The Artful Apprentice
	
(Schooled in Magic XIX)

Christopher G. Nuttall

	

	

	

	

The Artful Apprentice
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Christopher G. Nuttall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
First Edition, April 2020
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter
Published in the United States of America.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Appendix: Master-Apprentice Relationships
About the author

Prologue

“I don’t like it.”
Sergeant Miles resisted the urge to say something cutting as Lady Barb paced his office, her footsteps wearing a groove in the carpeted floor. Lady Barb had always been the one to take action, the one who’d been prepared to do anything — no matter how dangerous — to accomplish her goals. It was something they had in common. Neither of them was the type of person who sat back and did nothing even if it was the smartest thing to do. They had to be doing something...
But now, there was nothing they could do.
He watched as Lady Barb paced, finding himself — for once — at a loss for words. He knew Lady Barb disliked — hated — Void. She’d been his apprentice, once upon a time. Miles wasn’t sure of the details, or why she’d left so abruptly, but no one would leave such an apprenticeship unless they had no other choice. Lady Barb wasn't incompetent or stupid or lazy. She couldn’t have been dismissed for any of the usual reasons. He didn’t think he wanted to know the truth. It had to have been something bad.
“Emily shouldn’t be going to him,” Lady Barb insisted. She turned to face him, long blonde hair fanning out as she moved. “There are others...”
“Like whom?” Miles met her eyes, evenly. “There are few other teachers who can prepare her for mastery.”
“You could,” Lady Barb snapped. “Or I could. Or Irene or...”
Miles shook his head, curtly. “I could make a combat sorcerer out of her,” he said. “So could you. But she wants to be more than just a combat sorcerer. She hasn’t peaked yet.”
“There are others,” Lady Barb insisted. “Hasdrubal is dead, but there are others.”
“Maybe,” Miles said. “Hasdrubal would have been ideal.”
“And safer,” Lady Barb said. “For everyone.”
Miles rubbed his forehead. “Do you have the power to stop her from going to him?”
Lady Barb shot him a sharp look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Emily’s.” Miles looked back at her, calmly. He loved her. He really did. But training and inclination forced him to state the facts as he saw them. “The blunt truth is that there are few others who can prepare her for the future. You can’t do it. I can’t.”
“You took her to war,” Lady Barb reminded him.
“I know.” Miles shook his head. “The fact remains...”
“It isn’t safe,” Lady Barb insisted, cutting him off. “And you know it as well as I do.”
Miles knew, without false modesty, he was a patient man. He’d schooled teenagers who thought they knew everything through the long and painful process of discovering they didn’t. He’d handled aristocrats with egos the size of Whitehall itself; he’d dealt with commoners who barely had the self-confidence to raise their voices when confronted with their social betters. He knew when to be stern and when to be encouraging. It was more an art than a science and he knew he was good at it. But there were limits.
“Emily doesn’t have any parents here,” he pointed out, calmly. He was upset too — he didn’t trust Void either — but there was no point in beating a dead horse. “Your... authority... over her vanished the moment you stepped back from teaching. Her formal — legal — guardian is Void himself.”
“She’s more than old enough to put that aside,” Lady Barb snapped. “It was a legal fiction from the start.”
“And one that’s proven damned convenient over the last six years,” Miles pointed out. “How many people left her alone because they thought she was Void’s daughter?”
He pressed on before Lady Barb could try to answer. “There’s no one, not even Void himself, who can tell her not to take the apprenticeship and make it stick. And... who would?”
“Me,” Lady Barb said, stubbornly.
“You’d be advising her not to take an apprenticeship that could turn her into one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world,” Miles said. “This is an apprenticeship she wants. She could have had her pick of masters, if she wished. There isn’t a sorcerer who’d refuse her. She’s chosen to study under Void and we need to respect that choice.”
“It could get her killed,” Lady Barb insisted. She rested her hands on her hips. “Or changed. The person who emerges at the far end may not be the person we know and love.”
Miles cocked his head. “Do you have so little faith in her?”
“You know as well as I do that he’ll put her in danger, just to see how she copes,” Lady Barb snapped. “Void cannot be trusted.”
“There are people who say the same of you,” Miles said. “And me.”
Lady Barb snorted. “Absurd.”
“But true.” Miles stood and tried to hug her. “I understand your concerns. I’m sure you’ll ensure that she knows about your concerns. But there’s nothing we can do. She wants to study under him.”
“Ha,” Lady Barb said, brushing away his hug.
Miles nodded, trying not to be offended. He’d known Emily for six years. She’d been an odd student, even by Whitehall’s standards. Miles hadn’t understood Emily until he’d learned the truth about her origins. No wonder she was a little strange. And yet... there was no doubting her bravery, her skill at magic and, perhaps most importantly, a sense of simple human decency. Miles had met many magicians he’d thought would eventually go mad, getting themselves and others killed as they pushed the limits until they snapped. Emily wasn’t one of them. 
“We can’t stop Emily from going,” Miles said. “And if you push too hard, you may drive her away from you. She’s old enough to rebel against her parental figures. He’s not going to have an easy time with her either.”
Lady Barb gave him a sour look. “Do you have sisters?”
“I’ve taught students for over a decade,” Miles reminded her. He’d never had many girls in his classes. The ones who had studied under him had been so driven that they’d often outshone the boys. “I am not entirely deprived of powers of observation.”
He smiled. “Didn’t you rebel against your parents?”
“No.” Lady Barb shook her head, a hint of pain in her eyes. “My father never said...”
She grimaced. “So... what do we do?”
“Be there for her,” Miles said. He hugged her, tightly. This time, she returned the hug. “That’s all we can do.”
“Yes.” Lady Barb pulled back. “And I’ll warn her to watch her back.”
“She can’t distrust her master,” Miles said.
“She must.” Lady Barb reached for her cloak and pulled it on. “You mark my words. Void isn’t tutoring her out of the goodness of his heart. He has an agenda.”
“You don’t know that,” Miles said.
“I do,” Lady Barb said. “He’s up to something. And Emily may find herself in serious trouble.”
And she turned and walked away.

