Wedding Hells

(Schooled in Magic VIII)

Christopher G. Nuttall

Wedding Hells

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, April 2016

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

Prologue

“They say you can get a good view from here,” Rahsia said, from behind him. She sounded grimly amused. “Do you like what you see?”
Gannet ignored her voice, choosing instead to look out the window at the sight below, even though it tore at his soul. Fourteen people - nine men, five women - were positioned in the pillory, surrounded by the City Guard. They’d been arrested only two days ago and slammed into the stockade, without even a pretense of a trial. But then, everyone had known they were guilty of the charges laid against them. They just hadn’t believed that free speech, questioning the nobility, and demanding change were crimes.
They won’t last much longer, he thought, morbidly. One woman - she’d been thirty, if he recalled correctly - was already lolling to one side, her head bruised and battered where pieces of rotten fruit had struck her. They haven’t had anything to eat or drink since they were chained up in the stocks.
He clenched his fists in bitter, helpless rage. Five minutes. Five minutes had made the difference between escape and being arrested with the others. If Rahsia hadn’t delayed him with news of potential new allies among the magicians...
I’d be down there too, he thought. Trapped, helpless, and surrounded by the people I wanted to save.
It had all seemed so simple, once upon a time. The New Learning had swept through Zangaria like wildfire, bringing change in its wake. Hundreds of thousands of people could now read, write and do their sums, without the aid of a guild. The printing presses had followed, allowing the newly-enlightened population to actually learn about the world surrounding them for the first time in their lives. And, with the political ideas emanating from Cockatrice, Gannet had dared to hope they were on the cusp of real lasting change - and freedom.
He knew, without false modesty, that he was smart. He’d been a merchant, after all, and no merchant lasted long without a canny eye for opportunities. But his low birth had doomed him to obscurity. His lack of connections ensured he would never be anything more than a small shopkeeper, beneath the attention of those who called themselves his betters. But why were they his betters? What separated an aristocrat from a commoner, beyond an accident of birth? Aristocrats were no more or less moral than commoners, he knew from bitter experience; commoners could show more nobility than some of the so-called noble aristocrats.
Rage - and cold hatred - flared in his heart as he lifted his eyes and stared at Swanhaven Castle, its malignant dark mass looming over the city. Lord Hans and Lady Regina lived there, competing for the favor of King Randor and struggling to win the Barony of Swanhaven for themselves. One of them had issued the orders to crack down hard on the freethinkers, taking his friends into custody and placing them in the stocks to die. Gannet neither knew nor cared which of them had actually issued the orders. If anyone deserved to die, it was the two of them – no one had a good word to say about them. They were both part of a vile and corrupt system that needed to end.
But how?
There were stories, hundreds of them, of brave swordsmen who’d fought their way into castles and emerged with the maiden fair, but Gannet knew he was no fighter. Like all commoners, he’d been denied the chance to wield anything more dangerous than a club. It was death for him to own a sword, let alone seek training in its use. And, with the castle surrounded by wards as well as armed guards, even a truly legendary swordsman would be unable to find a way past the defenses and into the keep. There was nothing he could do.
He swung around, suddenly, to glare at Rahsia. “Did you know this would happen?”
The dark-haired girl shook her head. She was around twenty, if he was any judge, although magicians were fond of making themselves look younger. She’d introduced herself, when they’d met, as a representative from a handful of magicians who also wanted political change. Gannet had been suspicious - magicians were practically noblemen - but she’d done nothing to justify his concerns. Indeed, he’d found her quite pleasant company when they’d talked about other things. She certainly wasn’t one of the young firebrands who talked of nothing but revolution and war - and the paradise that was sure to come, once the aristocrats were dead.
“There was no warning,” she said, softly. “We have no contact with the magicians in the castle.”
Gannet nodded, cursing inwardly as a loud cheer rose up from the square below. Someone had probably thrown a rock and killed one of the prisoners, but he refused to turn and look, knowing that a friend of his might have been killed. If they’d been interrogated first, before being put on display, they might even have betrayed him too - if, of course, his name hadn’t already been given to the soldiers. He knew he didn’t dare go back to his garret. 
They won’t have found everyone, he told himself. I can rebuild...
“There’s nothing to be done here,” Rahsia said. She rose from the bed and held out a hand. “We should go.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” Gannet said. It wasn’t quite accurate - a flophouse would be happy to put him up without asking any questions - but for once in his life he didn’t know what to do. “They’ve won.”
“Not yet,” Rahsia said. She gave him a considering look. “The core problem, as you know, is that the lords and ladies are backed by the king.”
Gannet scowled back. “Of course I know,” he snapped. “Everyone knows that!”
It was true, too. The peasants might - might - be able to overthrow a village headman, or a minor noble. But the barons - or the king himself - would be sure to respond. Entire villages had been burned to the ground, their populations slaughtered or sold into slavery, just for daring to lift a hand against their lords and masters. It had made the survivors unsurprisingly reluctant to risk taking a stand, even when their betters insisted on taxing the villages so harshly that their mere survival was in doubt. No wonder, Gannet thought, that so many had fled the lands to the towns - or Cockatrice. There was nothing left for them in the countryside.
“Then the problem lies with the king,” Rahsia said. “We should seek to kill him and exterminate his line. And there will never be a better chance.”
“The king,” Gannet repeated. He was a minor merchant, by all the gods; he didn’t even live in Alexis! “You want to assassinate the king?”
“Yes,” Rahsia said, firmly. “And his daughter. The Iron Duke - the former Iron Duke - has already been disgraced. With the king and his bratty Crown Princess gone, there will be no legitimate heir to the throne.”
“There are the barons,” Gannet pointed out.
“None of whom have a clear-cut claim,” Rahsia countered. “Those who did were killed after the coup attempt in Alexis. The survivors do not have a strong blood-link to the Line of Alexis. There will be civil war if they start disputing who should take the throne.”
Gannet thought, fast. Like all merchants, he did his best to keep abreast of power struggles amongst the aristocracy, even though his ability to affect them was practically non-existent. The strongest surviving baron was, ironically, the one who was least interested in wielding her power - and, perhaps, the one who would be the best monarch for the country.
“There’s Baroness Cockatrice,” he said. “Would she take the throne?”
“I have it on good authority that Lady Emily is not interested in such power,” Rahsia said, dryly. “But even if she were, she’d be challenged by the other barons. They would see her as a more dangerous threat than any other.”
“So there will be civil war,” Gannet said.
“Yes,” Rahsia said. “The social structure that binds the country together will shatter once the king is dead. Aristocrat will turn on aristocrat, which will give you the chance to prepare your forces to act. And all you have to do is kill the king and his sole heir.”
Gannet hesitated. King Randor had to go - the man had worked with the commoners to save his throne, then started to marginalize them - but he had no particular dislike of the princess. He’d heard stories, of course, yet they’d all been so inflated by the time they’d reached Swanhaven that he didn’t believe them. And besides, some of the stories about Lady Regina were far worse.
But the death of one young girl was a small price to pay for freedom.
“It won’t be easy,” he said. That was an understatement, all right. “How do we even get into the castle?”
Rahsia smiled. “Let me take care of that,” she said. Her confidence surprised him. “We do have allies in Alexis. You just work on rebuilding our network here.”
Prologue II

“The final guest list, Your Majesty.”
King Randor, fifth monarch of Zangaria, took the parchment from Lord Nightingale and watched as the aristocratic functionary oozed his way out of the chamber. It galled him to rely on a man who would happily degrade himself completely for a scrap of power and safety, but there was no alternative. Nightingale was loyal because he had to be, because there would be no escape for him after his master’s death. The Crown Princess loathed him, the Barons hated him and most of his fellow bottom-feeders regarded him with envy. The only real question would be which one of Nightingale’s enemies would get to him first.
He shook his head tiredly as he felt the wards slip back into place, protecting his privacy from prying eyes. It was impossible to pretend that the kingdom hadn’t changed, that Zangaria wasn’t more unstable than ever. The remaining barons were plotting to regain power - and kept reminding their monarch, none-too-politely, that the other baronies needed to be filled - but they weren’t the real problem. Randor understood the barons, understood the driving lust for power, for the prize of kingship, that drove them onwards. He might have beheaded four of them after their attempted coup, but he understood them. They were rats, doing what rats did. 
No, the real problem lay with the commoners.
His father, King Alexis the Great, had played the commoners off against the aristocracy, using the former to regain the power his father had ceded to the barons. And it had worked, at a price; the commoners now had their Assembly and believed they should have a say in how the country was run. Even that wouldn’t have been a problem, were it not for the flood of new ideas pervading the country. If he’d realized just how much trouble the printing press alone would cause, he’d have banned it on the spot instead of allowing it to spread. Now, even a Royal Edict wouldn’t be enough to stop printers printing their damnable pamphlets and distributing them around the country.
And all because of a single girl, Randor thought, looking up at the portrait of his barons hanging from the fall wall. It had been painted a year after the coup and the artist had worked from preliminary sketches, but the images looked surprisingly realistic. Baroness Emily looked young, her face showing character rather than good looks; she certainly looked out of place, next to the other barons. She’s turned my kingdom upside down.
In hindsight, he admitted privately, it might have been a mistake to ennoble her. But it had seemed a good idea at the time. He had needed to find her a reward commensurate with what she’d done for him, saving the lives of the Royal Family and preventing the plotters from seizing the kingdom. A barony had seemed the obvious solution. Baron Holyoake had left no heirs - at least, no innocent heirs - and the execution of everyone involved in the plot had left the barony vacant. And it had, he’d thought, the advantage of both keeping his hands off the barony and leaving it under the control of someone he could influence.
But she makes no sense, he thought, ruefully. 
He’d tested Lady Emily, when they’d first met, and nothing quite added up. The official story claimed she was the daughter of two servants to a sorcerer, but someone who had grown up in that sort of environment would bend the knee to anyone she considered her superior. Rumor had it that she was actually the daughter of a powerful sorcerer, yet she seemed to lack the upbringing any such child would have been forced to endure. Even if her father was powerful enough to ignore the interplay of politics in the White City, his daughter should have known better than to invite both the Ashworth and Ashfall families to the Faire. Indeed, if Emily was Void’s daughter, Randor couldn’t help wondering if the sorcerer had neglected his daughter just as badly as Randor had neglected his own. Had he been disappointed in the girl? Or had he merely seen her as an unwanted burden?
It was a bitter thought. Randor knew his duties to the kingdom; his first duty, one he’d started even before assuming the throne, was to sire an heir. But, for all his fornication, he’d only managed to produce a single daughter. He’d left Alassa in the care of innumerable nannies and governesses for nearly fifteen years, while struggling desperately to sire a son; by the time he’d finally swallowed his pride and admitted he would probably not have another heir, his daughter had turned into a spoiled brat. Sending her to Whitehall, despite the risks, had seemed the only way to turn her into a suitable heir. 
And it had paid off! Alassa had grown into a fine young woman, a capable heir to the throne...but it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t befriended Lady Emily. Randor had interrogated his daughter closely, the first time she’d returned to Zangaria; Emily simply didn’t make sense. There were just too many oddities surrounding her. One moment she was a timorous little girl, the next she killed a combat sorcerer in an honorable duel.
He sighed inwardly as he tore his gaze from the portrait. Emily didn’t realize it, he was sure, but she was causing problems for him. Her hands-off attitude in Cockatrice had spurred the development of printing presses and other industries; hundreds of thousands of peasants were leaving the land and moving to Cockatrice in hopes of making a better life. She hadn’t started that problem, he had to admit, but she’d certainly made it worse! The gods alone knew how many people had left the lands, yet every single peasant who quit weakened society still further. The ties that bound the state together, ties that ensured that everyone knew their place, were snapping. His barons were already pressing him to do something about it.
And, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d snubbed him publicly. Her decision, apparently, to seek a courtship threatened to undermine his relations with the other barons. She hadn’t even bothered to ask his permission before starting her courtship! And he was her liege lord!
Alassa’s wedding comes first, he reminded himself. There will be time to discuss Emily’s conduct with her later.
Gritting his teeth, he looked down at the parchment. Thousands of guests, thousands of security problems...and a warning from a demon that chilled him to the bone. He wanted to simply hold a private wedding, but he knew he didn’t dare. It would be taken as a sign of weakness and the barons, who had assassins on their payrolls, wouldn’t hesitate to start planning something. Randor had no illusions about them - and, for that matter, of the difficulty of securing the castle when hundreds of guests would be staying and thousands of guests would be flocking through each day. 
And those fools who think a king can do anything need to sit in the throne for a day, he thought, sourly. The more I push in one direction, the stronger the reaction I get from the other.
The wards shimmered, once. He touched them with his mind and realized that Alicia, Heir Presumptive to the Barony of Gold, was waiting outside. No doubt she intended to petition him, again, to grant the rights she should have inherited from her father. After all, she was the only surviving member of her family.
And the aristocrats are pressing me to confirm her, he thought, as he lowered the wards. And that would mean finding her a suitable husband.
He shook his head at the thought. There were just too many demands on his time...
...And the more he concentrated on one problem, the more likely it was that another would explode in his face.

