adam was amused to notice a number of young women blowing kisses to the men.  That was rare.

Lilith tightened her grip on his hand as they reached the railway track leading to the nearest city.  “I’m going to have to face him soon, aren’t I?”

Adam nodded, wishing he could do something to help.  But what could he do?  Master Dagon had never liked him, even before he’d saved the university and started dating his daughter.  Adam could only make things worse and he knew it and …

Taffy sucked in her breath as a whistle echoed through the air.  “We have trouble,” she said, pointing along the railway track.  “That train is coming in far too fast.”
Chapter Six

Adam stared.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a locomotive.  He’d watched the very first steam engines nosing their way out of the factory sheds, then ridden a train from Beneficence to Cockatrice and again from Farrakhan to Heart’s Ease.  The sight had always taken his breath away, to the point that – if he hadn’t been so obsessed with magic – he knew he would have wanted to be an engine driver.  And yet, Taffy was right.  The locomotive rushing towards the town was coming in terrifyingly fast.

He raised his eyes, spotting a dust cloud behind the locomotive.  His first thought was that it was the threatened storm, with the engine drivers trying to get to the town before they had to stop on the tracks; his second, a moment later, was that the dust cloud couldn’t possibly be a storm because it was too small.  It was hard to be sure, but it seemed to be following the railway tracks.  His mind raced.  Another locomotive … no, it was impossible.  Horses?

The locomotive shuddered violently as it hit a curve in the track, then came off the rails.  Adam sucked in his breath sharply as the rails shattered under the impact, the locomotive crashing through the sand like an unstoppable juggernaut before finally coming to a halt just short of the slums.  For a horrible moment, Adam thought the locomotive was going to tip over before it finally stopped.  The slum dwellers fled, running in all directions as if they thought the locomotive was about to explode.  Adam feared they might be right.  The engine was letting off so much steam it was hard to see anything.  Adam hoped the drivers were alive.  If the steam valves in the cab had burst, the poor bastards would be – at best – badly scalded.  They might not survive long enough to receive treatment.

“Clear the way!”  Adam darted to one side as a handful of militiamen rushed past, weapons at the ready.  “Clear the way!”

Lilith’s grip tightened.  “Horsemen!”

Adam followed her gaze.  The dust cloud had parted, revealing a row of cavalry charging the town.  Adam was no expert, but it looked as if they wore royal livery.  It didn’t look quite right … he reminded himself, sharply, that the old king had died in a hunting accident.  His son, and successor, would outfit his men in different clothes.  It struck Adam as a waste of time and money, but kings thought they had to put on a good show or people wouldn’t believe they were kings.

“This way,” Taffy said.  The locomotive was still steaming, a faint whistle pervading the air as steam escaped the broken engine.  “Hurry!”

Adam followed her, uneasily aware they were running towards an engine that could explode at any moment.  The boiler had clearly been pushed right to the limits … he suspected, although there was no way to know, that someone had placed a spell on the metal to keep it from exploding under the pressure.  If that was so, the spell might be about to fail … he glanced at Lilith, then looked past the locomotive.  The militiamen had assumed a defensive stance, pointing their muskets at the cavalry.  The cavalry didn’t seem inclined to slow down, let alone break off.  Adam thought someone was shouting warnings, but it was impossible to hear anything over the racket.  Both sides were gesturing frantically at each other.

A shot rang out, followed rapidly by more.  Adam couldn’t see which side had fired first, but it didn’t matter.  The militiamen had shot at least five cavalry troopers off their horses, the remainder dropping to the ground and returning fire with their own muskets.  He saw a man fall as a musket ball slammed into his chest, blood splashing everywhere as he hit the ground; another, a moment later, staggered and dropped as his leg was suddenly turned into a bloody mess.  The troop leader barked orders, directing his men to grab their horses and gallop for their lives.  The militiamen kept shooting, picking off two more cavalrymen even though they were in headlong retreat.  Adam gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the locomotive.  Up close, it seemed like an immense angry monster, shaking with rage and permanently on the verge of exploding.

“Lilith, put up a shield,” Taffy snapped.  “I need to undo the valve …”

Lilith nodded as Taffy took a tool from her belt, made a quick adjustment and then jumped back as the valve seemed to burst with steam.  The air grew hotter and wetter as the steam blasted into the air, followed by drops of hot water that splattered against the shield or fell to the ground.  Adam felt droplets brushing against his skin and cursed under his breath.  The shield was already weakening.  It might collapse altogether.

The locomotive twitched, like a living thing, before dying in front of them.  Adam let out a breath, feeling torn between guilt and relief.  They’d had to kill the locomotive … he told himself, sharply, that it wasn’t a living thing.  It could be repaired – and it would be, when the wreck was transported to the machine shops.  The damage didn’t look that extensive.  And if it was … the locomotive could be taken to pieces, the parts either put in newer engines or simply melted down for recycling.  Adam put the thought aside as the air rapidly cooled, allowing them to get closer to the cab.

“Lucky they didn’t have any coaches,” Taffy muttered, as they pushed their way through the heavyset air.  It felt as if they were stepping into a sauna.  “It would have crashed right into the town if it had been a bit heavier.”

Adam nodded.  He’d seen an engine go off the rails in Beneficence.  It hadn’t been going all that fast, but the weight of the carriages behind it had pushed it on and on, smashing through a dozen houses until it finally came to a stop.  Here … he peered into the cab, wondering if the drivers were already dead.  It was possible.  The engine had been overworked to the point of near-disaster.  His earlier thoughts returned to haunt him.  They might be on the verge of stepping into a tomb.

The metal door rattled, then came loose.  Adam jumped back as it crashed to the ground.  A face, dark with soot, peered down at him.  Adam blinked in surprise as he realised it was a young woman wearing an expensive dress.  Female engine drivers weren’t that unusual, but they wore the same leather outfits as their male counterparts.  The girl – she didn’t look older than eighteen – didn’t look like a real engine driver.  And yet …

She eyed him, imperiously.  “Help me down?”

Adam swallowed the response that came to mind.  It wasn’t easy to scramble in and out of a railway engine, but someone who’d spent her entire adult life in the driver’s cab would know how to do it without help.  Hell, she’d know she could just jump down … if she was wearing something a little more suitable.  Instead … he sighed and stepped forward.  He was a tall man, but the locomotive was so much bigger that she had to sit on the ledge before taking his hand and clambering down.  Behind him, Adam heard Lilith snort.  She wasn’t impressed.

Taffy had a more practical concern.  “Who are you?”

The girl’s eyes showed a flash of irritation.  “Princess Violet of Tarsier,” she said, stiffly.  “And I request sanctuary.”

Adam blinked.  A princess?  He looked Violet up and down, studying her thoughtfully.  She didn’t look like someone who’d planned to go on a joyride.  Her long, dark hair was a mess, her dress – finer than anything Adam’s sisters had ever worn – was dirty and torn, her hands looked soft under the soot, suggesting she wasn’t used to manual work.  She was pretty enough, Adam thought, but … a princess?  It was hard to believe.  He’d never met a real princess, not in his entire life.

“That’s interesting,” Lilith said, with equal stiffness.  She didn’t sound convinced.  “And who are your friends?”

Violet looked up as a second girl struggled to the ground.  “This is Princess Daphne,” she said, seriously.  A third head – male, this time – poked out of the cab.  “And this is Matt.”

Adam’s heart missed a beat.  Matt was hardly a unique name.  And yet … he felt his mouth drop open as he saw the blond hair, the too-handsome face, the cocky attitude, the robes carefully tailored to show off muscles while ensuing the wearer could move freely …

“Adam,” Matt boomed.  He dropped to the ground with casual ease and clapped Adam on the shoulder.  “Long time no see!”