Chapter One

“Welcome to Zugzwang,” Lady Barb said, as the teleport field faded. “We’re only a short walk from the tower.”
Emily glanced at her, sharply. The older woman had been unusually short-tempered as they’d traveled from Zangaria to Zugzwang, barely saying anything beyond commands and vague descriptions. Emily could tell that something was bothering Lady Barb, but what? She wasn’t sure she wanted to pry. Lady Barb was not the sort of person to get wound up over nothing.
She looked around with interest as Lady Barb led her through the town. It was the sort of place she’d have loved if she had time to explore. A cluster of shops — bookshops, apothecaries, general stores — dominated the center, surrounded by a number of smaller houses and a single, giant inn. The people on the streets looked prosperous and happy, unlike many other places she’d visited. She smiled as she saw the schoolchildren heading to school, looking surprisingly enthusiastic. The schoolmaster, standing by the door, nodded to them. He looked more competent — and decent — than any teacher she’d known on Earth.
And the New Learning has made it here, she thought, as she spotted the letters and numbers carved into the wall. Who knows how far the children will go?
She said nothing as they kept walking, passing a single pub and a stagecoach center. Lady Barb hadn’t been entirely clear on how Zugzwang related to the local aristocracy, or even if there was a local aristocracy, but Emily could tell the townsfolk enjoyed a hearty degree of independence. They wouldn’t have worked so hard if they thought there was a risk of being taxed into destitution at an aristocrat’s whim. She looked towards the distant mountains, noting the absence of any large castles. Here, so far from civilization, commoners could assert themselves. She wondered if that would change over the next few years. A dozen kingdoms were already building railways to link their towns and cities together.
Lady Barb pointed towards a handful of houses slightly larger than the rest. “There’s a small number of magicians here,” she said. “You’ll probably meet some of them.”
Emily nodded. Zugzwang wasn’t their final destination, but she’d been told it was traditional — Lady Barb had said it with a pronounced sneer — for apprentices to approach their master’s home on foot. Emily suspected Void didn’t care about tradition any more than she did, but... she wondered, suddenly, if Lady Barb was deliberately wasting time. They could have teleported a lot closer to the tower without ignoring tradition. It was unlikely anyone would have noticed, let alone cared.
She said nothing as they left the town and headed up a stony path. The landscape changed rapidly, becoming a valley heading further towards the mountains. She could feel wisps of wild magic in the air, brushing against her senses. The path didn’t look particularly well-trodden. The more she looked at it, the more she thought it was a water-cut gully that could turn nasty if the rain started to fall. She glanced at the clear blue sky, wondering just how often it rained. She’d been caught in enough rainstorms, in the Cairngorms or along the Craggy Mountains, to know not to take them lightly. It was very easy to get lost — or worse — in the gloom.
“The locals never come up here,” Lady Barb said, as if she were answering a question someone had asked. “The mountains” — she jabbed a finger towards the distant peaks — “are forbidden.”
Emily took a breath. “Forbidden?”
“There’s a lot of wild magic there,” Lady Barb said. Her voice was curt, hard. “Anyone who walks into the region doesn’t come out again.”
“I can imagine.” Emily ran a hand through her long brown hair. “Why does he live here?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” Lady Barb said, shortly. “A person like him could live anywhere.”
Lady Barb kept going, forcing Emily to hurry. It grew warmer as sunlight poured into the valley. Sweat beaded on Emily's back, turning her dress into a sticky nightmare. She cursed the lack of warning under her breath, wishing she’d had time to wear something a little more practical. Void wouldn’t care if she turned up in trousers and a shirt instead of a thoroughly impractical dress. But he had made it clear he wanted her now. She was mildly surprised he’d let her take the time to establish Heart’s Eye before summoning her.
And I had to leave it behind, Emily thought. She trusted her friends to handle the university as it started to grow into something real, but she wanted to be part of it. Will I be able to go back for a visit anytime soon?
She sighed, inwardly, as she mentally reviewed the notes on apprenticeships. There were few hard and fast rules. A master was supposed to give his apprentice a through grounding in his subject, but little else. There were apprentices who were treated as children, she’d read, and apprentices who were treated as slaves. There were masters who were kind and caring and masters who had no qualms about beating their apprentices bloody. And there were no guidelines on just how long an apprenticeship should take. Jade had completed his apprenticeship in a year. Others... had taken five to ten years to graduate.
A prickle ran down her spine as the background magic field grew stronger. It felt oddly like the tainted sandstorms around Heart’s Eye, but far — far — kinder. She felt almost as if she’d come home. And yet, something was missing. She looked around, trying to work out what wasn’t there. It took her longer than it should have to realize there were no animals shifting though the undergrowth, no birds flying through the sky, no insects buzzing from flower to flower. There was no animal life at all.
“Nearly there,” Lady Barb grunted. “Are you ready?”
Emily caught her breath. “Yeah,” she managed. She’d gotten a little out of shape over the past month. Sergeant Harkin would have laughed — and then insisted on forced marches until she regained her muscle tone. She promised herself, silently, that she’d exercise more over the coming months. “I think so.”
“Good.” Lady Barb stopped as they reached the top of the gully. “Can you see the tower?”
She stepped aside to allow Emily to peer into the valley below. It was immense, a green sea surrounded and concealed by towering mountains. The sight took her breath away. It was a whole secret valley, hidden from prying eyes. A single tower stood in the exact center of the valley, surrounded by rings of green. Emily stared, trying to understand what she saw. The tower was surrounded by grass, then a ring of trees, then more grass, then... her eyes narrowed as she saw the runes. Void — or whoever had designed and built the tower — had landscaped the surrounding environment to create a web of subtle magic. The tower might be completely invisible to anyone who hadn’t been invited. She understood, now, why the locals had never discovered the valley. It had been carefully hidden from them.
The tower itself looked... odd. Emily couldn’t help thinking of a rook. It seemed to vary in size, being both large enough to hold a small army and small enough to let her pick it up with her bare hand. She’d seen the towers within the forests of Zangaria, the tiny fortresses designed to give the gamekeepers somewhere to rest their heads when they weren’t harassing poachers, but this... she frowned, trying to see though the haze. The tower was impossible to properly see. It looked as if part of the building existed in another dimension, somewhere the eye couldn’t see.
Which isn’t impossible, she reminded herself. She’d been in plenty of buildings that were bigger on the inside. He could build himself an entire TARDIS if he had the power and time.
Lady Barb stepped back, leaning against the stone. “I can’t come any further,” she said, pointing towards a path leading down into the valley. “You have to proceed alone.”
She sounded so curt that Emily knew something was wrong. “Lady Barb...”
“You can call me Barb now, if you wish.” Lady Barb smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m no longer your tutor.”
Emily met the older woman’s eyes. She’d never been the most sensitive to people's emotions, but... she knew Lady Barb well enough to know she rarely shied away from anything. There wasn’t much that could bother her, let alone stop her. She practically defined ‘stiff upper lip.’
“Barb,” she said, carefully. “What’s bothering you?”