Chapter One

The magic felt...odd.
Emily braced herself; power sparkled around her fingertips and surged out of control. A glowing ball of light, ominously bright and dangerously hot, appeared in front of her, already shimmering into an unpleasant red glow. Emily cursed under her breath and fought hard to regain control, throttling back on the flow of magic until the light globe slowly flickered back to normal. It was a simple spell, one she’d mastered quickly, but now there was too much power at her disposal for it to work properly. She focused her mind, locking the spell in place, and let go. The light globe drifted into the air. 
“Not too bad,” Void said.
Emily scowled at him. “It’s shabby,” she protested, crossly. Her head throbbed as she canceled the spell, allowing the magic to drain into the ether. “And it could have turned dangerous.”
“But it didn’t,” Void said. He rose to his feet and held out a hand to Emily, inviting her to stand. The rune she’d carved into her chest heated as it sensed the subtle magic protections surrounding him. “You’re doing better than I expected, under the circumstances.”
Emily felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you,” she said, as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. “But it still feels frustrating.”
“Your magic has expanded,” Void said, “without giving you the time you needed to learn to handle it. The spells you cast by instinct are now massively overpowered. You just need to learn to control the flow of magic again.”
He turned and walked through the door into the next room. Emily followed him, shaking her head in private amusement as he motioned her to a chair and picked up a large jug of Kava from the sideboard. She knew he had servants - she’d met them when he’d rescued her, so long ago - but he hadn’t brought any of them into her house. Instead, they’d split the cooking duties between them. And he’d never complained about her food.
She studied him as he turned to take the seat facing her. His appearance had changed, several times, since they’d first met; this time, he was tall, with long dark hair that flowed down to his shoulders and an angular face that reminded her of the hunting hawks she’d watched in Zangaria. His dark eyes were easily the darkest she’d ever seen, so dark she sometimes fancied she could fall into them and never climb out. And the aura of power, which hung around him like a shroud, warned anyone who met Void that he was a very dangerous man.
“You have been doing well,” he said, as he passed her a mug of Kava. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Emily said.
Void frowned. “No nightmares?”
“Not really,” Emily said. She had taken potions every night for a week, but even after that she hadn’t had many bad dreams. She’d expected to revisit the duel again and again in her sleep, yet she’d seen almost nothing. “Is that a bad thing?”
“You tell me,” Void said.
Emily frowned. She’d killed a man, personally. It wasn’t the first time she’d killed, but it was the first time she’d done it with her bare hands. Master Grey had wanted to kill her, but she’d killed him instead...and she felt almost nothing, as if she’d lost the ability to care. She’d snuffed out his life to keep him from taking hers...
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally.
Void cocked his head. “And how are you feeling physically?”
Emily took a sip of her Kava before answering. “I have a slight headache,” she said. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “And it feels like my skin is on fire. Is that normal?”
“Very little about this is normal,” Void said. “Most magicians tend to shy away from the kind of exertion that boosts one’s powers - or burns them out completely. I think your mana reserves have swelled past the point you can store them comfortably. You need to spend more time in the spellchambers, casting spells.”
Or draining the magic into a battery, Emily thought. It hadn’t been too hard to set up another couple of batteries, once her magic had renewed itself. But what happens if this carries on?
“It’s a muscle,” Void added, seemingly unaware of her thoughts. “The more you practice spells that require large amounts of mana, the more your ability to store and concentrate mana in your body increases.”
He shrugged. “But you can handle that, I think,” he added. “You haven’t gone mad, thankfully.”
Emily gave him a sharp look. “Is that why you stayed? Did you think I would go mad?”
Void met her eyes, unapologetically. “The possibility needed to be considered,” he said, firmly. “And...”
“And someone had to be there to...handle me if I went mad,” Emily interrupted. She couldn’t help feeling a stab of betrayal. Void was the closest thing she had to a real father now, but he’d stayed with her out of fear she’d go nuts. “Did you plan to kill me?”
Void held her gaze. “Would you rather leave a possible necromancer to her own devices?”
Emily shivered. Void had saved her life...but Lady Barb and the Grandmaster had both warned her that he shouldn’t be taken for granted. He’d done a great deal of dirty work for the White Council in the past, trampling roughshod over everything else just to get the job done. She had no doubt he would have killed her if she’d gone mad...
...And he would have been right. A maddened magician with her level of control - and her knowledge from another world - would have been very dangerous. But the thought didn’t make her feel any better.
“No,” she said, finally. She put the mug down on the table. “But I haven’t gone mad, have I?”
“No,” Void agreed. “And the more you practice with your magic, the easier it should become to handle it.”
He cleared his throat, loudly. “There are, however, a number of matters we should discuss,” he said, changing the subject. “For starters, Mistress Irene informs me that you will need to be back at Whitehall within the week if you wish to take your Fourth Year exams. Under the circumstances, Emily, I have no doubt you could redo Third and Fourth Year if you wished, instead of trying to take the exams now. I suggest you think about it over the next day or so and then let me know what you want to do.”
Emily didn’t need to think about it. “I want to go back,” she said. “I can’t leave Caleb in the lurch.”
Void smiled. “Missing him already, are we?”
“Yes,” Emily said, feeling her cheeks warming again. She’d wanted to invite her friends - and her boyfriend - to the house, but Void had cautioned her against it. “Is that so wrong?”
“No,” Void said. He smirked. “I would advise you not to discuss your expanded powers with him, as he might get a little jealous, but that’s your choice. You might also want to warn him that you’re not entirely stable right now. There’s a good chance you’ll say something to him you’ll both regret.”
Emily colored. The first few days in the house had been bad, very bad, as her magic slowly returned. She’d found herself crying for no reason, then screaming her rage to the heavens, unable to keep herself under control. Void had been immensely patient, she’d come to realize slowly; she doubted there were many tutors at Whitehall who would have put up with her for longer than a few hours. She’d probably have been expelled several times over by now.
Void shrugged. “That does lead neatly to a second pair of issues we need to discuss,” he added. “The first is this.”
He reached into a pocket, produced a small wooden box and passed it to her. Emily opened it carefully, after casting a handful of spells to check it was safe, and blinked in surprise as she realized it contained a ring. There was a faint hint of magic surrounding the gold and silver band, but it didn’t feel hostile. In fact, it felt almost welcoming.
She looked up at him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Void blinked, nonplussed. “What?”
Emily sighed. “Where I come from, married couples exchange rings,” she explained. Void had listened to her stories of Earth with great interest, but she’d never discussed marriages with him. “The boy offers the girl a ring when he wants to marry her.”
Void looked faintly displeased. “Traditionally,” he said stiffly, “a sorcerer will receive four rings in his - or her - lifetime. The first one” - he pointed to the box in Emily’s hand - “is a family ring, which is generally presented when the sorcerer is deemed mature. Most families hand them out in a private ceremony after the sorcerer passes his first set of exams. Among other things, they serve as proof of identity.”
Emily looked down at the ring for a long moment. “And what does this one mean?”
“People will ask why I haven’t given you a ring,” Void said, dryly. “That one marks you as a member of my family.”
“Oh,” Emily said. It was suddenly very hard to speak. She had to swallow, hard, before she could say a word. “Do...do you have any other family?”
“I’m the last of my family,” Void said, curtly. “But I do not believe they would have objected to me welcoming you into the family. It is far from uncommon to adopt promising newborn magicians and they are always treated as if they were born into the family.”
He shrugged. “You can wear the ring, if you like, or keep it with you. Certain people may ask you to present it. If they do, make sure you have it on your finger when you show it to them.”
Emily nodded, looking down at the ring. “What are the others? I mean, the other rings?”
Void held up his left hand, revealing three rings. “You’ll get a ring when you complete your Sixth Year exams and leave Whitehall,” he said. “Your master, assuming you do an apprenticeship, will give you a ring when you complete your training. And you’ll get a fourth ring when you have a child.”
“You’ve only got three rings,” Emily said.
“So I do,” Void agreed. He tapped the table, firmly. “You have entered a formal courtship with Caleb, as I understand it. You will be going to Beneficence after your exams, correct?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She had no intention of letting him distract her for long. “I’m going to meet his parents. Lady Barb said she would accompany me.”
“She’s there to be your chaperone,” Void said, curtly. “Under the terms of a formal courtship, his parents will be taking a good long look at you and your choice of chaperone.”
Emily frowned. “Will they expect you to come?”
“It is generally assumed that a chaperone will be female,” Void said. “A combat sorceress would be regarded as an excellent chaperone. She will be expected to defend your honor to his parents. However, there will be times when you are expected to defend your own honor.”
“I see,” Emily said, uncertainly.
“His siblings may challenge you, gently,” Void added. “Keep your tone polite, but don’t give them any ground. They’ll be looking for signs of weakness.”
He paused. “You and Caleb will be expected to behave yourselves,” he warned. “His family will be watching to see how you treat him - and vice versa. When you’re at a formal setting, be formal. Don’t kiss in public...”
“I wouldn’t,” Emily objected.
“And I strongly advise you not to be caught in bed with Caleb while you’re in his family home,” Void finished, ignoring her comment. “His family will not approve.”
He held up a hand before she could say a word. “Lady Barb will probably go through how you should behave as well,” he added. “I suggest you listen to her. She’s been through it herself.”
Emily blinked, distracted from her embarrassment. “I thought she’d never married!”
“Her courtship failed,” Void said. “Yours...”
He shrugged. “The purpose of a courtship is to build up a lasting relationship,” he said, after a moment. “Sometimes, two people find that they are incompatible, no matter what they do. There is no shame in breaking off a courtship, even as you approach the wedding day; better that, Emily, than being tied to someone you don’t like.”
“I understand,” Emily said, quietly. She took a breath. “What happens if his family doesn’t like me?”
“Or thinks you’re too dangerous to bring into the family,” Void added. “It would depend on Caleb. Is he willing to give up his family to be with you?”
Emily swallowed. Markus had given up his family to be with Melissa, but she’d had the impression that Markus didn’t like his family very much.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally.
“You’re not just marrying him,” Void said. “You’ll be joining his entire family. You might discover that you can’t bear the thought of being married to them.”
Emily looked down at her pale hands. She would have left her family without a second thought; hell, she’d certainly never tried to find a way back to Earth. But Caleb? He’d admitted he had problems with his family, but he didn’t hate them the way Emily had hated her stepfather. Would he leave his family for her? Could she ask him to make such a sacrifice? 
“I don’t want to think about it,” she admitted, reluctantly.
“No one will think any less of you if you decide that you cannot bear to be married to them,” Void said. “There are dozens of failed courtships every year, Emily. But you are the one who has to make that choice. I cannot dictate it for you.”
“Fulvia tried to dictate who Melissa married,” Emily pointed out, mulishly.
“I’m not Fulvia,” Void countered. “And I have very little to gain or lose from your courtship. Fulvia had the interests of an entire family to consider; I...my position is not dependent on you.”
Emily considered it. “Is that true of his parents?”
Void shrugged. “Caleb is the second-born, isn’t he?”
“I think so,” Emily said. She forced herself to remember what Caleb had said. “He’s definitely got at least one older brother and a second brother - I think he’s three or four years younger than Caleb.”
“They’re not that important a family,” Void said, dispassionately. “They may see advantages in having their son married to you. I think they may be a little disappointed that it wasn’t their eldest son who started to court you, because he’d be the heir. But if something were to happen to him, Caleb would be next in line.”
“Caleb isn’t going to worry about that,” Emily objected.
“He should,” Void said. “Unless he leaves the family, he will be the heir if something happens to his older brother.”
“It all sounds very cold,” Emily said.
“Courtships are cold,” Void said. “But when they work, they tend to work very well.”
He shrugged, again. “If you really want to go back to Whitehall, I’ll arrange for you to be collected tomorrow; we can shut the house down together. After that, you’ll be the only person who can enter and leave at will.”
Emily felt a stab of bitter pain. The Grandmaster was dead. He’d left her the house and a letter, warning her that her life was about to become a great deal harder. Part of her just wanted to stay in the house, wrapping her wards around herself and forgetting the rest of the world. But she couldn’t, not if she wanted to pass her exams. She needed those qualifications to advance.
And Alassa would kill me if I didn’t attend her wedding, she thought.
The thought caused another bitter pang. Alassa and Imaiqah would be leaving Whitehall after their exams. She’d be alone; her only true friend left at school would be the Gorgon, unless she left too. Frieda would be staying, of course, and so would Caleb, but it wouldn’t be the same. The former was two years younger than she; the latter was her boyfriend, not someone she could confide in. 
“I have somewhere I need to be,” Void added, quietly. “I probably won’t see you again for a while. But, for what it’s worth, I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Emily whispered. “For this and...and everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Void said. He tapped the box. “Aren’t you going to put on the ring?”
Emily hesitated, then cast a handful of detection spells. Void nodded in approval - he’d warned her, several times, to be sure she checked before touching anything - and waited until she was sure the ring was safe before allowing it to rest on her palm. It felt warm against her bare skin, pulsing faintly with magic. And it felt almost as if it belonged. 
“I wonder,” she said, slowly. “Does this make you my father?”
“It makes you part of the family, such as it is,” Void said. He’d never talked about his family, even when he’d encouraged her to open up about her mother and stepfather. “There’s only me now.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said.
“Don’t be,” Void told her. “Their deaths weren’t your fault.”
Emily looked down at the ring, drinking in the details. It looked as if he’d wrapped a piece of golden thread around a silver thread and melted them together, weaving magic into the raw material until it was almost alive. She’d seen more elaborate pieces of jewelry - Alassa wore them frequently - but the ring was special. It told her that she belonged.
Carefully, she placed it on her finger. It was a little loose, but as the magic spiked around the ring it tightened just enough to ensure it wouldn’t fall off. She pulled at it and discovered that it needed a hard tug to pull it free. She’d never really liked rings - she’d never had the money to buy any jewelry on Earth - but Void’s ring seemed perfect.
“Welcome to the family, Emily,” Void said. He took a breath. “And now you can go work on Alassa’s wedding present.”
Emily smiled. Imaiqah, thankfully, had reminded her that the happy couple would expect a present from each of their guests, saving Emily from a considerable amount of embarrassment. But she knew Alassa deserved more than a set of cutlery or a blender, assuming they even existed in the Nameless World. She’d settled, after confirming she wouldn’t have to hand the gift over publicly, for one of her notebooks, outlining the different political ideas from Earth. Alassa wouldn’t have an easy time of it when she took the throne and Emily hoped an infusion - another infusion - of ideas from Earth would help. She was, after all, one of the few people who knew about Earth.
“It’s almost finished,” she said. Writing the notebook had taken longer than she’d expected, but she was proud of her work. “She’ll love it.”
“As long as no one sees it,” Void warned. “The truth of your origins is not something we want to get out.”

