Trial By Fire

(Schooled in Magic VII)

Christopher G. Nuttall

Trial By Fire
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 © 2015 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, December 2015
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine

Prologue

Caleb stopped outside the stone door to his father’s study and paused, feeling his heart pound inside his chest. He had few good memories of his father’s study; he and the other children had never been allowed to enter, save for long lectures and punishments when they’d disappointed their parents. Caleb had never dared to try to break the complex network of spells on the lock, knowing it would displease his mother and father.
And both of his parents were formidable indeed.
“Caleb,” his mother called. “Come in.”
Caleb bit his lip and pushed at the door. The house was small - living space was at a premium in Beneficence - and his mother had had over twenty-five years to weave protective spells and wards into the stone building. She’d always known what her children were doing while they lived in her house. Her children had rapidly learned to keep their misdeeds well away from home if they didn’t want to get caught at once. He shivered when he felt another protective ward shimmering over him as he stepped through the door, then bowed formally to his father. His father looked at him for a long moment, and nodded. Beside him, Caleb’s mother kept her face impassive.
They made an odd couple, Caleb had often thought, once he’d grown old enough to meet other soldiers and magicians. General Pollock - his father - was short, stubby and muscular, tough enough to march with the younger men instead of riding a horse to battle, while Mediator Sienna was tall, willowy and one of the most experienced combat sorcerers in the Allied Lands. She might not have been classically beautiful, her stern face edged by long black hair, but she was striking, with a trim athletic build even after giving birth to five children. And there were few people who would dare insult her to her face.
“Caleb,” his father grunted. He’d never really seen Caleb as anything other than a disappointment, once it became clear that his second son was more interested in theoretical work than fighting. “You wished to speak with us?”
“Yes, father,” Caleb said. His parents weren’t stuck-up enough to insist that their children make appointments to speak with them, but certain things had to be done formally. The little rituals of politeness, as always, kept civilization going. “I do.”
His father waved a hand, impatiently. “Then speak,” he ordered.
Caleb took a long breath. Casper - handsome Casper, confident Casper - would have found it easy to speak to their parents, he was sure. But his elder brother had basked in the approval of their father, while even their stern mother could rarely remain angry at him for long. What Casper wanted, Casper got. Their parents hadn’t really spoiled Casper, Caleb had to admit, but he’d had advantages none of the younger children shared. He’d set out to walk in their footsteps, after all.
“I ask your permission to open a Courtship,” he said, allowing his voice to slip into cool formality. “I ask for your blessings and your wisdom.”
His parents exchanged glances. A simple relationship was one thing, but a Courtship was quite another. It implied that Caleb was willing to spend the rest of his life with the girl, if she proved receptive to his advances. And his parents...they might have to welcome the girl into their family, if the Courtship worked out. Caleb was the first of the family to discuss a Courtship. Even Casper had yet to bring a girl home to meet their parents.
His mother spoke first. “Who is this girl?”
Caleb held himself steady, refusing to be swayed by the bite in her tone. “Emily,” he said, simply. “Daughter of Void.”
“I see,” General Pollack said. His voice revealed nothing. “You overreach yourself, do you not? She is a Baroness of Zangaria.”
“I am a sorcerer,” Caleb countered. He’d known his father would object on those grounds, if nothing else. General Pollack came from aristocratic stock, but his father had been a mere Knight. Grandfather Karuk had been powerful enough to buy his son a commission, yet he’d never been as wealthy and powerful as a baron. “We are social equals.”
“And her father is a Lone Power,” Mediator Sienna said, slowly. “Do you not fear his thoughts on the matter?”
Caleb hesitated, but pressed on. “That is why I have decided on a formal Courtship,” he said. He’d always had the impression that Emily was largely flying free - he didn’t think that an experienced sorcerer would have allowed the crisis in Cockatrice to get so badly out of hand - but marriage was quite another issue. “It would allow him a chance to object before matters became serious.”
“She may reject you,” General Pollack warned. “You are not a wealthy man.”
“I know,” Caleb said. The family wealth, what little there was of it, would go to Casper, once his parents passed away. General Pollack was a poor man, by the standards of their social equals. But not using his position to enrich himself had made him popular with the troops under his command. “I do, however, have excellent prospects.”
His father’s face darkened. “But not as a defender of the Allied Lands.”
Caleb bit down the response that came to mind. His father had expected his children - his male children, at least - to go into the military, to fight for the Allied Lands. Casper, whatever his flaws, was a halfway decent combat sorcerer. But Caleb? He’d always been more interested in fundamental magic research than fighting. The transfer to Whitehall had been the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“His research may prove useful,” Mediator Sienna said.
General Pollack gave her a surprised look. 
Caleb couldn’t help staring at her in astonishment. His mother might be formidable, but it was rare for her to disagree with her husband in public. Caleb knew they’d had some spectacular rows, yet they’d always been held in private. They’d always put forward a united front.
His mother ignored their surprise. “Do you believe she likes you?”
Caleb swallowed. That was the question, wasn’t it? He had never been able to read a girl, to tell if she was interested in him or if she was just being polite. The lads in the barracks had bragged endlessly about how many girls they’d slept with - Caleb was privately sure most of them were lying - but he had never had a serious relationship with anyone. Stronghold had enrolled only a handful of female students, while he’d been too busy at Whitehall to consider the possibilities. He’d never had the nerve to go into a brothel when he’d been on leave.
“I think so,” he said, finally. He went on before his mother could start demanding details. “That’s why I decided on a formal Courtship. If she thinks otherwise...”
“You can back off without shame,” his mother finished. It would be embarrassing to be rejected, Caleb was sure, but better that than getting into a muddle. Courtship, if nothing else, was a ritual intended to ensure that everything was open, without even the merest hint of impropriety. “I would advise you to be careful, though. It is rare for a Lone Power to have a child.”
“And one so grossly irresponsible, at that,” General Pollack growled. “Inviting both the Ashworths and Ashfalls to the Faire. What was she thinking?”
“She shut them both down,” Caleb reminded him.
His mother met his eyes. “Yes, she did,” she agreed. “But it was still irresponsible.”
“I like her,” Caleb said, refusing to look away. “I request your blessing for the Courtship.”
General Pollack exchanged a long look with his wife. “We shall discuss it in private,” he said, finally. “Wait.”
Caleb scowled inwardly as his mother cast a privacy ward, ensuring he couldn’t hear a word of what passed between them. It galled him to have to go to his parents, but he knew they would have been furious if he’d approached someone with serious intentions without consulting them first. There were times when he wouldn’t have minded being disowned, yet - in truth - he loved his family. Even Casper...
Father has no magic, he reminded himself. And yet he rules the family with a rod of iron.
He looked down at the stone floor, then up as the privacy ward dispelled. His father looked irked, while his mother was smiling coldly to herself. Caleb schooled his face into a dispassionate expression, waiting patiently for their answer. There were strong advantages to the match, he was sure, but there were also dangers. His mother was powerful, yet she was no match for a Lone Power.
“We have considered the matter,” General Pollack said. “You may proceed with your Courtship.”
Caleb let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, father—”
“Now we will discuss the practicalities,” his mother added, cutting him off. “And precisely how you intend to proceed. You will have to present her with flowers within the month. Choosing the right ones will be important.”
“Yes, mother,” Caleb said.
He cursed under his breath. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, not to his blunt, plainspoken mother, but it was clear he wasn’t being offered a choice. His father’s brief lecture on matters sexual had been bad enough, back when he’d started to realize there was something different about girls, yet this was likely to be worse. He cringed mentally, then steadied himself. At least they hadn’t said no.
And now all you have to do is go through with the Courtship, he told himself. And that won’t be easy.

Chapter One

...Shadye looms above her, his skull-like face crumbling as the power within him threatens to spill out. Emily stumbles backwards, clutching desperately for something - anything - she can use as a weapon, but there is nothing. The necromancer grabs her shirt, hauls her to her feet and draws a stone knife from his belt. Emily feels her entire body go limp as he holds the knife in front of her eyes, then stabs it into her chest...
Emily snapped awake, feeling sweat pouring down her back and onto the blanket. For a long moment, she was unsure where and when she was; the nightmare had been so strong that part of her half-wondered if Shadye had killed her and everything she’d experienced had been nothing more than the final flickers of life before she died. And then she forced herself to remember, somehow, that she was in a tent, in the Blighted Lands. She’d had nightmares every night since they’d crossed the Craggy Mountains and started their long walk towards the Dark Fortress.
Just a dream, she told herself, as she wiped her forehead. The prospect of returning to Shadye’s fortress, where she’d barely escaped with her life, was terrifying. If there hadn’t been a very real possibility she’d inherited Shadye’s possessions, she wouldn’t have chosen to come within a thousand miles of the place. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.
She started as something slithered towards her, but smiled as Aurelius butted his head into her thigh. The Death Viper looked up at her beseechingly, his golden eyes somehow managing to convey a sense of hunger even though she’d fed him only the previous night and he should still be digesting his meal. Emily had been told, when she’d brought the snake back to Whitehall, that Death Vipers could live for weeks without eating, while their last meal was digesting in their bellies, but Aurelius seemed to disagree. Perhaps the familiar bond that tied them together demanded more energy...
Or perhaps he’s picking up on my hunger, she thought, as she sat upright and picked up the snake. I could do with something to eat too.
Aurelius slithered forward. She giggled helplessly as the snake crawled up her arm and settled around her neck. She reached into her pack, pulled out a piece of dried meat and offered it to Aurelius, then pulled her trousers on, followed by her shirt. Sleeping without her clothes hadn’t been easy, but it had just been too hot inside the tent. She knew several spells to chill the air, but the Grandmaster had forbidden her to use magic unless it was urgent. Thankfully, he’d insisted on keeping watch half the night rather than sharing a tent with her. 
She crawled forward and opened the flap, then poked her head out of the tent. The Grandmaster was sitting in front of a fire, his back to her, cooking something that smelled faintly like bacon, although she had no idea if it was. It smelled good, but the stench of the Blighted Lands - a faint hint of burning that seemed to grow stronger with every breath she took - threatened to overpower it.
“Good morning, Emily,” the Grandmaster said. “I trust you slept well.”
“Well enough,” Emily lied. There was no point in complaining about the nightmares. “And yourself?”
“You know I don’t sleep,” the Grandmaster said.
I assumed it was a metaphor, Emily thought, ruefully. But it was true; the Grandmaster hadn’t slept since the day they’d walked through the mountains and into the Blighted Lands. It can’t be good for his mental health.
She pushed the thought aside as she stood and looked around. The Blighted Lands were strange, perhaps the strangest place she’d ever seen. Lands that had once been green and verdant were now covered in a thin layer of ash. There wasn’t a single living thing in sight, apart from the pair of them. A faint haze shimmered in the air, making it hard to see beyond a few dozen meters. The sky was a dull grey, the sun barely bright enough to burn through the clouds hanging in the sky; the air was unnaturally still, tinted with the faint scent of burning, and wisps of raw magic that danced across her awareness for long seconds before fading away. She could barely force herself to remain calm, even though she knew there was no real threat. The landscape spoke to her on a very primal level.
It looked very much like hell.
“I’m pleased to see your monster is taking things calmly,” the Grandmaster said, as she paced around the campsite before looking at him. He was a short, wizened man, with a dirty cloth wrapped around his eyes, but he was surrounded by an aura of power she knew to take seriously. “I was worried, but I would have preferred not to deprive you of your familiar.”
Emily nodded. If anyone else had tried to wear a Death Viper as a necklace, she knew all too well, they would have died before they could wrap it around their necks. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that Aurelius was one of the deadliest creatures known to exist, with a venom so poisonous that even a mere touch could prove fatal. Only the familiar bond protected her from the snake, allowing her to keep Aurelius as a secret weapon. He’d already saved her life twice.
“He seems to be happier here than I am,” Emily admitted. She squatted down and took the mug he offered her with a nod of thanks. The Kava tasted strong, but she knew from experience that it would jolt her awake. “Is that normal?”
“The Blighted Lands may be where the Death Vipers were spawned,” the Grandmaster said, as he ladled food onto two plates. “He may feel like he’s home.”
Emily looked up, staring at the mountains in the distance. “I hope not,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t want to live here.”
The Grandmaster laughed, and passed her a plate of food. “Eat quickly,” he urged, as Emily took it. “I want to get to the Dark Fortress before it gets dark.”
Emily swallowed. Years ago - so long ago it seemed almost like another life - Shadye had accidentally brought her to the Nameless World, seeking a Child of Destiny. It had never occurred to him that someone would be named Destiny, or that her child would be a literal Child of Destiny. Shadye had meant to kill her, to sacrifice her to something called the Harrowing, yet in some ways she was almost grateful to the mad necromancer. If she’d stayed on Earth, trapped between her stepfather and her suicidal urges, she was sure she would be dead by now.
“Yes, sir,” she said, as she ate her meal. It tasted better than anything she’d cooked back on Earth, although the ever-present scent of burning had worked its way into the food. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“About an hour,” the Grandmaster said. “Unless we run into trouble, that is.”
They finished their breakfast. Emily wiped the plates and cooking equipment while the Grandmaster answered a call of nature, and started to pack away the tent. He hadn’t wanted a tent for himself, something that made her feel vaguely guilty, but he’d dismissed the matter when she’d offered to sleep in the open too. She couldn’t help feeling relieved; quite apart from her concerns about sleeping near a man, she wouldn’t have cared to sleep in the open, not in the Blighted Lands. The raw magic seemed to grow stronger at night.
That must be why so few people risk entering the Blighted Lands, she thought, as she packed up the rucksack. You could go to sleep in the wrong place and wake up in a very different form.
She shuddered at the thought, then pulled the rucksack on and braced herself against the weight. The Grandmaster nodded to her, checked the campsite for anything they might have left behind, then led the way into the distance. Emily gritted her teeth and forced herself to follow him. The flickers of wild magic in the air were growing stronger the further they moved from the Craggy Mountains that blocked the way to Whitehall. If she’d been alone, she had a feeling she would have turned back a long time before reaching the Dark Fortress.
“There’s no need to push yourself too hard,” the Grandmaster said, slowing. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll set up our tents near the Dark Fortress and wait until sunrise.”
Emily glanced up. It was early morning, by her watch, but the sun was already high in the sky. And yet, the light seemed dim, the clouds growing darker as they walked deeper into the Blighted Lands. She’d thought it was night when Shadye had snatched her, but had his lands been buried in permanent darkness? Or was she merely imagining things?
“I thought you said it wasn’t safe to lurk too close to the fortress,” she said instead.
“It isn’t,” the Grandmaster confirmed. “But I would prefer not to have to enter the Dark Fortress in darkness.”
He said nothing else until they stumbled across the ruins of a village, so hidden within the haze that they practically walked into the ruins before realizing they were there. It was hard to imagine that it had once been a living village, with farmers tending their crops and raising their children; now, it was nothing more than grey stone, all life and light leeched away by the Blighted Lands. The eerie sameness sent chills down her spine.
“Be careful,” the Grandmaster warned as she peered into one of the buildings. “You never know what might be lurking here.”
Emily nodded, pausing as she caught sight of a child’s doll lying on the ground. It looked...normal, surprisingly intact despite the Blighted Lands. But when she reached for the doll and picked it up, it crumbled to dust in her hands. She swallowed hard, trying not to cry for the girl who’d owned the doll, untold centuries ago. Had she died quickly, at the hands of a necromancer, or fled with her family to the untouched lands to the north? There was no way Emily would ever know.
“There has to be something we can do for the Blighted Lands,” she said, as she wiped the dust off her fingers. “Can’t we...cleanse the lands, or something?”
“The necromancers unleashed wild magic,” the Grandmaster said. “Every year, some people try to set up settlements within the edge of the Blighted Lands, in hopes of reclaiming the territory for themselves. And they always come to grief. If the necromancers don’t get them, the wild magic does.”
He took a long look around the village - Emily was sure he had some way to see, despite having lost his eyes years ago - and then led the way out of it, back to the south. She followed him, feeling an odd urge to stay within the village even though she knew it was suicide. It worried her for a long moment - it could be a sign of subtle magic - and then she realized the village had felt safe, despite being within the Blighted Lands. The urge to turn back and flee grew stronger with every step they took.
“The White Council was quite impressed with you,” the Grandmaster said. He spoke in a conversational tone of voice, as if he were trying to keep her mind off the growing urge to just turn and run. “They were not too pleased with the management of the Cockatrice Faire, but...they were relieved at the outcome.”
Emily nodded. Everyone from Lady Barb to the Grandmaster himself had pointed out that she’d been careless, at the very least, and that her carelessness could easily have resulted in disaster. If the Ashworths and the Ashfalls had gone to war, it would not only have led to the deaths of the leaders of both families, but also to the slaughter of hundreds of other magicians and the devastation of her lands. She knew she’d been lucky, very lucky. If she hadn’t managed to get a battery to work...
She touched the ring, hidden within her pocket, and smiled. Lady Barb had urged her to create and charge a second battery while preparing for the trip to the Blighted Lands, and Emily had done as her mentor suggested. Now she had a battery she could use, although without a valve it was useless. And they had a tendency to work once and then burn out. Putting a spare valve together with the help of an enchanter in Dragon’s Den had been harder than charging up the battery.
“You showed a staggering amount of power,” the Grandmaster added. “They were very impressed.”
Thank you, Emily thought, sardonically. Is that actually a good thing?
She eyed the Grandmaster’s back, wondering if he knew just what she’d actually done. He hadn’t treated her any differently when Lady Barb had returned her to Whitehall after the Faire, but he wouldn’t have. Others...had stared at her in awe. In some ways, she was even dreading the day when the rest of the students returned to Whitehall. If they’d stared at her after beating Shadye - and they had - they would be paying far more attention to her now.
“Some of them even considered...insisting...that you take the oaths now,” the Grandmaster told her. “Others thought you should be apprenticed at once to someone who could control your power, if necessary.”
But I cheated, Emily thought.
It wasn’t a reassuring thought. If she’d tried to channel so much power through her mind, it would have killed her or driven her insane. It had been bad enough, years ago, to have people watching her, suspicious of necromancy. Now...they probably thought she was a staggeringly powerful magician instead, a young girl fully on the same level as Void or another Lone Power. The idea that she could match the Grandmaster for raw power was absurd...
...But, to anyone who didn’t know about the batteries, it might not seem absurd.
She swallowed. “What are they going to do?”
“Nothing,” the Grandmaster said, simply.
Emily blinked. “Nothing?”
“I am Grandmaster of Whitehall School,” the Grandmaster said. “I have never had a student forced to take the oaths ahead of time, and I’m not about to start now. If you want an apprenticeship with someone...well, that could be arranged, but you have no obligation to find a master. Or mistress. Still...”
He shrugged. “Have you thought about your career?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “I’d like to stay at Whitehall for the rest of my life.”
“You’d need much more experience before you could teach,” the Grandmaster said. “I like my tutors to have at least ten years of practical experience before they start touching young and impressionable minds. But you could get a slot as a teaching assistant, I suppose, or a research student. We do have a few of them at Whitehall.”
He paused, then turned to look at her. “You do need to decide on a major before you enter Fifth Year,” he added. “Going by your marks, I’d recommend majoring in charms and perhaps healing, but it depends on what you actually want to do with your life. If you want to be a healer, you’ll need alchemy; if you want to be a combat sorceress, you’ll need martial magic and history...”
Emily sighed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Randor expects me to go back to Cockatrice and be the baroness,” she said. “I...”
“King Randor,” the Grandmaster corrected, quietly.
“But I don’t know what I want to do,” Emily continued. “There are so many interesting subjects.”
“You could probably study them all, if you spread out your years,” the Grandmaster mused. “It isn’t unknown for students to repeat their last two years at Whitehall. However, most students tend to discover the subject they want to major in while they’re in their Fourth Year and stick with it. Your marks in Healing are not bad.”
Emily winced. Healing was an interesting class, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life working with ill people. She’d seen enough of that life during the walk through the Cairngorms to know she didn’t want to do it permanently. There had been too many horrors there, hidden in small shacks or behind high stone walls. She had no idea how Lady Barb did it without cursing everyone in sight. 
“I think I just want to study,” she said. It was a shame there were no universities in the Nameless World. She could have stepped into one quite happily and never come out. “And go into magical research, perhaps.”
“That would suit you,” the Grandmaster agreed.
He shrugged, then turned back to resume walking. “You need to remember that you’re not just any magician,” he added, as he walked. “Too many people are already showing an interest in you, not least our friends to the south.”
The necromancers, Emily thought. 
She’d killed Shadye - and the Allied Lands had declared her the Necromancer’s Bane. The other necromancers seemed to believe she could kill them at will, if only because none of them had tried to claim Shadye’s lands or attack Whitehall. But that wouldn’t last, she was sure. Sooner or later, the necromancers would resume their offensive against the Allied Lands. Their endless need for new victims to sacrifice would ensure it.
And what will happen, she asked herself, when they do?
She kept her thoughts to herself as she followed the Grandmaster, feeling the air grow steadily colder as they made their way to the south. Slowly, the twisted shape of the Dark Fortress - and, beside it, the Inverse Shadow - came into view. They didn’t look anything like the half-remembered shapes in her nightmares, but there hadn’t really been time to take much note of the scenery the last time she’d visited. She’d been half out of her mind with fear when Shadye’s animated skeletons had dragged her into the Inverse Shadow, preparing her for death. If Void hadn’t been there, she would have died that day.
The Grandmaster stopped, sharply. “Listen,” he said. “Can you hear that?”
Emily paused, listening hard. There was a faint sound in the distance, a howling that seemed to come from many throats. It was growing louder, although she didn’t think the source of the sound was actually coming closer. Whatever it was - and there was something about it that touched a memory - it chilled her to the bone. 
“I think we’d better go see what that is,” the Grandmaster said, after a quick glance at his watch. “Follow me.”