“Matt,” Adam managed.  It was hard not to flinch.  Matt’s touches were always unpleasant, even when they weren’t painful.  Adam had thought – he’d hoped – he’d never see Master Pittwater’s real apprentice ever again.  “What are you doing here?”

“He was kind enough to assist us,” Violet said.  Her voice was firm, but there was an edge to her tone that suggested she was terrified.  Her eyes flickered from side to side, seemingly dismissing all three of them.  “Who’s in charge here …?”

Her voice trailed off as she looked at someone behind Adam.  He glanced back to see the Gorgon making her way through the crowd, angrily motioning for the gawkers to step back and let the emergency crews do their job.  Adam looked back at Violet and saw her make a visible attempt to gather herself.  Gorgons were rare outside their own lands.  It was quite possible Princess Violet had never met one before, let alone exchanged a handful of words.  Adam hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.  The Gorgon was surprisingly popular at Heart’s Eye.

“I speak for Mistress Irene,” the Gorgon said.  Her face was so controlled Adam knew she was agitated.  She had some authority, as her mistress’s apprentice and assistant, but not as much as one might think.  “Why are you here?”

Violet managed a curtsey, one hand grabbing Princess Daphne and pulling her down too.  “I seek sanctuary,” she said.  “I request an audience with the town council as soon as possible.”

“I will take you back to the university,” the Gorgon said.  “Mistress Irene will wish to speak with you.”

She looked at the militia captain, who’d been directing his men to collect the dead bodies and strip them of anything useful.  “Take the bodies back to the university, along with anything in their possession that might be useful,” she added.  “And then get a repair crew down here as quickly as possible.”

Adam’s thoughts churned.  Matt was here … it was impossible.  Matt had spoken of his apprenticeship, of his plans to take the apothecary for himself and turn it into the heart of a commercial empire.  Adam had never thought Matt could succeed, but he couldn’t deny the wretched brat would’ve had a chance to make something of himself.  Matt had magic.  And now he was here … Adam didn’t believe it.  Matt was in line for a shop.  Matt had a girlfriend from a powerful family.  Matt had … Adam shook his head.  Matt would sooner have cut off his manhood than abandon his dreams, let alone leave the city and head to the university.

A nasty suspicion crystallised in his mind.  Was it the real Matt?  Adam knew he’d bitched about Matt to Arnold.  The sorcerer could easily have travelled to the apothecary, met the real apprentice, then simply taken his place.  Adam was the only person in Heart’s Eye who knew Matt and … it wasn’t as if Matt was a very deep character.  An arrogant ass with a pretty face and magic and very little between the ears … Adam ground his teeth, remembering all the times Matt had rubbed Adam’s nose in his lack of magic.  If he’d had even the slightest hint of power, to go with his grasp of the theory, he’d have outdone Matt so completely that Matt’s apprenticeship would never have gotten off the ground.

He stared at Matt, thinking hard.  Was he looking at Arnold?  Matt looked right, but that was meaningless.  Arnold could change his appearance at will.  There was no way to know if the face Adam knew, the one he’d thought was a friend, was the sorcerer’s real face.  It probably wasn’t.  The sorcerer had put a mask on, then played a role to perfection.  And then he’d taken off the mask and vanished into the crowd.

Matt smiled at him, too brightly.  Adam felt hatred curdle in his gut.  The smile was just right, a mixture of haughty condescension and mocking amusement that came from the certain knowledge one was untouchable.  Oh, how Adam hated that smile.  It was very familiar and yet it didn’t prove anything, not when Arnold could smile as nastily as the real Matt.

“It’s been a while,” Matt said, clapping Adam on the shoulder.  Again.  “We must catch up sometime.”

“No doubt.”  Adam braced himself, wishing he’d thought to bring a weapon.  Or Durian Gas … he’d sell his soul for a few minutes with a powerless Matt. Who knew?  Perhaps the shock of being beaten up by a mundane would turn him into a better person.  “Tell me something only you and I know.”

The Gorgon stiffened, her sharp eyes moving to Matt.  Adam cursed his own mistake as Matt put on an expression of surprise.  Matt wasn’t that powerful, not compared to Lilith or her father or Lady Emily herself, but Arnold was strong enough to give the Gorgon and Lilith a thrashing with one hand tied behind his back.  It might have been a mistake, challenging Matt – or whoever wore his face – to prove himself in public.  He should have waited until they were inside the wards …

“One day, you were insisting you knew more about magic than me,” Matt said, his smile growing wider.  Adam knew where the story was going and wished, too late, he hadn’t thought to ask.  “I turned you into a bird and shoved you into a cage, then undid the spell just in time to keep Master Pittwater from finding out what I’d done.”

Adam felt his cheeks burn.  He’d done his best to bury the memory.  He’d certainly never discussed it with anyone.  Master Pittwater had never found out … he scowled, looking away as they started to walk around the town, back up to the university.  It hadn’t been the worst of the humiliations Matt had heaped upon him, but … it was one no one else knew about.  And Adam doubted Matt would have told anyone else either.

Unless Arnold used magic to make him talk, Adam thought.  Or simply offered him a large bag of gold.  Or Matt decided to brag …

Matt’s eyes wandered to Lilith.  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Adam wanted to say no.  The idea of introducing Matt to Lilith, or even Taffy, was abhorrent.  And yet, he had no choice.

“Lilith of House Ashfall,” Adam managed, as formally as he could.  He slammed the titles into place, trying to make it clear Lilith was far out of Matt’s league.  “This is Matt.”

Just Matt, his thought added.  She won’t miss the lack of a family name.

Lilith’s voice could have cut glass.  “A pleasure.”

Matt beamed, clearly choosing to take the words at face value.  “We must talk later,” he said, cheerfully.  He didn’t seem fazed by Lilith’s tone.  His eyes drifted to Taffy, then lingered on the Gorgon’s behind before returning to Adam.  “There is much we can discuss.”

Adam felt his blood boil.  “Why are you even here?  I thought you were staying in the city and inheriting the apothecary.”

Matt’s smile looked, just for a second, a little fixed.  “The guild repossessed Master Pittwater’s shop, for reasons he never discussed with me, before I could complete my apprenticeship.  He advised me to make my way to Heart’s Eye in hopes of finding a new career in the university.  If you can do it, he said, why can’t I?”

“The guild took the shop?”  Adam wasn’t sure what to make of it.  The local guild had been pushing Master Pittwater to retire, before his advancing age caused a disaster, but he’d never heard of the guild forcing a master to abandon an apprentice in mid-apprenticeship.  Perhaps Master Pittwater had just given up.  Matt had never been a good apprentice.  Adam was mildly surprised he hadn’t been kicked out long ago.  “They didn’t give any sort of explanation?”

“Nothing,” Matt said.  “Not to me, in any case.  They must have said something to him.”

Adam frowned.  There was something about the story that didn’t ring true.  Master Pittwater didn’t give up that easily … except he had, when he’d been told he had to ditch Adam as an apprentice.  And even then, Master Pittwater had managed to send Adam to Heart’s Eye.  He wondered, suddenly, if Matt had been kicked out of the apprenticeship, or simply kicked out of the city, or … maybe he was telling the truth.  It was unlikely, but stranger things had happened.

He picked at the story thoughtfully as they kept walking, heading up the dusty road to the university.  “How did you get here?”

“I travelled to the city.”  Matt waved a hand towards the railway lines.  “I took a couple of days to look around, in hopes of finding a master willing to take me on.  I ran into the princesses and … well, one thing led to another.  It was quite an adventure.”