Chapter Two

“I have spoken to Mistress Irene,” Void said, the following morning. “Lady Barb will be here this afternoon to escort you back to Whitehall.”
“That’s good,” Emily said. She couldn’t help feeling torn. Part of her wanted to go back to the school that had been her first true home, part of her wanted to stay put. She’d killed Master Grey. Nothing would ever be the same again. “Will...will you be making me do more spells this morning?”
“I was thinking we might do something a little bit different,” Void said. He tapped the table meaningfully. “But you would be well advised to eat before we start.”
Emily smiled as she opened the breadbox and recovered a loaf of bread, a crock of butter and several eggs, the latter all wrapped in preservation spells. Void had already brewed a pot of Kava; she poured herself a mug, then whipped the eggs, dumped them into a pan and scrambled them on the stove. It wouldn’t be very fancy, certainly not compared to the multi-choice breakfasts she’d enjoyed at Whitehall, but it would keep her going. Her appetite had increased along with her power.
“Make sure you cast preservation spells over everything before you leave,” Void said, as she reached for a plate and poured the eggs over the bread. “The last thing you want is to come home and discover that the food has gone bad.”
Emily nodded. Sergeant Miles had hammered that into her head, along with a number of other titbits she’d done her best to recall. She still wasn’t a very good cook, but at least she could make something that would keep her alive. Sergeant Harkin, on the other hand, had been able to create the most stupendous feasts, just from ingredients he’d found in the forest. She couldn’t help wondering, as she sat down, what that fearsome man would have made of her now. She’d killed a combat sorcerer in a formal duel.
“Your exams are scheduled for two months from today,” Void said, as she ate. “I will be expecting you to do well, very well. Despite circumstances...”
He shrugged. “But you’re still getting used to your increased power,” he added, warningly. “If you feel yourself having too many headaches, or having problems coping with spells you used to be able to cast without bother, go to Mistress Irene and ask to be held back. There’s no shame in admitting you need more time to recuperate.”
“But everyone would point and laugh,” Emily objected.
“You shouldn’t care about the good opinion of idiots,” Void said. “Would you have advised your boyfriend to take his scheduled exams even though he spent most of the year in a coma?”
“No,” Emily said, reluctantly. She knew he was right, but she’d picked up enough of the school’s ethos to believe that being held back was humiliating. She’d still be classed as a child even as she turned twenty-one. “But Caleb had an excuse for missing so many classes.”
“So do you,” Void said, dryly. “You can be held back, if you wish, and no one will think any less of you.”
That wasn’t true, Emily knew. It was rare for a student to willingly repeat their first four years of schooling - or even merely go back to Third Year or redo Fourth Year. The lure of being considered an adult, rather than a child, was too great. Caleb had been taunted, she remembered; she didn’t want to have to endure classes with students two years younger than her, all of whom would be scared witless by her. But he was right. The people whose opinions mattered would understand precisely why she’d repeated a year or two.
She finished her breakfast, washed the dishes in the sink and followed Void into the next room. The Grandmaster - she felt another pang of grief - had turned it into a study, lining the walls with row upon row of bookshelves. Most of them were classic texts that had been reprinted - it had amused her to discover that he’d purchased hundreds of books from the printing presses - but there were a handful of rare editions among the dross. She suspected she could have completed most of her formal studies just by sitting in the study and reading the books he’d left on the shelves.
“There is a second tradition,” Void said, once they were sitting. “When a child becomes an adult, at least in a magical family, the parents take the time to share certain magics that belong to one single bloodline. The children are sworn to secrecy and told never to share the spells with anyone, save for their own children when they become adults. It is quite rare for any of those spells to leak.”
Emily frowned. “Melissa was disowned...”
“Melissa was probably too young to learn,” Void said, dismissively. “I have no idea how the Ashworth Family handles such matters, but I imagine their oaths would make it impossible for Melissa to share any such spells with her children, now that she is no longer considered part of her former family.”
“If she knows,” Emily mused.
“If she knows,” Void agreed. He cleared his throat. “Now, I have no such spells to share.”
Emily blinked. “Your family didn’t have any?”
“My family...” He shook his head, his expression darkening. “Suffice it to say I have no such spells to share.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said.
“Don’t be,” Void said, bluntly. He produced a pair of black gloves and pulled them over his hands. “I would like, however, to teach you some other spells you will probably need in the future. If, of course, you want them.”
Emily smiled, leaning forward. Learning new spells was one of the things she loved about being in the Nameless World. And learning something very few other people knew...she liked knowing something unique, even though she already knew too much. The Nuke-Spell alone would change the world beyond repair if it ever got out. She rubbed the snake-bracelet at her wrist as Void reached into one of his pockets and produced a small gemstone. It sparkled with an eerie light that sent shivers down her spine.
“Hold your hand above the gem, but be careful not to actually make contact,” Void ordered, as he rested the gem on his gloved hand. “It could get dangerous.”
Emily swallowed, then reached out. The sense of danger grew stronger as her hand approached the gem; she felt a sudden stab of pain on her chest, where the rune had been carved into her skin, once her hand was bare millimeters above the shimming crystal. And yet, despite the pain, there was something in the spell worked into the gem that called to her. She pulled her hand back before she could give into the pull and actually touch the gem.
“I don’t believe you will have covered gem-work yet,” Void said. Emily shook her head, unable to take her eyes from the glowing crystal. “Like a wand, you can embed a spell into a gem, but the principle difference is that the gem spell can be active. Nightmare Hexes, which I believe you have encountered, are often anchored to gems. A spell can be kept active for a considerable period of time, if the spellwork is done properly or there is a ready-made source of power nearby.”
“Like a nexus point,” Emily said.
“A nexus point would be considerably overpowered,” Void said. He returned the gem to his pocket. “A living person would be sufficient.”
He gave her a sharp look. “What do you think that gem was for?”
Emily hesitated. She’d felt a compulsion to touch the gem the moment she’d held her hand above it, but her rune had sounded the alert at once. Maybe it wasn’t subtle magic - it certainly hadn’t behaved like subtle magic - yet she was sure it worked along the same lines...
“Influencing people,” she said, finally.
“Controlling people,” Void corrected. His voice was flat, completely toneless. “If someone were to be enslaved, for whatever reason, one of these gems would be inserted into their foreheads and fixed to the bone. They would then have to follow orders from whoever mastered the gem.”
Emily shuddered. “And you want to show me how to make those gems?”
“You need to know,” Void said. He waved a hand around to indicate the house. “This isn’t your castle in Cockatrice, Emily. You’ll need servants eventually and those servants will have to be completely trustworthy. Binding them to you is the simplest solution.”
“I couldn’t do that,” Emily said, flatly. She’d had nightmares for years after Shadye had used blood magic to control her like a puppet. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”
Void looked at her. “Would it help if I told you that most people who were enslaved thoroughly deserved it?”
Emily felt sick. “I couldn’t...just take someone’s free will like that, no.”
“Even when someone exercising his free will decides to steal from you - or worse?” Void asked. “The real world is a messy place.”
He met her eyes. “You will need to have servants, eventually,” he warned. “And most of them will expect some form of binding. You’ll be paying them well for their services.”
Emily shook her head. If the gem spells were anything like as powerful as the compulsion spells she’d learned at Whitehall, few people would be able to resist them. The potential for abuse was far too high. It would be easy to make all sorts of promises to someone she wanted to hire, then break the promises as soon as the man was bound to her. There were some temptations that were best left untouched. 
“You may find that you pay for refusing to learn,” Void said. He looked down at the table for a long moment. “But I won’t force you to master the spell.”
“I know,” Emily said. Void had never pushed her to do anything, let alone threatened her with punishment. It had taken her some time to realize he expected her to have the self-discipline to learn - and if she didn’t, it would be her fault when the exams came and she wasn’t ready. “I thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to learn this.”
“As you wish,” Void said. He looked up. “Is there something you do want to learn?”
“Teleportation,” Emily said. “Do I have the power reserves now?”
Void considered it. “You should,” he said. “I understand you know the theory?”
“The basics, yes,” Emily said. She’d been taught at Mountaintop; her tutor, who hadn’t been best pleased to be teaching her, had warned her not to actually try the spell until she had the power to handle it. “But I’ve never tried to cast it.”
“Pity you didn’t mention that earlier,” Void said. “It would have saved you casting so many high-power spells each morning.”
Emily frowned. “I’m sorry...”
“Not your fault,” Void said. He sounded more annoyed than she’d expected. “It didn’t occur to me that you might be able to teleport now.”
He pointed a finger at her. “But we will go through the calculations first, piece by piece,” he added. “And you will not try to cast the spell until I’m satisfied that you know what you’re doing.”
Charms Tutors, in Emily’s experience, were always strict. Too many things could go wrong with a badly-written spell for them to be anything but precise. Void, however, made her go through everything with an attention to detail that made her eyes ache after four hours of working her way through the calculations. The math she’d learned on Earth, at least, gave her an advantage. She was used to thinking in terms of multiple dimensions. 
But they know the world is round, she thought, sourly. The more she looked at the spell, the more she was convinced she could use it to jump to the moon...if she had the power to cast the spell and the precision to ensure it didn’t mean her immediate death. Why don’t they know more?
She felt the wards shimmer around her and blinked. “We have a visitor.”
“Don’t try the spell until after your exams,” Void said, as he rose to his feet. “Lady Barb is here early, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve already packed,” Emily said. She rose and headed for the door. “And thank you for everything.”
Void smiled. “Just make sure you do well on your exams,” he said. “You have a reputation to keep.”
Emily opened the door. Lady Barb stood outside, wearing black robes that contrasted neatly with her long blonde hair. She carried a staff in one hand; beyond her, Emily could see a horse-drawn coach waiting for them. Emily gave Lady Barb a tight hug - she’d missed her badly - and then stepped back, welcoming Lady Barb into her house.
“I pledge to hold my hand in your house,” Lady Barb said, tightly. Her lips thinned when she caught sight of the ring on Emily’s finger. “I trust you are ready to depart?”
“I am,” Emily said. There was bad blood between Lady Barb and Void. She’d wondered about trying to get her parental figures to talk, but she had the feeling it would merely get her hexed by one or both of them. “I’ll just fetch my trunk.”
She hurried up the stairs to her bedroom, grabbed the trunk from where she’d left it at the foot of the bed and hurried back downstairs. Void already stood at the door, holding his own trunk in one hand and quietly ignoring Lady Barb. Emily put her trunk down, hurried to place spells on everything that needed preserving and then started to close the wards. The house would remain sealed until she returned. She bid a silent farewell to the Grandmaster as they stepped outside, the final wards falling into place. Anyone who tried to break in would be held in stasis, if they managed to break through the first three protective wards.
“I thank you,” she said to Void. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Soon,” Void confirmed.
He stepped backwards, nodded to her and vanished. Emily stared at where he’d stood, feeling a flicker of envy. His teleportation spell had been so perfectly controlled that he hadn’t even caused a flash of light. Lady Barb caught her arm and tugged her gently towards the carriage, leaving the house behind. Oddly, Emily felt as if she was leaving home. She hadn’t felt like that since she’d gone to Zangaria after her first year at Whitehall. 
“I trust you have been preparing for your exams,” Lady Barb said, curtly. “You have a great deal of work to do.”
“I know,” Emily said. The older woman looked stern, too stern. “I did my best to keep up with my reading and practical spells.”
“You still have a great deal of work to do,” Lady Barb said, as they climbed into the carriage and sat down. She tapped on the headboard, ordering the driver to start moving, and then looked back at Emily as she pulled the curtains closed and cast a handful of privacy wards into the air. “Are you all right?”
“He didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Emily protested. She knew why Lady Barb disliked Void, but the Lone Power hadn’t done anything to her. “He helped me learn how to cope with my new power reserves.”
“I’d keep that to yourself if I were you,” Lady Barb said, flatly. “Your masking is good, but it isn’t perfect. Your fellow students will be quite jealous.”
Emily swallowed. “What...what happened at the school?”
“Mistress Irene is still doing the Grandmaster’s job without the pay,” Lady Barb said. “So far, the White Council has yet to decide on a successor. There are so many deals being struck in the White City that no one can keep track of who’s in the lead. I imagine they will come to an agreement by the start of next year.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “Why don’t they just give the position to Mistress Irene?”
“Because she doesn’t have the political capital the Grandmaster had,” Lady Barb pointed out, directly. “The Grandmaster of Whitehall is more than just the ruler of the school, Emily; he or she has a great deal of influence over magical policy. It isn’t a post that is given to just anyone. And...after what happened over the last four years, I think they’ll want someone capable of taking the school and keeping it in line.”
“There isn’t anyone who dares to cross Mistress Irene,” Emily said. “If she isn’t the strictest tutor in Whitehall, she’s certainly the second or third.”
“That’s not what they care about,” Lady Barb said. She leaned back in her seat as the carriage shook, vigorously. “Master Grey was just the latest in a stream of...incidents.”
Emily nodded. Shadye’s invasion, the Mimic, the Demon...
Lady Barb frowned. “Did you inspect Master Grey’s property before time ran out?”
“I wasn’t in any state to go,” Emily said. “Void arranged for me to get an extension.”
“No other claimants, then,” Lady Barb mused.
She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it right now, though,” she added. She fixed Emily with a gimlet eye. “You’ll be back to classes tomorrow, so make sure you have a good night’s sleep. No wandering out of your room after Lights Out.”
“I won’t,” Emily promised. She took a breath. “What...what do they think of me now?”
“A great deal of respect, seeing you managed to kill a combat sorcerer with far more experience than you,” Lady Barb said, curtly. Emily wondered what she thought of Emily now, but didn’t dare ask. Being in proximity to Void always put Lady Barb on edge. “And also a considerable amount of fear. I’d tell you to watch your back, but I doubt anyone would take a shot at you. Just concentrate on your exams and leave the future to worry about itself.”
She sighed. “And I would take a very careful look at anything Void gave you,” she added, darkly. “It might well have a sting in the tail.”