Chapter Two

The howling grew louder as they walked, but it was still a surprise when the haze parted long enough to reveal a colossal pit in the ashy ground. Emily started, then stumbled back as the soil started to give way under her feet, threatening to send her falling down the side and into the pit. She steadied herself, then peered down as she saw figures swarming at the bottom, fighting each other with a savage intensity that shocked her to the bone. It had been nearly three years since she’d last seen an orc, outside lessons, but they were unmistakable, even though the distance made them look tiny. 
“A breeding frenzy,” the Grandmaster said, quietly. “That isn’t a good sign.”
Emily stroked Aurelius as she took in the sight. The orcs were huge, each one easily two meters tall; shambling parodies of humanity. They carried swords that were taller than the Grandmaster, lashing out at one another with more determination than skill, their blades cutting into stone-hard skin. She knew from grim experience that they were far stronger than the average human, although they weren’t very bright and could be outrun if someone was prepared to show them their backs and flee. They needed a strong leader to pose anything more than a minor threat to travelers. Shadye had recruited an army through force and led them against Whitehall. She felt the snake’s discontent at the presence of the warped monsters and shuddered, before smiling to herself. The orcs would be equally discomfited to see a Death Viper.
“Only one in ten of them will survive - the strongest or the smartest,” the Grandmaster commented. “They will go back down into the tunnels and impregnate the women, then wait for the next generation to be born. There will be hundreds of thousands of new orcs soon enough, just looking for a leader.”
Emily looked at him. “Why now?”
“Good question,” the Grandmaster said. “Shadye would have pushed them into building a new army, but Shadye is dead.”
“They might have another leader,” Emily said. She looked back at the orcs and grimaced. It wouldn’t be easy to beat one in a fight, without magic. Even the greatest swordsman in the land would have problems. Bows and arrows wouldn’t make much of an impression on their solid hides...but would bullets? “Someone else intent on forming an army.”
“It’s a possibility,” the Grandmaster acknowledged.
He took one last look into the pit, then turned and led her back towards the Dark Fortress. Emily followed, gritting her teeth as the howling grew louder and louder until it echoed within her very bones. The orcs might have seen them and given chase...she found herself glancing backwards as the haze closed in again, making it impossible to see if anything was climbing out of the pit. She shaped spells in her mind - the only way to win was to knock the orc down and out as quickly as possible - and waited. Nothing seemed to be following them.
Aurelius would sense it if someone came after us, she told herself, firmly. It had been a disappointment to learn that animals couldn’t really talk to their human masters, but she was learning how to interpret the sensations Aurelius pushed towards her. There’s nothing up here but us chickens.
She pushed the thought aside as the Inverse Shadow came into view. It was a towering building, but it was impossible to actually get a sense of what it looked like. Her eyes kept slipping over the exterior; one moment, it looked like a towering cathedral, the next it looked like something bent and twisted out of shape. She peered into the open doors, seemingly waiting to see who would walk inside, then shuddered as she sensed the magic - and something else - coiling around the outer walls. If Shadye hadn’t been mad before he’d walked into the Inverse Shadow, long exposure to the twisted building would have driven him mad.
Her throat was suddenly dry, but she forced herself to speak. “What is the Inverse Shadow?”
“No one knows,” the Grandmaster said. For once, he looked perturbed. “One school of thought suggests it used to be a nexus point, one that was drained by the necromancers, while others think it’s something far older.”
Emily frowned. “Maybe someone tried to build another school like Whitehall on a nexus point and something went wrong.”
“It’s a possibility,” the Grandmaster agreed. “If there was a nexus point here, it must be dead. Shadye wouldn’t have needed to go to Whitehall if he’d had one right next to his fortress. But there is clearly magic, ancient magic, in this place. Perhaps Shadye was too scared to try to tap it for his own use.”
“Maybe,” Emily said. It didn’t seem likely. Shadye hadn’t shown any fear, as far as she could recall; in truth, he’d never had any reason to feel fear. What could harm a necromancer with his power? “Why was so much forgotten?”
“They might not have wanted to remember,” the Grandmaster said. “Aren’t there things in your life you would give a great deal to forget? Or to rewrite?”
Emily nodded, slowly. She’d always had the impression that there was something wrong with the Nameless World’s history, at least the version presented to the students, although she’d never been able to put her finger on it. She knew from Earth that history was often a matter of conjecture, of putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle when several of them were missing and then guessing at the final image. And, on the Nameless World, history could be rewritten to suit the people in power. She had a feeling that King Randor’s ultimate version of the coup in Zangaria would minimize her role while giving most of the credit to Alassa.
“I suppose,” she said, doubtfully. Truth was more important than lies, particularly lies that suited the people in power, but what was truth anyway? “I...”
She stopped as she saw a ghostly image in front of her. A young girl - it took her a moment to realize she was looking at her own face, so thin and emaciated it had become - was standing in front of her, staring at her with hopeless eyes. Emily stared back, unable to tear her gaze away, unable even to blink as her doppelganger fell to her knees, bowing her head in fear. Time seemed to slow down...
...And then everything changed. The broken girl vanished, to be replaced by a taller version of Emily, wearing a long dark dress that exposed the tops of her breasts. There was a thin smile on her face Emily didn’t like at all, a smug assertion of superiority over the entire world...and, when her doppelganger looked up, bright red eyes bored deep into Emily’s. A necromancer...
She stumbled backwards in shock. The images vanished.
“Emily,” a voice said, urgently. It took her a moment to realize it was the Grandmaster. “Are you all right?”
Emily hesitated. “Did you see that?”
The Grandmaster caught her arm and swung her around to face him. “See what?”
“I saw...I saw alternate versions of myself,” Emily said. She’d seen something similar in the Dark City, she recalled now. “Didn’t you see anything?”
“Nothing,” the Grandmaster said. He looked uncertain for a long moment, then shrugged thoughtfully. “It could be a sex-specific charm, perhaps, or...or you may simply be more sensitive to certain types of magic than others.”
He cleared his throat as he turned back towards the Dark Fortress. “If nothing else, this is an excellent lesson in the importance of understanding where your talents lie,” he added, absently. “If you don’t have a gift for certain kinds of magic, you’ll never be as good with them as those who do.”
Emily rolled her eyes at his retreating back - she’d heard the same thing over and over again, from just about every tutor at Whitehall - and then followed him, feeling a dull unease in her breast she wasn’t able to suppress. The visions could have been images of her greatest fears, plucked from her mind, but there had been a reality about them that chilled her to the bone, as if they were real on some level. And yet, she knew they could easily have been enhanced with magic, just to make sure she had the right reaction to them. She pushed the thought aside and clutched the snake tighter, promising herself she wouldn’t be either of the doppelgangers. Aurelius shifted around her neck, then relaxed.
The Dark Fortress loomed up in front of them, a brooding mass that dominated the landscape...and yet seemed petty, somehow, compared to the Inverse Shadow. Emily felt the rune on her chest grow warm, warning of the presence of subtle magic, as they walked closer, studying the exterior of the building for a way in. She couldn’t help comparing it to a palace, rather than a fortress; it didn’t look very secure. Indeed, some of the upper levels were clearly crumbling into ruins. But with a necromancer in residence, very few would dare to enter without permission. 
And who in their right mind would want to visit? she asked herself, as the warmth in her chest grew stronger. Shadye would use anyone who visited as a source of power.
“There,” the Grandmaster said, pointing at a blank stone wall. “Can you see the doorway?”
Emily peered at the wall, gritting her teeth as the rune grew warmer. Her chest hurt as she forced her eyes to look past the magic, past the aversion wards designed to keep her from seeing something right in front of her, but she kept going. The world seemed to shimmer, then snap back into place, revealing an open door right in front of them. There was a final burst of heat from the rune before it faded so quickly, it almost felt cold.
“I can see it,” she said. She rubbed her chest, feeling somewhat frostbitten, then took a step forward. Nothing moved to block her. “Is it safe to enter?”
“Good question,” the Grandmaster said. He drew a wand from his belt, and held it in front of him like a divining rod as he walked through the door. “There are a handful of odd wards here, none of them interlocked. I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long.”
Emily nodded as she followed him through the door and into the darkened chamber beyond. Wards could be lodged within stone, but they rarely lasted more than a year without the sorcerer renewing and replenishing them. Shadye had been powerful, staggeringly so, yet he’d lacked the skill and experience of the Grandmaster or Void. His wards might have been crude, rather than subtle. They might well not have lasted long after his death.
She looked at the Grandmaster’s back as a thought struck her. “Could someone else have put up the wards?”
“It’s possible,” the Grandmaster said. “Void might have returned to the Dark Fortress, after Shadye’s death. Few others would have dared.”
Emily felt a twinge of...something. She hadn’t seen Void for over a year; she’d written to him, after the events in Cockatrice, but received no reply. Had he been busy searching Shadye’s fortress now he knew she would be visiting, or had he been preoccupied with something else? Or...had he decided she was no longer worthy of his attention? He might have saved her life, but everyone she’d met had warned her, in no uncertain terms, that he couldn’t really be trusted. It wasn’t something she wanted to consider.
“Cast a light globe,” the Grandmaster ordered. “Let’s see what we find.”
Emily obeyed, casting the spell into the air. The globe took shape and form, casting an eerie light into the chamber, but dimmed rapidly, as if something was draining the magic from the spell. Emily blinked in surprise as the globe started to die, then hastily pushed more magic into her spell. The light brightened, but started to dim again. And then it flickered before it went out completely.
“Unfortunate,” the Grandmaster observed. He dug into his pockets and produced a Hand of Glory, which he lit with a spell. Emily shuddered; the severed human hand had had the fingertips removed and replaced with charmed candles, which glowed with an eerie - but stable - light. “Take this and hold it in front of you.”
The Hand of Glory felt clammy against her bare skin, but whatever had drained the light globe didn’t seem able to drain the Hand of Glory. Emily held it high and looked around, frowning in puzzlement as she had a good look at the chamber. It was bare and barren, as if it had been abandoned long ago; pieces of debris lay where they’d fallen from the roof, while dust lay everywhere. Shadye had never bothered to hire housekeepers, the irreverent part of her mind noted; indeed, he’d clearly not been concerned with his personal comfort. It couldn’t have been a very pleasant place to live.
“This way,” the Grandmaster said, leading her through the door at the end of the chamber. It led to a cold stone corridor, as dark and silent as the grave. “Keep a sharp eye out for traps.”
Emily nodded, feeling ice spread through her body as the darkness rose and fell around them. The walls were bare stone, but the floors were covered in skeletons. Shadye’s servants, she asked herself, or the remains of his victims? Some of them looked to have been kneeling, in the last moments before they died, while others had been broken and smashed, pieces of bone lying scattered on the stone ground. How had they decayed so quickly?
She hesitated, then asked the Grandmaster a question. “Why was Shadye expelled from Whitehall?”
“Crimes against his fellow students,” the Grandmaster said, shortly. “We caught him torturing First Years and expelled him.”
He didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, so Emily kept her mouth firmly closed as they walked through another empty chamber, then a third. Shadye hadn’t been a packrat, Emily noted, nothing like herself. For all of his power, his life had been consumed by the desperate quest for sustenance. He’d lurked in the Dark Fortress, raided the Allied Lands for people he could drain to keep himself alive and...nothing. If he hadn’t been a mass murderer Emily might almost have felt sorry for him.
He made his choices, a voice in her head said. It sounded very much like Lady Barb. And he had to live with the consequences.
But if he hadn’t, Emily answered, mentally, I would never have come to the Nameless World.
She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought, which she pushed aside as they walked into another corridor. This one was long and dark, but at the end there was an eerie green glow. A crystal hung from the ceiling, casting light over the scene. The Grandmaster started to walk towards it, but stopped. Moments later, Emily felt her head swimming and she walked straight into the wall.
“An interesting trick,” the Grandmaster observed as she stumbled back. “Not a particularly subtle one, but effective. We can’t walk up without having our senses scrambled, which will send us straight into the walls - or worse. And we can’t dispel the charm without being a great deal closer.”
Emily nodded, and tried to walk up the corridor again. This time, she found herself falling to the ground, so dizzy she could no longer remain upright, before crawling back to the Grandmaster on her hands and knees. She had the feeling she would have been fine, if she’d kept her eyes firmly closed, but she couldn’t do that without leaving herself vulnerable. And yet...
“You could destroy the crystal,” she said, slowly.
“It would provoke a reaction,” the Grandmaster said. “Probably...”
He hesitated, then looked at her. “I could steer you through the charm, if I used your body as a puppet,” he said. “I’d be steering you from the outside...”
“No,” Emily said, flatly. Shadye had used her as a puppet three years ago, and the experience still gave her nightmares. To have someone moving her arms and legs without her control...she trusted the Grandmaster, but she wasn’t about to let him be her puppeteer. “I...”
She stopped as a thought struck her. “I could dispel the charm if I was much closer, right?”
“Standing next to it,” the Grandmaster confirmed.
Emily nodded, then - before she could have second thoughts - uncurled Aurelius from her neck and placed the snake on the floor. Aurelius sent a stream of discontented thoughts to her - Death Vipers didn’t like dust, it seemed - and then looked at the crystal. The images he sent to Emily were odd, like seeing through warped lenses, but she could see the path to the crystal.
“You need to blind and deafen me,” she said, without looking at the Grandmaster. “It’s the only way to avoid being overwhelmed.”
The Grandmaster gave her a sharp look - such hexes were banned at Whitehall, on pain of severe punishment - but jabbed a finger at her. Emily shuddered as the world went black and silent, then concentrated on the images from the snake. It was hard, so hard, to keep her mind focused with panic yammering at her, screaming that she should cancel his spell, but somehow she held herself together long enough to walk towards the crystal, guided by the snake. As soon as she was standing close to the charm, she cast the dispersal spell. Her eyes snapped back to normal, while the crystal lost its light.
“Well done,” the Grandmaster said. “Very well done.”
Emily beamed with pride. “I...”
The world went dark. For a moment, she thought the blindness spell had reasserted itself, then she realized she was somewhere else, somewhere both dark and familiar. She opened her mouth to call out to the Grandmaster...
...And then froze as her stepfather walked into the light.