“I’ll bet.”  Adam suspected Matt would make himself sound the hero, if given a chance.  “I think …”

Matt talked over him, addressing Lilith.  “And what are you doing this weekend?”

“None of your business,” Lilith said, coldly.  “Be quiet.”

Matt elbowed Adam, then winked.  “I think I’m going to like it here.”

Adam bit his tongue.  He feared Matt was right.  
Chapter Seven

Adam had disliked Matt the very first time he’d laid eyes on him, and two years of sharing the same master had done nothing to improve his feelings towards his fellow apprentice, but he hadn’t realised how much he could detest someone until Matt had arrived at Heart’s Eye.  The walk to the university was unpleasant, with Matt alternatively chatting about old times in a manner calculated to embarrass Adam or flirting with Lilith and Taffy in a manner that made Adam want to hit Matt and to hell with the consequences.  It was telling, he felt, that Matt wasn’t making any attempt to flirt with the Gorgon.  She had a kind of striking beauty, if one looked past the snakes she had for hair, but he wasn’t even trying.  And that meant …

He’d hoped they’d be able to dump Matt as soon as they reached the university, but the Gorgon insisted the three of them accompany the princesses – and their saviour – to the council chambers.  Adam scowled at their backs, wondering sourly just what had happened in Farrakhan.  Matt was something of a coward – like most bullies, he surrendered the moment he realised he’d run into someone stronger than he was – and it was impossible to imagine him saving the lives of two royal princesses, even if they were beautiful.  Adam was entirely sure the story wasn’t as cut and dried as Matt had suggested, although he had to admit the bastard had been on the locomotive when it had crashed.  Perhaps that was why it had crashed.  Matt presumably didn’t know how to drive a railway engine.  

And there was no one else in the cab, Adam thought.  They didn’t even think to grab a driver.

Lilith slipped up next to him as they stepped into the council chambers, her face carefully blank.  Mistress Irene sat at her chair, flanked by Masters Caleb and Dagon.  Lilith’s father shot her a sharp look, his eyes communicating his displeasure even though his face was carefully blank.  Adam winced inwardly, knowing Lilith would have to face her father alone.  There was nothing he could do to help …

Mistress Irene closed the doors with a wave of her hand, then studied the two princesses through cold, dark eyes.  “We have received an urgent message from His Majesty King Ephialtes of Tarsier,” she said, her voice betraying none of her feelings.  “He insists his sister, and his bride-to-be, were kidnapped by a rogue magician, who stole a locomotive and drove to Heart’s Ease.  What actually happened?”

Princess Violet took a breath.  “My Lady, we request sanctuary,” she said.  “I … I know my brother killed my father.”

“I see.”  Mistress Irene frowned.  “Perhaps you should start from the beginning …”

The princess nodded, curtly.  “My brother was … unhappy about the existence of this university, even though the kingdom had made agreements with the original school before it was destroyed by the necromancer,” she said.  “He felt the university’s existence posed a threat to the entire kingdom and repeatedly demanded we take harsh measures to ensure the threat never becomes a reality.  My father – our father – felt it would be better to watch and wait and see what happened, before we took action we couldn’t undo.  My brother was not pleased.  He thought time was running out.  I know …”

She paused.  “My father might have been getting on in years, but he was a master huntsman and his horse was practically one with him.  I don’t believe he would have tripped and fallen in a manner that led to instant death, not without a little help.  The only person who had a motive is my brother, My Lady, and he was in command of the secret police.  He could easily have arranged my father’s death.  I did a little digging and discovered my brother had an undeclared sorcerer amongst his liegemen.  That man could have arranged the king’s death.”

“It would be extremely dangerous,” Mistress Irene observed.  “The Crown Prince himself might be immune from serious consequences, but his servants?  They’d be lucky if they were merely tortured to death.”

“There was a stable boy who might have done something to my father’s horse,” Princess Violet said.  “The day after the accident, he fell into a well and broke his skull.  I think he was charmed to do … something, then compelled to kill himself.  The chain of evidence died with him.”

“That isn’t solid proof,” Mistress Irene pointed out.

Adam couldn’t disagree.  He had no doubt quite a few kings had risen to the throne by killing the person above them.  As long as the murder worked, everyone would just pretend everything was perfectly normal … even if the dead man was reputed to have stabbed himself in the back repeatedly, while in a locked and empty room.  And yet …

Mistress Irene leaned forward.  “Why did you come here?”

“My father had already arranged a match for my brother, with Daphne,” Princess Violet said, grimly.  “My brother also made it clear I would be married off too, as soon as the mourning period comes to an end, to strengthen ties between us and our neighbours.  I … my prospective husband is old enough to be my father’s father.  I don’t want to marry him and … Daphne doesn’t want to marry a murderer.  We planned an escape and ran.”

“Emily would be impressed,” Caleb said.

Mistress Irene shot him a look that said, very clearly, shut up.  “Details?”

“We were meant to go on a ride around the countryside,” Princess Violet said.  “We only took a handful of guards.  When we reached the right point, we stopped for a picnic and ensured the guards had something to eat and drink too.  The drink was spiked and they fell asleep, allowing us a chance to gallop north to Farrakhan.  I figured we could get on a train, then make our way to the university and claim sanctuary.  It … it nearly failed, because someone sent a message ahead to seal off the station.”

She paused.  “Thankfully, we ran into a magician who was willing to help,” she added, indicating Matt.  “We broke into the engine sheds, bribed a mechanic to show us how to start the locomotive, then drove into the desert.  They must have worked out what we’d done, because they came after us.  We kept throwing coal into the engine and prayed to the gods we’d get to the university before the boiler exploded or the horsemen caught up with us and …”

“They wouldn’t have hurt you,” Matt said, boastfully.  “I would have stopped them.”

“Quite.”  Mistress Irene moved her eyes to him.  “And why did you assist them?”

Matt stood tall.  “It was a matter of honour,” he said, firmly.  “The princesses were running away from a fate worse than death.  It was the right thing to do.”

“And it could also be taken as a breach of the Compact,” Mistress Irene said, sternly.  “It could prove quite awkward.”

Adam did his best to hide his smile.  If Matt got in trouble for doing the right thing … 

“Luckily for all concerned, the monarchy doesn’t seem to have realised you were involved,” Mistress Irene added, after a moment.  “Still … why did you come here?”

“Master Pittwater believed I should complete my apprenticeship at Heart’s Eye,” Matt said, calmly.  “And I hope I can find a suitable master willing to take me on.”

“My Lady.”  Princess Violet sounded as though she was trying very hard not to plead.  “We have asked for sanctuary.  Will you …?”

“We must discuss the issue,” Mistress Irene said.  “You are aware, of course, of the rules?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Princess Violet said.

“We can give you sanctuary, for the moment, and protect you from your brother,” Mistress Irene said.  “We cannot – and we will not – host a government-in-exile.  If you remain within our territory, you may not involve yourself in political affairs.  You may not seek to undermine your brother’s kingdom or place yourself on the throne or anything, anything at all, that weakens our neutrality.  If you find these conditions unacceptable, we will be happy to provide transport to somewhere else within the Allied Lands and wash our hands of you.”

She paused, meaningfully.  “Do you understand the conditions?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Princess Violet said.

“Good.”  Mistress Irene glanced at the Gorgon, who straightened.  “Give them one of the twin suites, within the protected zone.  It’ll make sure they have a little additional security, just in case.  Apprentice Matt, we’ll give you a bedroom here for the next few days, long enough for you to find your feet.  If you do, we’ll arrange for you to move to the dorms.  If not, again, we will arrange for your transport elsewhere.  It might be unwise to return through Farrakhan.”