Chapter Three

“Emily,” Imaiqah called, as Emily entered the bedroom. “Welcome back!”
Emily felt a lump in her throat as she hugged her very first friend. “I’ve missed you. Thank you for writing to me.”
“Ah, it’s a great deal easier with the parchments,” Imaiqah said. “We were too busy to write longer letters.”
She sat back on her bed and watched as Emily unpacked her trunk. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stand still for measurements soon,” she warned. “Queen Marlena dispatched two tailors to measure me for dresses and they’ll want to do the same for you.”
Emily sighed. There was no point, she knew, in suggesting she could wear just one dress during the wedding. She was expected to wear a new dress for each day of the ceremony - five in all - even though each dress cost enough to feed a poor family for a year. Queen Marlena would make sure of it, no matter what Emily said. But it could be worse. Alassa had to wear nine dresses during her wedding, including one that had to be worn the day after she tied the knot.
“There’s no choice, I suppose,” Emily said. She finished unpacking and picked up the timetable from her bedside table. “When are they coming back?”
“They said they’d arrange it for when you arrived,” Imaiqah said. “Alassa will send her mother a note once she sees you.”
She paused. “Have you seen Caleb yet?”
“No,” Emily said. “We exchanged a few letters, but he couldn’t come to the house.”
She glanced at her friend. “Have you seen him?”
“He was in classes, but I haven’t seen him otherwise,” Imaiqah said. “I don’t know what he was doing.”
“I’ll go find him later,” Emily said. Caleb and she had to finish their joint project before the exams started or they’d be marked down. “Was he...”
“Well, I haven’t heard of him being with anyone else,” Imaiqah said. She stuck out her tongue as Emily colored. “That was what you wanted to ask, wasn’t it?”
“Just a little,” Emily admitted. 
She finished reading the timetable and sighed. Martial Magic had been taken off completely - she’d killed the tutor, after all - but the rest of the timetable was crammed. She would barely have any time to catch her breath before the exams started in earnest. Lady Barb had added a note, warning her to revise areas covered in the classes she’d missed; Emily nodded and silently promised herself that she’d get notes from her friends so she’d know what to revise. The only upside of being in the house, she suspected, was that she’d had plenty of time to practice her practical spellwork.
The door opened, revealing a tired-looking Alassa. “Emily,” she called. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too,” Emily said. Alassa looked perfect, as always, despite her tiredness. Long blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face, inhumanly clear of marks or blemishes. “Did you have a long day?”
“Professor Thande kept me back because I managed to blow up one of his prized caldrons,” Alassa said. Her robes were stained with something Emily preferred not to identify. “He wasn’t pleased about the mess.”
“Nor was the rest of the class, I suspect,” Imaiqah said. “What did you do?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Alassa confessed. “I think I may have added the bat’s blood a stage too early, but trying to compensate by adding lizard scales was definitely a mistake.”
Emily looked from one to the other, then shrugged. “Back to work tomorrow,” she said, firmly. “Or...” - she looked at Alassa - “do we have to do the fitting before the exams?”
“They’ll come take your measurements within the week,” Alassa said. “After that, there will be a few minor adjustments once you arrive in Alexis. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything else until then.”
“But Alassa will,” Imaiqah said. “How many guests are you allowed to reject?”
“None, it would seem,” Alassa said. She stomped her foot as she started to march around the room. “I’m going to have upwards of four thousand guests at my wedding - and, compared to some of the weddings of yore, that’s small. But I’m not allowed to reject any of them, even though I wouldn’t want to be in the same room with some of the assholes my father has invited. Can you believe he’s invited Barnum De Born?”
“No,” Emily said, “because I don’t know who he is.”
“Minor nobility,” Imaiqah put in.
“Very minor nobility,” Alassa said, “and about the only thing he’s good at, apart from sucking at my father’s teat, is gathering gossip and writing scurrilous poetry about the great and the good. But father wants to invite him to the wedding.”
She shook her head. “You do realize I’m going to have to dance with all the male aristocrats? And that I don’t even get to pick my own bridesmaids? Every young noblewoman between eight and eighteen has applied for a post. I’m going to have more bridesmaids than there are students in Whitehall.”
“Not literally, I hope,” Emily said. There were around a thousand students in Whitehall and fitting them all into the Great Hall was difficult. “Don’t you get to whittle them down a little?”
“Just a little,” Alassa said. “But I’m going to be preceded by at least a hundred young maidens.”
“I’m sure it’s worth it,” Emily said. She didn’t envy Alassa, not really. Maybe she’d been born to wealth and power, but it came with a cost. “And you can claim a reward for it later.”
“I doubt it,” Alassa said, pessimistically. “Gratitude simply doesn’t last.”
Emily frowned. “And you told your father about the demon’s warning?”
“Father says he’s taking every precaution he can,” Alassa told her. “But he flatly refused to allow me a private wedding with only a few guests. My wedding is the event of the year.”
“I know,” Emily said. The vision the demon had showed her felt almost like a dream - or a nightmare. Alassa bleeding to death on her wedding day...She’d been told it was a possibility, not a certainty, but there were times when the mere thought of it scared her to death and times when it seemed nothing more than a trick of her unconscious mind. “Take all the precautions you can, please.”
“Father and Jade are organizing them,” Alassa said. She gave Emily a reassuring smile. “I can’t refuse to have a public ceremony, Emily. Father would never let me get away with it.”
She shrugged, expressively. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for a few friends to join us after dinner,” she added, changing the subject. “I know you have to get back to work tomorrow, so you can catch up with everyone tonight.”
“Go find Caleb now,” Imaiqah advised. “He’ll want you to seek him out personally.”
“I will,” Emily said. She glanced at her watch - there was an hour until dinnertime - and stood. “Thank you, both of you.”
“Just be there at the wedding,” Alassa said. “I might need to hide behind you midway through the ceremony. Too many aristocrats.”
Emily smiled and left the room, walking down the corridor to the lower door. Madame Beauregard was standing in front of the door, berating a Third Year Emily didn’t recognize for some offense. She waited patiently for the housemother to let the younger student go, then asked Madame Beauregard to find Caleb for her. The housemother eyed her for a long moment before consulting the school’s wards and informing Emily that Caleb was in one of the higher-ranking spellchambers. Emily thanked her and hurried down towards the Armory.
The door was closed and warded, but opened when she rested her fingers against the locking charm. Master Grey had granted her permission to use the spellchambers whenever she felt like it, back when he’d been pretending to be a real teacher, and no one had bothered to rescind the permission. Inside, Caleb stood in the center of the room, tossing off hexes at the training dummies. Emily smiled and watched as he knocked down two more before noticing her and ending the game. The dummies picked themselves off the floor and marched back to the walls, where they would wait for the next training exercise.
“Emily,” Caleb said. “I...”
He ran towards Emily and hugged her, tightly. Emily hesitated, then allowed herself to melt into his arms. Kissing him felt...strange as well as good, but she was no longer so reluctant to let his lips touch hers. She held him for a long moment, then stepped backwards, breaking the hug. Caleb let her go.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, and meant it. “What were you doing here?”
“My father will insist on knowing just how well I’ve been doing,” Caleb explained. “At some point, he’ll have my mother take me into a spellchamber and put me through my paces - if he doesn’t ask Casper to do it. I have to be ready. Sergeant Miles was kind enough to let me use the room.”
“You’re doing fine,” Emily said.
“I’ll never make a combat sorcerer,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “I think too much, I think.”
Emily smiled. Sergeant Miles had said, more than once, that some people reacted instinctively to any given situation, while others tried to think their way through before acting. There were advantages and disadvantages to both, he’d gone on to say, but someone caught in a situation that called for the other reaction was going to wind up in trouble. Caleb would spend too long, if he was challenged, thinking of what spell to use. He wouldn’t just snap one off at once to upset his opponent.
“As long as you can look after yourself, it isn’t much of a problem,” Emily pointed out. “Are they still willing to see me?”
Caleb looked relieved. It crossed her mind, suddenly, that he must have wondered if she’d think better of dating him, after they’d been unwillingly separated for a month. She hadn’t thought like that, but...she’d never really doubted that Caleb liked her, once she’d realized he did. He could have avoided her altogether if he’d wanted.
“They’re looking forward to it,” he said. He frowned, darkly. “Casper may want to ask you about the duel. He’s got dueling ambitions of his own.”
“Joy,” Emily said, sarcastically. She’d expected Void to insist on going through the duel, spell by spell, but he hadn’t asked her about it. She had received a handful of letters inquiring if she would like to write an outline of the duel, which she’d burned after reading. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. “What should I tell him?”
“Piss off, if you want,” Caleb said. He smiled, rather nervously. “Or just that you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t think your mother would thank me for telling her son to piss off,” Emily said, ruefully. Nothing she’d heard about Casper had been good, but it was clear that Caleb cordially disliked his elder brother. “I’ll just say I won and that’s all there is to it.”
The dining bell rang. Caleb took her hand and led her out of the chamber, walking up towards the Dining Hall. Hundreds of students poured out of various classrooms; a number glanced at Emily, their eyes going wide, then backed away as if she were a wild animal. She sighed inwardly, cursing under her breath, as Caleb gently squeezed her hand. It was almost certain that many of the students staring at her had either watched the duel or heard eyewitness reports. The latter had probably grown in the telling.
“Emily,” Frieda called, as they reached the entrance. She ran towards Emily, arms open wide. “Welcome home.”
Emily let go of Caleb and hugged the younger girl tightly. “It’s good to see you again, too,” she said, as Frieda let go of her. Frieda looked to have put on a little more weight, thanks to the proper food she was receiving at Whitehall. Her dark hair had been tied neatly into two ponytails. “Did you have a good time?”
“I was the sole pupil in some of my classes until the others recovered from the demon’s meddling,” Frieda said, cheerfully. She shot Caleb an unreadable glance and then turned her attention back to Emily. “I learned some really interesting tricks that I can’t wait to show you.”
“I can’t wait either,” Emily assured her. She nodded towards the door. “Shall we go eat?”
Frieda nodded and pushed her way through the crowd into the hall. Emily followed at a more sedate pace, noting how the younger students seemed to be in awe while the older students watched her warily. There was a power hierarchy at Whitehall - she’d been told, in no uncertain terms, that picking on younger students would be harshly punished - but her defeat of a full-fledged combat sorcerer had smashed it. No one was really sure where she fit in.
But I don’t care about the hierarchy, she thought, crossly. If other students wanted to engage in mock duels, that was their concern. All I want is to get on with my studies.
She took a plate of food - the servants, at least, didn’t treat her any differently - and made her way to the table. Alassa and Imaiqah were already there; Melissa sat at the far end of the table, alone in a crowd of students. Emily felt a stab of pity and waved to the redheaded girl, who nodded back. At least Markus made regular visits to Whitehall, Emily knew. Melissa wasn’t completely alone.
“You could always ask her to join you,” Frieda offered. “She’s hoping you will.”
Emily hesitated. Both Alassa and Imaiqah had good reason to dislike Melissa, although Alassa had probably played as large a role in starting the feud as Melissa. If she asked Melissa to join them, they’d object. There were too many bad memories for them to be anything more than coldly polite to one another. And, if she was honest, Emily had to admit she had too many bad memories too. She’d already done far too much for Melissa.
“Not now,” she said, sitting down next to Alassa. “It wouldn’t go down well.”
“I think I may have made a mistake,” Imaiqah said. She held out a parchment to Emily. “I have to take care of all of this.”
Emily took the parchment and unfurled it. “You have to supervise the bride, check the invitations with the guests, supervise the bridesmaids at their rehearsals, coordinate with the groom’s family and guests...how many things are there on this list?”
“You need to get help,” Alassa said. “Speak to my father’s castellan. He’ll tell you who can be spared to assist you. Make sure whoever handles the bridesmaids is nobility, because they won’t listen to anyone else.”
“Alicia,” Emily suggested. “She’s in line to be a Baroness.”
“I’m not sure she would be terrifying enough,” Alassa said. She smiled, sweetly. “You should do it, Emily. Tell them you’ll turn anyone who doesn’t behave into a bird.”
Emily frowned. “Why a bird?”
“They’ll make pleasant noises, if nothing else,” Alassa said. She smiled, then looked past Emily at Caleb. “If you want to attend, please let me know so I can send an invitation.”
Emily blinked. “You weren’t going to send him one?”
“I can’t send an invitation I know will be rejected,” Alassa said, patiently. “That would make me look bad. So if Caleb agrees to attend, I can send him an invitation, secure in the knowledge I won’t be embarrassed.”
“Oh,” Emily said. She rolled her eyes. “Does that mean that everyone invited to the wedding was asked before they were actually invited?”
Alassa shrugged. “Pretty much,” she said. “But I only have to ask the ones I’ve invited personally. My father’s servants can handle the ones he wants to invite.”
She glanced at Caleb. “Are you coming?”
“Please,” Emily added. 
“If you will have me, I will come,” Caleb said. “But I don’t know what I can contribute.”
“Just be someone I invited personally,” Alassa said. “And keep Emily company.”
Emily elbowed her, although she knew Alassa had a point. She would have to be fitted for her dresses, while Imaiqah was the Maid of Honor. Emily would have much less to do, once she arrived at Alexis; she’d intended to take Frieda and explore more of the city below the castle. If she’d tried to do anything else, she knew she’d just get in the way. But having Caleb there would be fun. They could go to Cockatrice and continue their joint project.
And hope to hell nothing goes wrong, she thought.
She ate her meal slowly, savoring every bite, while Alassa and Imaiqah continued to discuss the wedding in great detail. Frieda might have been insulted on Emily’s behalf, when Alassa had asked Imaiqah to be her Maid of Honor, but Emily was privately relieved. There was just too much to do; seating arrangements had to be made, important egos with big mouths had to be soothed and social catfights handled with careful diplomacy. It wasn’t something she knew she could handle.
“We could go for a walk now,” Caleb muttered, as they finished their meal. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Just be back before Lights Out,” Alassa said. She smiled at Caleb. “You’re invited too, you know.”
Caleb frowned. “Invited to what?”
“Just a small social gathering,” Alassa said. “A chance for Emily to hear all the news before we get back to work. It should be fun.”
“We’ll be back,” Caleb said. He didn’t sound too enthusiastic. “Coming?”
Emily nodded as she rose to her feet. A social gathering sounded like torture to her; she’d never been really comfortable in groups of more than two or three people. Alassa - and Imaiqah - could be comfortable, or fake it; she’d never developed the skills to cope with it herself. But she did want to hear all the news...
...And see her other friends again. The Gorgon was missing - she’d been skipping meals even before the Demon had gotten its hooks into her - and some of Alassa’s teammates had clearly decided to spend more time practicing in the Arena than eating dinner. They were going to regret that tomorrow, Emily knew; a starving magician was a weak magician. But it would be their choice.
Lady Barb caught her on the way out. “I assume you’ve seen your timetable?”
“I have,” Emily confirmed. “It’s very full.”
“I’m giving up some of my free time to help you catch up,” Lady Barb said. Her face darkened noticeably as she glanced towards the High Table, where Sergeant Miles was waiting for her. “And so are some of the other tutors. Don’t waste it.”
“I understand,” Emily said. “I won’t.”
“You’ll be expected to work like a maniac,” Lady Barb added. “Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight. You’ll need it.”
“She’s right,” Caleb said. “We’ve been working hard ever since the duel.”
Emily nodded as they walked up to the battlements, where they could chat while waiting for the others to finish dinner. It felt strangely comforting to be standing next to him, without saying a word. Outside, darkness was already falling over the land, sending a chill down her spine as the sun vanished behind the Craggy Mountains. Caleb wrapped his arm around her and she let him.
“It feels good to be back,” she said, seriously. “And thank you for all your letters.”
“I would have come if I could,” Caleb assured her. “But your father said no.”
“You wouldn’t have liked me so much,” Emily admitted. She was still astonished by just how patient Void had been with her, when her magic and emotions had been running rampant. “I had some very bad days just after the duel.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Caleb said. “I like spending time with you.”
Emily nodded and relaxed into his arms for a long moment, then pulled herself free. “The others should be finished by now,” she said. She wanted to be with him, but at the same time she wanted to catch up with her friends before she plunged back into schoolwork. “We can go spend some time with them.”
Caleb looked doubtful. “If they’ll allow me in the room.”
“They will,” Emily assured him. She took his hand and led him towards the door. “They invited all of our friends.”