Chapter Three

“You worthless girl,” he snarled. “Can’t you do anything right?”
Emily could only stare at him, feeling her entire body trembling. Her stepfather looked larger than she recalled, his meaty fists pounding the air in front of him as he advanced towards her; no, she was smaller. She looked down at herself and realized she was barely a child of ten, chewing helplessly on her long hair and wearing second-hand clothes she’d bought or begged for herself from the charity shops. But she’d been an adult of nineteen...
Her head swam. She’d been with the Grandmaster, hadn’t she? Or had she imagined everything? Her stepfather strode up to her, thrusting his face right into hers and breathing horrendous fumes of alcohol into her mouth. She cringed as he caught her arm, then shoved her to the floor. It felt solid - too solid - under her body. 
“Waste of fucking space,” he snapped. He loomed over her, glaring down. “Why I adopted you I will never know. You should have been a boy. A boy might have been fun.”
Emily swallowed hard to keep from throwing up. He was there. He was always there. There was no point in looking to her mother for protection, not when her mother spent most of her life crashed out on the couch, watching TV and drinking heavily. Her stepfather could do whatever he liked to her and no one would do anything to help. A feeling of pure hopelessness overcame her, forcing her to curl into a ball...
“Get up,” her stepfather snarled. He reached out, grabbed the front of her shirt and hauled her to her feet. “Wasting all your time in fantasies when there’s real work to do.”
He slapped her across the face, hard. “Thinking you’re Harry fucking Potter, a magical little princess just waiting for the chance to go to your real parents,” he snapped. “Your father abandoned you, princess, and left you here with your worthless piece of trash drunkard of a mother. You’re pathetic! You waste your life in fantasy when you have work to do.”
Emily staggered, her mind screaming at her. It was real, wasn’t it? She was older, much older, than the child she seemed now...and she had all the memories to prove it. But they felt translucent, as if they were nothing more than childish fantasies. She was suddenly unsure of anything beyond the fact that she was trapped in the room with a monster. Desperately, she looked around and saw her old living room, her mother lying on the couch and stoned out of her mind. Empty bottles of cheap wine lay everywhere...
...She’d gathered them up, when she’d been much younger, and taken them back to the shop for a handful of coins...
The memory was so strong it shocked her. No one had raised an eyebrow at a nine-year-old girl handing back empty booze bottles. No one had really given a damn, yet...
Her stepfather slapped her, again. “Get to cleaning up the mess, you worthless bitch,” he ordered. The force of the blow sent her staggering back to the floor, tasting blood in her mouth. “I want this room clean by the time I get back from the bar...”
He knew about my dreams, Emily thought. How did he know?
She looked down at her hands. They weren’t childish any longer. Her chest was growing - her stepfather leered, but she ignored him - and she felt older. How had he known? She wasn’t in the habit of sharing anything with him, certainly not her innermost fantasies. He couldn’t have thrown the suggestion that she had magic in her face unless he’d known she had dreams of magic...
“You’re not real,” she said, as she stood. She looked down at herself again and saw the shirt and trousers she’d worn in the Nameless World. No, the shirt and trousers that she was still wearing in the Nameless World. Her memory clicked and she put two and two together. “You’re just a Nightmare Hex.”
Her stepfather snarled at her, his eyes moving over her chest and leaving trails of slime over her breasts, then lunged forward. Emily snapped into a fighting crouch automatically, silently thanking Sergeant Harkin for his lessons, then caught his arm as he took a swing at her. He seemed smaller, somehow, as she pushed him aside before she knifed her hand into his eye, where he was vulnerable. She felt something squish under her finger; her stepfather jumped backwards, screaming in pain and rubbing his eyes desperately. Emily watched blood spilling from his eye, too much blood to be real, and she knew, beyond all doubt, that it was an illusion.
“You’re definitely a Nightmare Hex,” she said. She’d seen one before, in Blackhall, and it had almost killed her. “You’re not real.”
“Bitch,” her stepfather swore at her. “I am real.”
Emily smiled. “Then why are you shrinking?”
She forced herself forward as he glared at her. “You’re a monster,” she said, as coldly and precisely as she could. “You dominated my life ever since you married my mother. You overshadowed my life, you made me scared of everything, you destroyed my hope. You...”
Her stepfather, now the size of a small dog, stumbled backwards. “I’m not scared of you any longer,” Emily said. She’d met Shadye, and Mother Holly, and Aurelius’s namesake; her stepfather was nothing but a petty bully. Her later enemies had been threats to the entire world. “And I will not allow you to dominate my life any longer.”
She lunged forward...and her stepfather vanished in a flash of light. Emily blinked - the light had been bright enough to hurt - and looked around. She was standing in the chamber, looking at the dead crystal; the Grandmaster was standing beside her, his face worried. A twitch from below told her that Aurelius was waiting for her. She bent down and picked up the snake, wrapping it around her wrist. It hadn’t been real.
“I wouldn’t have expected a Nightmare Hex to last so long without constant renewal,” the Grandmaster said. “They’re fantastically complex pieces of work.”
Emily nodded, then blinked as she realized the Grandmaster had to have seen his greatest fear, too. How else would he have known what she’d encountered?
She looked at him. “What did you see?”
“Whitehall coming apart around me,” the Grandmaster said, shortly. There was something in his voice, an edge, that warned her not to ask any more questions. “What did you see?”
Emily shuddered. “My stepfather.”
The Grandmaster gave her a long look, then turned to lead the way into the next chamber. “I believe the remaining defenses have been dispelled,” he said. “The magic running through the building has twisted. It may or may not have accepted you as its new mistress, but it shouldn’t pose a danger any longer.”
Emily followed him, casting a new light globe as she moved. This time, the globe behaved normally. She puzzled over it for a moment, and looked around. The room was barren, save for a throne perched in the exact center of the chamber. It was made of cold iron, she saw as she walked closer, and decorated with runes that looked scorched and broken. She touched the rune at her chest, in anticipation of pain, but felt nothing. Whatever magic had been stored within the throne had faded long ago.
“Shadye would have used it to help control his powers,” the Grandmaster said, studying the throne. “I don’t think it would have done much, though. He held too much power within his wards to be easily controlled.”
“I thought runes only worked with subtle magic,” Emily said. “Can a necromancer use runes?”
“They would have bolstered his ability to resist the madness, I expect,” the Grandmaster said. He pointed to a handful of broken runes, then gave her a sharp look. “Those runes enhance feelings of stubbornness and determination. Shadye was literally manipulating his own mind.”
Emily shook her head as the Grandmaster stepped into the next chamber. There were spells, countless spells, to help someone change their behavior, but she had been warned - in no uncertain terms - that they tended to have nasty side effects. Shadye might have kept his stolen power under control, yet they might have cost him his reasoning abilities or stolen his free will. And something self-inflicted - she touched the rune between her breasts again - was far harder to remove than something imposed by an outsider.
But it kept him going, she thought, grimly. He never stopped. Every little mistake was worked into his plan.
“Emily,” the Grandmaster called. “Come and look at these.”
Aurelius sniffed uncomfortably as Emily entered the next chamber. It was smaller than the throne room, but almost as bare. A large stone table, covered with books and a handful of items she didn’t recognize, dominated the room. Several other books lay on the floor, next to the stone walls. She could practically imagine Shadye tearing his way through the manuscripts, then throwing them aside once he was done. He’d been growing increasingly desperate towards the end of his life...
She pushed the thought to one side and looked at the books. A couple were familiar - she knew them to be textbooks that hadn’t changed in over a hundred years - but others were new to her. One of them discussed basic charms, at length; another talked about blood magic and how best to use it. And Shadye had used it against her...he’d been here, she realized suddenly, when he’d laid his plans against her. She glanced down at the book and cringed, inwardly, as she realized the control spell lay in front of her. A little blood, obtained through cunning or simple violence, and she could make someone - anyone - do whatever she wished.
“I would advise you not to touch that book,” the Grandmaster said, “but in your case it’s probably futile.”
Emily blushed. She’d grown into the habit of collecting books, now that she actually had the money to buy them. And she’d even kept a book she knew to be dark, just because it was hers. If she had any claim to Shadye’s properties at all, and no one was quite sure if she did or didn’t, she would assert it over the books. They were hers.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said.
“No, you’re not,” the Grandmaster said. He gave her a humorless smile. “Just remember that actually using some of those spells will get you in very real trouble.”
He looked down at the small collection of objects and shook his head. “The stone knife will have to be destroyed, of course,” he said. He picked up a necklace with a single white crystal, then frowned. “The others...if you wish, they can be brought back to Whitehall for study. A couple of these things are new to me.”
Emily peered at the necklace as the Grandmaster put it back down on the table. “What is that?”
“A heartstone,” the Grandmaster said. He shook his head again. “Shadye must have stolen it from someone, years ago. I can’t imagine him ever having one himself.”
He smiled, seeing the puzzled expression on her face. “A heartstone always comes with a twin,” he said. “If you and your partner are deeply in love, or have strong feelings for one another, you can create a pair of stones and use them to be aware of the other at all times. I believe that your friend used some of the linking spells to create her chat parchments. Unlike those...a heartstone requires genuine feeling between the couple, as well as a strong level of trust. Relationships have been destroyed because of them.”
Emily frowned. “Why?”
The Grandmaster snorted. “You would know when your partner looked at another girl and felt a flicker of attraction, or vice versa,” he said. “There would be no white lies, no selective presentations of the truth; there would be nowhere to hide, if your feelings changed. I don’t think I’ve seen someone use one for years.”
“No privacy,” Emily mused. She couldn’t imagine being willing to share so much of herself with someone else, even if she loved him. “One bad thought could destroy the relationship.”
“There’s a twisted version used by slavers,” the Grandmaster added. He peered at Shadye’s necklace for a long moment. “Maybe that was what Shadye had in mind.”
Emily swallowed. Had she been the intended recipient?
The Grandmaster opened his pouch, carefully inserting the books and objects while Emily picked the books off the floor. One reminded her of the books Aurelius had shown her at Mountaintop, the Book of Pacts between demons and their human masters; another seemed to be a book of stories, although she knew better than to dismiss it out of hand. A third bore Whitehall’s crest on the cover, but the pages inside were completely blank, save for a handful of scribbles in the margin. She carried it back to the Grandmaster and held it up for his inspection.
“That would have been his personal spellbook, if he’d stayed at Whitehall,” the Grandmaster said. “They changed the design before you arrived. I’m surprised he kept that, Emily.”
“Maybe he was sentimental,” Emily muttered. It would have surprised her if that were true, but she’d seen stranger things on her travels. “Or wanted something to remind him of his plans.”
“Or maybe he intended to use the crest to slip into the school,” the Grandmaster said. “It might have been possible, if the wards had been weakened in some way. If the Warden had died in First Year, he might have been able to force his way inside.”
Emily shuddered.
They paused for a quick bite to eat, then searched the remainder of the fortress. Emily couldn’t help feeling disappointed, both by how little there was to find and how poorly the building had been maintained. It looked like a ruined castle from Europe, not a place for someone to live and work. But Shadye hadn’t been in any real danger from falling chunks of stone and he’d never entertained guests. He’d lived in a charnel house and he’d never given a damn.
“I think he must have been doing something here,” the Grandmaster said, as they stepped into yet another room. “There are traces of magic in the air...”
Emily hesitated, feeling with her mind, then nodded. There was something in the air, something oddly familiar. She paused, thinking hard. Could it be...? She saw a doorway, set within the wall, and opened it carefully. A small prison cell lay inside, dark and empty - and familiar. There had been nowhere to sit, let alone sleep.
“That’s where I arrived,” she said, softly. “I appeared in that cell.”
“He must have wanted to make sure you were contained,” the Grandmaster said. He glanced into the cell, then back at Emily. “If he thought you were dangerous...”
He broke off as a low rattling echoed through the chamber. Something was coming towards them. Emily jumped back, lifting a hand to cast a spell, glancing around to see what was coming their way. Something moved in the darkened corridor beyond, then advanced into the light. A skeleton. She shuddered in remembered horror as the skeleton kept moving forward, followed by three others. Shadye’s magic had animated them, but Shadye was dead. How had they survived three years without falling back into dust?
“Don’t do anything,” the Grandmaster said. “Wait.”
Emily nodded, holding her hand at the ready. The skeletons didn’t look dangerous, but they’d been strong enough to drag her through the halls at Shadye’s command. She fought down the urge to step backwards as the leader walked up to her, stopping barely a meter from where she stood, then bowed deeply. Magic danced around them as the other three followed suit, then rose, awaiting orders.
“They recognize you as their mistress,” the Grandmaster said. “Command them to show us where Shadye hid his treasures.”
Emily swallowed, then looked at the lead skeleton. “Show us where Shadye hid his treasures.”
The skeleton did nothing for long seconds, just long enough for her to think she didn’t really have any right to command them, then turned and led them back through the dark corridors towards a barren room. Emily followed, uneasily aware that the other three were bringing up the rear. They might not have been dangerous, at least to her, but they still gave her the creeps. The leader stopped in the center of the room and pointed to a stone slab.
“Powerful protections here,” the Grandmaster observed, opening the slab carefully. “And look at this!”
Emily followed his gaze. There were a handful of books and several dozen objects, all stored under the slab. A hammer-like artifact, a set of iron knives, a piece of chalk and a ring made of dull metal. The Grandmaster carefully checked the objects for unpleasant surprises - a handful had lethal curses attached - before placing them in his pouch. Emily took the books, after checking them herself, and examined their covers. None of them looked familiar.
“I’d like to have a look at those, when we get back to the school,” the Grandmaster said. “And I suggest you find a safe place to keep them.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
The Grandmaster nodded, and stood. “Ask them if there is anything else,” he ordered. “I want to make as clean a sweep as possible.”
Emily looked at the skeletons and repeated the question. The skeletons stood there for long seconds, then collapsed into piles of bones. Emily blinked, feeling the magic running through the building start to fade. Had Shadye’s magic finally reached its limit? Or had dispelling the Nightmare Hex started a slow process of collapse?
“Time to take our leave,” the Grandmaster said, sharply. Something crashed to the ground, not too far away. “The entire building might be about to fall down around our heads.”
He caught Emily’s arm. “Brace yourself,” he ordered. “Here we go.”
Emily gritted her teeth as the teleportation field caught them both. Teleporting into the Blighted Lands was dangerous, she’d been told, but getting out...it could be done, if one had the power. She closed her eyes as the world went white...
...And, when she opened them again, she was staring at Whitehall School.