Lady Barb said nothing for a long moment. That was worrying. Lady Barb had given Emily — and a number of other students — the sex talk without hesitation. She’d had no trouble talking about subjects that would — and did — make Emily blush. And she’d rushed into battle without hesitation. No one became a combat sorceress unless they were brave. Emily felt her heart sink. Anything that could bother Lady Barb to the point she started to act like a surly teenager had to be bad.
“You shouldn’t be going to him,” Lady Barb said, finally. “I don’t trust him.”
Emily bit her lip, lightly. “Because of what he did to you?”
“He said, back when I was his student, that the ends justified the means.” Lady Barb’s face went carefully blank. “I’ve always found that the means make the ends. You might start with noble intentions, you might think you’re doing the right thing, but — in the end — you jump right off the slippery slope. It helps” — she smiled, sardonically — “if you’re not the one doing the bleeding. Or the dying.”
“The path to hell is paved with good intentions,” Emily said, quietly.
“Yes!” Lady Barb met her eyes. “There aren’t many people out there who dance in glee at their own evilness. There aren’t many people who openly rejoice at being bad people. But there are millions of people who will cheerfully do something evil for their cause, telling themselves — all the time — that it’s perfectly fine. Because it’s in a good cause.”
Emily wasn’t sure that was true. She’d met a lot of people who seemed to be unpleasant merely for the sake of being unpleasant. But... she scowled. Many of them had thought they were entitled to take whatever they wanted, to loot, rape and kill to their heart’s content. Or simply to be in charge because of who their parents had been.
“He’s one of them,” Lady Barb said. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing. He might even be right, from his point of view. But he’s prepared to do awful things for his mission. Missions. He doesn’t let anything get in his way.”
She met Emily’s eyes. “I know you like him. I don’t blame you. He saved your life.”
“He sent me to Whitehall,” Emily pointed out.
“Yes,” Lady Barb agreed. “Now tell me... was he doing what was best for you, at the time, or merely getting you out of his hair?”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger. “He didn’t have to send me to Whitehall.”
“No,” Lady Barb said. “He didn’t. But it got you out of his hair.”
“He could have done anything to me,” Emily said. She owed Void for sending her to Whitehall. “He could have left me to die. Or thrown me out. Or sold me to the slavers. Or turned me into a... into anything. He didn’t have to do anything. But he sent me to Whitehall.”
“And it worked out for him,” Lady Barb said. “Everyone thinks he has a daughter who’s changed the world.”
“It worked out for me too,” Emily said. She’d felt sad, at the time, when Void had told her she had to go. But, in hindsight, it had worked out perfectly. “I can live with it.”
“I know.” Lady Barb shook her head. “Emily, I understand. I know he did something good for you. I know you want to think the best of him. But I also know he moves people around like pieces on a kingmaker board. He used me. He might use you. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already used your reputation for advantage. Having a daughter who killed one necromancer would be a huge asset. How many necromancers have you killed again?”
“Too many,” Emily said.
“And everyone else would say not enough,” Lady Barb said. She let out a heavy sigh. “He taught me a lot. I won’t deny it. But he also used me. He also put me in terrible danger. And, in the end, he didn’t even fight to keep me. He didn’t even care enough to badmouth me to everyone else.”
Emily blinked. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not for me.” Lady Barb snorted. “But... if a master-apprentice relationship fails, it isn’t uncommon for each of them to blame the other. I certainly expected him to tell the world what a bad student I was. Or, if the master is honest enough to admit it wasn’t the apprentice’s fault, I would expect him to say so. Void said nothing. No praise, no slander, no nothing. I don’t think he really cared enough to bother.”
She held up a hand. “I think he can do a good job, if he’s prepared to engage with you. But I also expect him to have his own agenda. You’re a priceless asset — far more than I ever was — and I expect him to find ways to use you. And you may not like what he does. And you may not like his arguments, afterwards. And you...”
Her voice trailed off. Emily said nothing. She understood Lady Barb’s anger. She would have found it hard to forgive if she’d been used as the bait, particularly if she hadn’t been told about and consented to the plan in advance. And yet, Void had been nothing but good to her. He’d saved her life, sent her to Whitehall, given her a chance to stand on her own two feet... he’d even saved her life again, back during the Tarsier War. Dua Kepala would have killed her — or worse — if Void hadn’t intervened. She had every reason to be grateful.
And I want to know what he can teach me, she thought. She’d met hundreds of powerful magicians, from maddened necromancers to the Grandmasters of Whitehall and legendary figures from the past, but Void was in a class of his own. He was practically a power in his own right. There were nations that lacked his power. I saw him using magics I can’t even begin to match.
“You’re terrifyingly innovative,” Lady Barb said, after a moment. “And he’ll find a way to use that too.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. The nuke-spell alone would be utterly disastrous in the wrong hands. It was sheer dumb luck that no one had managed to work out what she’d done, let alone duplicate it. And then there were the batteries, or the portable portals... her counterpart from the alternate dimension had even managed to create a portable teleport. Emily knew it could be done, even if she didn’t know how. She’d crack that problem eventually. In a sense, she already had.
“He doesn’t have any right to demand my innovations,” she said, carefully. “The Sorcerer’s Rule...”
“Doesn’t apply to anything you devise while you’re an apprentice,” Lady Barb warned her. “He’ll want to know what you did, believe me. And... there have been cases of masters stealing ideas and credit from their students. Maybe you’ll be safe from that — everyone knows you’re brilliant — but you should still be careful.”
And half the ideas they credit me with inventing came from Earth, Emily thought. Too many people already know there’s something odd about them.
She put the thought aside, meeting Lady Barb’s eyes. “Do you want me to turn and walk away?”
“If it were up to me, then yes.” Lady Barb looked back at her calmly. “I don’t think this is going to end well. I don’t think he can be trusted to put your safety first. And... given the impact you’ve already had on the world, there’s a strong case to be made that he really shouldn’t. You need to watch your back.”
Emily shivered. “I know you don’t trust him...”
“I don’t,” Lady Barb said, flatly. Her face was cold and hard. “He was a poor master. His track record with apprentices is not great. He has power and skill enough to awe anyone, even me, but... it isn’t that he’s a bad teacher. It’s that he might well put you at risk for his own purposes. Or worse. You cannot afford to assume he has your best interests at heart.”
“I’ll be careful,” Emily promised. “And I’ll keep in touch.”
“If you have the time.” Lady Barb smiled. It looked unnatural. “Apprentices are traditionally kept very busy. I won’t be surprised if you don’t write to me. But that won’t keep me from worrying.”
Emily reached forward and gave the older woman a tight hug. “Thank you for caring, really.”
Lady Barb hugged her back. “I do care,” she said. “If things were different...”
She shook her head. “I can’t take you any further,” she repeated. “Go down the path, approach the tower and... good luck. And watch your back. Please.”
“I will.” Emily let go of Lady Barb and stepped back. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes.” Lady Barb and nodded curtly. Magic gathered around her. “I’m sure you will.”
There was a flash of light. When it faded, Lady Barb was gone.
Emily stared at where she’d been for a long moment, her stomach churning. She didn’t know what to make of the older woman’s warning, even though she knew it had been delivered in good faith. She’d watch her back, but... she sighed. There was no more time.
Turning, she started to make her way down the path and into the valley