Chapter Four

Lady Barb was right, Emily discovered as she returned to classes; she was expected to work like a maniac. When she wasn’t in the classrooms, having facts hammered into her head, she was working her way through a list of practical exercises at twice the recommended speed or writing essays to prove she’d mastered the source material. She wasn’t the only one spending most of her evenings in the library, too; by the time the tailors arrived to measure her for her dresses, she simultaneously welcomed the break and cursed them for taking her away from her studies. She was so busy that she had hardly any time to spend with Caleb or her friends, outside classes. The only advantage was that she was kept so busy with the practical work that she didn’t have to worry about taking time to expend mana.
“You’ll be entering the exam protocols tomorrow,” Lady Barb told her, one evening. “This is pretty much your last chance to apply to restart Fourth Year.”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t think I want to do it all again,” she said, after a moment. Besides, she had the feeling she’d be expected to restart from Third Year, unless their joint project was credited to her anyway. They’d handed in the final version two days ago. “I just want to get it over with.”
“You’re doing better than I expected,” Lady Barb said. “Do you feel confident?”
“I’m not sure,” Emily admitted.
She sighed, inwardly. Exams on Earth had been useless; the ones she’d taken had involved nothing more than memorizing facts, none of which were any use outside the examination room. But at Whitehall, a good two-thirds of her mark would be based on her practical work and her results would follow her for the rest of her life. If she failed her exams, she would have to redo Fourth Year or simply be denied permission to advance to Fifth Year. In some ways, conceding defeat now would save her from being branded as a failure. 
“I have to try,” she said, firmly. “If I fail...I can go back to Third Year and start again.”
“Very well,” Lady Barb said. She smiled, rather dryly. “Tomorrow morning, make sure you have a good breakfast before you assemble in the Great Hall. And I suggest that you listen, very carefully, to what you’re told. It could make the difference between success and failure.”
Emily nodded, thanked the older woman and hurried back to her bedroom. Both of her friends were already there, Imaiqah working her way through a large volume she’d borrowed from the library while Alassa wrote a long letter to her father. She, at least, wouldn’t have her results made public. The only reason Alassa was still taking the exams, Emily knew, was so she knew just how good she was. Everyone else thought she was being punished for abusing her position.
“There’s a note from Mistress Irene,” Imaiqah said, looking up from her book. “We’re to assemble in the Great Hall at nine bells.”
“And we’re not to be late,” Alassa said. She yawned and stretched - somehow, she managed to make even that look beautiful - as she rose. “Or there will be the dire punishment of being barred from the examination chamber.”
“Easy for you to say,” Imaiqah snapped. “My dad will kill me if I don’t get good results.”
“You’re a noblewoman now,” Alassa said. “You have a wonderful career ahead of you if you can’t do magic...”
“It isn’t the same,” Imaiqah retorted. “And you know it.”
“Calm down, both of you,” Emily said. It wasn’t the first fight or near-fight she’d seen as exams loomed nearer. Caleb had told her about a fight between five boys that had sent three of them to the infirmary and the remaining two to the Warden. Other students had snapped and snarled at one another as they’d struggled to finish their papers. “You both need some sleep.”
“This book won’t read itself,” Imaiqah said. She paused. “Well, it could, if I charmed it properly, but it would be useless for me.”
“You’re not going to be taking much of anything in,” Emily pointed out. “Leave it now, have a shower and relax. That will help you sleep better.”
She paused. “Are we actually starting the exams tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so,” Alassa said. “Mistress Irene is going to talk to us, it seems. You should have tried asking Aloha.”
Emily nodded, ruefully. Her older friend hadn’t spoken to her since Master Grey’s death. Aloha had practically had a crush on the combat sorcerer; she’d certainly learned a great deal from his harsh lessons. And now he was dead...Emily had a feeling that Aloha understood, but couldn’t really forgive. Master Grey had been precisely the sort of tutor Aloha liked. 
“I don’t think she’s talking to me at the moment,” Emily said. She undressed, showered and headed for bed. “Get some sleep, really. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her meditations. It must have worked, because the next thing she knew, the bed was shivering, threatening to throw her onto the floor. She jumped up hastily, checked the time and showered while Alassa and Imaiqah struggled out of bed. When they were all dressed, they headed down to the Dining Hall for breakfast and then made their way to the Great Hall. Caleb sat next to her as they waited for the stragglers to enter, just before the doors closed with an audible boom. Emily had a feeling that anyone who was late would be in deep trouble. 
“Good morning,” Mistress Irene said. She marched into the room from a hidden door and stood on a podium, her cool voice carried across the room by a spell. “You stand at the cusp of taking your first set of major exams. If any of you have chosen to take a step back and repeat the year, please leave now.”
There was a long pause. No one left.
“Very good,” Mistress Irene said. “For those of you who are leaving us this year, these will be the most important qualifications in your life. You will find that they allow you to enter careers that would otherwise be firmly closed. For those of you who intend to continue your studies at this school, your results will hopefully convince your future tutors that you’re worth teaching. I advise you all to make sure you put forward your very best effort during the exams.”
There was a long, chilling pause. “You should have read the official guidelines by now, but I will go through them just to make sure you all know what you need to know,” she continued. “You will be escorted from here to the examination section, where you will be completely isolated from the rest of the school until you have completed your exams. There is no barrier preventing you from leaving, but if you leave without completing all of your exams, the ones you miss will be marked as failed. You may take nothing into the examination section without special permission. If you feel you need to have something with you, speak to one of the tutors during the passage through the entrance corridor. Bear in mind that they will err on the side of caution, so I suggest you make your arguments convincing.”
Emily fondled the snake-bracelet on her wrist and scowled. Lady Barb knew what it was, but no other tutors knew. The snake would have to stay with her or she’d have to tighten the spells and hope she could recover the bracelet before it reverted to its normal form. A magician’s familiar wouldn’t try to hurt someone who found it, but a Death Viper would certainly be seen as a threat. She’d probably be able to hear the screaming through several layers of silencing wards.
Someone coughed, loudly. “But what about our revision notes?”
“It’s a bad idea to cram right up until the final moment,” Mistress Irene said, coolly. “You’ll have the information you need provided on the exam papers, if necessary.”
She cleared her throat and continued. “You will be separated into two groups, male and female. Once you reach the entrance corridors, you will undress and don examination robes. You will be scanned by protective spells as you pass through the doors; again, if you are caught with anything, you will have to explain its presence. Everything you need will be provided. If we catch any of you trying to slip notes through the doors, you will be barred from taking the exams and quite possibly expelled. These exams are serious.
“Inside, you will be given your examination timetables. You will sleep in the dorms provided, be escorted to the examination rooms when the time comes and - when all of your exams are completed - you will be allowed to leave. Until then, remember that your fellow students are trying to rest when they’re not in the examination rooms. Any of you who make a noise, or a disturbance, will be frozen until the start of their next exam. There will be no further warnings.”
Emily shivered. Mistress Irene meant it.
“If there are no further questions,” Mistress Irene concluded, “we shall begin.”
No one asked anything, not entirely to Emily’s surprise, but there were dozens of pale faces surrounding her. They’d known the exams were about to begin, yet they hadn’t truly comprehended that they’d be separated from their revision papers. Emily sighed inwardly as Lady Barb started calling for the female students to follow her, then fell into line behind Alassa. She waved goodbye to Caleb as they made their way through a hidden door and down a long corridor into a changing room. There were so many wards buzzing over the compartment that her hair threatened to stand on end.
“You’ll find robes in the lockers,” Lady Barb said. “Place everything in the lockers, unless you feel it deserves special permission. Do not waste my time.”
Alassa opened one of the lockers and pulled out a long dark robe that looked several sizes too small to fit her. Emily frowned, then realized it was charmed to resize itself to fit its wearer; Alassa pulled off her robes and underwear in one smooth motion and pulled the robe over her shoulders. It fitted tightly - too tightly - to her body. No one could be in any doubt she wasn’t hiding anything.
“I don’t think I can keep the knife with me,” Alassa said, pulling it from her ankle holster and holding it up to the light. “I’d be too tempted to bury it in an examiner.”
“I think that would be an automatic fail,” Imaiqah said, as Alassa hid the knife in the locker and closed it firmly. “I’d be tempted too.”
Emily laughed, despite herself. They’d been told stories about examination board supervisors who’d vanished one day and been discovered, a year later, in the frog pond, but they’d also been warned that attempting to hex the supervisors was a guaranteed fail. They were powerful and experienced magicians, after all. Getting caught trying to...convince them to give someone a pass would be embarrassing.
“Come on, Emily,” Lady Barb called. Most of the girls had already passed through the other door, leaving Emily and her friends alone. “Use a glamor to hide yourself if you wish.”
Emily nodded and undressed slowly, before pulling the robe on. It adjusted itself automatically, as she’d expected, but it was far too tight around her body. She’d never worn anything so revealing, even though everything below her neck was covered by black fabric. Caleb would probably like to see her in it, the treacherous part of her mind noted, as she hastily cast a glamor over herself. She had never dared let him do anything more than hug and kiss her. 
“I need to keep this with me,” she said, holding up the snake-bracelet. “It’ll revert to its normal form soon, without me.”
“Keep it,” Lady Barb said, after a moment. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief as she returned the bracelet to her wrist. “Are you carrying anything else?”
“Only my hairpins,” Imaiqah said. She took one of them from her hair and held it up, allowing her hair to drop down to her shoulders. “Should I dump them?”
“Yes,” Lady Barb said. She took them from Imaiqah and dropped them into a box, which she marked with Imaiqah’s name. “Anything else?”
Emily shook her head. Lady Barb gave her a sharp look, then motioned her up the corridor and into the dorm. She felt spells crawling over her as she walked through the corridor, probing at her body to make sure she wasn’t hiding something. It was paranoid, she had to admit, but she knew why. Whitehall’s reputation rested on its exam results. They couldn’t afford to allow anyone to cheat, even though it would catch up with the cheater sooner rather than later.
A dark-skinned young woman in a black robe counted them into the dorm, then closed the door and motioned them towards the beds. Emily frowned in dismay as she realized she’d be sharing a room with forty girls, but there was clearly no point in arguing. Besides, no one would dare pick a fight on the night before the exams. She sat down on the bed, picked up an envelope with her name written on the front and opened it carefully, pulling out her timetable. It was as bad as she had feared.
Imaiqah waved to the supervisor. “Where are the boys?”
“They have their own dorm,” the supervisor said, curtly. “You won’t be seeing them until after the exams.”
Good, Emily thought. She didn’t want any of them, even Caleb, to see her in such a revealing outfit. The glamor might not work perfectly. There won’t be any distractions for either of us.
“Charms first,” Alassa said, reading the timetable. “That’s not a surprise; Healing tomorrow...I’d have expected that later, really.”
“Some of the students will be taking a second Healing exam,” Imaiqah commented. “The ones who want to become Healers have to prove they can handle it.”
“It isn’t listed here,” Emily mused. She ran her eye down the list, mentally ticking off the exams she’d prepared for. The second Healing exam had probably been left off, as there was no way she could become a Healer. “We have Alchemy on Day Three. And here...”
She frowned, then waved to the supervisor. “I’ve got Military Magic listed here,” she said, puzzled. “I didn’t apply for it.”
“One moment,” the supervisor said, checking her record book. “Sergeant Miles put your name down for it. You’re only doing the theoretical section, it would seem. Didn’t he mention it to you?”
Emily shook her head, blankly. She hadn’t seen the sergeant since the Grandmaster’s funeral. Lady Barb certainly hadn’t mentioned it to her. She hadn’t even revised! 
“I’ll check that,” the supervisor said. She took Emily’s timetable and inspected it. “You’re scheduled to take it on Day Seven, I see. I’ll let you know before then what’s happened. It may be just a mistake.”
Maybe, Emily thought. She hadn’t wanted to take Martial Magic - and she hadn’t taken Military Magic at all. It was a special course, as far as she knew; she didn’t know anyone who’d taken it. Jade might have done, in his fifth year, but it was already far too late to ask him. Or someone might have entered my name for other purposes.
She shook her head and turned back to the timetable, just as a bell rang. The supervisor cleared her throat, loudly.
“The compartment has been sealed,” she said. She jabbed a finger towards a set of doors at the far end of the room. “One of those doors leads to the washrooms; you may use them up to thirty minutes before the exams. Another leads to the dining room, where you can eat whatever you want; again, the doors will be locked thirty minutes before the exams. The toilets are always open, but I suggest you don’t get caught in there when the exams start. If you fail to present yourself for the exams, you will be marked as non-attending and you will fail.”
Emily swallowed. Beside her, Alassa and Imaiqah looked equally nervous.
“Your first set of exams starts in two hours,” the supervisor finished. “Those of you who are attending should be lined up in front of the door” - she pointed a finger - “ten minutes before the start time. Once you are in your private rooms, you will be told when to start and finish. Until then, I suggest you relax as best as you can or talk quietly. If you sleep, bear in mind I will not be waking you.”
Alassa elbowed Emily. “Are we ever going to get more than someone wittering away at us?” she whispered. “So far, we’ve been lectured by two separate people...”
“Yes,” Emily said, before the supervisor could overhear. “In two hours, we start Charms.”
She looked at the washroom door, then lay back on the bed. There was nothing to do, save rest and clear her mind as best as she could. She was almost glad of the lack of anything to distract her. Once the exam started, she knew all too well, they would be pushed to the limit. And afterwards...
Alassa will be married, she thought. It was a galling thought. She didn’t begrudge Alassa her happiness, but Alassa would have less time for Emily in the future. And Imaiqah will be going to stay with her in Zangaria, while I stay here. And even if I learn to teleport, we won’t be able to be so close after they leave. And...
She shook her head, firmly. She’d go to the dining room in an hour and eat as much as she could, then relax until the exam started. Charms would be heavily practical, she knew; she’d need the energy just to make sure she didn’t run out of magic midway through the exam. And if Void hadn’t forced her to keep practicing, learning how to handle a sudden excess of power...
Relax, she told herself firmly. There’s nothing else to do until the exam starts.