Chapter Four

“Not a bad haul, all things considered,” the Grandmaster said, as he held Emily steady. She leaned on his arm, reluctantly, until her feet felt able to support her weight. The air felt cool, but blessedly alive compared to the tainted deadness of the Blighted Lands. “And much safer in our hands than in others’.”
“I suppose,” Emily said. She felt sick to her stomach. “What are you going to do with the objects we found?”
“Study them,” the Grandmaster said. “Do you want them?”
Emily shook her head. “Just the books,” she said. “What do we do about the fortress?”
“I’ll arrange for someone to take another look, in a week or so,” the Grandmaster said, as he gently let go of her arm. “If the Dark Fortress is completely drained of Shadye’s magic, someone else may move in...or it may be left abandoned. It takes a strong-minded person to live next to the Inverse Shadow.”
He shrugged. “The orcs worry me,” he added. “Either they have a new leader or they’ve found a new chieftain. They might do a little raiding on their own account once the new generation grows to maturity.”
“In a couple of years,” Emily said. Orcs grew fast. A baby might become an adult within a couple of years, ready to go into combat or start competing for mates of his own. “Will you strike first?”
“We might,” the Grandmaster said. He turned and started to walk towards Whitehall. “Your friends will be arriving later this evening, Emily. I suggest you pack your bags, and wait in the library until they arrive.”
Emily nodded, reluctantly. For some arcane reason, she hadn’t been allowed to move straight into the room she would occupy during term, even though she wouldn’t have slept there while she’d been in the Blighted Lands. Perhaps other students staked their claims to the best of everything, if they got there first, but she wouldn’t have done that, would she? Didn’t the Grandmaster know her better than that? She shrugged at the thought, wondering just who she’d get as roommates this time, and followed the Grandmaster back to Whitehall. It was funny just how much the school felt like home.
“If you have time, write out a detailed report of everything you saw in the Blighted Lands,” the Grandmaster said, as they reached the doors. “And return that little monster to its normal form.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, as Aurelius slithered off her neck and wrapped himself around her arm. She cast the spell and watched as the snake became a seemingly-harmless bangle, surrounded by anti-thief jinxes and runes designed to make it hard to see. “My friends do know about him...”
“The last thing I need is someone deciding to save you from a Death Viper,” the Grandmaster said, dryly. “Or fainting when they see one wrapped around your neck.”
Emily smiled at the thought, bowed to him and hurried up the stairs, back to her temporary room. It was small, with a bed, a desk, a set of bookshelves and not much else, but she was fond of it. In Sixth Year, she’d been told, she would have a room of her own; until then, she had to share with two roommates during term. At least she didn’t have to sleep in dorms, she reminded herself as she placed the bag of books on the desk. Mountaintop hadn’t been a very pleasant place to sleep, even when people weren’t hanging hexes on the drapes or practicing nasty spells. She’d been lucky, she suspected. If she’d gone to Mountaintop as a newcomer, she would have been as badly abused as Frieda.
She sat down, glancing at the small pile of letters awaiting her. Caleb had written twice - she felt an unaccustomed warm sensation in her chest as she saw his handwriting - and Alassa had written several more times, probably to discuss her impending wedding. She opened her sealed drawer, picked up the chat parchment from where she’d hidden it and scribbled a brief note to say she was fine. Her friends would reply when they saw the message. 
Shaking her head, she opened the letters and read them one by one, making sure there wasn’t anything urgent she might have missed while she was in the Blighted Lands. Caleb’s letters were friendly, apart from a handful of thoughts on their joint project; she surprised herself by smiling after she’d finished reading them both. Alassa was definitely worried about her wedding; Emily hadn’t objected, but some of the other barons had grumbled about their future Prince Consort being of such low birth. Emily would have thought they’d be relieved - Jade couldn’t rule the country in his own right - yet it seemed snobbery had trumped common sense. Beside it, the notes on other political developments in Zangaria were almost welcome.
“Fools,” she muttered, as she read through the latest attempt to block the spread of her innovations. “You can’t bottleneck something a person can get from anywhere.”
She put the letters aside for later contemplation, rose to her feet, undressed rapidly and stepped into the shower. The memory of her stepfather mocked her as water ran down her body, reminding her of the times she’d showered at school or gone without, just to avoid his gaze. She’d felt so helpless back then. And yet, the fear that had gripped her, holding her firmly in place, was gone. He was just another person to leave in the past, someone so far away it was certain she would never see him again. Unless she did find a way to go back to Earth...
No, she told herself firmly, as she stopped the shower and reached for a towel, slowly wiping the water droplets off her body. I’ll never go back.
Outside, she dressed rapidly, donning her favorite blue dress. It felt soft and unrestricting against her skin, contrasting neatly with her brown hair without showing off too much of her body. She would need to wear shapeless robes again tomorrow, or something lighter when she didn’t have class, but for the moment she might as well enjoy the dress. The thought made her smile as she checked her appearance in the mirror, pulled her hair back into a long ponytail and turned to pack her trunk. It wasn’t hard to make sure that all of Shadye’s books were stored within a specific compartment, accessible only to her. There would be time to study them later.
She jumped as she heard someone rap on the door, and opened it without checking the wards. Only one person rapped like that; she smiled broadly as Lady Barb stepped into the room, wearing the black robes of a combat sorcerer and carrying a small sheaf of papers in one hand. Her long blonde hair shimmered in the light as she passed the papers to Emily, then nodded to her.
“I hear you had a good trip,” she said, briskly.
“We did,” Emily said. She’d talk about what she’d seen when the Nightmare Hex had gripped her later, when she’d had a chance to think about it properly. “We found quite a few books.”
“I expect you to be very careful with them,” Lady Barb said. Her blue eyes met Emily’s and held them. “You could be held responsible if they fall into the wrong hands.”
“Yeah,” Emily said. “I have them sealed in my trunk.”
“I’ll be trying to break into it later,” Lady Barb warned. “Make sure you have it as secure as possible, or else.”
Emily nodded and hastily changed the subject, holding up the papers. “What are these?”
“Background information on potential career choices,” Lady Barb said. “At some point within the first month, Emily, you will sit down with someone from the White Council and discuss your future career. You won’t be expected to follow it slavishly, but they will give you useful advice and perhaps a few contacts. I suggest” - her tone indicated that it was actually an order - “that you go through the papers over the next few days, then make up your mind.”
“Oh,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss her future with strangers. “What if I don’t want to talk to them?”
“It’s mandatory, unless you have a legitimate reason to refuse,” Lady Barb said. “Alassa has one, Emily, but you don’t.”
She shrugged. “Pick a handful of possible careers, and talk to them about the prerequisites for apprenticeships or training programs,” she added. “You’ll find them quite useful, if you ask the right questions. They won’t expect you to be certain of what you want to do in life.”
“I want to be a researcher,” Emily said. “Or a tutor...”
“I wouldn’t put you in front of a class,” Lady Barb said. “You’d have to maintain control of a whole crowd of louts, brats, snobs, and ignorers without turning them into toads...it isn’t easy.”
“You make it look easy,” Emily said. 
“A one-on-one tutoring job would probably suit you better,” Lady Barb added, slowly. “You did a good job with Frieda, although you might have done better to curb her more...rebellious instincts.”
Emily had to smile. Frieda had invented Freeze Tag, gleefully taught it to the other First Year students and played it through Whitehall’s corridors. It might have worked out fine, she thought, if they hadn’t accidentally caught a pair of tutors in the game. Weeks of detention hadn’t curbed Frieda’s sense of playfulness in the slightest.
“I’ll be discussing prerequisites for Healing in class,” Lady Barb said. “The other tutors will be doing the same. Take their words to heart, consider them carefully, then choose wisely.”
“The Grandmaster said I would have to choose a major,” Emily said.
“He was right,” Lady Barb said. “I know you’re interested in everything, Emily, but you do have to choose a major for your final two years at Whitehall.”
She looked at the trunk. “Have you packed everything?”
“Just about,” Emily said. “I haven’t moved my letters yet.”
“Do that now,” Lady Barb ordered. “You’re in Room 4-01. I’ll take your trunk down; you can go down later, at five bells. Your roommates should have arrived by then.”
Emily hurried to obey. “I can take my trunk myself,” she said, as she hastily stuffed the letters into the trunk and the chat parchment into her pocket. “You don’t have to do it...”
“Tradition must be upheld,” Lady Barb said, sternly. Her blue eyes twinkled with amusement as she hefted the trunk with one hand. “Go to the library, Emily, or wander around the school. You shouldn’t get an edge on your roommates.”
She left, closing the door behind her. Emily sighed, made sure her dirty clothes were clearly marked for the maids, then stepped out the door herself. A handful of early arrivals - all boys - were walking down the corridor; they stared at her as she appeared, some with fear in their eyes, others with frank speculation. Not sexual, she knew, but something else, something hungry. Using the battery had made her a far more desirable match for anyone who wanted to infuse power into their families.
And it’s a trick, she thought, as she walked past them towards the library. I couldn’t muster that sort of power on my own.
She pushed the thought aside as she entered the library. It was open, but almost completely empty. Lady Aliya was standing behind her desk, looking through a colossal pile of newly-printed books, while a pair of younger students were standing in the stacks, frantically looking for reference material they’d need for their projects. Emily didn’t blame them for wanting to get ahead, not when she’d had to work through the holidays to get up to speed. It hadn’t been easy.
“Emily,” Lady Aliya said. “Have you come to help?”
“I could,” Emily said. She hadn’t had time to help in the library last year, when she’d been trying desperately to catch up with her friends, but now...she had time. “What would you like me to do?”
“These new textbooks all need to be charmed,” Lady Aliya said. “They’re going on the shelves for the First Years.”
Printed on my printing presses, Emily thought. What would it do to Whitehall when books were no longer scarce? Each and every one of the First Years could have their own copy, if they wished.
She worked her way through the pile of books, charming them one by one and then adding them to the trolleys to be put on the shelves. There was still no real order to the library, beyond a basic division by subject; it had always astonished her that someone, anyone, could actually find anything amid the chaos. But redesigning the library to use a modified version of the Library of Congress System would be impossible. It would be easier to start with a whole new library and catalogue the books as they came in.
I wonder if I could work as a librarian, she thought. Would I need experience for that?
She asked Lady Aliya, who frowned. “You’d have to work for the guild,” she said, after a moment. “I think they’d be glad to have you, but they would still insist on you taking the oaths. On the other hand...you could work for me, as an apprentice, for a year without sealing anything. That would let you decide if you wanted the job.”
Emily hesitated. “Is it a good job?”
“It would probably suit you, in some ways,” Lady Aliya said. “You like books, you’re good with them and you actually respect them. On the other hand, you wouldn’t have the option of saying no if you worked at a library and someone demanded knowledge. That isn’t a problem here, but in the White City...Emily, the librarians there have to share their knowledge with everyone.”
“So they might wind up giving knowledge to a Dark Wizard,” Emily mused.
“Among other things,” Lady Aliya said. “There are places where the librarians are sworn not to actually read the books, merely to tend to them. And other places where the librarians are practically chained to the bookshelves. We’re not meant to get involved in matters political - and you are a very political person.”
She picked up a stack of books and carried them over to the shelves. “Think about it, apprentice with me if you wish, then make up your mind,” she called back. “If you don’t like what you do, you won’t have to take the final step. But once you do take that step, you’re committed.”
Emily nodded, and turned her attention back to the new books. It hadn’t been easy, back when she’d been working as a library assistant, to put interesting books on the shelves when her brain had been demanding she sit down and start reading. She’d known it would have cost her the job, if she’d been caught, yet there had been days when she’d opened the books and allowed them to suck her in. At least Lady Aliya had allowed her to put some books aside to read when she wasn’t on the desk or shelving books. She doubted she would be allowed to do that if she was a library apprentice.
Or maybe I could, she thought. Had Lady Aliya ever held back a book so she could read it first? She didn’t know - but she wouldn’t, not if the Head Librarian chose to keep it from her. Lady Aliya knew far more than anyone else about hiding books within the stacks, or in her office. Maybe I should ask her about that, too...
She glanced at Lady Aliya, who was telling off a Third Year for some offense, and decided it would be better to ask later. Instead, she kept charming and shelving the books until her watch told her it was five bells, an hour before dinner was served in the Great Hall. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since before Shadye’s fortress had started to collapse, but she did her best to ignore it. She needed to see who her roommates were instead of eating dinner...
“That’s me,” she called. “Should I come back and finish the rest later?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lady Aliya said. “Just enjoy yourself.”
Emily left the room, feeling a leaden weight in her stomach. The first set of roommates she’d had had been picked at random, but she’d requested her friends for the second set and been denied. And she’d shared a room with Frieda for her Third Year...who would she have this time? She walked through the corridors, doing her best to ignore the glances and stares, until she found the entrance to the Third Year dorms. Madame Beauregard was standing outside, looking strict; Emily knew, from bitter experience, that the pinched-face woman made Lady Barb look soft.
“Room 4-01,” she snapped at Emily. “Your roommates are already there.”
“Thank you,” Emily said.
She stepped into the dorm corridor - it looked identical to the ones she’d used earlier, although the common room was larger and there were paintings hanging from the walls - and pressed her hand against the wooden door marked 4-01. It clicked open at her touch, revealing a room with three beds, three desks, three chairs, three wardrobes and a door at the rear leading to the bathroom and shower compartment. Emily hesitated, then stepped inside...
...And smiled as she saw her friends.
“Emily,” Alassa called, from where she was unpacking her trunk. “Welcome back!”
She stood and gave Emily a hug. Imaiqah sat up on her bed and waved, then stood to welcome Emily too. Emily felt tears pricking at her eyes as she hugged both of her friends, and glanced at her bed. It looked bare, as always, just waiting for her to make her bed and unpack her trunk.
“So,” Alassa said. “How was your trip?”
“Complex,” Emily said, finally. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “But I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