Chapter Two

The path was harder to navigate than Emily had expected. The wild magic in the air bubbled around her, making it harder to pick her way than it should. She wished she’d thought to levitate, even though it would have been dangerous with the magical currents swilling around the tower. The tower seemed to blur, even as she reached the bottom of the path and peered through the trees. She couldn’t see any doors or windows. It wasn’t clear how she was meant to get inside.
The first test, she thought, as she started to walk. He won’t make it easy.
The temperature continued to rise. Her dress stuck to her skin as she made her way through the eerie forest, her footsteps echoing oddly. She could feel unseen eyes watching her, even though she saw nothing amidst the foliage. This far from civilization, there could be anything lurking in the undergrowth. The locals talked about the other folk and stayed as far as they could from high-magic regions. Who knew what might be waiting for someone foolish enough to wander in? Who knew if the poor intruder would ever be seen again? A prickle of magic pressed against her wards as she reached the edge of the forest. The tower stood in the middle of a grassy clearing. It still looked strange, as if it was so close she could touch the stone walls and yet, at the same time, hundreds of miles away. There was just too much raw magic in the clearing.
She braced herself, mouth suddenly dry. Lady Barb’s vague warnings echoed in her head. She’d known enough of the story to know the older woman couldn’t have wanted to talk about it. And yet... she hesitated, torn between her friend’s advice and her desire to learn more. Lady Barb’s first apprenticeship had gone sour. It didn’t mean that Emily’s apprenticeship would go the same way. Jade had mastered combat sorcery at an unprecedented pace. Cat — too — had learned the ropes at terrifying speed. She knew others who’d been shaped by their apprenticeships...
Her thoughts spun in circles. She’d done more in six years than most sorcerers would do in a lifetime. She was hardly short of options. She could study at her own pace, if she wished, or devote her life to Heart’s Eye and the New Learning. There were hundreds of concepts she wanted to develop, if she managed to work out what was missing. The gaps in her knowledge — the gaps between knowing something was possible and knowing how to do it — were maddening. She knew it was possible to build an internal combustion engine, but how? She didn’t know. She could happily spend years trying to close the gaps. She didn’t have to go to Void. She could turn around and walk away.
But she knew, even as she formulated the thought, that she wouldn’t. Magic called to her in a way no earthly discipline had ever done. She knew, without false modesty, that she was good at it. She knew she’d outgrown Whitehall long before she finally left. She knew... she knew she didn’t want to stop. She’d seen Void go toe-to-toe with a necromancer and hold his own. There were no other sorcerers she knew who could do that. She’d cheated to win her battles. And the magics he’d used... she wanted them for herself. She knew the dangers, but she couldn’t stop. She had to go on.
Emily centered herself, then walked forward. The tower shimmered in front of her, maintaining a steady distance. Emily frowned. The space around the tower was warped and twisted. The distance between the edge of the clearing and the tower itself seemed infinite. She could walk for days and never close the gap. She smiled — she should have known it wouldn’t be that easy — and reached out with her mind, studying the currents of magic as they boiled around the tower. They were odd, strong and weak at the same time. She wasn’t sure what they were designed to do. Keeping intruders out seemed to be a happy accident. They seemed more focused on something else. She felt her eyebrows furrow as she realized Void — or whoever had built the tower — had combined active magic with subtle magic. She’d been told that was impossible. She wondered how they’d managed to do that without burning out the runes.
She looked down, eyes picking out faint discolorations on the grass. She’d seen the runes worked into the surrounding foliage, but — up close — she understood just how much effort had been lavished on turning the tower into a place of power. The surrounding magic was channeled into the tower, turned into a protective field that was — in some ways — more powerful than Whitehall’s defenses. Void didn’t have a nexus point, as far as she knew, but he didn’t need it. He’d turned the local magic into his first line of defense.
Brilliant, Emily thought. She had to admire the trick. The grassy runes would regrow if the local magic burned them out. Indeed, the power itself might be channeled through the runes without doing any damage. And very difficult to overpower.
She studied the runes for a long moment, then started to inch forward. It felt as if she were picking her way through a minefield. The tower seemed to expect her to dance forward, following a path only she could see. She sensed greater powers lurking in the shadows as she approached, powerful spells readying themselves to blast an intruder to flinders — or worse — if someone tripped the alarm. The flares of magic grew stronger, confusing her. The magic tried to make her turn around and walk back the way she’d come. She gritted her teeth, tightening her defenses as much as possible as strands of power plucked at her thoughts. Void wouldn’t be impressed if she let herself be manipulated. Or if she had her memory wiped by his spells.
No wonder no one comes here, she thought. Anyone who enters the valley without permission leaves with a gap sliced out of their memory.
She walked into the wall. Emily staggered, swallowing a curse as she pressed against the stone. The magic tightened, a defensive circle around the tower. There was barely any space to move without crossing the circle and inviting certain death. She gritted her teeth and reached out with her senses, trying to find the entrance. The tower seemed dead and cold, despite magic flowing through the stone. She wondered, suddenly, if the entire tower was comprised of magic. It should be impossible, without a nexus point, but Void seemed to have power to spare. His runic structures might be able to keep a conjuring in place for more than a few short minutes. 
The tower felt... solid. She inched along the wall, pressing her fingers against the stone as she kept searching for the way in. There was nothing, yet... she had the uneasy sense that something watched her, biding its time. She felt like a mouse, all too aware that the cat lurked on the other side of the wall. She kept moving, hoping to find something — anything — that might show her how to get inside. Last time, Void had teleported her into the tower. She looked up, wondering — again — if she should try to levitate. But the magical currents surrounding the tower were so strong that she suspected she’d wind up being smashed against the stone or thrown into the mountains. There was no way to know if she’d manage to survive...
Think, she told herself. How does he get into the tower?
She scowled. Void had teleported. She didn’t dare. If the wards weren’t programmed to accept her, she’d wind up scattered across thousands of miles. Or worse. Whitehall dumped unwanted teleporters in an oubliette. She dreaded to think what the tower’s defenses might do. And...
A thought struck her. She lifted her hand and tapped on the stone. “Knock, knock.”
The world spun. She tightly closed her eyes against a blinding light. When it faded, she stood inside a small room. It was completely barren, save for a single door leading into a room. Emily blinked, then remembered Lady Barb’s lessons. She was an apprentice now, on the verge of formally presenting herself to her master. She had to prepare herself properly. She reached out with her senses, but found nothing beyond the room itself. There had to be wards surrounding her, yet... she couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t help being impressed as she stepped into the room. Normally, she’d be able to sense the wards even if she couldn’t look past them.
She sucked in a breath as she looked around. The bathroom was surprisingly modern, by local standards. A tub, a shower, a simple robe sitting on a chair, a large mirror... she eyed it warily, remembering the mirrors in Heart’s Eye. Her reflection looked back, evenly. There were no differences, as far as she could tell, but it would be a long time before she trusted any mirror ever again. The alternate versions of herself and her friends had been nightmarish. She hated to think that, if things had been different, the alternates might have been them.
Shaking her head, she turned and undressed before climbing into the tub. The water was perfect, the charms woven into the tub keeping it warm and ready. She let out a long breath as the sweat and dirt left her body, resisting — as best as she could — the urge to just lie back in the bath and sleep. She’d done it before, at Whitehall. The baths had been a luxury, even for her. There were students who’d never even seen a shower until they’d gone to school.
You can’t stay here, she told herself. You have to move.
The water flowed through her hair... she winced, wondering if she should have cut it. Her hair was her only vanity... she dismissed the thought, irritated. Void would tell her if her hair was getting in the way. 
She sat up, then removed the bath plug and reached for the shower. Warm water cascaded down her bare skin, removing any remnants of dirt. She smiled tiredly, then turned off the water and muttered a spell to dry herself. She’d never liked wasting time with towels, even at Whitehall. She reminded herself, dryly, that she'd been safer at Whitehall than she’d ever been on Earth. If nothing else, she had been able defend herself in the school.
Putting the thought aside, she stepped out of the bathtub and picked up the robe. It was simple, yet elegant. Emily had never been a clotheshorse, unlike Alassa, but she knew enough to tell that the robe had been made from the finest silks. It was black, so dark she felt as if she were touching a shadow, save for a single white band around her upper right arm and a sigil just above her right breast. It was a simple interplay of red thread, four symbols drawn into a pattern that nagged at her. She was sure she’d seen something like it before, but where? It wasn’t a rune. It was her master’s colors. 
She pulled the robe on, smiling at how snugly it fit. It had clearly been professionally tailored, designed to hint at her curves rather than revealing anything... she wondered, suddenly, how it had been done. Void had never asked her for her measurements. Magic? Probably. She studied herself in the mirror, feeling a twinge of déjà vu.  Mountaintop’s uniform had clearly been based on the apprenticeship robes. Their jackets had had white bands too. She thought, suddenly, of Frieda. Her friend had gone back to Whitehall to start her fifth year. Emily had barely had time to dash off a quick note to her before Lady Barb had teleported her to Zugzwang.
The stone floor felt oddly warm against her bare feet as she returned to the entrance hall. She wasn’t surprised to notice a second door waiting. She braced herself and stepped into the next room. Void stood there, wearing a long dark robe that was very similar to hers, save for the absence of a white band. He was no apprentice. She felt a sudden shiver as his dark eyes met hers. He looked... younger than she’d expected, but his eyes reflected his true age. He was easily old enough to be her grandfather.
She studied him for a long moment, waiting for him to speak. His face was pale and sharp, pitch-black hair hanging to his shoulders. He was handsome, yet... she felt no spark of attraction. She told herself, sharply, that she certainly shouldn’t. He was a lot older than her. And he was her teacher. And yet... she kept her face carefully blank. She thought she should have felt something. She’d met enough handsome men over the last six years to know she should have felt something.
He has to speak first, she reminded herself, as the silence grew and lengthened. Lady Barb had drilled that into her head too. But how long do I have to wait?
Her stomach rumbled. She was suddenly very aware she wasn’t even sure what time it was. She’d left her watch with her clothes — and besides, it was set to Zangarian time. Where was Void’s tower? She didn’t know. It could be anywhere. She’d certainly never had the time to look around when Void had rescued her from Shadye and sent her to Whitehall. They could be next to the school or right on the other side of the world. She simply didn’t know.
“Emily.” Void’s voice was calm, carefully controlled. If he felt anything, if he was eager or nervous or anything, she couldn’t tell. “Are you ready to begin your apprenticeship?”
Emily swallowed, hard. “Yes.”
Lady Barb had told her what to do, drilling it into her head time and time again until Emily could have recited it in her sleep. She started to kneel, flushing slightly at the thought of kneeling before him... before anyone. She’d never liked showing respect to aristocrats and senior magicians. She simply hadn’t grown up in a world where people bowed and scraped to masters who could cut off their heads or turn them into frogs if they felt disrespected. And yet, Void deserved respect. Didn’t he?
Void put out a hand, stopping her. “Don’t kneel,” he said. “You’re here to study magic. To understand magic. You’re not a servant.”
Emily hesitated, torn between Lady Barb’s instructions and Void’s wishes. She knew his wishes were paramount — masters had huge authority over their apprentices — but she honestly wasn’t sure what to do. Was it a trick? Or a trap? She’d dealt with at least a dozen tutors who’d delighted in forcing their charges into making sadistic choices between following orders or standing up for the rules. And here... what were the rules? She didn’t know.
She stood, clasping her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking. Void’s face was expressionless. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She waited, telling herself to be calm. He wouldn’t have summoned her just to dismiss her. He’d been an apprentice himself, over a century ago. He’d understand what she was feeling. Wouldn’t he?
“Welcome,” Void said, finally. His dark eyes, so dark they were almost pools of shadow, bored into hers. “Are you ready to commit yourself to magic?”
Emily nodded. “Yes...”
She stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to call him. Sir? Master? Lord Master? She didn’t know. There was no hard and fast rule. Lady Barb hadn’t told her either.
Void smiled. It transformed his face. “In public, you can call me Master. In private, you can call me what you like.”
“Provided it's respectful.” Emily smiled back. “Right?”
“Right,” Void agreed. “Insulting one’s master is not a good way to begin. Being stupid enough to do it within earshot is worse.”
“Yes...” Emily hesitated. Calling him Void felt wrong, almost over-familiar. “I...”
“And disrespecting one’s master in front of the other masters is even worse,” Void said, dryly. “It makes your poor master look bad.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Void nodded, then studied her for a long moment. “While you’re here, I expect you to commit yourself to studying and understanding magic. By law and custom, I am required to give you a day off every fortnight. You may contact your friends or teleport to Zugzwang or do whatever you like on those days. Otherwise, your time is mine. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Void turned. “Come.”
Emily blinked in surprise as he led her through a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Lady Barb had told her that there would be oaths, oaths of obedience and secrecy and a handful of other things, but... Void hadn’t asked her to swear anything. Did he intend to do it later? Or... she doubted he’d forgotten. It wasn’t the sort of thing one forgot. She wondered if she should ask, then shook her head. Better to let him bring it up in his own time.
“We’ll eat,” Void said. He walked into a mid-sized dining room. A single large pot sat on the table. It smelled like stew. Emily felt her stomach rumble again as she took the proffered seat. “And then we’ll talk.”
Chapter Three