“I will find my feet,” Matt assured her.  “Where do I look for masters in need of apprentices?”

“You can make an application tomorrow,” Mistress Irene said. She looked at Adam.  “I understand you two already know each other.  You can show him to his bedroom – choose one of the empty rooms in the guest corridor, near the one you used when you first arrived – and then return to the dorms.”

Adam tried not to groan.  He’d hoped he could just go straight to bed.  “Yes, My Lady.”

“Good.”  Mistress Irene stood.  “Lilith, remain behind.  Everyone else, dismissed.”

Adam met Lilith’s eyes, trying to send her a reassuring look, before Matt came up and waved for his attention.  Adam ground his teeth, making a mental note to grab some supplies from the locked and warded drawer in the dorms.  Matt would be laughing out of the other side of his face, if he breathed in a whiff of gas.  Adam eyed the other man’s too-handsome nose.  It would look much more natural if it were broken a couple of times.

“This way,” he said, glancing at Taffy.  He didn’t want her to accompany them.  Thankfully, she got the hint.  “I’ll show you the bedroom.”

Matt said nothing until they were outside.  “What an adventure,” he said, his grin widening to the point it looked thoroughly unnatural.  “I saved a pair of princesses!”

“How nice,” Adam said, with heavy sarcasm.  “You’ll be dining out on the story for the rest of your life.  And what really happened?”

“I told you,” Matt said.  “I volunteered to escort them to the university and I did it!”

Adam eyed him, suspiciously.  “And the fact they’re both beautiful had nothing to do with it?”

Matt smirked.  “They’re royalty, but I’m a magician,” he said, kissing his fingers.  “If a common-born sorcerer can marry a princess and become a prince consort, why can’t I?”

Adam made a show of considering it.  “Let’s see … Prince Consort Jade is a trained combat sorcerer, a close personal friend of Lady Emily as well as many other prominent sorcerers of our generation, and by the time he actually married the princess, he had a decent career and a reputation many would envy.  You’re an apprentice potioneer who’s been told he had to leave his master’s shop and come here, because the shop was repossessed by the guild.”

“You see?”  Matt’s grin took on a shark-like aspect.  “We’re both magicians.  Practically identical.”

“Really.”  Adam couldn’t tell if Matt believed what he was saying, and he didn’t much care.  “You took one look at her chest and decided you’d do whatever she wanted, as long as she gave you a kiss.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Matt said, as they walked down a flight of stairs.  “So, where does the pretty redhead sleep?”

Adam ground his teeth.  “In a heavily warded chamber, supervised by an overprotective father,” he snarled.  “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m sure I can charm her,” Matt said.  “And her father too.”

“Hah.”  Adam forced himself to calm down as they reached the guest suites.  “She won’t look twice at you.”

“She looked at you,” Matt countered.  “What do you have that I don’t?”

Adam ignored the question as he looked for an empty suite.  “This one should do,” he said, pushing the door open.  The suite brought back memories, good and bad.  It had been the first real place he’d had to call his own, although it hadn’t lasted.  When he’d proved he had a right to stay, he’d been moved to the dorms.  “What do you think?”

Matt wrinkled his nose.  “My garret was bigger.”

“Your garret is over a thousand miles away,” Adam snapped.  “And enjoy the room while it lasts.  You’ll be either in the dorms soon enough” – he tried not to shudder at the thought of sharing a dorm with Matt – “or on your way to somewhere you might be actually welcome.”

Matt dropped his knapsack on the bed and looked around.  “At least there’s a shower,” he said.  “What else is there?”

“Bed.  Drawers.  Worktable.”  Adam rested his hands on his hips.  It had always galled him that Matt had a place in the shop and he hadn’t, although he knew he should be relieved he hadn’t had to share space with Matt.  “What more do you want?”

“To know what the redhead is like in bed.”  Matt sat on the bed and winked.  “Well?  What’s she like?”

Adam felt his expression darken.  “None of your fucking business!”

“Ah, so you haven’t had her yet.”  Matt smiled, again.  “I still have a chance.”

“Really.”  Adam clenched his fists.  “She’ll crush you like a bug.”

Matt leered.  “So, she’s into the weird stuff …?”

Adam felt his temper flare.  “So … what happened to Sana?”

“I came, I saw, I fucked, I dumped.”  Matt’s smile was almost a parody of itself.  “She wasn’t much, you know.  Pretty face, great body, didn’t know how to use either.”

“You’re disgusting,” Adam said.

“And I’ll sleep with the redhead before you,” Matt said.  He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  “Go away now.  I’ll call when I need you.”

“No,” Adam said.  “I’m not your servant.  There are no servants here.”

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.  Matt … his blood boiled as he remembered Matt’s words.  How … how dare he?  Adam wanted to find a phial of Durian Gas, throw it into the bedroom and introduce Matt to his fists.  It would be easy.  It would … it would get him kicked out, for starting a fight.  He wondered, just for a moment, if he should tell Matt precisely where to find Lilith’s chambers.  Matt would find himself caught by the wards, then facing Master Dagon.  Or Lilith herself.  She wouldn’t be amused if she caught him trying to break into her chambers.  Grand romantic gestures were from romantic blue books and plays, not real life.  Adam had watched a play where the actors had mouthed lines that would kill any romance before it ever got off the ground, words so absurd no girl would take him seriously if he tried to mouth them in her ear.  The playwright had either been an idiot or taking the piss.  There was no way Lilith would take Matt seriously …

… Or would she?

Adam cringed inwardly, remembering how many times Matt had humiliated him.  He’d been cruel and mean and … he’d always been surprisingly successful with girls, often flaunting a new girlfriend every few weeks and then ditching her just as quickly.  What if Lilith was impressed by him?  She might see him as funny and … who knew?  Adam had never known what all the other girls had seen in Matt, before he’d dumped them.  It wasn’t as if he was that special.  The idea he was somehow an equal to Prince Consort Jade of Zangaria was just laughable.

Lilith could have had someone more powerful than him easily, if she’d wanted, Adam told himself.  She was pretty and smart and most magicians wouldn’t be put off by her prickly exterior.  She didn’t have to get close to me, did she?

His thoughts churned.  He liked Lilith.  He wasn’t sure if he loved her – he was honest enough to admit that, at least to himself – but he enjoyed her company.  He enjoyed the time they spent together, carrying out experiments … he admitted, deep inside, that he’d actually enjoyed some of the times they’d shared even before she’d warmed up to him.  She wasn’t the sort of girl anyone might have expected him to marry, once upon a time, but who cared?  He liked her and … what if she left him?  If she went to Matt, it would be unbearable.

She doesn’t need him, Adam told himself, again.  What does he have to offer she couldn’t get elsewhere?

He frowned as his feet carried him up to the dorms.  Matt’s story was … he didn’t really believe it.  He had no trouble believing Prince Violet had fled a murderous brother and an unwanted marriage – that was easy to believe – but Matt?  If the princesses hadn’t confirmed the story, Adam wouldn’t have believed a word of it.  And yet … there was something that didn’t make sense.  Matt was too selfish to dive in and save a pair of princesses, even if they were beautiful.  Why had he done it? Adam would have expected him to stop the poor girls in their tracks, then hand them back to the king.  Why risk everything for a pair of pretty faces?

Matt’s dumb, he thought.  But he’s not that dumb.