Chapter Five

“Emily,” Frieda called, as Emily stepped into the Dining Hall. “Come join me?”
Emily smiled at her younger friend, practically her younger sister, nodded and walked over to her table. Frieda was alone, even though she was entering Second Year; she’d come back early with Alassa and Imaiqah, rather than stay in Zangaria for another couple of days until the other Second Years arrived. Emily couldn’t help wondering why she was allowed to enter her bedroom early, but dismissed the thought. It was quite likely Frieda had been assigned a singleton for a couple of days, before her future roommates arrived.
“It’s good to see you again,” Frieda said, as she rose to her feet and gave Emily a quick hug. She wore a long blue dress that reminded Emily of her own, probably yet another gift from Queen Marlena. “I was hoping we’d be sharing a room again.”
Emily shook her head. “I think they wanted you to bunk with people your own age,” she said. She sat down next to Frieda and smiled as Alassa and Imaiqah sat facing them. “It’s supposed to be good for your social development or something.”
“Or something,” Imaiqah echoed, dryly. The three of them had asked to share a room for Second Year, only to be denied by Master Tor. “But you would be better off with roommates at the same level as yourself.”
Frieda looked at Emily. “Is that true?”
“It depends on who you get as roommates,” Emily muttered, uncomfortably. She hadn’t treated Frieda badly, not when they’d been sharing a room, but someone else with two years between her and her roommate might well rule the roost. “And you’d be able to invite more guests to your room.”
“I suppose,” Frieda said. She’d kept her friends out of the room they’d shared, although Emily had never been sure if she’d been trying to keep them from distracting the older girl or merely wanted somewhere peaceful she could retreat to, if necessary. “We’re going to be a lot busier this term, aren’t we?”
“There will be plenty of time to play Ken,” Alassa assured her. She winked at Emily. “I think Frieda will be the latest member of our team. We’re having try-outs at the end of the week, once everyone is back to school.”
“And for those of us who are actually intent on studying,” a new voice said, “we have to get back to work.”
Emily looked up and smiled as she saw the Gorgon, wearing her robes rather than a dress. “It’s good to see you again, too,” she said. “I dare say we can hide in the library while the try-outs are taking place.”
The Gorgon sat down, her greenish face tired. She had to travel farther than any of them, Emily knew, and might well have been denied access to some of the portals along the way. The Allied Lands had little classical racism, but it was perfectly legal to discriminate against gorgons, werewolves and others who had been touched by magic. And vampires could be exterminated on sight. She felt a stab of sympathy for her friend, wondering if there was anything she could do to deal with the problem. But so far she hadn’t been able to think of anything, besides making it clear that the Gorgon was her friend.
“I understand you were going to be working on your project,” the Gorgon said. “How did that go?”
“She wound up with a boyfriend,” Imaiqah said, quickly. “It was very sweet!”
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Emily protested, feeling her cheeks heat. Beside her, Frieda giggled. “He isn’t...”
Imaiqah smirked. “We shall see,” she said. “But you did make it through to Fourth Year.”
“That’s very well done,” the Gorgon said.
“Thank you,” Emily said.
“I’m getting married,” Alassa said, drawing the conversation away from Emily. “You will be coming to the wedding, won’t you?”
The Gorgon looked shocked. “Would I be welcome?”
“By me,” Alassa said. “And Jade. And everyone else can go jump off the battlements.”
“Or throw you off the battlements,” the Gorgon predicted, mournfully. “That would be a tragic end to the wedding.”
“The last one was quite peaceful,” Alassa said. She nodded to Emily. “Of course, it did require someone to silence everyone with a spell.”
Emily nodded back, slowly. Markus and Melissa’s wedding had been small, with only a handful of guests. Melissa had deserved a bigger wedding, given what she’d had to do to get married to Markus, but she’d been disowned by her family. In the end, even her former friends had failed to make it. Emily couldn’t help feeling another stab of sympathy for someone who had started out as an enemy, or at least a rival. Melissa hadn’t deserved to be disowned, let alone cut off from her entire former life.
But at least she has Markus, Emily thought. They’ll get through it, won’t they?
“So I heard,” the Gorgon said, breaking into Emily’s thoughts. “I didn’t know you had that sort of power.”
Emily cringed, inwardly. Gorgon magic was strange, different; it wasn’t easy to undo their ability to turn someone into a stone statue. Emily had been caught in the Gorgon’s magic and it had taken nearly a week for Whitehall’s staff to free them both from the spell. No wonder so many people were scared of gorgons...and now, she suspected, they would be scared of her too. It wasn’t something she’d ever wanted.
“I was desperate,” she said, shortly. The Gorgon was brilliant - there was a fine mind in there, combined with two additional years of schooling - and quite perceptive. She might reason out that a trick had been involved, although Emily hoped she would never figure out how it was actually done. “I tried something and it worked.”
“Yeah, well everyone is talking about it,” the Gorgon said. “You’re going to have everyone staring at you this year.”
“Again,” Alassa put in.
“Try and steal the show,” Emily urged. “Talk about your wedding or something, please!”
“Wear a glamor,” Frieda suggested. “Pretend to be a younger student or something. Hang out with us in Second Year.”
Alassa giggled. “I don’t think she’d do that,” she said. “Really.”
Emily shook her head, slowly. It was rare for the older students to hang around with the younger students, even if they were related. They were on entirely different levels, or so they believed, and even talking to younger students made them look weak in the eyes of their equals. It had never made any sense to her, but then...she rarely tried to talk to anyone outside her circle. Frieda was something of an exception to the rule.
“Then you’ll just have to endure it,” the Gorgon said, briskly. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” Emily said.
“I hear Aloha has already returned to school,” the Gorgon said. “Have you seen her?”
Emily shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “I thought the upper classes were told to stay out of our way.”
“I think she’s in 5.07,” Imaiqah said. “That’s what she said on the chat parchment, anyway.”
“Be careful when you go there,” Frieda offered. “We were playing games up near the doors and they chased us away.”
“I think that had something to do with the racket you were making,” Imaiqah pointed out, dryly. “They were trying to study, weren’t they?”
“We were very quiet,” Frieda protested.
Emily smiled. She’d seen Frieda and her friends at play and quiet was not the word she would have used to describe them. The shouting and screaming alone was enough to put anyone off their work, while they had a tendency to run into empty classrooms and turn them into impromptu playrooms. For girls who were approaching seventeen, if they weren’t already there, they were remarkably childish. But then, at least they were enjoying themselves. It was more than could be said for herself before she’d come to Whitehall.
She looked up as dinner arrived: great steaming plates of goulash, bowls of noodles and boiled potatoes, slices of roast beef and chicken and giant tureens of soup. Frieda tucked in hastily, without anything resembling decorum; Emily shook her head in tired amusement before she started to ladle food onto her own plate. Frieda had never had enough to eat before she’d met Emily; even now, she ate far more than seemed humanly possible at each meal. But she definitely needed the energy. Magic tapped the body’s reserves far more than any physical exercise.
And she really was too thin when we first met, Emily reminded herself. She needed to bulk up before she drained herself too far and died.
The food tasted heavenly, as always. Emily finished her plate and then pushed it into the center of the table rather than take another helping. It had always struck her as odd that Whitehall served so many different kinds of food, but perhaps, with students coming from all over the Allied Lands, it wasn’t strange at all. The food in Zangaria tended towards roast meat, overcooked potatoes and stewed vegetables. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it tended to get wearying after a while.
If someone had the money to buy meat, she reminded herself. Poaching wasn’t forbidden in Cockatrice - she’d never been inclined to go hunting, let alone reserve wide swathes of the forest for her personal use - but elsewhere it was harshly punished. The commoners are lucky if they get one helping of meat per week.
She pushed the thought aside, angrily. Here, in Whitehall, it was easy to forget about Cockatrice and her responsibilities there. But she couldn’t look away, not when she knew just how many injustices had been perpetrated on a daily basis. People had been whipped, murdered, or worse, just for offending the old baron in some way. It wasn’t something she could allow to continue...
“Hey,” Imaiqah said, quickly. “Look behind you.”
Emily turned - and smiled as she saw Caleb standing at the door, looking uncertain. She didn’t really blame him, not when he was being forced to repeat an entire year. It shouldn’t have shamed him, she thought, but she knew it did; it shamed anyone who had to remain in the lower classes when their peers had advanced to Year Five. Caleb was a year older than the students he had to join...
“Better go speak to him,” Imaiqah urged. “He won’t get any food at all if he doesn’t come in.”
“We’ll save you some dessert,” Alassa added. “Unless it’s trifle, in which case we’ll eat it all.”
Emily hesitated, feeling an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach, and then rose and walked towards the door. Caleb looked relieved to see her, yet he seemed to have problems looking her in the eye. Maybe he’d been teased, too - Emily’s mother had told her what boys said to one another, when they thought girls weren’t listening - or maybe he was just awkward about stepping into a room infested with younger students. A year wasn’t that much of a gap, Emily thought, but...
The Gorgon stayed back a year, she reminded herself, firmly. But she was almost friendly anyway.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said. She cast a privacy ward as she noted several people pretending not to listen to their conversation. “How was your family?”
Caleb colored, slightly. “My mother and my father are well,” he said. “Still disappointed in me, still thinking I should be doing something more practical with my time, but accepting that I want to remain at Whitehall.”
“That’s good,” Emily said, feeling a little tongue-tied. “And your siblings?”
“Casper is apparently in training to be a combat sorcerer,” Caleb said. His lips twitched into a smile, just for a second. “His master seems to think he isn’t quite ready to be released, not yet.”
Emily nodded. Jade had been Master Grey’s student for two years before he’d been released, although he had been working with Sergeant Miles rather than setting out on his own. Even so, it suggested that Jade was a truly brilliant student. Alassa was lucky to have him.
“The younger ones are still at school,” Caleb added. “Well, Karan just entered Stronghold - she made a fuss about me not going because she wanted an older brother there - while Marian is studying her letters and numbers before she comes into her magic. Croce had a very successful first term, or so he says. He spent half the summer in Melrose with a friend of his.”
“You spent half the summer in Zangaria,” Emily pointed out.
Caleb smiled. “It was far better than spending it with my family,” he said, looking down at his hands. They were still covered with faint scars. “My parents were none too pleased when I managed to injure myself.”
“You recovered,” Emily said.
“That’s not the point,” Caleb said. “The point is that I messed up and hurt myself - and almost hurt someone else.”
“I know,” Emily said, awkwardly. 
“They asked a few questions about you too,” Caleb added, reluctantly. “Mother wanted to know what you intended to do with yourself. Father talked about enlisting you into his great plan to wage war on the necromancers.”
Emily blinked in surprise. Killing a necromancer wasn’t easy. She was the only person known to have killed two, both through cheating. Sending an army of men armed with swords and spears against a necromancer was dangerously futile; they’d just be providing the necromancer with more fuel for his magic. Caleb’s father had to know better, didn’t he?
“They’d smash any army we sent,” she said, slowly. “Even a hundred combat sorcerers would have problems stopping a necromancer.”
“He thinks we need to take the initiative,” Caleb said. “They’re killing us, right now, with gentle pressure along the borders. We almost lost Whitehall two years ago. He thinks we need to find a way to strike back.”
“If we can,” Emily said. She had some tricks she knew she could use, but she wasn’t sure she dared let them out of the bag. The nuke-spell might be worse than necromancy, once it spread widely. “Maybe we should wait until after I graduate.”
By which time he might have thought better of it, she thought, inwardly.
She paused, trying to think of something to say. “Are you going to join us for dinner?”
Caleb hesitated. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “I...”
“Come join us,” Emily urged. She liked his company, even though she knew her friends were going to tease her. It wasn’t as if he was her real boyfriend, merely someone she enjoyed spending time with. “There will be trifle, if Alassa hasn’t eaten it all.”
She caught Caleb’s arm and tugged him gently towards the table, dispelling the privacy ward as they moved. Imaiqah smirked at them as they approached, then motioned for Frieda to move to one side, clearing the way for Caleb to sit next to Emily. He didn’t seem put out by the Gorgon at all, Emily noted in relief. She wasn’t sure she would have liked him so much if he’d been repulsed by one of her friends.
“Welcome back,” Imaiqah said, as they sat. The servers were already bringing out pudding, along with jugs of cream and glasses of juice. “Did you have a nice chat?”
“Yes, thank you,” Emily said, blushing. Privacy wards made it impossible for anyone to overhear their words - or even lip-read - but they tended to be easy to see. They could have been talking about something far more romantic than Caleb’s parents and the looming threat of the necromancers. “We did.”
The Gorgon cleared her throat. “As a student who entered Fourth Year,” she said, “do you have any words of advice?”
Caleb frowned, running one scarred hand through his brown hair. “Make sure you don’t miss the Grandmaster’s speech tomorrow,” he said. “They sometimes set an essay on the speech and its meaning, when they run out of other horrid things to do.”
“Seriously?” Alassa said. “But no one ever pays attention to those things.”
“Pay attention to this one,” Caleb said. “It’s quite important.”
He looked down at his hand. “And try not to injure yourself too,” he added. “That’s also quite important.”
“I can see why,” Frieda said. There was an odd edge in her voice. “You nearly killed yourself.”
“A moment of carelessness,” Caleb agreed. He looked at Imaiqah. “You have a project plan ready to go?”
“Yes,” Imaiqah said. She glanced at Alassa. “How long do we have to make it work?”
“You’ll be expected to present a progress report just before the first break, then a completed project after the second break,” Caleb said. “Didn’t you have this explained to you at the start of Third Year?”
“It’s always better to hear from someone who’s actually gone though the experience,” Imaiqah said, blandly.
She’s trying to get him to open up, Emily realized, suddenly. Imaiqah might not be as studious as the Gorgon, or Emily herself, but she was perfectly capable of reading notes and following instructions. And yet, by asking Caleb questions, she was encouraging him to talk about a subject he might find comfortable. Clever.
“I didn’t have that much experience before I managed to put myself out of the running for the year,” Caleb pointed out. He held up his scarred hand. “All I can tell you is that they will go over everything you do with a chilling precision.”
“Joy,” Alassa muttered.
“You have to be able to defend it forwards and backwards,” Caleb added. “And make sure you understand every last bit of the project.”
“We can do that,” Alassa said. “But what is the Grandmaster going to tell us?”
Caleb smirked. “Wait and see,” he said. “Just you wait and see.”
Emily frowned inwardly, but kept her thoughts to herself. Tomorrow, they would have the speech...and then, they would go back to classes. It was going to be hard, she knew all too well, but she couldn’t wait. Whitehall was her home now, as far as she was concerned...
...And it was where she belonged.