There was no way to tell, Emily decided as she ate her stew, if Void was sending her a message. The food was nice, but strikingly plebeian.  It wasn’t the kind of meal that would be served in Alassa’s castle or Melissa’s mansion or even Whitehall itself. A clue to Void’s origins, perhaps? Or... maybe he just liked the food. One didn’t have to be a member of a particular social class or ethnic group to like their food. Emily ate slowly, savoring the taste. The meat — she thought it was beef — was cooked to perfection. The dumplings were even better. Her lips twitched as she took a sip of water. She knew better than to develop expensive tastes.
Void was a surprisingly animated dinner companion, once they’d satisfied their hunger. He said little about magic, or her apprenticeship, but talked about the Zangarian Civil War, Alassa’s Great Charter and the implications for the future. Emily thought he was being a little cynical, but she had to admit that the Magna Carta had lasted only a few weeks before being buried and — later — resurrected. King John hadn’t wanted the document to last — of course — but neither had some of his enemies. The Magna Carta had been a threat to their interests as much as it had threatened the king himself.
“People will act in their own interests,” Void said. “And very few of them will deliberately compromise their interests, even if they think they have something to gain in the long term.”
“Perhaps,” Emily countered. “But if they don’t compromise, they could lose everything.”
“Or gain everything,” Void said. “You’d be surprised at how many people will risk everything on one last throw of the dice.”
Emily shrugged. The New Learning had spread too far. There was no way the genie could be put back in the bottle, even if she died tomorrow. The kingdoms that failed to adapt to the new reality would be destroyed, either by internal or external factions. And the only way to adapt was to grant commoners more rights before the commoners took them for themselves. One could not build a modern economy on the backbone of slaves. The slaves wouldn’t do more than the bare minimum for their masters.
“We’ll see,” she said.
Void nodded, then leaned back in his chair and pushed his plate to one side. “Keep eating, if you like,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m about to lecture.”
Emily grinned. “Oh dear.”
“You may already know some of this,” Void added. He took a sip of water, nodding to himself. “Bear with me a little, please. There is a point to this.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Void said nothing for a long moment, clearly composing his words. “There is a hierarchy among magicians,” he said. “Whitehall will have taught you some of this. Other aspects... are not commonly discussed. Some truths are considered uncomfortable or unsettling and are therefore quietly ignored. Others might upset the balance of power and are therefore open secrets. But you cannot afford to look away. The hierarchy touches on the innermost truths of magic itself.”
Emily nodded, slowly.
“Right at the bottom, we have sparks,” Void said. “They show a flash of magic, perhaps two, and little else. Some of them — the more powerful — become hedge witches. Others stumble into places of power and become voices, giving up their humanity as they bond with the wild magic. And still others become blademasters or weaponmasters, binding themselves to a blade and shaping their magic to suit it. They can be deadly enemies, under the right conditions, even to a far more powerful magician. You have to treat them with extreme caution.
“Then, we have students... students like yourself, six years ago. They have more power, but they have to be trained in its use. They learn, slowly but surely, how to adapt spells for different purposes, coming to grips with the underlying structure of magic itself. The older ones — like yourself, two years ago — start crafting whole new spells for themselves. They see magic as a series of small elements, worked together into a larger whole.”
“Like someone might spell out a word using letters,” Emily said.
“Precisely!” Void grinned. “Once you start thinking of a spell as a single thing, with no awareness of the underlying components, you start crippling your ability to advance further. You might be able to read a single word, to borrow your analogy, but you might not be able to read a longer word that includes the first word. You can read weapon. You cannot read weaponmaster.  That’s why wands and staffs are so dangerous, when given to unprepared students. They give the students a slight boost, but — in the long term — they prevent them from advancing further. By the time you sit your final exams at Whitehall — the exams I know you didn’t take — you have to be able to devise spells from scratch. If you can’t, you’re not ready to advance. You might never be ready to advance.”
His voice hung on the air for a long moment. Emily shivered, despite herself.
“Above them, we have apprentices and masters. They focus on a certain aspect of magic and master it. An alchemy master cannot just brew every potion known to mankind. He views his subject as an integrated whole and can compose a completely new potion to suit every need. He can even refine older brews into something new. They’re often among the most innovative magicians, because they know their subject so well. At the same time...”
He met her eyes. “What might their limitations be?”
Emily hesitated, carefully considering her answer. “They don’t work outside their specialty?”
“Correct,” Void said. “Masters can, on one hand, do wonders within their field. Outside their field, they can be... I won’t say incompetent, because they’re not, but they can be limited. An enchanter might not be able to brew potions; an alchemist might not be able to craft himself a pocket dimension. And some of them never realize it.”
“They must,” Emily said. “Surely...”
“You’d be surprised how many people fail to realize the limits of their knowledge,” Void said. “And how many people lose their skills when they don’t practice.”
He shrugged. “And some masters never really become... real masters. They can brew anything, craft anything, as long as someone else does the work. They don’t have the imagination to brew anything new. They’re called masters, but they’re not. They don’t innovate for themselves.”
“I see, I think,” Emily said.
“A student may put together a cumbersome spell,” Void said. “A master can take that spell and smooth it down into something more practical.”
Emily nodded, slowly.
Void met her eyes. “And then there’s us. Your apprenticeship will not be in charms, or alchemy, or enchantment, or any specific subject. Your apprenticeship will be in magic itself. You will learn to manipulate magic on a scale few can match. You’ll be able to duplicate the feats of an alchemist without either a cauldron or a collection of ingredients and much — much — more. You’ll be able to do wonders, if you work hard. I believe you can do it. I wouldn’t have offered to take you as an apprentice if I had any doubts.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, quietly.
“You may change your mind about thanking me, afterwards,” Void said. “You are going to work harder than you’ve worked in your entire life. And you’ll be doing things for me too.”
“I...” Emily looked back at him. A hundred questions were bubbling in her head, but only two came to her lips. “What are the downsides? What... what do you wish you’d known before you started?”
“Ha.” Void looked pensive, just for a second. “You may find it a lonely life. Your friends will shy away from you, if they realize how powerful you’ve become. Others may try to use you as a living weapon. You’ll find that being able to get anything you want, practically speaking, palls after a while. And... you may find it hard to get a partner, someone who is comfortable with such a massive imbalance of power. If you have children, they may never live up to you. They’ll spend their lives in your shadow.”
Emily swallowed. Caleb’s mother had been married to a mundane, but she was very much the exception. “Are people really that shallow?”
“Mixed marriages between sorceresses and mundane men are rare,” Void said. “There’s a reason for that, Emily.”
He snorted. “You may discover you’re no longer interested yourself,” he added. “Or that you simply can’t have a steady relationship.”
“I see,” Emily said. “How do others cope?”