He pushed open the door, passing a pair of dormmates chatting about the arrival of the princesses and headed straight for bed.  It had been a long day.  He needed rest and, hopefully, someone else would take care of Matt.  There was a whole string of experiments Adam wanted to try …

And maybe he’ll do something stupid and get himself kicked out, Adam thought as he drifted off to sleep.  That would be just like him, wouldn’t it?
Chapter Eight

There was no sign of Lilith the following morning, when Adam went down to the dining hall for breakfast.  He couldn’t help finding that ominous.  Lilith had rarely joined him for breakfast – she normally ate with her father, before starting the day – but after everything that had happened he felt worried.  There was no sign of Matt either, something that relieved and worried him in equal measure.  Matt might be sleeping in – he had had a long day – or he might be wandering the university or up to no good.  Adam told himself, firmly, it wasn’t his problem.  They might have shared a master, once upon a time, but they’d hardly been friends.  They’d certainly never spent any time together outside the shop.

He collected his breakfast and sat down, listening to the chatter as it flowed around the chamber.  Everyone was talking about the princesses, the stories growing in the telling until everyone seemed to believe Princess Violet was plotting a coup against a brother who’d usurped the throne … or, even more absurdly, that Princesses Violet and Daphne were actually lovers who’d run away together.  Adam frowned as he overheard someone speculating that the king had murdered his father, the former king.  That was going to put the dragon scales in the cauldron, if the king heard about it.  He wouldn’t be remotely pleased if he thought the university was spreading lies – or truths – about him.  

“Hey,” a voice said.  “Long time no see.”

He looked up and smiled as Valerie Hunt sat down beside him.  The student reporter – her broadsheet was surprisingly famous, even outside the university – was striking, with short and curly blonde hair framing an impish face.  She wore a loose tunic, rather than a dress or apprentice robes.  She had a bubbly smile that turned her face from pretty to beautiful ... even when she was in a bad mood.  Adam had been charmed by her when they’d first met, although – over the weeks that had followed – he’d come to realise her face hid a first-class mind.  She could be terrifying, when she was on the trail of a story.  It had taken him longer to realise she dressed very carefully, using her outfit to put her subjects at ease.  She would go far, Arnold had said, if she didn’t get murdered first.  Adam’s mood darkened.  Valerie had been manipulated as surely as everyone else.

“Hey,” Adam said.  He counted Valerie as a friend, although he knew her first love was the broadsheet.  Unexpected Enlightenment was growing all the time, with more reporters signing on in a bid to make their mark on the world.  “What can I do for you?”

“The princesses are locked away in their suite,” Valerie said, her smile growing wider.  “I tried to talk to them, but I didn’t get a reply.  Do you know why?”

“They did get here pretty late,” Adam said, sipping his kava.  He’d been exhausted and portal-lagged when he’d finally reached the university, and he hadn’t been chased by a mob of wild horsemen with bad intentions.  “They’re probably still in bed.”

Valerie shrugged.  “Do you believe their story?”

Adam eyed her warily.  “What story did you hear?”

“They ran from a murderous brother and future husband,” Valerie said.  “Or did the story grow in the telling?”

Adam shrugged.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “All I can really tell you is that they rode a locomotive to Heart’s Ease, while they were being chased by a horde of cavalry.  And they crashed the locomotive when they arrived …”

Valerie didn’t look put out.  Adam wondered, idly, if she’d thought he knew everything, even though it would have been unreasonable.  He might have been able to tell her how he’d proved mundane blood could be used to store magic, but that had been his affair from start to finish.  His role in the story of the runaway princesses was much smaller and all he’d done – all he’d really done – was help them get up to the university.  He was surprised Valerie wasn’t already heading to town, trying to interview the militiamen who’d fought in the brief skirmish.  By now, he was sure the stories had grown in the telling.  The entire world would believe a handful of militiamen stood off the entire royal army.  

“There must be something to the story,” Valerie mused.  “How many princesses do you know who just … run away?”

“None.”  Adam smiled.  “I don’t know any princesses.”

He snorted.  He’d been told princesses did nothing, apart from looking pretty, until their fathers arranged their marriages for best advantage, whereupon they were expected to have children as quickly as possible and otherwise keep their mouths firmly shut.  He was insightful enough to realise princesses probably did more – Princess Alassa had fought a war against her father, which struck him as strange – but it was hard to believe they did as much as his mother, let alone the average fishwife or sorceress.  And yet … he shrugged.  He was no more a princess than he was a magician, or even a wealthy man.  He didn’t really understand what life was like for them.

“I also understand your friend arrived with them,” Valerie said.  “What did he tell you?”

Adam scowled, his lips twisting in distaste.  He cursed himself a moment later.  Valerie was a perceptive woman.  She’d have seen his reaction and drawn her own conclusions … it was hard not to grimace, at the thought of Matt flirting with Valerie.  But then, she’d probably keep smiling at him until he’d told her everything, including things he didn’t know he knew, and then make him look a fool in front of her readers.  It wouldn’t be hard.  Adam really didn’t understand why Master Pittwater had put up with Matt.  It wasn’t as if he was a potions genius.  Lilith was better than Matt at potions and she’d never wanted to be a potioneer.

“You can ask him yourself,” he said, finally.  He wanted to tell her to make sure she stayed in the public areas, when she spoke to Matt, but he didn’t dare.  Valerie wasn’t the sort of young women who’d appreciate the warning.  “And make sure you take anything he tells you with a kilogram of salt.”

Valerie laughed.  “It’s always interesting to know what someone wants you to believe,” she said.  “Sometimes they’re telling the truth, or what they think is the truth; sometimes they’re lying and know they’re lying even as they speak.”

“I suppose you could learn something useful from what they choose to lie about,” Adam said, sourly.  Arnold had chosen to lie about everything, from his lack of magic to his long-term goals.  Adam was all too aware Arnold had played on his weaknesses, positioning himself as someone beyond suspicion until it had been far too late.  “Like I said, be careful.”

Valerie smiled, like a cat eying a mouse.  “I will.”

She leaned forward.  “What do you think the king will say?”

“I have no idea,” Adam said.  “Why are you asking me?”

“Why not?”  Valerie’s smile grew brighter.  “You might know something.”

Adam made a show of rolling his eyes.  “Did you hear anything about Lady Emily?”

“Apparently, she’s in Alluvia,” Valerie said.  “Beyond that, I know nothing.  There are all sorts of stories, from the believable to the simply impossible, but I don’t know how much credence to place in them.  The local reporters aren’t doing their jobs.”

“They’re probably getting leaned on by the rebels, or the royalists,” Adam said.  “That’s what happened back home, when the broadsheets became a little more professional.”

Valerie’s lips twisted in distaste.  “People will do anything for money, won’t they?”

Adam laughed, although it wasn’t funny.  He’d seen families in such grinding poverty they’d had no choice but to sell themselves into prostitution – or slavery – just to put food on the table.  It was easy to say you would sooner die than prostitute yourself when you had a full belly, and you knew where the next meal was coming from, but harder to actually do when you were unemployed and your children were starving.  He couldn’t blame broadsheet reporters and editors for taking money from the rich and powerful, if the alternative was starving.  He’d known a girl who’d had to sell herself just to keep her family alive.  And she’d barely lasted a week before the guard pulled her body from the gutter.

“Yeah,” he said, finally.  “They will.”

Taffy appeared, carrying a tray of food.  “You’ll be glad to know you saved fifty princesses with a kiss,” she said.  “Or at least that’s what they’re saying now.”

Valerie grinned.  “Fifty princesses?  It’s an invasion.”

“It’s a silly story,” Adam grumbled, as Taffy sat down.  “Didn’t you try to tell them you were there?”

“Of course,” Taffy said.  “But they liked the story more than the truth.”