Chapter Five

“You may begin,” the supervisor droned, once Emily was inside the exam room with the door closed. He looked bored; he hadn’t even looked up at her when she’d walked through the door. He certainly hadn’t bothered to introduce himself. “Water and rations are on the table. If you need to go to the toilet, it’s in the side compartment; if you leave the chamber, you will not be permitted to return.”
Emily nodded, opened the paper and got to work. The first set of questions was largely theoretical, but a couple of them were nasty; she read through the list, answered the ones she felt she could answer correctly and moved on to the next section. She’d been warned, more than once, that she shouldn’t try to answer unless she was fairly sure she knew the correct answer. Some mistakes would be counted against her, while honest ignorance would be commended. It would have been absurd on Earth, she knew, but she understood. A tiny mistake in charms could have disastrous consequences.
The supervisor moved round to watch her carefully as she began the practical exercises, one by one. Some of them demanded that she perform a certain spell successfully, on her first try; some of them required her to unravel another set of spells or combine a handful of her own spells to produce a specific result. She felt her head starting to pound, but forced herself to carry on; she had no intention of simply giving up, even if she was hurting. The annoying part, she noted, was that she could have achieved the same results with a single spell, but she’d be marked down for trying. She was being tested on her ability to make several spells work together.
She opened the third section and winced. The explanatory notes informed her that she would be hexed by the supervisor, forcing her to free herself before it was too late. Emily shuddered at the thought - she knew too many hexes that could turn lethal, if they remained in place for too long - and looked up at the supervisor. He was holding a wand in one hand, waiting for her.
“Drop your wards,” he said. “And say the word.”
Emily glanced down at the papers. She was fairly sure she wouldn’t be hexed with anything intentionally lethal, but if she was injured she’d be taken to the infirmary and probably fail the rest of her exams. It wouldn’t be remotely fair, yet she knew all too well that no one would really care. Life wasn’t fair in the slightest. Under her breath, she cursed whoever had come up with the examination structure, then met his eyes as she dismantled her protections from within. It left her feeling uncomfortably naked.
“Do it,” she said.
The hex, whatever it was, was powerful. She shuddered as she felt it crash into her mind, pushing her to her feet. Her body twitched and rose, despite her strongest commands. A sense of hopelessness flared through her mind, telling her it was useless to resist; she had to tell herself, firmly, that she could fight back before it was too late. Her body stumbled towards the door and she cursed, before grabbing hold of herself. He was trying to force her to leave the room, conceding the rest of the exam...
No, she thought, savagely. She’d practiced shielding her mind time and time again. This time was no different. I won’t give in.
She pulled her magic around her and froze her feet to the floor, then concentrated on finding and removing the hex before it pushed her into releasing herself. It was a tricky spell, all right; she couldn’t help admiring the skill of whoever had created it even as she sought to remove it from her mind. The prank spells she’d used at Whitehall were blunt instruments, easy to remove if one knew what one was doing. This spell was far more dangerous...
Got you, she thought. She isolated the spell and ripped it out of her mind, shoving the last shreds of magic away from her. And I win.
“Done,” she said, releasing her feet. “What...”
The second spell struck her before she could finish the question. She barely had a moment to yelp in pain before her body morphed into a dog. The wave of doggy sensations - simple emotions, so powerful that they threatened to overwhelm her - washed through her mind. It was suddenly very hard to remember that she was human, particularly when the supervisor knelt down and held out a hand, offering to play. She spun around madly when he tossed a ball at her; the doggy part of her mind wanted to play fetch, while the human part was on the verge of panicking. The longer the spell held her in canine form, the harder it would be to summon the willpower to turn herself back.
She held tightly to her human thoughts as she cast the counterspell. There was a flash of light and she found herself kneeling on the floor, human again. She eyed the supervisor warily, wondering what other spells he’d use, but he did nothing apart from placing his wand back on his belt and returning to his chair. There was no way to know if she’d passed or failed; she’d broken both spells, yet she knew she might not have done it quickly enough to pass. She sighed, sat back down and concentrated on running through the remaining questions and trying to answer them as best as she could. By the time the bell rang, her head was pounding so badly that she would have sold her soul for a painkilling potion.
The supervisor collected her papers, watched carefully as Emily sealed them personally and then opened the door. Emily staggered out, stumbled to the dorm and threw herself on the bed, too tired to speak to anyone else. Alassa already lay on her bed, she noted, blonde hair spilling out around her like a shroud, but there was no sign of Imaiqah. She took a quick drink of water from the jug beside her bed, then closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep. There was no point in worrying about how well she’d done.
“I think I did all right,” Alassa said, later. They were eating dinner before going back to bed for the night. “But I nearly failed the final hurdle.”
“Tell me about it,” Imaiqah agreed. “I still feel like I’m a chicken.”
“I think she thinks she’s a pig,” Alassa said, nodding towards Penelope. The pale girl was eating with her hands, stuffing food into her mouth as if it would vanish at any second. “That spell was nasty.”
“But at least you passed,” Song said. “I was stuck as a goat for the remainder of the exam period.”
Emily shook her head, stumbled back to bed and closed her eyes. It felt as if she hadn’t slept at all when she awoke the following morning and headed into the examination chamber for the second time. The Healing exam was, if anything, far harder than the Charms exam; she answered a whole series of practical questions, then healed a couple of volunteers from Dragon’s Den. Emily wasn’t sure who had thought it was a good idea to keep several people injured or unwell for some considerable time, just so they could be healed by trainee magicians, but she made a mental note to give that person a piece of her mind if she ever found out. One of her volunteers was a young boy who’d broken his leg...and it could have been healed instantly, if a magician had been nearby. Leaving it broken for hours, let alone days, was just cruel. 
They could have broken someone’s leg specifically to let me mend it, she thought, crossly. It was cruel too, but with the right spells it would be painless and Whitehall could certainly afford to pay any volunteers handsomely. But they couldn’t infect someone with a disease, could they?
She finished the exam, checked her written answers again and headed back to the dorm for the second time. Alassa joined her a moment later, looking as tired as Emily felt, but she insisted that Emily eat something before they went to bed. Imaiqah had been held back for some reason; she didn’t join them until they’d almost finished eating.
“There was a problem with one of my patients,” she said, shortly. “The supervisor said I could have extra time, if I wanted.”
Emily nodded slowly. Lady Barb had told them, right from the start, that every patient was different. Some of them could be healed quickly - broken bones could be mended by almost any magician - while others would require hours of patient work. She wasn’t surprised that Imaiqah had been given extra time, even though they hadn’t been told it was a possibility. In hindsight, it was obvious. It might take longer than they thought they had to cure a particularly difficult patient.
And if we’d tried to hurry, she thought, we might have been marked down.
She smiled wanly at the thought as they walked back to their beds. Lady Barb would have been furious if they’d tried to rush their work, particularly if there was an innocent life at stake. She’d hammered it into their heads, time and time again, that they were to be careful and take their time when they healed a patient. Emily wouldn’t have cared to face her after a patient had died, if her carelessness and haste had caused the death. She’d have been lucky not to be summarily booted from the class.
The next exam, Subtle Magic, was just as difficult, although she was starting to get used to the pace. Subtle Magic was tricky because of the rune in her chest, which started to burn the moment she stepped into the pre-prepared examination chamber; it wasn’t easy to find and neutralize the runes carved into the room with her chest feeling as if it were going to catch fire at any moment. But it would have been harder still, she suspected, if the subtle magic had been messing with her mind from the start. She removed the final runes, answered the theoretical questions and then headed back to the dormitory, where she discovered she was the first to finish. The others had taken longer to find and remove the runes.
“Alchemy today,” Alassa said, the next day. “Good luck.”
Emily shivered. Alchemy had never been her favorite subject, although she had managed to pass the classroom tests by strict attention to detail and extreme care. She wasn’t reassured when she stepped into the examination chamber and discovered that it was surrounded by heavy-duty wards, ready to contain an explosion. The supervisor nodded to a large workbench supporting three caldrons and a small pile of ingredients, and told her to sit down at a smaller desk.
“There are three practical tests, following your theoretical exam,” he told her. “For the first test, you have to pick a potion from a list and brew it to an acceptable standard. For the second, you have to salvage an alchemical brew that is on the verge of exploding; for the third, you have to analyze a brewed potion and determine both its ingredients and its function.”
He paused. “Do you have any questions?”
Emily hesitated. “Do I get told what the second alchemical brew was meant to be?”
“Clear Sight Potion,” the supervisor said. “You’ll find a list of ingredients and instructions beside the caldron.”
Emily closed her eyes in pain. She’d tried to brew Clear Sight Potion herself, in class, and it had rarely worked. Stopping an explosion wouldn’t be hard - she’d just have to add something that would nullify the magic - but that would put the potion completely beyond repair. She’d have to work out what had gone wrong very quickly and then apply corrective measures....
And be ready to dive under the table if it boils out of control, she thought. She’d seen a string of nasty accidents in Alchemy, including at least one student who’d been blinded for a week following an explosion. This could get very bad.
She took the paper when it was offered and worked her way through the questions. They looked to be reasonably simple, easier than she’d expected, but they weren’t the true meat of the exam. It was the practicals that would determine her final grade. She finished writing out the answers, rose to her feet and walked over to the workbench. The first caldron was empty; the other two were held in stasis. They’d be released the moment she touched them with her fingertip. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the list of recommended potions, selected the easiest and went to work. An hour later, she bottled up the brew and turned her attention to the third caldron. She’d have to leave the second caldron until last, just in case it blew up in her face.
And I might end up as scarred as Caleb, she thought, as she prepared a handful of diagnostic spells. Would he still be interested in me if my face looked like Emperor Palpatine’s?
She pushed the morbid thought aside as she went to work, releasing the stasis field and studying the blue-green liquid in the caldron. The analysis spell showed her some of the ingredients, allowing her to mentally add several more; she knew, from experience, that several ingredients wouldn’t mix with others without exploding or turning the liquid into useless sludge. In fact, the more she saw of the ingredients, the more she believed it was a modified strengthening potion. It wasn’t a recommended recipe - unless she was very wrong, it would be dangerously addictive - but she was sure she knew what it was meant to do.
Just as long as no one tries to drink it more than once, she thought, as she wrote down her conclusions. Professor Thande - she was certain he’d brewed the potion - loved varying the recipes, just to see what would happen. They’d become addicted within two or three doses.
She pushed the thought aside as she turned her attention to the second caldron and read through the list of instructions carefully. It was hard to be sure, as there were three separate parts where the tiniest mistake might have led to an explosion, but she had a feeling - going by the color - that the mistake was in the final section. The brewer had added too much of one ingredient, overbalancing the potion. She gritted her teeth, prepared a handful of countering agents and released the stasis field. The smell made her gag - she had to fight to keep from diving under the table at once - but she poured the first countering agent in, watching carefully to make sure it wasn’t about to explode. It bubbled unpleasantly; she hastily added the remaining agents, praying desperately that she hadn’t unbalanced the recipe in a different direction. There was a long pause, then the brew settled down. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, bottled four samples and turned away from the workbench. It was done.
“You may leave,” the supervisor said.
Emily nodded and walked back to the dorm. Alassa and Imaiqah were already gone - Alchemy was their last exam - but Melissa and the Gorgon were still waiting for the second Healing exam. She nodded to them both, then settled down on the bed to go to sleep. No one had told her anything about the Military Magic exam, but she had a feeling she should wait until she knew what was happening. But she wanted to leave...
She was woken, four hours later, by the supervisor. “You have been entered for the Military Magic exam by Sergeant Miles,” she said. “You’ll only get half credit, because you’ve only been entered for the theoretical side...”
Emily rubbed her forehead, but nodded reluctantly. Sergeant Miles presumably knew what he was doing. She’d ask him when she left the examination halls. Until then...she ate, slept and followed the supervisor into the examination chamber for the final exam. Behind her, the handful of girls taking the second Healing exam waited for their supervisors to arrive.
The Military Magic supervisor looked her up and down as soon as she arrived, then pointed to a desk and waited for her to sit down. “It is irregular for a person to take half of the exam,” he said, “but apparently it has to be tolerated. You have two hours to answer as many questions as you can. Do not leave the room...”
“I understand,” Emily interrupted. She just wanted to get it over with. “Can I begin?”
“Of course,” the supervisor said. He made a show of turning a giant hourglass over to mark the start of the exam. “Off you go.”
Emily scowled at the paper as she opened it. Like the other exams, it contained a list of questions that forced her to think rather than merely scribble answers down by rote. Some of them were easy enough - Sergeant Miles had talked her through the basics of military affairs in Martial Magic - but others were too complex for her to answer. She did the best she could - she pulled one solution directly from Earth - and finished the paper just in time for the last of the sand to run out. The supervisor took it, opened the door for her and pointed to the exit. Emily glanced back at the dorm, hurried down the corridor and out of the exam complex.
And I won’t see it again until the end of Sixth Year, she thought, as she passed through the door. The wards resealed themselves behind her. If they let me stay...
“Emily,” Lady Barb said. She was standing at the far end of the corridor. “I trust you’re ready for a nap?”
Emily ignored the question. “Why did Sergeant Miles put me in for the final exam?”
“Because you might need it,” Lady Barb said. “And because it will be a useful thing to have.”
And, no matter how many times Emily asked, Lady Barb refused to be drawn any further.

Chapter Six

“You might well already have sufficient credit to win a pass in Military Magic,” Alassa mused, four hours later. “Master Grey would certainly give you a pass.”
“I don’t think he would have wanted to give me anything other than a knife in the back,” Emily muttered. Her head hurt, even though she’d managed several hours of sleep before her friends had returned. “He wanted me dead.”
“That might explain it,” Alassa said. “You did kill a combat sorcerer in a duel. That, combined with a high score on your papers, might be enough to win you a pass.”
She shrugged. “Or they may think you’d have a use for the paper qualification in the future,” she added. “You’d better see if you can get a straight answer out of the sergeant.”
“The paper qualification won’t be enough,” Imaiqah pointed out. “If she hasn’t done the practical...”
Emily held up a hand. “Does it really matter, right now?”
“Probably not,” Alassa said. She turned and picked up a letter from her trunk. “My father sent you a letter. Do you want the crib notes from me or do you want to unpick the letter for yourself?”
“Just the crib notes,” Emily said. She’d grown used to Alassa reading all official communications from Zangaria, now that she was her father’s confirmed heir. “What does he want?”
“You’re going to Beneficence in a couple of days,” Alassa said. “On the way to Alexis, he’d like you to visit Swanhaven and give him your impression of the competing would-be rulers.”
Emily frowned. “Would-be rulers?”
“Baron Swanhaven was beheaded after the coup,” Alassa said. She closed her eyes, reciting from memory. “His son, who was up to his eyebrows in the plotting, was also killed. He’d wiped out most of his remaining family after his late wife gave him an heir, so the only two claimants to the Barony are Lord Hans and Lady Regina. Lady Regina has the closest claim, by blood, but Lord Hans has a penis. My father told them to share power - he appointed a regent to keep an eye on them - until he decided which one of them would inherit the position permanently.”
“I suppose they can’t get married,” Emily muttered.
“My father would probably not approve,” Alassa said. “Merging their competing claims would cause...problems with some of the other baronial bloodlines.”
“So right now they’re doing everything they can to win the favor of the king,” Imaiqah put in. “They’ll be trying to win your favor too.”
“Regina was one of the girls my mother thought would make a good companion for me when I was a child,” Alassa said. “She’s ambitious, very ambitious. I think she would have been purged too if she hadn’t been six years old when the heir was born. Baron Swanhaven might have considered her an ultimate fallback position for his line.”
Emily shrugged. “And what’s Lord Hans’s excuse?”
“I’ve never met him,” Alassa said. “He’s a couple of years older than Lady Regina, but I don’t think he ever spent time at court, toadying to my father. I have no idea why he was allowed to remain alive.”
“Maybe he just looked harmless,” Imaiqah suggested.
“There’s no such thing as a harmless nobleman, particularly one with a tenuous claim to a powerful position,” Alassa said. “Just being one of the few survivors would make him a potential threat to the baron.”
“And if he becomes baron,” Emily said, “he’ll become a potential threat to the king.”
“True,” Alassa agreed. “My father will have to make a decision soon, Emily. He’ll want your observations before he makes his final choice.”
Emily rolled her eyes. She didn’t pretend to understand all the complexities of ruling over a country that was still largely in the feudal ages, but she thought she understood the dilemma facing King Randor. His choice for baron would be instantly opposed by the other - who would be the sole heir if something happened to the first choice - while the newly appointed baron would be a potential threat to the king himself. Why not? The last set of barons had tried to overthrow and murder their liege lord, while enslaving his brother and daughter. Randor had to be very tempted to leave the matter unsettled as long as possible.
“I’ll go visit them on my way to the capital,” Emily said, softly. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
Alassa sighed. “I’ll be leaving tonight with Frieda, as we agreed,” she said. Emily had wanted to take the younger girl with her to Beneficence, but Lady Barb had vetoed the plan. “Imaiqah plans to stay to attend the goodbye feast tomorrow. I trust you have planned everything with Caleb?”
“We’re meeting this afternoon,” Emily said, glancing at her watch. They’d agreed to meet before dinner and go for a walk afterwards. “But we do have a plan.”
“Make sure you honor it,” Alassa said. “Courtships are just as bad as any other relationship, Emily; no one gives a damn about what you do as long as you do it properly.”
She frowned. “My father may wish to talk to you about that too.”
“My relationship with Caleb is none of your father’s business,” Emily said, stiffly.
“Yes, it is,” Alassa said, curtly. “You’re the Baroness of Cockatrice. If you and Caleb marry, he will automatically become both a high nobleman and the father of your children. My father has every right to disapprove of the match...”
“My personal life is still none of his business,” Emily insisted. She glared at the bed. “My predecessor chased so many women during his adult life that it was a wonder he found time to take part in a plot, yet no one gave a damn about his personal life.”
“None of those...relationships...included marriage,” Alassa said, firmly. “Whatever bastards he might have sired were never in line to inherit anything. I tell you, right now, that if he’d announced his intention to marry a shepherdess or swineherd my father would have objected violently.”
“Caleb is not a swineherd,” Emily snapped.
“Neither were the princes I was meant to consider, two years ago,” Alassa snapped back. “I was expected to marry one of them!”
Emily cocked her head. “And who would your father like me to marry?”
“Someone harmless,” Alassa said.
Emily opened her mouth to retort that Caleb was harmless, but Imaiqah spoke first. “It’s a question of bloodlines,” she said. “As long as you’re not planning to marry another baron, you’re probably fine.”
“He doesn’t control me,” Emily said, icily.
“No,” Alassa agreed. “But he does have good reason to worry about the future. The result of a bad choice, either for you or in Swanhaven, may not come to pass on his watch, but they will come to pass on mine.”
Emily nodded and grabbed her coat. “I’m going for a walk,” she said. She didn’t want to think about King Randor meddling in her relationships right now. “I’ll try and see you before you go, but if I don’t, please take care of Frieda.”
“I will,” Alassa said. “But try and speak to her first yourself.”
“I’ll do my best,” Emily agreed.
She gave Alassa a hug, walked through the door and strode down the corridor, too lost in her own thoughts to care about a handful of students shying away from her. King Randor had tricked her, three years ago, into taking the Barony - or, at least, he’d put her in a position where refusing would be very difficult. But she hadn’t really understood what she’d taken on, even after starting a handful of lessons most aristocratic children received from birth. She was the absolute mistress of the Barony, her word law for nearly a million men, women and children...
And she hated it. 
She ground her teeth as she walked past a young boy standing in the middle of the corridor, frozen in place by a spell. King Randor had no right, no matter what he thought, to try to dictate to her. She could understand his concerns, intellectually, but she refused to concede that he had any authority to choose her boyfriend, let alone her future husband. Hell, by any reasonable standard, Caleb was a good choice. His family might be useful to the king, his father didn’t have that high a standing and Caleb himself was only the second in line to what standing the family did have. Emily had a feeling that Randor would approve, if she asked, but she didn’t want to ask. It wasn’t any of his concern.
“Duck,” someone shouted.
Emily held up a hand, hastily deflecting the freeze spell as a pair of young girls ran towards her. Their faces dropped so rapidly when they realized who they’d tried to freeze that it was almost comical; they’d not only attacked a girl two years above them, but the Necromancer’s Bane herself. Emily tried to give them a reassuring smile; they turned and fled the other way, as if they expected her to blast them both to ashes. She shook her head in dismay and made her way slowly down to the Armory. If Sergeant Miles was there...
“I’m afraid he’s supervising an exam,” Sergeant Harris said. He was a bald man who reminded Emily uncomfortably of Master Grey, although his face was badly scarred and one of his arms had been replaced with a golden prosthetic. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, thank you,” Emily said. She didn’t know Sergeant Harris well; he’d joined Whitehall at the start of the year, but she’d spent most of her training with Master Grey. “I’ll try and find him later.”
“I believe he won’t be back for a week,” Sergeant Harris said. “You can leave a note, if you like.”
Emily cursed herself under her breath. The first year of Martial Magic included a long march into the countryside, then five days of living off the land while running through a series of increasingly dangerous exercises. Of course Sergeant Miles would be supervising. He’d supervised the exam she’d taken herself, three years ago. He wouldn’t be back until after she’d left.
“I will,” she promised. There should be time to scribble a note before she left the school and leave it in his office. “And thank you.”
She turned and walked back up the corridor as the dinner bell rang. One of the girls who’d fled from her stood to the side, frozen in place. Emily hesitated, then cast the counterspell and watched as the girl spun around, her eyes going wide when she saw Emily looking at her. The game of Freeze Tag would have come to an end, Emily was sure, now that the dinner bell had rung. But it was quite likely that her friends would forget she was there until she either managed to break the spell for herself or was caught and caned for being out after Lights Out.
“Go eat dinner,” she ordered, tiredly.
The girl gave her one last look and fled. Emily smiled and followed her at a more sedate pace until she reached the door. Caleb leaned against it, waiting for her. She gave him a quick hug and led the way into the Dining Hall, which was only half-full. Many of the younger students had already completed their exams and gone home for the holidays. They ate a quick dinner, chatting about nothing, and then left the building. There were a good three hours before Lights Out.
“My parents are looking forward to meeting you,” Caleb said, once they were walking up the mountainside. The warm air smelled faintly of flowers; insects buzzed past them, avoiding the two magicians with ease. “Are you still planning to arrive in two days?”
“We’ll be leaving the day after the goodbye feast,” Emily said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get there first.”
“Wonderful,” Caleb said, weakly. “Just don’t take anything my brother says seriously.”
Emily looked up at him. “That bad?”
“He thinks he’s the gift of the gods,” Caleb admitted, reluctantly. “To everyone. And he’s still an apprentice combat sorcerer.”
“Oh,” Emily said.
She smiled, despite herself. Jade had completed his apprenticeship in two years; Casper, who was probably around the same age, had yet to be released by his master. It suggested either incompetence or a reluctance to learn. But he couldn’t be completely incompetent or he would have killed himself by now, if his master hadn’t strangled him personally. A careless magician rarely lasted long.
“I won’t take him seriously,” she said. She smiled, again. “Why hasn’t he qualified?”
Caleb smirked. “I believe he keeps finding something else to do with his time,” he said, darkly. “His master has the patience of a saint.”
“I see,” Emily said. She gave him a reassuring look. “Are you nervous?”
“Just a little,” Caleb admitted.
“I’m nervous too,” Emily said. She squeezed his hand lightly. “But at least you survived meeting...meeting my father.”
“That’s true,” Caleb agreed. “My mother does want to see you. She didn’t like Master Grey very much.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. She’d have to find the time to go through Master Grey’s estate when she had a moment, perhaps after the wedding. God alone knew what he might have gathered, over the years, or what she might be able to use for herself. At least he didn’t have any direct heirs, as far as she could tell. She didn’t have to worry that she had deprived a son or daughter of their father’s possessions. 
And given someone a very good reason to want revenge, she thought, darkly. The Code Duello forbade revenge attacks, but her reading had made it clear that it was sometimes honored in the breach, rather than the observance. I’ve got enough enemies without adding more.
“I’ll be glad to see her,” Emily lied. In truth, she wasn’t looking forward to it. “And I hope you’ll find time to show me around the city.”
“You wanted to visit your bank,” Caleb noted. “I think we can find time to wander.”
Emily smiled. It would be nice to see more of the Nameless World. Indeed, after the wedding, she was seriously considering setting off on a tour. Caleb and Frieda could come with her, if they wanted; they could explore parts of the world she’d never visited. Or she could go back to Mountaintop and read some of the books that were being held in storage for her. Or even just return to her house and relax until term started again. 
They reached an overhang looking down over Whitehall and sat on the grass. Emily smiled to herself as she studied the school, her mind touching the magic fields flickering up and down from the nexus point below the building. The wards felt different, now that there was no Grandmaster; she hoped it wouldn’t be long before a newcomer was installed in the office, even though it would be odd to see someone else in the Grandmaster’s chair. Caleb wrapped his arms around her and she relaxed into his touch, although it was hard for her to relax too far. Part of her was still worried about letting anyone touch her.
“Two more years to go,” Caleb said. “And then...we will see.”
Emily nodded. “Do you still want to try for a mastery?”
“I think I need at least one, if I am to convince anyone to join me,” Caleb admitted. “But it will be hard to convince anyone to accept me as an apprentice if I don’t intend to stay in the field.”
“You do intend to stay in the field,” Emily pointed out. “You’re just planning to combine it with others.”
“That’s not the mark of a master,” Caleb countered. “It certainly doesn’t show the single-minded determination of an apprentice who wants to become a master.”
“Like Casper,” Emily said. She had no idea what a combat sorcerer needed to do to win his spurs, but if Jade had done it in two years...she wondered, idly, if Casper had deeper ambitions than he’d admitted to his family. Caleb might not be the only one considering new ways to develop magic. “Do you think he’ll make it harder for you to get a post?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb admitted. “No master wants to waste his time tutoring someone whose heart isn’t in it.”
“Ask Mistress Irene,” Emily suggested. “She’d probably know someone who might be interested.”
Caleb nodded and kissed the back of her neck, lightly. Emily stiffened; he pulled away, very gently. Emily cursed her own weaknesses as she rose to her feet, trying to silently convey the feeling that it wasn’t his fault. She didn’t want a string of boyfriends like Imaiqah - and she couldn’t imagine having a passionate relationship like Melissa and Markus - but she wanted to be comfortable. And yet, every time she thought about letting herself go, she ran up against insurmountable mental barriers. The mere thought was terrifying.
She helped him to his feet and kissed him, lightly, before turning to walk back down the path to the school. The sun was already dropping below the mountains, casting the surrounding terrain into darkness; they didn’t have long to return before Lights Out. She held his hand as they walked, wishing she could just confide in him. But would he understand if she told him everything? There was a part of her that knew she didn’t dare take the chance.
“I’ll see you at the dinner and dance tomorrow,” she said, as they reached the entrance and walked into the school. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Caleb assured her. He let go of her hand as they stopped outside the female dorm. “And I’ll see you in Zangaria too.”
“Yeah,” Emily said, reluctantly. She’d intended to travel with Caleb and Lady Barb to Alexis. “There’s been a slight hitch. We need to take a detour first.”
Caleb put a gallant expression on his face. “As long as I’m with you,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
Emily snorted. She gave him one last kiss, ignoring the sound of Madame Beauregard clearing her throat loudly, and walked through the door into the dorm.