“Different people, different ways.” Void looked down at the table. “A couple of powerful sorcerers I knew vanished somewhere near the Inverse Shadow. This was well before Shadye took it for himself. Another learned a harsh lesson and devoted the rest of his life to making up for his crimes. Another went up a mountain to study the whichness of the why and never came down. As far as I know, he’s still there. Another...” — he shook his head — “went mad and had to be brought down.”
He looked up at her. “It isn’t just about power, Emily,” he said. “The necromancers have power. It’s about knowing how to use the power you have to best advantage. You’ll have an edge over just about everyone else, if you complete your training before you peak. And then the sky’s the limit.”
Emily nodded, slowly. “I understand.”
“You only think you understand,” Void said. “The real pain will begin soon enough.”
He took a sip of his water. “I realized your potential when we first met. That alone was enough to attract my interest. It wasn’t, however, a guarantee that you’d reach a point where I could teach you effectively. You had to develop both your magic and your intellect before I dared take you on as a student. I saw to it” — he met her eyes, very briefly — “that you wouldn’t have to swear any major oaths. I didn’t want them getting in the way when I took you as a student.
“And I won’t be asking you to swear any to me.”
Emily blinked. She’d thought the oaths were an insurmountable requirement. 
“That said, I do expect you to do your level best to honor the oaths as if you’d actually sworn them,” Void continued. “If you haven’t researched the requirements for master-apprentice relationships I suggest you do it over the next few days. I will do my best to honor my side of the oaths. If the apprenticeship fails, it will not be through lack of effort on my part. Any questions?”
“Yes.” Emily forced herself to meet his eyes. “Why don’t you want me to swear any oaths?”
“Oaths — magically-binding oaths — can impede one’s magical growth,” Void told her. “They can also impact on one’s personal development, depending on precisely what you swear. There’s no shortage of horror stories. It’s never easy to predict what will happen if you do swear, but... I don’t want to take the chance. And I think I can trust you not to take advantage of me. “That said...”
He studied her for a long moment. “What do you think I’ll do if you do break the rules?”
Emily swallowed. “Beat me?”
“No.” Void’s voice was very even. “I’ll dismiss you. This is not a simple apprenticeship, Emily, and you are not a teenager any longer. I expect you to act like a grown adult and treat the forces we’ll be studying with the respect they deserve. There are rarely any second chances. If I have any reason to doubt your commitment to this apprenticeship, I’ll terminate it on the spot.”
“I understand,” Emily said, very quietly.
“Good.” Void studied her for a long moment. “Right now, the rules are very simple. Treat this tower as your own. I’ve told the wards to accept you. Go anywhere you like, save for the two top floors and the basement. The upper levels are mine, the basement belongs to the servants. I don’t want you disturbing them. If you need something at night, use the wards to make the request.”
Emily nodded. She’d known Void had servants, although... she shook her head. Of course he had servants. It spoke well of him that he’d told her to leave his servants alone. They didn’t need her disturbing them. And... she’d never been comfortable with servants anyway.
“You can use the spellchambers or the alchemy lab any time you like, when you’re not working with me,” Void said. “You may cast any spells or brew any potions you learned in Whitehall. Anything else, anything more advanced, is to be cleared with me first. I doubt I’ll be saying no. It’ll take a lot of power to weaken the spellchambers or seriously threaten the tower. If I do say no” — his eyes sharpened — “I expect you to respect it. There are plenty of isolated mountaintops where you can carry out your experiments, if you can’t do them here.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
“You have a suite of your own,” Void told her. “A bedroom, a bathroom and a private workroom. I won’t enter unless you invite me or I see an urgent need. The workroom is for studying and writing, mainly. Use the spellchambers for anything that might turn nasty. The library is open to you, save for the books on the top shelf. Don’t touch those without my prior permission and don’t take any book out of the tower, under any circumstances. The wards will assume you’re a thief and react accordingly.”
“But I can take them to my room,” Emily said.
“Yes,” Void said. “Although I want you to be careful. Some of those books are very old and fragile.”
He smiled, coldly. “Like I said, you have a day free every two weeks. Use it how you see fit, but I expect you back at the tower before midnight. I don’t want you to bring anyone back here without my prior permission, no matter who it is. There have been countless attempts to break through my defenses and I wouldn’t put it past some of my enemies to try to subvert or manipulate you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Void nodded. “I expect you to obey orders. When we’re alone, and there’s no pressing urgency, you can ask all the questions you like. I will be happy to explain the reasoning behind my orders if we have time. If things are urgent, or if we’re in a group, follow orders and don’t ask questions unless I give you prior permission.”
His gaze sharpened. “There will be times when you’ll want to disobey orders, either because you don’t understand or because you think you know better. If you do and it works out, fine. If it doesn’t...”
“You’ll kick me out,” Emily finished.
“Perhaps,” Void said. “You’ll be the person on the spot. You might know something I don’t. My orders might be impossible or impractical. If that happens... we’ll see. I want you to think before you disobey orders. I’ll want to know your reasoning after the fact — what you did as well as why. You’ll probably want to know my reasoning too.”
He met her eyes. “I hope you’ll learn a great deal from your apprenticeship, Emily,” he said, “but I don’t want you to be blind to the dangers.”
Emily opened her mouth to point out she did know the dangers, then closed it again. She didn’t, not really. She’d been Sergeant Miles’s apprentice for a few short months, but that hadn’t been a real apprenticeship. Sergeant Miles had treated her more as an equal than a subordinate. She’d appreciated that, even though it had driven a wedge between her and the other apprentices. Here... she was going to be playing with forces most sorcerers regarded with wary eyes. Void was right. There would be dangers. And some of them — perhaps most of them — wouldn’t be obvious. She knew how to deal with overt threats. Knives in the dark were far more dangerous.
She yawned, suddenly. “Sorry.”
Void smiled. “It must be late for you,” he said. “Traditionally, apprentices eat breakfast in their rooms and then join their masters. I’ll expect you down here, dressed and ready for your first lesson, at nine in the morning. The servants will bring you breakfast. Ask them if you want anything special.”
“I’d settle for anything,” Emily said.
“You’ll probably get bacon and eggs, then,” Void said. “Plenty of energy, all of which you’ll be burning up. If you grow bored, feel free to ask for something else. The servants will do their best to oblige.”
Emily nodded, curtly. She didn’t want to put them to any trouble. “Bacon and eggs will be fine.”
“Just ask if you change your mind,” Void said. He put down his glass and stood. “Do you like your robe?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. “It’s very comfortable.”
“Good,” Void said. “As your master, it is my job to ensure you have everything you might happen to need. You already have spare robes and suchlike in your room. If you require anything else — within reason — just ask.”
Emily smiled. “Within reason?”
“Don’t take advantage of your poor old master,” Void said, with a grin that made him look years younger. “If you want a solid gold dress, expect some pretty searching questions about why you want it.”
“I wouldn’t want a solid gold anything,” Emily said. “It would be useless.”
“You might be surprised,” Void said. He smiled in what looked like happy memory. “You can do more with gold than just spend it. But we’ll be covering that later. Much later.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. She stood, smoothing down her robe. “What now?”