“I’d better go write it down,” Valerie said.  “And make it clear it didn’t happen that way.”

“Make sure you do.”  Taffy scowled as she took a spoonful of porridge.  “The wilder the stories about the poor girls, the harder it will be for them to come to terms with the king.”

“Put not your trust in kings,” Adam quoted.  The words had been spoken by the founding father of Beneficence, then taught to every schoolchild old enough to understand.  “For they will not keep their word, as they see their rule as divine.”

He sighed.  He’d had that drilled into him at school, when his tutors had talked about the history of the city-state.  The first kings might have been smart and capable, because they’d clawed their way to power, but their successors didn’t always grasp the limits of power.  He’d been thrashed as a child for asking if that was true of the city council too.  On paper, it wasn’t hereditary; in practice, the council seats had been passed down from father to son so often it was hard for newcomers to secure a seat.  He hoped Heart’s Eye wouldn’t go the same way.  Lady Emily was bright enough to realise the dangers, but … if she had children, would she not want them to inherit her position?

“Well put,” Valerie said.  “Do you think the girls will want to go back?”

Adam shrugged.  “Who knows?  I think …”

A hand fell on his shoulder.  Adam flinched.

“Adam,” Matt said.  “It took me so long to find you.”

Adam looked up.  Matt had showered and changed into an outfit more appropriate for a night on the town than his first day at university.  He’d only had a single knapsack with him, hadn’t he?  Adam rather suspected Matt had wasted the space by cramming expensive clothes into the sack, rather than tools or books or anything useful.  Did he even have money?  Adam’s lips twitched at the thought.  Matt would have had a stipend from Master Pittwater, like Adam himself, but his spending had far exceeded his income.  It was quite possible he simply didn’t have anything else.

“I didn’t know you were looking,” Adam said, finally.  He could feel Matt’s eyes leaving a trail of slime over Valerie’s body, even though he couldn’t see them.  More proof, if he wanted it, that it was the real Matt.  Arnold wasn’t dumb enough to irritate Valerie.  She was perfectly capable of digging into his cover story and finding the inevitable discrepancies that would lead her to the truth.  “I hope you had a good night.”

Matt didn’t take the hint.  He sat, crossing his legs.  “I hear you’re a magician now,” he said.  “Or something like it … what’s up with that?”

Adam kept his face impassive.  There was something odd in Matt’s tone, something …

Valerie smiled, showing her teeth.  “What actually happened when you met the princesses?”

“Modesty forbids me to tell you,” Matt said, placing a hand to his heart dramatically.  “But as there is no one else, I guess I’ll have to tell you myself.”

Adam rolled his eyes.  Modest was a word no one could use to describe Matt.  Boastful would be more accurate.  If he were half as powerful and capable as he claimed, he’d outshine Lady Emily or even the legendary Sorcerer Void like the sun outshone the moon.  Adam settled back in his chair, preparing for a tale he was entirely sure would be only marginally entertaining and almost completely untrue.  Matt had never struck him as smart enough to realise the princesses would undercut him, when they told a different story.  Or …

His lips twitched.  The princesses might prefer to blame everything on him, if the affair goes sour, he thought.  Matt will find himself being chased down and hanged for kidnapping the girls and smuggling them all the way to Heart’s Eye.

Matt talked and talked.  Valerie listened, shooting him an admiring smile from time to time that was so blatantly fake Adam couldn’t believe anyone would take it at face value.  The story grew and grew, with Matt first claiming he’d run into the princesses by accident and then insisting he’d been part of the escape plan all along.  Valerie didn’t point out all the obvious discrepancies, although Adam had no doubt she’d noted them.  Matt would come to regret telling her he’d been the one to steal the locomotive, then drive it to Heart’s Ease.  Adam wasn’t sure who owned the steam engine, but he was sure someone did.  Matt might find himself encumbered with the repair bill.

He met Taffy’s eyes and saw, much to his relief, that she didn’t believe a word of it.  Taffy wasn’t stupid.  Arnold had tricked her, but Arnold had been … Arnold.  Matt … save for magic, he was just like any boastful young man who thought he was on top of the world, riding so high he couldn’t possibly fall.  And yet, Matt had to know better.  The mere fact he’d been sent to Heart’s Eye, rather than completing his apprenticeship, was proof he was nowhere near as good as he claimed.  Adam wondered, snidely, if Matt wasn’t being honest about why he’d been told to leave.  It was quite possible.

“Of course I saved the princesses,” Matt finished.  “What self-respecting man could turn away from a damsel in distress?”

“Quite,” Valerie said.  “But how did you know they were telling the truth?”

Matt hesitated, noticeably.  “I’ve known a few royal princesses in my time,” he said, finally.  “And they all had the same general attitude as the girls I met.  You just can’t fake it.”

“There was a story about a common-born girl who posed as a noblewoman,” Valerie said, mischievously.  “How did she get away with it for so long, if you can always tell a noblewoman?”

“She wasn’t a princess,” Matt said.  “And as long as she looked right, no one was going to look too closely.  Just like” – his eyes darted at Adam – “a mundane trying to brew potions in an apothecary.”

Adam felt a hot flash of irritation.  “You’d better get something to eat,” he said, nodding to the counter.  “You never know when they’ll run out of the good stuff.”

“Charming fellow,” Taffy commented, when Matt headed off to get breakfast.  “And I thought Jasper was bad.”

Valerie nodded.  “How much of his story is true?”

Adam shrugged.  If Matt hadn’t shown up with the princesses, and he’d seen that for himself, he would have cheerfully assumed the story was nothing but lies.  There was no disputing the fact Matt had played a role in getting the princesses to safety, yet … what?  Had he been sitting in the cab when the princesses had clambered into the locomotive?  Matt had always been scornful of steam engines, back home, but Adam had seen Matt watching the locomotives make their way through the city and across the bridge into Cockatrice when he’d thought no one was looking.  It was possible he’d thought he could take a moment to admire the locomotive, now he was alone, only to have it stolen … Adam smiled at the thought.  It probably wasn’t true, but it was more likely than any of the stories Matt had told.

“I bet he and Jasper will be the best of friends, pretty damn quickly,” Taffy added.  “Any takers?”

“No.”  Adam didn’t remember Matt having any close friends back home, although he’d brought quite a few girlfriends to the shop.  “It would be a sucker bet.”

Valerie grinned.  “Just how stupid does he think we are?”

“Very stupid,” Adam said.  “And blind as bats to boot.”

He sighed, inwardly.  It was a common attitude amongst magicians.  They thought that lacking magic made someone stupid, as well as powerless.  Matt was hardly the worst of the magical supremacists he’d met … he shook his head, remembering just how effectively Arnold had pulled the wool over their eyes.  The thought of a magician pretending to be a mundane … it had blindsided everyone, even him.  Adam still found it hard to believe.  He supposed that was how Arnold had gotten away with it for so long.

Matt returned, carrying a tray of food.  “What do we do now?”

“You eat, then go looking for work,” Adam said, dryly.  Did Matt expect everything to be arranged for him?  Maybe so.  Master Pittwater had arranged for Master Landis to take Adam as an apprentice.  “We go back to our work.”

“And I write your story,” Valerie said.  “Is there anything you want to add?”

“Yes,” Matt said.  “I want …”

“Adam,” a new voice said.  Adam looked up to see Master Caleb.  “A word, if you please.”

Adam nodded, then frowned as he saw Matt’s expression flicker.  He looked almost … afraid?  Adam felt his frown deepen.  Master Caleb was very much the kind of person Matt wanted to be … and would never be, unless he shaped up.  A lot.  Did he think Adam would rat him out?  Or … or what?