Chapter Seven

“You look lovely,” Imaiqah said.
Emily had her doubts as she looked into the mirror. Imaiqah had insisted she spend an hour getting ready for the dinner and it looked as though the time had been well spent, but she didn’t want to do it every day. Her hair had been washed, her face had been scrubbed clean and she’d donned a blue dress that flattered her curves more than she cared to admit. Imaiqah had wrapped her hair into a long French braid, leaving it hanging down her back and told her to stay very still. It seemed she wasn’t even allowed to dress herself. But if it took so much effort to look lovely, she wasn’t sure she wanted to bother.
“I feel strange,” Emily muttered. Imaiqah was almost a force of nature when it came to getting dressed, even though four years ago she’d had to make her own dresses if she wanted to wear something other than robes. “And a little exposed.”
“All eyes will turn as you walk past,” Imaiqah assured her.
Emily bit down on the rejoinder that came to mind and watched as Imaiqah pulled her own dress on, then inspected herself in the mirror. She wasn’t quite sure who Imaiqah was taking to the dance, but she hoped he appreciated the amount of effort Imaiqah had spent on herself as well as Emily. Imaiqah’s face was tinted, her hair wrapped up in a style that looked oddly familiar and her dark dress showed off the tops of her breasts.
“You look fine,” Emily said, impatiently. “Shouldn’t we be going downstairs?”
“Not yet,” Imaiqah said. “You have to be strategically late when dealing with boys or they’ll start thinking they can get away with anything.”
Emily rolled her eyes, but waited until Imaiqah was ready before following her down the stairs to the outer hall. Lady Barb would have been furious if they’d been late for her classes - the tutors had been getting stricter about it ever since Fourth Year had started - yet it was almost worth it to see Caleb’s eyes open wide when he saw her. She fought down a flush that would have stood out on her pale skin, kissed his cheek delicately and allowed him to lead her into the Great Hall. A handful of tables, groaning under the weight of food and drink, had been placed against the far wall, while a number of couples were already gliding around the dance floor.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Caleb admitted. “Help?”
“Just hold me and follow,” Emily muttered back. She’d never bothered to learn the more complex dances, but the simple ones were merely a matter of following the shouted directions and the music. “And try to relax.”
They whirled around the dance floor several times before Mistress Irene, sitting at the High Table with the rest of the staff, tapped her fork against her glass for silence. The musicians stopped playing, encouraging the students to gather in front of the tutors. Emily held Caleb’s hand and waited, silently, to hear the speech.
“It has been an extraordinary term,” Mistress Irene said, softly. “Many of you still carry the scars of possession, others resisted temptation and remained strong. But our Grandmaster is dead and there will be a new person seated in his chair, when some of you return for your next year of schooling.”
Emily felt a shiver running down her spine at the tutor’s words. Things were going to change, whether she liked it or not.
“Those of you who are leaving us will always be welcome, if you wish to return,” Mistress Irene added. “By graduating now, you join countless others who have left Whitehall ever since this building first became a school. Your exam results will be mailed to you, once we have finished proctoring them; I and the staff wish you the very best in your future careers.”
She paused for a long moment. “Those of you who intend to return next year will have your results mailed to you soon. If you fail to qualify for Fifth Year, you may be allowed to redo your Third or Fourth Years. Should you wish, instead, to leave the school, merely let us know and we will send you your final certificate.
“These have been troubling years,” she concluded. “But I must say, here and now, that you have all done very well. I am proud of you all.”
Emily winced, inwardly. How many of those troubling years had been her fault, directly or indirectly? Shadye had used her to get into the school, the Mimic had been released during his invasion of the school...and the Demon would never have gained entry if she and the Grandmaster hadn’t brought it back from the Blighted Lands. But she’d never intended to do the school any harm. It was her first real home.
She glanced around and saw a number of students wiping their eyes. Whitehall had been different for them too, she knew; many of them had come from poor backgrounds and the school had been their first real taste of luxury. They no longer belonged in their villages, but would they fit into magical society? It might not matter, Lady Barb had told her; even a small amount of magical training would allow someone to make a good living, if they were prepared to work hard. They would certainly never have to return to their hometowns.
And what will they do, she asked herself, when their children ask about their pasts?
Mistress Irene called a handful of students up for brief congratulations; Emily listened and applauded politely when the time came. They were all students who intended to leave, after the dinner, and not return. Mistress Irene talked about their achievements, mentioned something of what they intended to do with their lives and then let them go. They would probably have been jeered on Earth, Emily suspected, for daring to do well at school. But jeering a nerd at Whitehall could be very dangerous.
“You should be up there,” Caleb muttered.
“I’m not planning to leave,” Emily muttered back.
She smiled genuinely as Imaiqah stood up. Mistress Irene feted her for coming out of her shell and developing unexpected talents, then let her return to the crowd. Emily nodded in silent agreement; Imaiqah had developed rapidly, once she’d learned to have faith in herself. And now she was poised to become a close confidante and advisor to a Queen...
And she’s leaving me here, Emily added, mentally. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t keep herself from feeling down. I’ll be alone.
The long stream of congratulations finally came to an end. Caleb led her over to the buffet tables, piled food on both of their plates and found a quiet spot in the corner to eat it. Emily couldn’t help noticing that some of the boys were giving her second or third looks, their expressions torn between interest and a certain amount of fear. She’d killed Master Grey, after all; she wouldn’t have any difficulty tearing a student apart. She couldn’t help finding it depressing, even though she knew it was better than being seen as a helpless victim. All she really wanted was to get on with her studies in peace.
“It’s never easy to leave a school, unless you hate it,” Caleb commented. “The outside world is going to be a shock for them. There’s no one out there to clear up their messes.”
Emily shrugged. She’d heard that most of the crap students learned at high school on Earth was useless outside school - and she believed it. A person who’d risen to become Big Man on Campus would be penny-ante in the outside world. But she wasn’t sure that was so true of anyone leaving Whitehall. They’d have practical knowledge and powerful magic, not worthless pieces of paper and too many competitors for too few jobs.
“You hated Stronghold,” she said, instead. “Are you sad you left?”
“Never,” Caleb said. “But it was still hard to walk into a whole new school, knowing I was alone.”
“I’m glad you did,” Emily said. 
She understood, all too well. Caleb would have entered Whitehall in Third Year, after all the cliques had formed. He would have been an outcast from the start, unable to make many friends. Injuring himself in Fourth Year wouldn’t have helped. He had needed to repeat most of the year while everyone he knew moved on to Fifth Year. But at least he’d made friends with Emily and her friends. She had no idea if the Grandmaster had been intentionally matchmaking or not, but it had definitely worked out for him. 
And now Melissa is excluded from her former friends, she thought, catching sight of the redhead leaning against the wall. Just as Alassa was after I almost killed her.
She sighed, inwardly. Alassa had been lucky. She’d found a second set of friends almost at once. Melissa, it seemed, hadn’t. Her former friends were too connected to the magical families, the families she’d deserted. None of them would want to suggest that walking away was easy.
Caleb squeezed her hand. “What are you thinking?”
“Too much,” Emily said. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for Melissa. She’d had her own problems with being a social outcast, but it had to be worse for the other girl. She had been pretty and popular, once upon a time. “Would you mind very much if I went and spoke to Melissa?”
“Not at all,” Caleb said. He glanced towards the stand. “Professor Thande might be willing to advise me, if I ask.”
Emily smiled, gave him a quick hug and walked over to Melissa. Up close, it was far too easy to see that Melissa was depressed, although she was trying hard to hide it. Indeed, if attendance hadn’t been mandatory, Emily had a feeling Melissa would have headed to Beneficence as soon as the exams had been completed. She would have done well, Emily was sure. Unlike Alassa, at least before Emily had befriended her, Melissa had been worked hard by her family.
Melissa met her eyes as she approached. “What do you want?”
“Just to see how you were,” Emily said. She cursed herself as she cast a privacy ward in the air. She’d never been very good at knowing what to say when someone was in pain. “I...you’ll be going back to Beneficence tomorrow with us, won’t you?”
“Only as far as the bridges,” Melissa said, sharply. She leaned back against the wall. “Did you come here to mock me?”
“No,” Emily said, keeping her temper under firm control. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Melissa laughed, harshly. “And what makes you think I might be all right?”
“Nothing,” Emily said. She fought down the urge to run her hand through her hair. “But I do care.”
“Caring is not an advantage,” Melissa said.
Mycroft would have agreed, Emily thought, sardonically. 
“And I cannot wait to finish my time here and get out,” Melissa added. “There are Healers who will take me on an as apprentice even without my grandmother’s blessing.”
Emily winced. If Fulvia wanted to really screw up Melissa’s life, it would be easy enough for her to pressure the Healers to refuse Melissa’s request for an apprenticeship. Hell, if she waited for a couple of years, Melissa would be bound by the oaths but unable to be trained further than she could get in school. But those oaths were so harsh that few magicians were willing to accept them. It was quite possible that the Healers would take Melissa anyway, no matter what her Grandmother said.
And I really have to thank Fulvia for sending Master Grey to kill me, she thought. Maybe I could get Melissa an apprenticeship as a subtle rebuke.
She pushed the thought aside and leaned forward. “If you want...you know...to do things together next year, we can,” she said. “I’ll be alone too.”
“Your friend managed to get her exam results thrown out,” Melissa said. She sounded darkly amused by the whole concept. “But your other friend isn’t staying?”
“She doesn’t want to remain for the final two years,” Emily said. It was no secret, particularly not now that Imaiqah had been called up on the stage. “You could spend time with me.”
“Perhaps,” Melissa said. Emily knew she was poor at reading people, but even she could tell that Melissa was desperately trying to keep some of her pride. “Would you want me to be sorry for Alassa?”
Emily kept her face expressionless with an effort. Officially, Alassa’s exam results had been canceled; a punishment, she suspected, worse than anything else a naughty student might be called upon to endure. Alassa had been forced to take the exams even though everyone had known she’d never be able to use her results to prove herself. But with her father intent on keeping the true level of her abilities a secret, Alassa and he were the only people outside the examination board who would know how far she’d come. 
And even if someone suspects the truth, she thought, they still won’t be able to look at the official record to see her results.
“Just be civil,” she said. “Treat her as you would want to be treated.”
Melissa smiled, rather thinly. “Bow and scrape before her?”
“Within reason,” Emily said. She’d always found people bowing and scraping in front of her creepy. It was just a reminder that a single ill-chosen word could have disastrous consequences for her subjects in Cockatrice. “I’m not asking for you to be her friend, merely...someone she can tolerate.”
“I can try,” Melissa said. “But there’s a great deal of bad blood between us.”
Emily shrugged. “Put it behind you,” she said. It wasn’t easy advice to follow, but there was no real alternative. “She won’t even be here next year.”
She nodded to Melissa, then turned. “Wait,” Melissa said. “I hear a rumor that you’re in a Courtship.”
Emily turned back to face her. “Who told you?”
“A little bird,” Melissa said. She smiled, drolly. “You know how quickly rumors fly through the school.”
“Most of them are nonsense,” Emily said. She’d had problems looking at Professor Lombardi after a rumor had spread about him walking into an inn with a pair of ancient hags. “You know that too.”
“You are,” Melissa said. She’d probably seen it on Emily’s face. “I believe you’ll need advice - and someone to stand beside you, when the time comes. Someone raised in the right set of traditions.”
“I haven’t thought about it yet,” Emily admitted. “Are you offering?”
“Yes,” Melissa said.
Emily studied her for a long moment. A couple of years ago, she would have suspected a trap. It had been Melissa, after all, who’d played a hundred nasty pranks on her. But now, after Melissa’s marriage and Emily’s role in it, she found it hard to believe that Melissa would play any jokes on her. It was far more likely that Melissa was trying to pay a debt she found burdensome.
“I’ll keep you in mind,” she promised. “But you do realize that I was not raised in those traditions.”
“Your father committed a grave mistake there,” Melissa noted. “Our traditions are quite important. They are the wardstone of our society.”
Emily nodded and turned back to where Caleb was patiently waiting. When she glanced back, as he led her onto the dance floor, Melissa was gone.
“She was offering to stand beside me,” she said, as they spun around on the floor. “Is that a good idea?”
“See what happens in a couple of years,” Caleb said. He frowned as he considered the possibilities. “My mother may object because Melissa deserted her family.”
Emily sighed. The network of patronage and family relationships that bound the magical families together was too complex for anyone to follow, save for someone who had steeped themselves in it since birth. Caleb’s mother, a sorceress herself, might have ties that led, eventually, to Fulvia, even though Fulvia had been stripped of most of her power. It was just possible she would refuse to accept Melissa playing any role in the wedding...
If there is a wedding, she reminded herself. She liked Caleb, she felt comfortable with him, but marriage? She honestly wasn’t sure. But then, the Courtship was meant to make her sure - or allow one or both of them to decide against it without shame. There’s a long way to go before I need to choose a second.
Caleb met her eyes. “Do you like her?”
“I feel sorry for her,” Emily admitted. It crossed her mind, not for the first time, that she and Melissa had a great deal in common. And Alassa and Melissa, for that matter. “She’s so alone right now.”
“She had the courage to stand up to someone almost as formidable as my mother,” Caleb said. There was a hint of admiration in his tone. “I think she’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Emily said.
She tugged him though the doors and into the gardens surrounding Whitehall. Dozens of couples were already there, walking through the darkened bushes and pretending they were invisible. Just for a few minutes, she could pretend she was someone else, someone who wasn’t scared to hold her boyfriend in her arms. But she knew it couldn’t last.
“I’ll see you in Beneficence,” she whispered, as she looked up at the sky. The stars twinkled down at her, forming constellations that might not be visible on Earth. “And...and I’ll do my best to be polite to your mother.”
“Please,” Caleb said. “And be polite to my father too.”
Emily nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she said. It was rare for a mundane to marry a powerful magician, she’d been told, and those who did were extraordinary. “He must be a formidable man.”
“He is,” Caleb said. They turned to walk back inside. “And he’s looking forward to meeting you too.” 