Chapter Six

Emily didn’t expect to get much sleep after they finally finished dinner and were chased out of the Dining Hall, but she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She jerked awake the following morning when her bed quivered restlessly, preparing to throw her out onto the stone cold floor. She jumped out of bed, hurried into the bathroom and showered, then pulled her shapeless robes over her head.
“You could have woken me,” she said to Imaiqah. Alassa was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t want to be late for the speech.”
“You looked as though you needed a rest,” Imaiqah said, unrepentantly. “There’s plenty of time, I think. We’re not expected to be in the Great Hall until ten bells.”
Emily glanced at her watch, then nodded reluctantly. Classes normally started at nine bells, but the first day was always chaotic. She should have time to snag a mug of Kava and a snack – even though she didn’t feel like eating - before hurrying down to the Great Hall. Her bed quivered warningly as she sat down on it, pulled her shoes on and nodded to her friend.
“Where’s Alassa?”
“She had a very early morning meeting with Madame Beauregard,” Imaiqah said. “She’s not back yet.”
Emily blinked. “Is she in trouble already?”
“I don’t think so,” Imaiqah said. She rose and joined Emily as she walked towards the door. “I think there was just a dispute over what she could and couldn’t bring into the dorms.”
They walked down the stairs into the Dining Hall and sat down. Servers brought them hot Kava - Emily winced at the bitter taste, but at least it woke her up - and bowls of porridge, crammed with raisins and sultanas. Emily ate quickly, surprised at her own hunger; she’d eaten plenty the previous night and done very little to work it off. But she knew she’d need the energy when classes restarted in earnest. Not eating was akin to self-harm where magic was involved.
“I have my timetable here,” Imaiqah said, digging through her pockets. “How close is it to yours?”
Emily pulled out her own - she’d barely had a chance to glance at it - and frowned, comparing the two papers. Most of their classes were identical, but there were blank spots for her where Imaiqah had Defensive Magic and Artwork. She sighed at the list of introductory classes - as if they’d have a chance to change their classes now - and then scowled as she realized she wouldn’t have Martial Magic. It was vanishingly rare for a student to take the class early and she’d completed both years offered at Whitehall.
Aloha will have the same problem, she thought. She reached for the chat parchment to ask her older friend a question, then shook her head. We can talk about it later.
“They probably won’t want to put you in Defensive Magic,” Imaiqah said, thoughtfully. “I think you’re well ahead of us, at least in some levels. You could probably teach the class.”
Emily shook her head. Sergeant Harkin - she said a silent prayer for his soul - and Sergeant Miles were both formidable personalities, able to cow an unruly student with a single disapproving look. No one had dared defy Harkin openly before his death - before Shadye had made her stab him - and no one had realized he didn’t even have a single spark of magic to his name. She knew, all too well, that she didn’t have the presence to keep a class’s attention, not when they were experimenting with dangerous magic. 
“No, thank you,” she said. “Maybe they just mean to give me some more research time.”
“I doubt it,” Imaiqah said. “They’d want you to build on what you have.”
They finished breakfast, and hurried through the corridors to the Great Hall. Several more students cast wary glances at her, as if they expected her to start lashing out in all directions; Emily did her best to ignore it, even though it was worrying. She would have preferred to be ignored, rather than to be treated as a volcano that might explode at any moment. But then, by the time the story had swept from one end of the Allied Lands and back again, it had probably grown in the telling. God alone knew what the students had heard before they’d returned to Whitehall.
She smiled to herself as she stepped into the Great Hall and waved to Caleb, who was leaning against the stone walls and trying not to be seen. Imaiqah caught her arm and tugged her towards Caleb, beckoning to Alassa as she entered the chamber. Emily smiled inwardly as Alassa came to join them, noting how she managed to make even the shapeless robes look good. She didn’t even have a single hair out of place.
“Madame Beauregard wanted to offer me a job,” she said, as she leaned against the wall next to them. “Dorm Monitor.”
“Wow,” Imaiqah said. “She must think highly of you.”
Alassa shrugged. “It’s extra responsibility,” she said. “I didn’t even know the post existed.”
“They start from Fourth Year,” Caleb put in. “One male, one female; they’re meant to keep an eye on their fellow students while Madame Beauregard keeps an eye on the Third Years. I wasn’t one.”
Imaiqah elbowed Alassa. “Bet Jade was,” she said. “Write to him and ask.”
“I will,” Alassa said. “Who do you think the other Dorm Monitor will be?”
Emily tuned them both out as they started discussing the various boys in their year and contemplating the most likely candidates. It wasn’t a post she wanted, not when she’d be the same age as the students she was meant to supervise. Jade had been a prefect, she recalled, but he’d never had to boss around his fellow Sixth Year students, only students who had been younger than him. Alassa would need reserves of tact and diplomacy Emily suspected she didn’t have to make the position anything more than an empty title.
Caleb cleared his throat. “Did you want the post?”
“No,” Emily said. “I didn’t know it existed either.”
She leaned against the wall and watched as students kept flowing into the Great Hall. There were only eighty Fourth Year students, divided almost evenly between male and female; she knew a handful of them by name, but others were strangers. Imaiqah would be able to talk about anyone in their year in great detail, Emily knew, yet Emily herself had never had the knack for learning about people, let alone making friends. She only knew Melissa and her cronies because they’d tried to make her life miserable.
The doors started to close, a handful of remaining students hastily running to get into the Great Hall before it was too late. Melissa was one of the last, her long red hair spilling out behind her as she ran into the chamber. She looked different, Emily noted, although it was hard to put her finger on why. There was a new resilience in the way she moved that surprised Emily. She waved, wondering if Melissa would come over, but Melissa did not approach them. Instead, she merely found a place to stand and waited.
Should have chairs here for us, Emily thought. Standing here for hours is no fun.
She pushed the thought aside as the Grandmaster stepped through a door and walked onto the stage. The lights dimmed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Emily stood straighter, clasping her hands behind her back. The Grandmaster was not someone to ignore.
“Greetings,” the Grandmaster said. “Welcome back to Whitehall.”
There was a long pause. Normally, Emily knew, he would introduce the Year Head and allow him to make the rest of the speech, but this time he merely waited, his hidden eyes sweeping the room. Whitehall was his, Emily knew; the wards respected him as their master, even though he would one day stand aside for a new Grandmaster. That day, Emily hoped, would be a very long time in coming.
“This is your Fourth Year at Whitehall,” the Grandmaster continued. “As such, it is perhaps your most important year at Whitehall. Your Year Head, therefore, stands before you now.”
It took Emily a moment to realize he meant him, that he was the Year Head. She couldn’t help smiling as a rustle of understanding ran through the giant chamber. She liked the Grandmaster, while Master Tor had been a jerk and Mistress Irene had been sharp-tongued and strict. If the Grandmaster had time to serve as Year Head as well as his Grandmaster duties, there were few indeed who would wish for someone else. The Grandmaster could open doors no one else could, at least at Whitehall.
“First, a handful of minor announcements,” the Grandmaster said. “Quite a few of you have obtained chat parchments from their inventor. Anyone caught using one in class, at least not without a very good excuse, will be caned. I strongly suggest you do not bring your parchment into the classroom, as the tutor may simply destroy it. In addition, last year there were an alarming number of blue books smuggled into the school. The school board has banned them from the school and anyone caught with one will regret it.”
Oops, Emily thought. If she’d known that the printing presses she’d introduced would be used to print Blue Books, erotic stories, she might have thought twice about introducing them to the Nameless World. She’d glanced at a handful of the stories and they’d been universally awful. But they won’t blame me for that, will they?
“On a more serious note, I strongly advise you not to miss any classes during this year,” the Grandmaster warned. “Fourth Year lays the groundwork for your later career and it is vitally important to pass your exams with good grades. If you feel you are falling behind, go to your advisers and ask for assistance before it is too late. Your advisers are there to help you, so take advantage of them. Should you fail Fourth Year, as some of you already know, you may have to go all the way back to Third Year. I am reliably informed that most students would consider this a fate worse than death.”
There were some nervous chuckles. Emily understood; none of them would really be considered adults, whatever their age, until they passed Fourth Year. Being two years older than her fellow students would be bad enough, but to be treated as a child rather than an adult...it was not a pleasant thought. She silently resolved to pass Fourth Year on her first try.
“In addition, there will be career sessions with an adviser from the White Council,” the Grandmaster stated. “You will be expected to attend these sessions; you’ve been provided with papers detailing procedures, career requirements and your options. Talk to your advisers, sort out a handful of prospective careers and plan how you intend to approach the session.”
He paused. Emily couldn’t help feeling a stab of guilt. She’d barely glanced at the papers after shoving them into her pockets; hell, she’d left them back in her bedroom, rather than carry them with her. She made a mental note to read them when she got back, then turned her attention back to the Grandmaster. He looked stern.
“There is something that needs to be said, and said clearly,” he said. “It is why I am serving as your Year Head, even though you are Fourth Years rather than Sixth Years, and why I am speaking to you now.”
This was it, Emily realized. She glanced at Caleb and saw him smile. This was what he’d hinted at, yesterday. But the Grandmaster was still talking.
“Over the years,” he continued, “many students – young men and women like yourselves – have questioned the very purpose of Whitehall School. And when we, your tutors and teachers, have answered, we have told you about the advantages of learning in groups, of meeting your fellows before you reach true adulthood, of sharing the experience of discovering magic together. All of those answers are true.
“But there is another answer. Whitehall School exists for your protection and the protection of others.
“Magic is a great gift, but it can also be a curse. Here, you have learned how to use magic safely – and, perhaps, learned what it feels like to be without magic, to be at the mercy of those with greater power. Here, we can cope with problems that would kill you, if you lived outside the school; here, we can discipline you if you act like children, if you use your magic as a weapon. The outside world has fewer options when it comes to children granted the powers of gods. They must kill you, if you remain weak, or bow to you if you become strong.”
Emily shuddered. How long had it been since she’d come within a hairsbreadth of killing Alassa?
“Some of you, raised among mundanes, will see magic as a way to boost yourself, to become powerful, to exact revenge for slights real and imagined. Others, raised among magicians, will see yourselves as separate from the mundane world, able to interact with it on terms you choose. Neither feeling is healthy, nor is it good for the future of the Allied Lands. We seek to teach you how to handle your powers responsibly, because in the wider world it is often the case that the only check on your power is you.
“For many of you, this will be your final year at Whitehall. You will be released to walk the land, to become everything from alchemists to court wizards, taking with you what we have taught you. You will be released on a world that will bow to you, that will see your robes and your power and grant you respect. You will define yourself by how you handle what you have become, if you tame magic or if you allow the magic to tame you.”
He paused, looking down at them. Emily felt her breath catch in her throat.
“I do not count our successes as those who learn to handle great power, who can perform vast feats of magic, although those things are important. I count our successes as those who end up calm and confident, reasonable people whom the Allied Lands can depend upon in the endless war. Some of you will feel otherwise, and that is understandable. However, you must learn to shape your own path in the future. Your lives are what you make of them.”
He repeated himself, slowly. “Your lives are what you make of them.”
There was a long silent pause. He was right, Emily knew; she’d seen too much abuse of mundanes by magicians to believe otherwise. If her life had been different, if she’d had magic on Earth, her stepfather wouldn’t have lived a year...and how many others, perhaps, would she have sought to hurt? There were times when she wondered why Frieda hadn’t gone back home, one final time, to avenge herself on those who had cast her out. Maybe Frieda was just a better person...
“Dismissed,” the Grandmaster said, very quietly. 
The doors opened, allowing light to spill into the Great Hall from the corridor outside. Emily looked at Caleb, then at her thoughtful friends, and started towards the door. Outside, Aloha stood leaning against the wall, wearing the red robes of a Fifth Year student. Her dark face was marred by a worried frown.
“Emily,” she called. “I have orders to take you to the Grandmaster’s office.”
Alassa elbowed Emily. “What have you done now?”
“Nothing,” Emily said. She hastily recalled her timetable. “I’ll see you in Healing?”
“Of course,” Alassa said. “We’ll take very good care of Caleb, don’t you worry.”
Emily felt herself flush - Caleb was blushing, too - and followed Aloha up a small staircase to the Grandmaster’s office. The room was unlocked, but she felt the wards probing at her magic as she stepped inside; if she hadn’t been cleared to enter, she suspected she wouldn’t have enjoyed the consequences. Trying to break into offices was an old tradition at Whitehall, but so were a whole series of unpleasant hexes intended to keep out trespassers. 
“It’s good to see you again,” Aloha said, as she closed the door. “I heard interesting things about your summer.”
“It was...eventful,” Emily said. She didn’t really want to talk about it. Aloha was the brightest student at Whitehall; given time, she might figure out the truth. “And yours?”
“I studied,” Aloha said, flatly. “I...”
She broke off as the door opened and the Grandmaster stepped into the room. “Emily, Aloha,” he said, as he closed the door behind him. “Thank you both for coming.”
Emily nodded, once.
“The pair of you present us with an odd problem,” the Grandmaster said. “You have both completed the levels of Martial Magic provided at Whitehall, at least for students, but you’re too young to go straight to an apprenticeship. I have no intention of allowing you to waste what you’ve learned, however, so I have taken the liberty of arranging for private training sessions with a respected combat sorcerer.”
“Thank you, sir,” Aloha said.
Emily smiled. Someone she knew? Lady Barb? Sergeant Miles? She could learn from both of them...
“You will study with him when you should have Martial Magic,” the Grandmaster continued. “It will not be a full apprenticeship, but you should be well-prepared for one by the time you graduate from Whitehall. I believe you may be able to complete such an apprenticeship within a year. If, of course, you choose to work towards becoming combat sorceresses.”
He waved a hand at the door, commanding it to open...
...And Master Grey stepped into the room. 

Chapter Seven

Emily felt a leaden weight drop into her chest as Master Grey bowed politely to the Grandmaster, then stared at Aloha and her. Master Grey didn’t like her. Master Grey had never liked her. He’d expressed his disapproval time and time again, first to Jade and then to Emily’s face. To have him teaching her...
Aloha elbowed her, none too gently. “You’re meant to bow,” she reminded Emily, very quietly. “Now.”
Emily did as she was told, even though she hated the idea of taking her eyes off him for longer than a second. Master Grey merely nodded, his cold blue eyes fixed on her face. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, his black robes carefully tailored to both show off his muscles and allow him to move freely. His head had been shaved, like a monk; a silver stud was placed in each ear, presumably charmed to offer protection. Emily forced herself to keep looking at him, even though she wanted to step backwards. Master Grey scared her in a way she couldn’t quite name.
“Master Grey has considerable experience preparing younger students for their apprenticeships,” the Grandmaster said. If he was aware of the tension in the room, he didn’t show it. “I believe he will make a suitable tutor for both of you, probably for a single year.”
“I have no objections to remaining longer,” Master Grey said, gravely. 
Emily swallowed. Who’d had the bright idea of inviting him? Lady Barb would have known it was a bad idea, Sergeant Miles would have had his doubts; hell, surely the Grandmaster would have consulted Lady Barb before inviting Master Grey to the school. Or...had Master Grey volunteered for the task? And if so, why? It wouldn’t give him any more apprentices to his name, only deprive him of the chance to find another apprentice or whatever else he did when he wasn’t attending fairs or patrolling the Allied Lands.
“We will see how things go,” the Grandmaster said. Emily wanted to protest, but she knew from bitter experience that it would be unwise to protest with Master Grey in the same room. “I believe their timetables have been arranged to allow you to have Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with them - and perhaps more, if you find it to be necessary.”
He can’t kill you, Emily’s thoughts reassured her. He really can’t kill you.
Of course not, her own thoughts answered. But he can make your life miserable.
The Grandmaster cleared his throat. “I expect you to make the most of this opportunity,” he said. His words were addressed to both of them, but Emily had a feeling they were aimed specifically at her. “It was not easy to find someone willing to teach you both.”
He rose. “I’d like my office back in an hour,” he added. “Until then, I suggest you spend the time to get acquainted. You must have much to discuss.”
Emily wanted to ask him to stay, to beg him to stay, but she couldn’t speak. She watched numbly as the Grandmaster walked past her, out the door and into the corridor. The door closed with an audible thud, sending chills down her spine. They were alone with a powerful magician who hated her.
“Your posture is bad,” Master Grey said, looking her up and down. “You need to straighten your back and hold your hands behind your back.”
Emily flushed, but did as she was told. Sergeant Harkin had told her how to stand properly, but she’d slipped after going to Mountaintop and then desperately working to complete Third Year with her friends. Mountaintop...another shiver ran down her spine as she recalled that Master Grey had graduated from Mountaintop, the school she’d turned upside down. He had more than one reason to hate her.
“Your posture isn’t bad, but it’s too tight,” Master Grey said, turning his cold gaze to Aloha. “Relax slightly, very slightly.”
He watched her for a long moment, then turned his gaze back to Emily. “It has been a month since we last spoke,” he said. “Do you recall what I said?”
Emily nodded, looking down at the floor.
“Look me in the eye,” Master Gray ordered. “Do you recall what I said?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. It was easier to look at the Gorgon, snakes and all, than it was to raise her eyes to meet Master Grey’s. “I remember what you said.”
“Good,” Master Grey said.
He clasped his hands behind him, never taking his eyes off her face. “The two of you are in an odd position, as you should be able to understand for yourself,” he said. “On one hand, you have passed both years of Martial Magic at Whitehall; on the other, you need more experience - and to graduate - before you can take up an apprenticeship.”
“The Grandmaster said that,” Emily said.
Master Grey scowled at her. “One demerit for interrupting me,” he snapped.
Emily blinked. A demerit?
“I will therefore be concentrating on building up the military and self-defense skills you both need,” Master Grey continued, resuming his speech. “You will be taught some skills which are rarely taught outside apprenticeships, but you will also be introduced to concepts that are not covered in your selected classes, purely because of their military value. And you will be doing a great deal of physical exercise.”
He paused, then went on in a decidedly nasty tone of voice. “Each demerit will be paid for, young ladies, with an hour of physical exercise,” he informed them. “I expect each demerit to be worked off within the next few days. Should you build up five demerits without paying them off, there will be a harsher punishment in store. I was intending to explain this to you later, but as one of you has already managed to earn a demerit...”
Emily flushed, looking back down at the floor.
“Look me in the eye, Lady Emily,” Master Grey repeated, tartly. “You must learn to present yourself as a confident person, no matter what you’re feeling inside. Far too many little tragedies might have been avoided if the victim had looked able and willing to defend herself.”
He’d read the reports, Emily realized, and probably her school records too. Lady Barb had made the same observation, the day after Hodge had tried to rape her. If she’d looked more confident, she’d told Emily, Hodge might have known better than to try to attack her - or anyone. And maybe the Ashworths and Ashfalls would have thought better of allowing themselves to come to the brink of open war in her territory.
And if he’d read her school records, she wondered, what else did he know about her?
Master Grey peered at her, then stepped backwards. “You will report to the Armory after lunch on Tuesday and Thursday,” he added, coldly. “I will not accept any excuses for lateness; if you happen to be in a sickbed, bring that sickbed with you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Aloha said.
Emily echoed her a moment later. Her friend seemed almost enchanted...but then, Aloha had always thrived on challenges. Master Grey might come across as a bloody-minded asshole to her, yet he was also someone at the top of his game, someone who could actually teach her how to expand her skills. Emily understood...but she also wished it had been someone - anyone - else. She had the nasty feeling that Master Grey’s bite was a lot worse than his bark.
“We will be using that time to carry out practical exercises,” Master Grey informed them. “I expect you to wear standard uniforms for Martial Magic, not your robes or anything you might wear outside class. You will be worked hard.
“In addition, you will be set homework each week, which I will expect you to complete and hand in on schedule. You will need access to the military annexe of the library, for which I have made arrangements with Lady Aliya. Do not try to take any of those books out of the library without special permission. Some of them are quite rare and valuable. Failure to hand in your homework on time will not go unpunished.”
Of course not, Emily thought, sarcastically. Her teachers on Earth hadn’t given a damn if she completed her homework or not, but Whitehall’s tutors were quite prepared to issue punishment exercises, to be completed in detention, for anyone who failed to do their work outside class. He’s just looking for an excuse to punish us.
“This is a rare opportunity for you - for anyone,” Master Grey concluded. “I don’t think I have to tell you just how few students are given personalized training. The Grandmaster, I believe, will have told you what advantages you can expect from these sessions. A student who does well, here and now, will complete an apprenticeship far quicker than the average apprentice. Even your former boyfriend” - he eyed Emily darkly - “took two years to complete his apprenticeship.”
Emily flushed. Jade might have asked her to marry him, and she thought he’d meant well, but it wouldn’t have worked out. He was decent, but he was far too forceful and he wouldn’t have given her any time to herself. Alassa and he made a far better couple. It had stung, when she’d heard they’d become engaged, yet she didn’t begrudge them their happiness. Alassa deserved someone who not only challenged her, but watched her back.
“Good,” Master Grey said. “You kept your eyes on me, this time.”
He watched her for a long moment, then smiled. “With that in mind, remember this: I have no obligation to teach you and, if you act badly, I will have no hesitation in evicting you from the lessons. The Grandmaster cannot force me to take you on, not like this. If I decide you cannot be taught in this hybrid format, you will not be taught. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. It crossed her mind that she could convince him to kick her out, but Aloha would be furious. “I do understand.”
“Glad to hear it,” Master Grey said, once Aloha had echoed Emily. “You will report to the Armory, after lunch, on Thursday for your first lesson. I suggest” - his voice hardened - “that you recall what you might have been taught about eating before intensive physical activity. If you are late, you will regret it.”
He reached into a hidden pocket and produced another sheaf of papers. “These papers discuss potential careers in the military, almost all of them relating to combat sorcery in all of its forms,” he added. “I do not believe that either of you are suited to non-magical positions in the fighting forces.”
Emily felt Aloha stiffen beside her, but - for once - she found herself in agreement with Master Grey.
 “I will not, thanks be to all the gods, offer you any career counseling,” Master Grey continued, as he passed her the first sheaf of papers. “Should you wish it, speak to Sergeant Miles, who will be happy to advise you. Bear in mind that applications for apprenticeships do not have to be submitted until the end of Fifth Year, so you do have some time to make up your minds.”
He paused. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, sir,” Aloha said. “What will you be doing when you are not teaching us?”
“Paperwork,” Master Grey said, bluntly.
So you won’t be working with Sergeant Miles and the other Martial Magic students, Emily thought, feeling a flicker of despair. You’ll only have to worry about making our lives miserable.
Aloha nodded. “And are we allowed to ask you questions?”
“If they’re valid questions,” Master Grey said. “Waste my time, just once, and you will regret it.”
Emily nodded. That, at least, wasn’t an uncommon attitude at Whitehall. Help might be provided, if a student needed it, but only after the student had become well and truly stuck. A tutor who felt his time had been deliberately wasted wouldn’t take it very well. 
Master Grey cleared his throat. “Lady Emily? Do you have any questions?”
Emily met his eyes...and fought down the urge to take a step backwards. “No, sir.”
“Good,” Master Grey said. He looked at Aloha, then back at Emily. “I have been assigned an office next to the Armory. Should you think of any questions - valid questions - you may find me there, during the school day. I will be residing in Dragon’s Den at night.”
He paused, as if he was waiting to see if they were going to ask any questions, then smiled coldly. 
“You are dismissed,” he said, quietly. “I will see you on Thursday. Do not be late.”
Emily nodded, then turned and hurried out of the office. Aloha followed her, her dark face glowing with excitement. She was happy, but it was hard for Emily not to feel a pang of jealousy, mixed with fear. If she’d been injured a dozen times with Sergeant Miles supervising, a man who liked her, who knew what would happen when Master Grey took the helm? She found herself breathing hard as the door closed behind them, as if she was on the verge of a panic attack. Why hadn’t anyone warned her?
“Emily?” Aloha said. Her voice sounded tinny, as if it were coming from a far distance. “Emily? Are you all right?”
“No,” Emily said. She felt sick...she swallowed hard, cursing the porridge she’d had for breakfast. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten at all. “I...”
Aloha caught her arm. “Do you want me to carry you to the infirmary?”
“No,” Emily said, shaking her head violently. Hair spilled out of her neat ponytail and over her eyes. “I don’t. I...”
“I should,” Aloha said. She half-pulled Emily into a sideroom, then closed the door firmly and erected a privacy ward. “Sit down and take several deep breaths.”
Emily forced herself to calm down, trying to understand her feelings. Master Grey scared her...but so had Sergeant Harkin, once, and she’d never had such a reaction to him! Indeed, she’d almost come to think of the sergeant as a father figure before his untimely death. But Master Grey...she felt her body starting to shake again, no matter how hard she tried to calm herself and focus her thoughts. That damned Nightmare Hex had brought far too much bubbling out of the back of her mind. 
But you’re not scared of your stepfather any longer, she told herself. Why are you scared of Master Grey?
“I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” Aloha said. The excited light was gone from her eyes, replaced by concern. “Tell me or I call Lady Barb.”
“That’s not fair,” Emily muttered, resentfully.
“All’s fair in love, war and magical research,” Aloha countered. She knelt down next to Emily and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What happened in there?”
“He hates me,” Emily confessed. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, but Aloha wasn’t giving her a choice. “He...he thinks I’m like...like my father.”
“Quite a few people think that,” Aloha observed.
“He hates me,” Emily repeated.
“You certainly had quite a bad reaction to him,” Aloha agreed. “But I don’t think he actually hates you. Why would he have taken time out of his schedule to teach us if he hated you?”
“Maybe he just wanted to teach you,” Emily said. She could understand why, too. Aloha was brilliant; she’d make a fine apprentice, then a mistress in her own right. Master Grey could really make something of her, if he wished. “Maybe the Grandmaster just insisted on adding me to the list.”
Aloha snorted. “You’re the Necromancer’s Bane,” she said, sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t want a chance to call you their apprentice?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. Surely it could have been Sergeant Miles? Or Lady Barb? Or someone with no history with her at all? Why a man who hated the very ground she walked on, who considered her a national menace? “I...”
She gritted her teeth, then forced herself to calm down. Her robes were drenched in sweat; she’d have to go back to the bedroom and shower before lunchtime, then Healing. There would be a chance to talk to Lady Barb afterwards, she was sure. Lady Barb was her Advisor, after all. She might be able to offer useful advice.
“Emily,” Aloha said slowly, “I think you’re panicking over nothing. They wouldn’t have let him in the school if they thought he was dangerous.”
“I know,” Emily said. “But I...”
“I didn’t like Mistress Irene, either,” Aloha admitted. “She was too strict, too ready to resort to punishment if someone didn’t listen. But she taught me a great deal about how to do charms. Even now, I still dislike her, but she’s someone I can learn from.”
Emily nodded in silent understanding. Aloha had worked for her genius, for the brilliance the tutors feted; she’d worked so hard, she’d been allowed to enter Martial Magic in her Second Year. Emily still shuddered at the thought of the argument they’d had, back when she’d been pushed into Martial Magic in her First Year. Aloha had threatened her with a fate worse than death if she let the side down. She hadn’t been the only one.
“You can learn from Master Grey too,” Aloha added. “Even if he doesn’t like you, and he clearly has some doubts about you, you can still learn from him.”
And if I don’t, Emily thought, you’ll be mad at me.
She swallowed, then rose to her feet. “I’ll do my best,” she said, looking at the papers in her hand. She’d clenched her fist so hard that they were crumpled, almost torn, but they were still readable. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Aloha said. “Ever.”