Chapter Four

The tower felt warmer, somehow, as Void led her through yet another door and up a flight of stone stairs. Emily reached out with her mind, sensing the wards flicker. They felt more like Whitehall’s than she’d expected, ready to help a guest find her way around the tower while confusing any unwanted intruders. She was sure she’d have gotten hopelessly lost without them. She certainly had found it hard to navigate Fellini Mansion without magic. It had been humiliating enough to make her want to swear off magical homes forever.
“The library is just down there,” Void said, pointing to a wooden door. “The spellchambers are on the lower levels.”
Emily felt a pang as she glanced at the door, her growing tiredness competing with the urge to see the library. She’d always loved libraries, from the simple buildings on Earth to Whitehall and Mountaintop’s giant collections. The private libraries were often just as interesting, holding both their owner’s private notes and copies of books that were often vanishingly rare. She couldn’t wait to see what Void’s library was like. A man who’d lived and breathed magic for over a hundred years had to have a vast collection of books. She wanted to ask if they could take a look at it now...
But she knew better. She was too tired.
Void pressed his hand against another door. It opened, revealing a large sitting room. Emily blinked in surprise as she saw a teenage girl kneeling on the floor, her posture suggesting she’d knelt in a tearing hurry. Emily knew maids and servants were expected to remain in respectful poses while waiting, but she suspected they rarely bothered. As long as they were careful, and listened out for their superiors, they’d probably never get caught. And it wasn’t as if she would care either.
The girl looked vaguely Japanese, Emily thought, although that meant nothing on the Nameless World. The Empire had blended so many different races together that someone having a different appearance was unremarkable, as long as it was human. She was young, probably a year or two younger than Emily, with long dark hair, downcast almond eyes, hands resting on her knees and wearing a simple maid’s dress. Emily couldn’t help being reminded of Frieda, although the maid looked very different. And yet, they had something in common. Emily wasn’t sure what.
“This is Silent,” Void said. “She’s to be your personal maid, with orders to take care of you as long as you live here.”
Emily glanced at him. “I didn’t ask for a servant.”
Void lifted his eyebrows. “You won’t have time to take care of yourself,” he said. “Or are you planning to clean your own clothes, cook your own meals, brush your own hair...?”
“I can brush my own hair,” Emily said, irritated. There were girls, aristocrats mainly, who literally couldn’t. She’d always thought they were silly. “I don’t need...”
“You do,” Void said. “Believe me, you do.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. She’d never been comfortable around servants. The small army of maids that had surrounded Alassa at all times, as long as she wasn’t in school, had left her cold. She wasn’t an invalid. She didn’t need help to dress, or to wash, or to do anything a reasonably healthy person could do. But... she shook her head. Void had clearly made up his mind. And he might be right. Emily would just have to see to it that Silent was paid well for her time.
“Fine,” she said, finally. “What now?”
“Your bedroom is through there,” Void said. “Your washroom is in the room beyond. There’s also a large wardrobe. If you need anything else, let myself or Silent know.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, reluctantly.
“Good.” Void nodded to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow at nine. Do try not to be late.”
He withdrew, closing the door behind him. Emily closed her eyes, centering herself before reaching out with her senses. The room’s wards were surprisingly complex, designed to monitor her magic without monitoring anything else. Beyond them... she could sense an intricate web of wards protecting the outer edge of the tower. Anyone who tried to spy on the occupants would be in for a nasty shock. Emily hoped Void had made sure they were up to date. Sorcerers seemed to spend half their time spying on each other. Naturally, surveillance spells advanced at breakneck speeds.
And there are plenty of people who want to watch me, Emily thought. They want to learn my secrets.
She opened her eyes and looked at the maid. Silent hadn’t moved, as far as she could tell. And yet, there was something about her that suggested she wasn’t used to kneeling for more than a few minutes. She probably hadn’t grown up in a magical or aristocratic household, Emily deduced. It didn’t matter. Void could have found her anywhere. She wondered, suddenly, if Void had a castellan. Someone had to take care of the day-to-day business of running a household.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself.
She spoke, as calmly as she could. “You can stand, if you like.”
Silent stood, keeping her eyes downcast. She was taller than Emily had realized, almost as tall as Emily, but her posture made it hard to be certain. She looked small, despite her height. Her hair hung down, gleaming in the light. Emily felt a stab of sympathy. Silent probably hadn’t volunteered for the job. And yet...
She found herself at a loss for words. Alassa would have known what to say. Melissa would have known. Jade would have known. But Emily... she looked at the girl, wondering why Silent refused to meet her eyes. She snorted at herself, a second later. An aristocrat would have been seriously annoyed if the girl had. They’d have seen it as a sign of uppityness.
“I’m Emily,” Emily said. As if Silent didn’t already know that. “I...”
She shook her head. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Silent spoke in a soft, oddly accented voice. “My Lady. Where do you want me to sleep?”
Emily frowned. “Where do you want to sleep?”
“I can sleep wherever you wish,” Silent said. “Here. At the foot of your bed. Downstairs...”
“Not in my bedroom,” Emily said, quickly. She remembered the Shadows of Mountaintop and shuddered. She wasn’t going to have someone sleeping at the foot of her bed. She valued her privacy too highly for that. “You can sleep downstairs, if you like.”
Silent bowed her head. “As My Lady pleases.”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger, which she quickly suppressed. It wasn’t Silent’s fault. She’d been raised as a maid. She didn’t know how to behave... no, that wasn’t true. She knew how the vast majority of masters and mistresses would expect her to behave. Be silent, be submissive, be obedient... Emily told herself, firmly, to be understanding. Silent wouldn’t expect her to be friendly. It would take time for the younger girl to realize she wouldn’t be beaten or hexed for every little mistake.
“You can sleep downstairs,” Emily said. She hoped that was the right decision. Servants could be just as hierarchical as their masters. Who knew? They might see Silent as lucky or condemned. “Wait here.”
She stepped past Silent and walked into the bedroom. It was a surprising mixture of comfortable and bare, a large bed — easily large enough for three — taking up most of the space. A sizable wardrobe sat in one corner, but otherwise the walls were bare. Her knapsack and the clothes she’d left downstairs rested by the door, the latter already cleaned and pressed. The bathroom was bigger, outfitted with everything from a bathtub to a shower and a piece of equipment Emily didn’t recognize. A handful of charms hung in the air, keeping the air warm and dry. There were no visible sources of light, but that was meaningless. The wards kept the rooms illuminated. Emily checked the toilet and washbasin — both of them were clean, thankfully — and then walked back into the living room. Silent hadn’t moved. Her back was ramrod straight.
Emily peered into the final room — a workroom, complete with a desk, a chair and a small collection of notebooks — then turned back to the maid. Silent was still looking at the ground. Emily felt a flicker of guilt, mingled with a grim awareness that it wasn’t her fault. Silent had no reason to think Emily might be decent. Even Alassa treated her maids poorly, from time to time. And she was one of the kinder aristocrats.
“I need to sleep,” she said, finally. “You can go.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Silent said, tonelessly. “What time will My Ladyship require her breakfast?”
“You can call me Emily,” Emily said.
Silent looked astonished, just for a second. Emily sighed, inwardly. Asking — telling — the maid to address her by her first name probably broke a whole series of taboos. The aristocracy would have a collective heart attack if they knew. They wanted a society where everyone knew their place and stuck to it. Emily found it disgusting. There was nothing wrong with wanting to climb as high as one could. 
“My Lady... Emily,” Silent managed. She looked as if she expected to be slapped for the heinous crime of following orders. “I... what time would you like your breakfast tomorrow?”
Emily kept her face expressionless, somehow. “Around seven-thirty, I think,” she said. It should give her time to eat, shower, dress and report to her new master. “Wake me if I’m not already up.”
She opened her mouth to tell Silent to stay out of her rooms, then changed her mind. The poor maid had to go in and out, just to brush the floor and tidy the clothes. It was inconvenient, and Emily would have preferred to clean her room herself, but there was no point in suggesting it now. It would have to wait until Silent got a little more comfortable with her. She sighed, inwardly. It was starting to look as if that wouldn’t happen until well after she finished her apprenticeship.
Poor girl, she thought. And she has nowhere else to go.
“Dismissed,” she said, firmly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes, My Lady.” Silent curtsied, then backed out of the room. “Good night.”
The door closed behind her. Emily rolled her eyes. She should be used to servants by now, but... the mere concept of servants and slavery offended her on a very basic level. It was fundamentally wrong to rob someone of their freedom and put them to work, either through force or magic. And yet... the hell of it was that there were few other options for girls like Silent. If they didn’t have magic, they married someone their parents chose or they went into service or... or they went to the brothels. Emily shuddered. It just wasn’t right.
I’ll have to do something for her, afterwards, Emily thought. Who knows? Maybe she’d like to study at Heart’s Eye.
She turned and walked back into the bedroom. Her knapsack looked untouched, the spells protecting it still in place... although that proved nothing. Void could have undone the spells, inspected the contents and then replaced the spells without her knowing. It was his tower. He had every right to search her possessions — and herself — if he wished. She studied the bag for a moment, looking for something a little more mundane that might have been disturbed. Either the searcher had been astonishingly careful, with an attention to detail that would have daunted many of the senior magicians she’d met, or the bag hadn’t been searched at all. She opened it anyway and checked the contents. There was nothing missing, not in that sense. She was grimly aware she hadn’t had time to pack everything she might need.
Putting her possessions to one side, she undressed and climbed into bed. It was reassuringly warm and soft, although she sensed a handful of charms designed to throw a late sleeper out of bed. Whitehall had used similar charms for first- and second-year students. Older students knew how to cancel them. Emily smiled, canceled the spells below her and set an alarm spell before pulling the covers over her head. The teleport lag was getting to her. It felt like late evening even though she was fairly sure it couldn’t be later than mid-afternoon.
Which means we probably teleported west, she thought, as tiredness threatened to overcome her. We might be somewhere near the Cairngorms.
The thought amused her for a long moment, although she knew it was meaningless. She’d seen nothing to suggest the Nameless World was any smaller than Earth. The gravity didn’t seem any weaker. And that meant... they could be anywhere. On a map, Europe looked small compared to Russia or America. On a human scale, it was huge. The valley could be anywhere. The Cairngorms? Or somewhere she’d never visited?
Except you were here, once before, she reminded herself. Void brought you here...