“Yes, sir,” he said, standing.  “I’m coming.”
Chapter Nine

Matt, Adam reflected, was not the only one who looked up to Master Caleb.  Adam admitted, at least to himself, that he admired the older man too.  There weren’t that many years between them – Master Caleb was in his early twenties – but Master Caleb had done far more in his time than either Matt or Adam had done in theirs.  He’d helped develop new magics, he’d made a name for himself … he’d even courted Lady Emily herself.  He might not be that handsome, but he was a good and decent man, one of the few magicians who didn’t look down on mundanes.  Adam liked him.  And yet …

He frowned inwardly as he followed Master Caleb through a maze of corridors, heading deeper into the university.  Mistress Irene was in her eighties.  Master Dagon was old enough to have a daughter in her twenties.  Yvonne was an experienced craftswomen … it was easy to think, sometimes, that Caleb felt intimidated by his fellow councillors.  He was technically an apprentice himself, depending on how one looked at it, yet he had the right to give orders to fully qualified masters.  Perhaps it was a secret test of character.  A master who refused to accept a younger man as his superior wasn’t one who’d fit into the university.

They passed small clusters of students chatting in low voices.  Caleb showed no reaction to the rumours.  Adam admired his calm, even though there was no way to avoid the simple fact the world had turned upside down.  Again.  The princesses were hardly common or garden-variety refugees.  They were princesses; one engaged to a distant monarch, one engaged to the King of Tarsier himself.  There was no way the king could let their escape pass … Adam wondered, idly, if the two girls had already been teleported to the other side of the world.  It was unlikely they’d be sent straight back to their master – Lady Emily would never have stood for it – but they might easily be sent on before the king could formally demand their return.

“In here,” Caleb said, opening a door into an empty lab.  “Close the door behind you.”

Adam frowned as he did as he was told.  It felt like he was in trouble, but why?  What had he done?  He couldn’t think of anything beyond a handful of experiments they’d shown to their supervisor before carrying them out.  It wasn’t their fault … besides, this time, the results had been minimal.  Adam racked his brains, but drew a blank.  He’d done nothing, certainly nothing that could land him in hot water.  Probably.

Caleb turned to face him, hands clasped behind his back.  “Master Landis needs a new apprentice,” he said.  “Your friend is a possible candidate for the job.”

“Matt?”  Adam swallowed the urge to point out Matt was hardly his friend.  “He put in an application already?”

“Master Landis raised the issue with me,” Caleb said.  “He has yet to put out applications for the position.”

Adam nodded, curtly.  “I would have thought there’d be more candidates.”

Caleb looked displeased.  “The university is not designed to offer traditional apprenticeships,” he said, his eyes darkening.  “We tolerate some of the masters taking apprentices because it was the only way to convince them to work for us.  We hope, as time goes on, we can move to a wider field of study in which formal single-subject apprenticeships will no longer be necessary.  Master Landis, regretfully, is one of the masters who intend to keep taking apprentices as long as possible.”

“But he should have more candidates,” Adam protested.  “He’s good at his job.”

“Yes, he is,” Caleb agreed.  “But magicians who want apprenticeships are reluctant to come study here, even when we do offer traditional arrangements.  Heart’s Eye isn’t precisely an apothecary or a private fortress in the middle of nowhere.  Master Landis is very good at his job, as you said, but it isn’t easy for him to convince potential apprentices to come here.”

Adam shook his head.  “They’re idiots.”

“It does make a certain degree of sense,” Caleb said, although he sounded as though he’d sooner deny it.  “The university appears to be little more than a modified school, from the outside.  It’s harder to believe the master is focused on his subject, and on his student, when he has classes to take and a greater role to play.  Really, most apprentices would prefer a private arrangement.  Still …”

He studied Adam for a long moment.  “Is Matt up to the role?”

Adam cursed under his breath.  The urge to badmouth Matt to all and sundry was overwhelming.  He could stick a verbal knife in Matt’s back.  He could … he could make sure Matt never got an apprenticeship, that eventually he’d have to live in town or even leave the region for good.  It wasn’t as if it would be the end of his life.  Matt had magic.  He could go to some simple village and set himself up as the local magician and probably be quite happy lording it over everyone in sight.  And yet …

If I badmouth him, he thought sourly, no one will ever respect me again.

He eyed Caleb thoughtfully.  “Are we talking in strict confidence?”

Caleb was honest enough not to offer a bland assurance.  “It depends what you say,” he said, after a moment.  “If it is something I have to share with the other staff, then no.  I can’t promise confidence.  But if I can keep it to myself, I will.”

Adam sighed.  He wanted Caleb to think well of him.  And yet …

“I don’t like Matt,” he said, finally.  “I’ll admit my perceptions of him are coloured by the fact I didn’t like him from the start and still don’t.  I think he’s an ass and I’m pretty sure he thinks the same of me, if not worse.  But I will concede he’s pretty good at potions, when he’s not letting his ego get the better of him.”

Which is most of the time, he thought, silently.  But Master Pittwater would have kicked him out years ago, if he’d been completely useless.

“I see.”  Caleb said nothing for a long moment.  “Did your old master say anything about granting Matt his mastery?”

“Not that I can recall,” Adam said, carefully.  “It was something of a sore subject for me, and he knew it.  If he had private discussions with Matt about when he’d take the exams, I don’t know about them.  Master Pittwater was not the sort of person to discuss one apprentice’s progress with the other.”

“Good for him.”  Caleb looked as if he was remembering something unpleasant.  “And how is Master Pittwater, as a teacher?”

“He was good, for me,” Adam said.  The conversation was growing dangerously inappropriate.  “There were limits to what he could teach me, of course, but … he did the best he could, under the circumstances.  Why don’t you ask him for a reference?”

Caleb scowled.  “We have written to Master Pittwater, and his guild, but so far we have not received a reply.  I heard from my relatives that the guild is currently embroiled in a political scandal of some kind, which may ensure we don’t receive any answer until the scandal is sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction.  However, that means we are unlikely to hear anything for quite some time.”

Adam stared at his hands.  “I haven’t heard anything from Master Pittwater for weeks.”

“You can write to him, if you wish,” Caleb said.  “But right now, we can’t wait on a reference.”

“Of course.”  Adam forced himself to think.  Master Pittwater had provided him a reference, hadn’t he?  Why not offer one for Matt?  Did he think he couldn’t offer one in good conscience?  Or was he so embroiled in the scandal he couldn’t take the time to write even a line or two?  Or … he told himself, again, that it was the real Matt.  It wasn’t someone playing silly buggers to cover his tracks.  “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“Master Landis wishes to see you,” Caleb said.  “Go now, please.”

Adam nodded, wondering what Caleb was thinking.  He wasn’t old enough to feel distanced from the students running through his university.  Mistress Irene and Master Dagon could look down at them while maintaining perspective, clinging to a maturity their young charges had yet to develop.  Caleb wasn’t that mature, even though he was running the university.  It would be all too easy for him to act like a spoilt rich kid who’d inherited the family business, running it into the ground through ignorance and foolishness rather than turning it into a success.  Who knew?  Perhaps he’d allow himself to be talked into doing something really stupid because he didn’t have the insight to realise he was being tricked.

Or maybe you’re not giving him enough credit, he thought, as he made his way down to Master Landis’s lab.  Lady Emily saw something in him, didn’t she?

He took a breath as he stepped into the lab, tasting flowers in the air.  Master Landis had been brewing healing potions … quite a few of them.  Adam felt a twinge of guilt at leaving the older man in the lurch, although he knew there was little point in staying with the apprenticeship when he needed to rewrite spells and recipes to allow them to be brewed with charged blood.  He wondered, idly, if potioneers would start complaining when they realised they no longer had a monopoly on brewing.  The changes might have already started to spread.