Chapter Eight

Emily stepped through the door into the Healing classroom and stopped dead as she took in the scene. Lady Barb had changed everything, again. Instead of the neat rows of chairs and tables, all facing the front of the class, the chairs and tables had been drawn into a circle, surrounding the central table. The walls were covered, once again, with drawings of human anatomy, while two skeletons hung from the ceiling. Emily eyed them nervously, remembering Shadye’s servants, but forced herself to relax. Lady Barb was hardly the kind of person to be experimenting with Death Magics.
“Be seated,” Lady Barb ordered. She was seated behind a desk, wearing an expression of disapproval as she worked through her notes. She would have had the Second Years earlier, Emily recalled; boys and girls who were just trying her class before deciding if they wanted to commit themselves to a year of study. Half of them probably wouldn’t return after the first couple of days. “We have a lot of ground to cover and not much time.”
Emily nodded - thankfully, Healing was her first and only class of the day - and took a seat in the middle of the room. Moments later, Alassa and Imaiqah hurried in, followed by the Gorgon and Melissa. Melissa sat at the opposite side of the room, not entirely to Emily’s surprise, although there seemed to be a new distance between her and her former cronies. They’d all come from magical families and, now that Melissa had been disowned, probably had orders not to remain her friend. Emily felt a brief stab of pity, then looked away. Melissa wouldn’t want anything from her, not when she already owed Emily so much.
“Missed you at dinner,” Alassa said, softly. “Where were you?”
“I ate first,” Emily said. She’d also showered and changed - and Alassa, who was more perceptive than most people gave her credit for, would probably have noticed her disheveled appearance after visiting the Grandmaster’s office. “Talk about it later, all right?”
The classroom filled quickly, but there was plenty of room for everyone. Only a dozen students had stuck around to take Fourth Year Healing, even though Emily definitely recalled having twice that number in Third Year. It was the hardest course in Whitehall, though; it was quite possible that the other students had failed or had been advised to repeat Third Year before moving on to the next level. She opened her desk, retrieved the latest set of textbooks, and glanced at them while Lady Barb counted down the final moments. The books seemed to cover more advanced healing spells than anything she’d seen before, as well as a number of non-magical techniques.
I wonder if I was the only one who went on walkabout after Second Year, Emily thought, looking at the class. Alassa and Imaiqah had gone back to Zangaria, the Gorgon to the desert...but what about the others? She’d been taken to the Cairngorms, so she could see the world and what might be required of a Healer; the others could easily have had the same experience, if in a different place. They might have tried to show us all what it was like to be a Healer.
“Well,” Lady Barb said. She rose to her feet, a thin smile on her face. “It’s the start of class and two people are missing?”
Emily heard the sounds of running footsteps, then turned her head to stare as Tam and Penelope, their faces flushed, practically threw themselves through the door in an attempt to beat the clock. Lady Barb scowled at them, pointed a long finger at their chairs, and nodded at the door. It slammed closed and locked with an audible click.
“For future reference,” she said, “the doors will be locked at the precise moment the class starts. Anyone who happens to arrive late, as I am sure I have told you before, can report to the Warden and then engage in private study. Repeated lateness will result in the person responsible being dismissed from the class. They will probably not be allowed to retake Healing next year.”
She strode back to the table and stood, clasping her hands behind her back in a decidedly military manner. “The only reason I am being merciful now” - she threw Tam and Penelope a sharp glance that made them cringe - “is because I have a great deal of material to cover with you. By the end of this term, you will need to make choices and I, as your tutor, need to ensure you have the knowledge you need to make those choices.
“Some of you will not study Healing after this year,” she continued. “You will be allowed to add Healing qualifications to your name, should you pass the exams, but you will not be ranked a full-fledged Healer. Those of you who do wish to move on to become a Healer will be expected to take the oaths at the start of Fifth Year, then spend two years preparing for an apprenticeship and another year - at least - as an apprentice, before being unleashed upon the world. I should remind you, in case you missed it when you read the briefing notes, that Healing oaths are permanent. You will still be bound by them even if you flunk out of Fifth Year.
“The oaths will be administered by a Quorum of Healers who will visit Whitehall at the start of your Fifth Year. They will also ask you a number of searching questions while you are under the influence of various truth spells and potions. Should they find something that disqualifies you from becoming a Healer, they will refuse to consider you as a potential candidate. I am obliged to point out, for the record, that while confidentiality is included in the oaths, a person denied a chance to study will raise eyebrows.”
People will start wondering why, Emily thought.
Lady Barb opened a drawer and removed a handful of packets. “These contain an outline of the oaths, an outline of the questions they will ask you and details concerning your next two years of lessons, should you decide to continue,” she said, handing them out one by one. “It is no shame to decide you cannot go any further, but if you are unlikely to be accepted there is no point in going for the oaths. Read these papers now - I am required to certify you actually held them in your hands - and then ask any questions, should you wish to do so.”
Because if we don’t read them, it’s our fault, Emily thought, as she opened the packet. There were only a handful of papers inside. You don’t get blamed for our stupidity, just for not giving us the option to learn.
She pulled out the first page and skimmed it. It was a brief outline of the Fifth and Sixth Year Healing classes, covering topics from curse removal - she’d already done some curse removal - to mundane healing methods and surgery. It looked as though any prospective Healers would spend half of each week in class, or out on field trips. A number of items mentioned on the list were completely unfamiliar, although a couple did jog her memory. She resolved to use a memory charm to dig up the thought later, and moved on to the second paper.
“I can’t qualify,” Alassa said. “I’m sworn to my father.”
Emily nodded, scanning the second paper quickly. A prospective Healer had to separate himself from any formal obligations to his family, ranging from accepting debts and inheritances to carrying on a family feud. She couldn’t see many children from magical families accepting the oaths, unless there were plenty of potential replacements. Alassa, an only child, couldn’t abandon King Randor and Zangaria.
“You can still complete this year,” Emily reminded her. She’d had only one year of training when she’d gone to the Cairngorms, but she’d managed to make herself useful. “It might be helpful in later life.”
“I don’t think I’ll have time to minister to the ill,” Alassa said.
“It might make you very popular,” Imaiqah said from the other side. “Helping...”
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “Am I interrupting something?”
Imaiqah, wisely, shook her head, and looked back at her packet. Emily smiled to herself and checked the third sheet of parchment. A Healer was sworn to do everything in his power to save lives, to forsake all debts that might otherwise have been incurred, not to take sides in political disputes, to keep the secrets of rich and poor alike...and not, under any circumstances, to use their powers for ill. The explanatory notes below the oath itself warned that a Healer could not kill, save in direct self-defense, and even then the oaths might kill them if there were any other options. Emily frowned, then looked up at Lady Barb. Surely she’d killed in the past and she was still alive...
She shook her head, putting the question aside for later, and picked up the fourth sheet. It was crisp and clear, covering the questions that would be asked of any prospective candidate, starting with a warning that anyone who couldn’t give the proper answer would summarily be evicted from the class. Emily skimmed it and swore inwardly. The spells Aurelius had taught her, back in Mountaintop, would automatically disqualify her from taking the oaths, even though she’d never used them. Apparently, reading between the lines, she was only meant to learn them after taking the oaths.
Because if I spent half my power in saving a life, the person I saved would owe me a considerable debt, she thought, numbly. Lady Barb was going to be disappointed, if she’d thought Emily would go on to be a Healer. She knew a spell that induced a form of cancer that killed within seconds, administered through bodily contact, and another that worked through sexual intercourse and did far worse than kill the victim outright. Those spells can be perverted far too easily.
Lady Barb tapped the table, meaningfully. Emily jumped.
“You should all have had a chance to read the important parts,” Lady Barb said. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” Tam said. “What happens if I decided to leave the course halfway through?”
“You’d still be bound by the oaths,” Lady Barb said, curtly.
Emily swallowed. Healers might do good, but they also lived very restricted lives. A Healer couldn’t do anything, apart from Healing. There could be no involvement in local politics, even something as minor as suggesting the introduction of proper sanitation or not taxing peasant villages so highly their inhabitants had far too little to eat. A Healer could fix the damage, if a wife was beaten into a bloody pulp, but not do anything to the husband, no matter his crimes. 
And if you took the oaths and then failed, she thought, you’d still be stuck.
Lady Barb’s gaze swept the room. “A Healer can do great good - or great evil,” she warned, her voice softening slightly. “In order to learn how to heal, you have to learn how to kill; you have to learn how to inflict pain and suffering on the human body. Those oaths are the only thing preventing you from becoming monsters, should you become detached from the realities of life - and many Healers do. Once you start on this path, you will be committed.”
She paused. “I won’t say it isn’t a rewarding life,” she added. “You will save countless people from injuries and curses that would prove fatal. You’ll watch as newborn children are brought into the world, children who would have died in the womb were it not for you. You will pass through a community, then leave, knowing that everyone behind you is healthier than they were when you arrived. Healers know the satisfaction of doing nothing but good.”
Emily felt almost wistful, just for a moment, before dismissing the thought. It wasn’t something she’d want, not really; she’d enjoyed part of her time in the Cairngorms, but there had been too many horrors for her to be comfortable working their permanently. A Healer could heal, perhaps, yet he could do nothing about the cause of the problem. She could, if she didn’t take the oaths.
“You will have your career sessions later in the month, I believe,” Lady Barb said. “By then, I expect you to decide if you want to go on to become a Healer or not. If you do, check and double-check the requirements, then take the forms with you to the career adviser. They will go through everything with you, then help you to apply. Regardless...”
She looked from face to face before she continued. “This year, there will be more practical work than ever before,” she explained. “There will be field trips to both Dragon’s Den and the Halfway House, where some of the worst curse victims are housed while Healers search for a cure or a counter-curse. You will see some of the greatest horrors the human mind, armed with magic, is capable of producing. Some of you, I think, will be unable to tolerate the encounter, even under controlled conditions. I do not advise anyone who feels that way to try to continue to Fifth Year.”
Emily nodded. That was understandable.
“Those field trips will probably include only three or four of you at a time,” Lady Barb added, curtly. “While I’m gone, classes will be supervised by Mistress Kyla, Whitehall’s Healer. I suggest, very strongly, that you use the opportunity to question her about her job and the problems she faces here. I also suggest you don’t cause problems for her. She takes the post far more seriously than myself.
“And that,” she concluded, “leads to a final point.
“In Dragon’s Den, you will be assisting people who have volunteered to allow you to examine them. Pregnant women, giving birth; men who have injured themselves and require the services of a Healer to regain full use of their bodies; children born with deformities that make it impossible for them to have a normal life...they have all volunteered to be examined and worked on by you. We don’t charge anyone for the service, nor do we pay them.
“Understand this: if any of you, and I mean any of you, mocks them, or treats them as anything other than decent people, you will regret it. Whatever happened to them, be it tragic or funny, I expect you to be professional at all times. You will not mock, you will not judge, you will not dispense unwanted advice. If you break this rule, you will not be allowed to take part in any more field trips and it will be reported to the Quorum of Healers. There is a very strong chance they will deny you the chance to enter Fifth Year.”
She scowled. “I may also put you in the stocks for the rest of the day,” she added. “A few hours of people throwing rotten vegetables at you would probably teach you a lesson, don’t you think?”
Emily winced, inwardly. Lady Barb had a point. She would have hated to be gawked at by a handful of trainees while someone was trying to heal her...and to have those trainees mock her would be more than she could bear. But Lady Barb hadn’t issued such a warning while they’d been in the Cairngorms. Had she assumed Emily wouldn’t be foolish enough to mock the people they were trying to help, or had she planned to cut Emily off the moment she started?
And it would be worse if I were giving birth, she thought. She’d seen a woman give birth in the Cairngorms, a woman who might have lost the baby without the two magicians. I’d hate to be stared at by a pair of male magicians.
“We will go through the procedures for visiting both Dragon’s Den and the Halfway House later, once we have a visiting schedule,” Lady Barb said. “I will be giving priority to those who plan to take the oaths and go on to Fifth Year. Are there any final questions?”
Melissa raised a hand. “If we’re going to the Halfway House,” she said, “is there any actual danger?”
“There may be some danger,” Lady Barb said. “Some of the cursed can behave unpredictably, others are cursed in a manner deliberately designed to harm or kill anyone who tackles the curse. You will be warned before meeting any truly dangerous patients and talked through security precautions. If you do feel yourself to be in any danger, you are authorized to use magic to escape.”
Alassa coughed. “If the curses cannot be removed,” she asked, “why are they still held at the Halfway House?”
“The Healers in charge have not given up on removing the curses,” Lady Barb said. “Bear in mind that the only other option, with some of the patients, is to kill them. Indeed, in some cases it might be a mercy.”
But a Healer cannot kill, not even to put someone out of his misery, Emily thought, glancing down at the oath and its ramifications. The Halfway House is stuck with patients it can’t cure, kill or release.
There was a long pause. “You may come to me at any moment if you wish to discuss the issue further,” Lady Barb concluded. She made a show of looking at the clock. “And now, unless there are any more questions, we will make good use of the remaining time by reviewing the material we covered in Third Year.”
The class groaned. “Penelope,” Lady Barb said. “Why is it dangerous to offer Sleeping Potion to a victim of the Night Terror Hex?”
Penelope gulped. “Because...because it actually enhances the effects of the hex,” she said, desperately. “The victim will fall further into its clutches.”
“Very good,” Lady Barb said, without a trace of irony. “Tam. Why can’t you use a simple canceling charm on the victim of a compulsion curse?”
“Because the curse might react badly unless the charm is applied properly,” Tam said. “I...”
“Close enough,” Lady Barb said, “but do a little additional reading. The curse might only be partly cancelled, causing mental problems for the victim.”
Emily sighed and glanced at her watch. There was only half an hour to go before the end of class, but it was going to feel longer. Much longer. 
And then she really needed to talk to Lady Barb.