The alarm spell went off. Emily sat up, half-convinced there was an intruder in the chamber. She clutched her duvet to her breasts with one hand as she readied a fireball with the other, realizing — a moment later — that it was merely seven o’clock. It was time to get up. She wasn’t sure she believed it — she wasn’t sure she’d even slept — but there was no choice. Void probably wouldn’t kick her out for being late on her very first day... probably. She didn’t want to take the risk. Instead, she stood and stumbled into the bathroom. She didn’t feel remotely human until she turned on the water and stood under the shower, allowing the heat to wake her. She wished, suddenly, for Kava. Silent would bring it. Wouldn’t she?
Not so hostile to the idea of having servants now, are you? Her thoughts mocked her. They can come in handy...
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered. 
She turned off the shower and dried herself with a spell, then walked back into the bedroom and picked a new robe out of the wardrobe. She’d have to get new underwear from somewhere. She disliked the idea of wearing nothing under the robe, even if she cast a whole string of protective charms to keep someone from casting a spell to flip it up. She made a mental note to ask Silent — she would be too embarrassed to ask Void — and walked into the living room. The maid was already there, pouring Kava into a mug. Emily could have kissed her.
“My Lady,” Silent said. She still sounded quiet, but oddly firm. “His Lordship commands me to tell you to eat everything.”
Emily blinked as she uncovered the food. There was more bacon and eggs — and what looked like farmer’s bread — on the plate than she could eat in a single sitting. She wasn’t sure she could eat half of the food, even if it had been coated with appetite-enhancing potions. A quick check told her the food was untainted. She’d have to eat it all without help.
“I’ll do my best,” she said, as she sat down. Void would be working her hard, but there were limits. Her stomach wasn’t that big. “Will you dispose of the remainder?”
“Yes, My Lady,” Silent said.
Emily made a face, then canceled the preservation spells and started to eat. The food tasted plain and simple, without much in the way of elegance. She remembered the stew from the previous evening, then shrugged. Void might be sending her a message, or he might be more interested in building up her energy reserves than anything else. She supposed that made sense. If she ate giant breakfasts and yet found herself painfully hungry at lunch after a morning spent doing magic, it had to be worse for him.
“If My Lady pleases, I can change the bedding for you,” Silent said.
“Do it every week,” Emily said. She didn’t want to work the maid to death. There was no need to change and wash the bedding every day. “And there are some things I’d like you to get.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Silent said. “What would you like?”
You to start calling me Emily, Emily thought. She told herself it didn’t matter. But she’d be in real trouble if she called someone else by her first name.
She put the thought aside and listed a handful of things she needed, then smiled. “Let me know when they’re ready,” she added. She didn’t want someone else pawing through her stuff, even if they were trying to help. “I’ll want to sort them out myself.”
“Of course, My Lady.” Silent bobbed her head. “I’ll see to it personally.”
Emily nodded and pushed her plate aside. She hadn’t managed to finish everything, but she’d tried. The remainder of the food would be eaten by the servants, she was sure. They wouldn’t let it go to waste. She stood, brushing down her robe. She felt a thrill of anticipation, despite everything. She was finally going to start her apprenticeship.
She wondered, suddenly, if she had time to visit the library first. She’d love to go there. But it was already far too close to nine. She hurried into the bathroom, splashed water on her face and wiped her lips, then headed for the door. Silent was already clearing the table. The maid looked up quickly, then glanced down almost as soon as her eyes met Emily’s. She looked embarrassed to have made even a second’s eye contact...
“Thank you,” Emily said. “I’ll see you later.”
Silent looked surprised. “Thank you, My Lady,” she said. “Good luck.”

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