And that might be why there are troubles back home, he thought, suddenly.  Master Pittwater might be in deep shit for teaching me, so I could find ways to brew potions without having magic myself.

“Adam,” Master Landis said, emerging from the backroom.  He wiped his hands on a towel as he spoke.  “Thank you for coming.”

“Master,” Adam said.  Master Landis had worked him hard, but Adam didn’t mind.  The alchemist had been quite happy to encourage Adam to experiment, once he’d determined Adam was on to something.  “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes.”  Master Landis motioned Adam to a chair.  “I need an apprentice.  Your friend Matt has at least some training, from a very good teacher.  How is he, as a student?”

Adam scowled.  It was funny, but hearing the same question from Caleb hadn’t made his heart twist so badly.  Master Landis had been his master, not … he forced himself to think, carefully.  He couldn’t lie to his former master and yet, if he backstabbed Matt, it would wind up coming around and biting him instead.  And …

“Master Pittwater would be better placed to answer that question,” Adam said, tiredly.  He knew it was futile.  Master Pittwater wasn’t answering letters.  Coincidence?  Adam wouldn’t care to bet against it.  “I was just another apprentice.”

“You were never just an apprentice,” Master Landis said.  “And I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need the answer.”

“I know.”  Adam braced himself, unsure what to say.  Master Landis wouldn’t let him get away with bland answers, let alone overlooking problems that really should be mentioned.  “I … Matt is very good with basic spells and he has little trouble brewing the most advanced potions.  On the other hand, he’s often lazy and he used to rely on me to prepare the ingredients for him.  Master Pittwater scolded him a couple of times for not finding everything he needed before he started to brew, which forced him to run around snatching up jars while the potion was shimmering on the fire.  I think he was improving, over the two years I knew him, but it’s hard to be sure.  I wasn’t paying much attention to him.”

“You could have learnt from his mistakes,” Master Landis said, sternly.  “And then you could have avoided making them yourself.”

Adam made a face.  “I couldn’t brew something for myself,” he said.  “Not then.  Even now …”

“You have changed the world,” Master Landis said.  “And while I had my doubts, as you know, you proved they were misplaced.”

“Thanks.”  Adam knew it was true.  He just didn’t believe it.  “Beyond that … Matt was always very respectful to his master, and to other powerful magicians, but rarely so polite to everyone he considered beneath him.”

“He’ll regret that, if he does it here,” Master Landis said, tapping his belt meaningfully.  “I think” – his voice hardened – “I’ll give him a chance, at least for a month or two.  If he does poorly, I’ll dismiss him without further ado.”

If Matt even takes up the apprenticeship, Adam thought, although he would be astonished if Matt declined.  There wouldn’t be a better offer, not here.  Where else could he go?

“Please inform him that I want to speak to him, now,” Master Landis added.  “And then you can return to your experiments.”

Adam was tempted to point out he was hardly Matt’s keeper, but he owed Master Landis too much to be rude to him.  Besides, perhaps he could convince Matt it had been Adam’s suggestion that Master Landis should consider him as an apprentice.  A smart person wouldn’t believe it, not when it was hard for a mundane to wield authority over a magician, but Matt might.  Adam mentally rehearsed a handful of possible statements, intended to imply rather than say anything directly, as he made his way back to the dining hall.  He wasn’t surprised to note Taffy and Valerie had left.  It was a little more worrying that Matt was already talking to Jasper.  And his girlfriend.

That’ll end well, Adam thought, sardonically.  Matt was probably already planning to seduce the poor girl.  He had the feeling someone would wind up cursed very quickly.  Jasper and Matt had a lot in common, including a willingness to hex first and ask questions later.  Or never.  I wonder if Kati will just walk away while they’re fighting.

He braced himself as he walked to the table.  Jasper wasn’t fool enough to start something in the middle of the dining hall, but Matt … Adam could easily imagine Matt doing something just to show off.  He briefly considered provoking Matt into doing just that, in hopes he’d get kicked out, then dismissed the thought.  There were too many witnesses. Jasper glared at Adam as he approached, silently telling him to go away.  Adam ignored the unspoken message.  He had a job to do.

“Matt,” Adam said.  “Master Landis wants to interview you for a potential apprenticeship.”

Matt looked … pleased, rather than surprised.  Adam’s heart sank.  Matt could not logically have expected to be given what he wanted on a platter – he hadn’t even written ahead, asking for an apprenticeship – but it seemed he was getting it anyway.  No doubt he’d been bragging to Jasper … Adam had no doubt Matt had told Jasper everything about Adam’s first apprenticeship.  Jasper would be making fun of him for weeks and months to come and …

And Jasper has done nothing to advance the study of magic, Adam told himself, firmly.  He’s certainly done nothing like me.

“I’m coming,” Matt said, hopping to his feet.  “Master Pittwater put in a good word for me?”

Adam shook his head.  “I think they’re still waiting on the reference,” he said.  Matt’s face fell, so slightly Adam wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known Matt so well.  “You’d better make a good impression.”

“I always do,” Matt said.  “Master Pittwater said he’d never get another student like me.”

“Well, quite,” Adam agreed, with a deadpan look on his face.  “Coming?”

Matt waved goodbye to Jasper and Kati, then followed Adam through the door and down the maze of corridors.  He didn’t seem to have spent much time roaming the university, although – Adam conceded, reluctantly – Matt had arrived late and gone straight to bed.  The university wasn’t hard to navigate, once you worked out the trick.  Adam was careful not to mention it to Matt.  It would be interesting to see how long it took for Matt to pick it up for himself.

“You spoke to your master?”  Matt’s voice was artfully casual.  “What did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Adam said, innocently.  “Is that a problem?”

Matt raised a hand in a threatening pose.  “What.  Did.  You.  Tell.  Him?”

Adam refused to be intimidated.  “Do you really believe an experienced master would ask my opinion on anything?”

“… No.”  Matt dropped his hand.  “Masters never ask for our opinions, do they?”

Master Pittwater expected us to think, Adam recalled.  And he praised us when we came up with the right answers.  

“Master Landis will give you a chance,” he said, out loud.  “But he’s younger than Master Pittwater and much less patient.  And he straps harder too.”

Matt laughed and clapped his shoulder.  “What did you do?”

Adam ignored him.  “If you make a good impression, I’m sure things will be fine,” he said, instead.  “And if you don’t, you’ll be kicked out on your ass.”

“He’ll love me,” Matt predicted.  “I was the best apprentice in the street.”

“I’m sure Master Pittwater will put that in his reference,” Adam said.  “What happened back home, anyway?  There’s some kind of trouble with the guild.”

“Oh, some silly thing.”  Matt shrugged.  “I’m sure it won’t slow the reference for long.”

Oh, goody, Adam thought, with heavy sarcasm.  And then …

They paused outside the lab door.  “He’s in there,” Adam said.  “Just remember to act normally.”

Matt shot him a sharp look, then looked past Adam.  Adam turned, to see Lilith hurrying towards them.  “Adam,” she said.  “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“That sounds nice,” Matt said.  “Can I come too?”

“No,” Adam said, sharply.  “You have an interview, remember?”

“I’ll be an apprentice or dead,” Matt said.  He bowed, deeply.  “Drinks later, on me?”

“Be yourself,” Adam said.  Drinks?  Few magicians drank … in hindsight, Arnold’s refusal to go drinking had been suspicious as hell.  “And don’t be something you’re not.”

Matt nodded, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.