Chapter Nine

“Emily,” Lady Barb said when the class came to an end. “Stay behind a moment.”
Emily nodded, relieved. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” she muttered to Alassa. “You can tell me about your day.”
“Of course,” Alassa said. Her blue eyes glimmered with concern. “Take care of yourself, all right?”
Emily nodded, and waited for the classroom to empty. Lady Barb relocked the door as soon as Melissa had left - she’d hung around long enough for Emily to suspect she wanted to talk to Lady Barb, too - and led Emily through a door into a sideroom. Inside, there was a pair of comfortable chairs, a table, and a pot of steaming liquid. Lady Barb motioned for Emily to sit, then poured a couple of mugs of Kava. Emily took hers and sipped gratefully.
“It’s going to be a very busy year for me,” Lady Barb said, bluntly. “I may have less time for you than you might have hoped. If the Grandmaster hadn’t needed a second tutor at such short notice...”
She shrugged, and sat facing Emily. “As your adviser, it is my duty to discuss your career options with you before you go to your career session,” she added. “I should tell you, right now, that you probably wouldn’t make a good Healer.”
Emily blinked, stung. “Why not?”
“A Healer requires a certain degree of empathy,” Lady Barb said, flatly. “You’re not very good at noticing when someone else is in pain, or feeling any strong emotion. I think you could probably master the healing spells - no one would deny you’re good with charms - but you’d have problems actually coping with the job. How long did it take you to notice that Alassa and Jade were in love?”
“I had my nose rubbed in it,” Emily said, ruefully. In hindsight, it had been alarmingly obvious. “I didn’t notice at all.”
“Quite,” Lady Barb agreed. “There are times when a Healer has to speak to a patient and gently coax them to talk about their problems, some of which are embarrassing and some of which will reflect badly on others. I don’t think you have the empathy required to handle the job.”
I helped Frieda, Emily thought, mulishly. But how long had it taken her to notice that Frieda was suffering? And I...
She recalled everything she’d seen in the Cairngorms and shuddered. Lady Barb was right; she’d either ignore a problem, missing its very existence, or go overboard in trying to fix it. 
And you know you can’t take the oaths anyway, her own thoughts mocked her. Why are you trying to stop someone dissuading you from even trying?
“I do want to finish the year,” she temporised. “But I don’t think I could become a Healer permanently.”
“It would be permanent,” Lady Barb said, tartly. “That’s the point of the oaths.”
Emily looked at her. Something clicked in her mind. “You’re not a Healer, are you?”
“They wanted me to become a Healer,” Lady Barb said. “I was told I had a natural talent for Healing. It wasn’t true, of course. I merely had my mother teaching me the basics long before my father sent me to Whitehall. By the time I finished my Fourth Year, the pressure to become a Healer was almost overpowering. My tutor even offered to take me on walkabout, just as I took you, to see that the job needed doing.”
“I see,” Emily said. “What happened?”
Lady Barb met her eyes. “The third village we visited was dominated by an old crone, a witch with a handful of spells and infinite malice. The day after we arrived, she blinded a young girl for an imaginary offense. Can you imagine what it would be like, growing up in a tiny village, unable to see anything?”
Emily shuddered. The villagers in the Cairngorms hadn’t been able to provide for cripples, not when there was barely enough to feed the men and women who did the hard work of tending to their tiny farms and growing food. If the girl had been lucky, she would have been bought by someone who needed a wife and didn’t care about her blindness; if she had been unlucky...Emily shook her head, cursing silently. There was no such thing as a happy ending for a cripple in the mountains.
“The spell was easy to break,” Lady Barb said. “I broke it. I freed the girl...and then I hunted down the witch. By the time my tutor caught up with me, I had flayed the skin from her bones, using spells my father had taught me to keep her alive. The moment the spells broke, the witch died in agony. My tutor...quietly understood, I think. She took me straight back to Whitehall, and nothing else was said about me becoming a Healer.”
“Because you’d killed someone in cold blood,” Emily said.
“It was very hot blood,” Lady Barb said. “I wanted the witch to suffer.”
She shrugged. “Emily, Healers can only heal,” she said. “I’ve known Healers who were forced by their oaths to heal people who had been tortured, so the torturers could start all over again. Or keep quiet about people committing truly ghastly acts. Or...
“I wanted to do more than just heal,” she concluded. “And I think that’s true of you too.”
Emily nodded, slowly. She understood just how the younger Lady Barb had felt, even if she’d grown harder and more cynical between then and their first meeting. Someone preying on the villagers could not be tolerated, not when there was no one who could help her victims.
“It is,” she said. “But I am still going to try to pass Fourth Year.”
“So you should,” Lady Barb said. 
Emily took a breath. “Can I ask you about something else?”
“Master Grey,” Lady Barb said. It wasn’t a question. “I believe he volunteered for the job.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “Why?”
Lady Barb smiled. “Why did he want the job, or why did the Grandmaster accept his application?”
“Both,” Emily said.
“I have no idea why he wanted the job,” Lady Barb said. “It isn’t a post that will allow him to claim a permanent tie to you - or Aloha. He may expect you to apprentice with him formally, at the end of Sixth Year, but that would be rare. We normally prefer to have someone apprentice with a master they haven’t met beforehand, just so they start with a blank slate.”
“Master Grey doesn’t have a blank slate,” Emily muttered. “He hates me. And...and I almost had a panic attack.”
Lady Barb eyed her for a long moment. “You did face a Nightmare Hex yesterday,” she reminded her, dryly. “They do tend to dig up long-buried feelings and memories.”
Emily nodded. She would have liked to believe that was true, but...there was a part of her that couldn’t help feeling worried, as if Master Grey had darker ambitions than merely supervising two semi-apprentices for a year. The same nagging fear that overshadowed her memories of her stepfather pulsed over Master Grey, the sensation that he might not do something today, but he would one day.
“As for why the Grandmaster accepted him,” Lady Barb continued, “you do realize that he is a practiced combat sorcerer with a proven track record of turning out above-average apprentices? Jade is merely the latest in a long line of students who owe him for their training. And he’s a champion duelist as well. You could do worse, much worse, for a tutor.”
“Dueling is barbaric,” Emily muttered. She’d seen Master Grey in action, after the end of Second Year. He’d insisted that anyone who challenged him had to fight to the death, just to keep the number of challenges down. And he’d never even looked like losing. “And he hates me...”
“I don’t think he actually hates you,” Lady Barb said, curtly. “His report from the Faire did make interesting reading - he called you grossly irresponsible no less than seven times - but I don’t think he hates you. He may feel that someone has to take you in hand and teach you some common sense before your luck runs out.”
Emily cringed. “Why couldn’t it have been you?”
“I like you too much,” Lady Barb said. 
Emily started. Lady Barb liked her too much?
The older woman reached out and patted Emily’s shoulder. “You told me you thought of me as a mother,” she said. “Will you take some motherly advice?”
“That isn’t fair,” Emily mumbled.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Lady Barb said. She smiled, tightly. “Will you take some advice?”
“Yes, please,” Emily said.
“The world is full of assholes,” Lady Barb said. “You will have to meet and deal with people who will be abrasive, or unpleasant, or outright hate you because of what you’ve done, the titles you hold, or merely because they just don’t like your face. I don’t think you have the option of vanishing into your castle and hiding, just because you’re afraid of confrontation, not given the position you hold. You need to learn how to cope with people who don’t like you.”
“And the Grandmaster selected Master Grey,” Emily mused, “because he knew we disliked each other?”
“It’s a possibility,” Lady Barb said. “Did you listen to his speech, earlier today?”
Emily nodded, once.
“We try to turn out magicians who can handle anything without losing control,” Lady Barb said, softly. “Having a hard time with Master Grey, here and now, will be better than having a hard time outside Whitehall. He may push you to the limit, he may force you to carry on no matter the pain, but he won’t kill you.”
“But I had a panic attack when I saw him,” Emily protested.
“Then you need to work to overcome it,” Lady Barb said. “Do you realize that could be a dangerous weakness?”
She sighed, looking down at her hands. “You are growing in power every year - even without the battery,” she added. “In three years, you will be let loose upon the world. A person with the perceptiveness to understand your weaknesses could easily use them against you, even if they don’t have magic themselves. I’ve seen people dominated by others who should, on the surface, be far weaker than them. You could wind up the same way.”
Emily shuddered. “I wouldn’t...”
“It’s easy to say that,” Lady Barb said. “But is it actually true?” She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “Are you familiar with the Duchy of Bothell?”
“No,” Emily said. It was somewhere to the south of Zangaria, if she recalled correctly, but she’d never visited. Alassa’s procession through the Allied Lands hadn’t bothered to stop at such a minor state. “Why?”
“I was there three years ago, back when I was working for King Randor,” Lady Barb said, softly. “The Duke himself died six years ago, leaving his daughter on the throne. She was the undisputed ruler of the duchy, but she was ruled by her husband, someone she’d met and married just after her father died. He was horrible to her, Emily, even though a single word from her could have had him beheaded. Instead, she just...did as she was told.
“You could wind up just like her, if you’re not careful. Better to learn how to deal with assholes here and now, where you have friends and advisers, than out in the wider world.”
“I know,” Emily said, miserably. Her stepfather had held a similar influence over her early life. “Can’t I just stay in Whitehall for the rest of my life?”
“It depends,” Lady Barb said, tartly. “Do you want to give up Cockatrice and everything you’ve created?”
“I think I’m just going to put researcher down as my planned career,” Emily said. She didn’t want to think about the prospect of abandoning Cockatrice. “I could research in my spare time.”
“You could always point out that you will probably spend most of your time at Cockatrice,” Lady Barb offered. “I doubt Alassa’s session will be anything more than a pleasant chat, assuming she goes at all. But they may want you to consider serving the Allied Lands in other ways. You would probably make a good Mediator.”
Emily blinked. She hadn’t considered the possibility.
“It’s a worthwhile job,” Lady Barb added. “And you have the power, courage and connections to see it through.”
“I’ll look it up,” Emily said. “Can I pick your brains about it later?”
“Of course,” Lady Barb said. “But then, you could also ask Master Grey. He would be happy to talk to you about it.”
Emily rather doubted it. “I’d prefer to talk to you,” she said. “Really...”
“And I will send you to Master Grey,” Lady Barb said, sharply. “You do have to learn how to cope with assholes, Emily, and one of my motherly duties involves pushing you to learn how to handle them.”
She sighed. “Look at it this way,” she added. “Spend the next term learning from him. If it really turns bad, if it really fails, I will raise the issue with the Grandmaster. He will not be pleased, of course, and nor will I, but we may be able to find another option.”
“Oh,” Emily said.
She swallowed, thinking hard. Cold logic told her Lady Barb was right. She did need to learn to handle people like Master Grey, people who would hate and resent her. But emotionally...she didn’t even want to think about facing him. He reminded her far too much of her stepfather for her to be rational about him...
Which was the point, wasn’t it?
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. She would force herself to remember, time and time again, that Master Grey was not her stepfather until she actually believed it. And she would try to go to his lessons with an open mind. Aloha was right. Master Grey could actually teach them something new. “But what if -”
“Look at it this way,” Lady Barb said. “Are you actually going to let him win?”
Emily shook her head, slowly. Master Grey disliked her; worse, he thought she was grossly irresponsible. She was damned if she was proving him right.
“Good,” Lady Barb said. “That’s a much better attitude.”
She finished her Kava and leaned forward. “Have you arranged a working meeting with Caleb yet?”
“Not yet,” Emily said. In all the excitement, it was something she’d overlooked. She pulled her timetable out of her pocket and glanced at it. “I was thinking tomorrow afternoon.”
“You’d better remember to tell him that,” Lady Barb said, dryly. “I’m not going to be taking messages to him for you.”
Emily blushed. “Sorry...”
Lady Barb laughed as Emily looked down at her mug. “I’ll give you a piece of advice for free, Emily, because you should know it already,” she added. “Get started on your project as soon as possible and do as much as you can before classes really start to get tougher, because they will. You know the milestone deadlines?”
Emily nodded. “End of the first term, start of the third term.”
“Good,” Lady Barb said. “Missing either of those could cause you to fail.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She finished her Kava and stood up. “If I’m not going to become a Healer, will I still have to go on the field trips?”
“I will probably take you to the Halfway House,” Lady Barb said. “You’ve already amassed some experience in the Cairngorms, so there should be no need to take you to Dragon’s Den to observe more mundane problems. Still...we will see.”
Emily nodded, then turned and walked out of the room and through the classroom back into the corridor. Melissa waited outside, leaning against the stone wall and looking impatient. Emily hesitated, then smiled. Maybe Melissa had been an enemy, once upon a time, but they weren’t enemies any longer. And Melissa owed her a considerable debt.
“She should be free now,” Emily said. “Are you hoping to become a Healer?”
“It’s a possibility,” Melissa said. “My family can’t object any longer.”
She looked awkward, so Emily changed the subject. “How’s Markus?”
Melissa smiled. She had always been pretty, but now Emily could see just what Markus saw in her. The smile made her face come alive.
“He’s fine,” she said. “He has a place to stay in Beneficence, but he’s going to be coming here every weekend. The Gorgon - you know, my roommate - agreed to let us have the bedroom in exchange for some books I happen to own.”
“I’m happy for you,” Emily said, and meant it. “Where is she going to sleep?”
“I thought she had an agreement with you,” Melissa said. She frowned. “She could sleep on the floor, couldn’t she? If she took her blankets?”
“Maybe,” Emily said. The Gorgon hadn’t asked her - nor, as far as she knew, had she asked Alassa or Imaiqah. Maybe she’d found a boyfriend herself. It wasn’t impossible, even if she did look inhuman. “Just don’t get in trouble with Madame Beauregard.”
“Tell me about it,” Melissa said. “She’s strict!”
Emily smiled as Melissa stepped into the classroom, then hastily walked back to the dorms, dodging a line of First Year students as she headed up the stairs. They stared at her, awestruck, which made her shake her head in disbelief. If they knew the truth, she was sure, they would be a great deal less impressed.
“Emily,” Alassa said, as Emily entered the bedroom. She was wearing trousers and a shirt with a tiny silver button pinned just above her left breast. “You’re looking at the new Dorm Monitor for Fourth Year!”
“Well done,” Emily said, closing the door behind her. “What sort of powers do you have?”
“Apparently, I’m meant to report any malefactors to Madame Beauregard, if they don’t stop misbehaving at once,” Alassa said.
“So she can’t punish anyone on her own authority,” Imaiqah put in. “We’re saved.”
Emily rolled her eyes and sat down on her bed. “I had a bit of bad news today,” she said, “but I’m going to get through it.”
“Good,” Alassa said. “Now, what was it?”
“Master Grey is going to be my tutor for Martial Magic,” Emily said.
“Ouch,” Alassa said. “Jade says he’s tough.”
“He is,” Emily agreed. “Very tough.”

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