Chapter Eight

There was no sign of Caleb at breakfast the following morning. Emily ate quickly, checked her trunk and travel bag - most of her possessions would be going into storage until she returned for Fifth Year - and hurried down to the courtyard. Lady Barb and Melissa were waiting for her, next to a large open-top carriage. Emily nodded to them both, shoved her bag into the compartment under the carriage and clambered into the vehicle. Melissa scrambled up next to Emily; Lady Barb took the reins and cracked the whip. The horses neighed, and started to pull the carriage towards the gates.
“If you’ve forgotten anything, it’s too late,” Lady Barb said, as they passed through the gates. There was a long stream of carriages heading for the portal, but Lady Barb took them right to the front of the line and was waved through. “Brace yourself.”
Emily closed her eyes, concentrating on preparing herself for the portal. There was a surge of magic surrounding her - for a moment, her head felt as if it were being crushed by a giant - and then it faded to nothingness. She opened her eyes and looked around as Lady Barb drove the horses back onto the road. A river lay ahead of them, easily wide enough to take several giant sailing ships. She saw a handful of fishing boats making their way down to the sea as the carriage turned to follow the road.
She glanced at Melissa, who looked faintly unwell. “Why don’t we just take the portal into the city?”
“The City Guilds don’t like the thought of establishing a permanent portal,” Melissa said, grimly. She swallowed hard, as if she were trying not to be sick. “We have to use the one here and drive into the city, across the bridges.”
Emily nodded and leaned back into her seat as the carriage rocked toward the river. The landscape changed, becoming rockier, as the city itself came into view. She found herself staring as the river split into two, each smaller channel branching out and protecting Beneficence from harm. One channel ran down a rocky gorge that looked dangerous, even to her untrained eyes; the other was smoother, but ran under a rocky overhang that made it impossible for anyone to climb up to the city. Beneficence was an isolated island, to all intents and purposes; she couldn’t help thinking of a castle, brooding over the surrounding landscape. It looked, very much, as though the entire city was built of dark grey stone.
Like Manhattan, she thought, slowly. 
“There are four bridges,” Lady Barb said, without looking back. “Two of them can be raised when danger threatens, while the other two are heavily guarded and warded against intruders. It’s very difficult to get into the city if the guards are even remotely ready to repel attack.”
Melissa elbowed Emily. “Caleb will be more than happy to tell you all about it,” she said, dryly. “Just remember to look suitably awed when he does.”
Emily snorted, rudely, as the carriage joined the road leading up towards the city. It looked as though the local farmers - her farmers, if she recalled correctly - were bringing the fruits of their labors to the city, while the city-folk were selling fish and trade goods from across the world. She’d read about Beneficence back when she’d been planning her bank and she’d learned that the city was politically neutral, isolated by the river and sheer cliff faces from the surrounding kingdom. King Randor’s predecessors had found it impossible to do more than annoy the inhabitants, no matter how hard they tried to cross the river. And the city’s navy was more than equal to the task of beating off a blockade.
That may change, Emily thought, as the carriage rattled across the bridge. The scent of fish hung in the air, making her gag. Firearms and steamboats will change everything.
Lady Barb glanced back at them both and pulled to a halt next to the guardhouse. A pair of grim-faced men inspected her papers, glanced at Emily and Melissa, and waved them through without further ado. Emily kept her face expressionless as Lady Barb drove them past a series of fortifications, stopping just as the first row of terraced houses came into view. It looked as though someone had discovered the concept of skyscrapers without actually being able to build them properly. Emily couldn’t help being reminded of Lego cities built by children, as if bigger houses had been piled on top of smaller houses. She was mildly surprised that whole blocks of buildings hadn’t come toppling down by now. The builders were either very good or magicians.
“Thank you for the ride,” Melissa said. She scrambled down from the carriage, collected her bag and nodded to Lady Barb. “I’ll see you tomorrow, probably.”
Emily frowned as Melissa turned and headed off down the street. “Is she safe here?”
“She’s a magician,” Lady Barb said, as if that were answer enough. “And even if she weren’t, Beneficence is one of the safest places to live...at least outside the Lower Depths. The City Guard is known for being very alert to possible threats.”
She whipped the horses back into motion and guided the carriage along a dark road. The buildings loomed close, overshadowing them; pedestrians walked past the carriage, heedless of the potential danger. A handful of young children - male and female - were following the horses, waving cheerfully. Emily kept one hand on her money pouch as she studied the locals. Many of them looked wealthier than the commoners she’d seen in Zangaria...
...And dozens of women were walking alone.
“This is Magicians Row,” Lady Barb said, as they turned into a short cul-de-sac. The scent of magic surrounded them, beating on the air. “Most of the magicians in the city live here, so be on your best behavior.”
Emily nodded, watching the passing buildings with wide eyes. They were decorated with runes and large signs advertizing their wares. A cluster of alchemists sat next to a large building offering enchanted artefacts; beyond them, a small inn offered a place to meet magicians who didn’t have an establishment of their own. There weren’t so many people on the streets, she noted; magicians tended to have nasty senses of humor and she had a feeling the local residents weren’t averse to playing tricks on their neighbors. A handful of children wearing robes ran past, playing with a floating light ball. Emily wondered, suddenly, what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by magic.
I could have asked Melissa, she thought. She would have been able to tell me.
She felt her heartbeat starting to race as Lady Barb pulled up next to a grey building. It looked smaller than she’d expected, but living space was expensive within the city. 
“Just remember what you’ve been told,” Lady Barb said, as she tied the horses to a hitching post. She’d drilled proper manners into Emily until they were both thoroughly sick of the whole thing. “And remember that Caleb will be as stressed about it as you.”
Emily nodded, smoothing down her robes. She didn’t have any real family, not in the Nameless World; Caleb, on the other hand, was bringing her home to meet his family. It had to be nerve-wracking for him. Lady Barb looked her up and down, eyed the ring on her finger and then turned to knock on the door. Emily could feel wards shimmering around the house, inspecting them, even before Lady Barb touched the wood. They were nested together so carefully that she wouldn’t have cared to try to break into the house. 
And anyone caught breaking into a magician’s house can be killed, or transformed, or enslaved, she thought. And no one will say a word.
She felt her heart skip a beat as the door opened, revealing a stern-faced woman who looked like a sharper version of Caleb. Long brown hair, a shade or two darker than Emily’s, hung to her shoulder blades; she wore a long dark robe suitable for a combat sorcerer, with a wand, a knife and a short sword hanging from her belt. There wasn’t a hint of vulnerability in her movements. Emily had to fight down the urge to take a step backwards as the woman studied her through unblinking eyes.
“Lady Emily, I presume,” she said, finally. “I am Mediator Sienna of House Waterfall. I bid you welcome to my home.”
“I thank you,” Emily said, remembering her manners. “I pledge to hold my hand in your home.”
Lady Barb echoed her a moment later. Sienna nodded to her, one combat sorceress to another, and then turned to lead the way into the house. Emily couldn’t help looking around, fascinated; the house was smaller than she’d expected, but it glowed with life. Magical lanterns hung from the walls, which were decorated with paintings clearly drawn by children. A handful of medals, including one she knew came from Zangaria, were embedded in the stone, protected by a layer of magic. Caleb’s mother paused for a second beside a household god, hidden in an alcove, then opened the door into the living room. Emily smiled in relief as she saw Caleb, sitting on a hard wooden chair, then braced herself as she saw his siblings sitting around him. He didn’t look pleased to be sitting right next to them.
“Lady Emily,” Sienna said. “Allow me to introduce my family. My husband, General Pollack; my eldest son, Casper of House Waterfall; my daughters Karan and Marian of House Waterfall. My younger son, Croce of House Waterfall, was held back at Stronghold and could not attend.”
Emily bowed her head in greeting. General Pollack looked formidable; he reminded her of Sergeant Harkin, only slightly less muscular. His face might have been handsome, once upon a time, but he had a moustache big and bushy enough to hide his mouth. Beside him, Casper looked just as muscular, his hair cropped close to his scalp. He eyed Emily with an odd fascination, as if he considered her to be both beautiful and dangerous. The younger girls seemed on the verge of giggles; Karan looked like a younger version of her mother, while Marian looked blonde and bubbly. It was clear, just from the way magic shifted around her, that Karan had come into her magic.
Sienna sat, resting her hands in her lap, and motioned for Emily to sit facing her. Lady Barb sat next to Emily, her face expressionless. Caleb met Emily’s eyes, just for a second, and they shared a moment of perfect understanding. The meeting couldn’t get any more awkward, could it?
“Fetch the food and drink,” Sienna ordered. The younger girls rose and scurried off into the kitchen. “We have prepared a small selection of snacks for you now, Lady Emily, and we will share a formal dinner later.”
“I thank you,” Emily said. 
Sienna smiled, very briefly. “Did you really challenge Master Grey and then kill him?”
“Unintentionally,” Emily said. There was no point in trying to underplay it. Sienna would have read one of the many eyewitness reports of the duel. “He took something I said as a challenge and accepted it.”
“And lost,” Sienna said. She studied Emily carefully. “You must be very formidable, Lady Emily, to have beaten a combat sorcerer in your Fourth Year. I congratulate you.”
“It was impressive,” General Pollack agreed. His voice was thick, with an accent she couldn’t place. “But so, too, was the death of two necromancers.”
“I was lucky,” Emily said. She’d expected to be questioned about Void and her future plans, not Shadye and Mother Holly. “They made mistakes.”
“Everyone does,” General Pollack said. “Victory in war tends to go to the one who makes the least mistakes.”
“Father,” Marian said, as she returned carrying a tray of food. “You don’t have to start one of your war stories again.”
Her father glowered at her, then looked at Emily. “There are at least twenty other necromancers in the Blighted Lands,” he said. “It is believed that at least one or two of them is planning a new invasion of the Allied Lands. What will you do when they come across the borders?”
Emily swallowed. What she’d done to Shadye was impossible to duplicate, at least without a great deal of raw power or a nexus point. Maybe she could lure another necromancer into Whitehall...somehow, she had the feeling the new Grandmaster, whoever he turned out to be, would frown on such a plan. But what she’d done to Mother Holly...the Nuke-Spell would be easy to duplicate, too easy. A single magician with a grudge against Beneficence could wipe out the entire city in a split second.
“I will do whatever seems best at the time,” she hedged. She didn’t even know if the Nuke-Spell could be used near a dozen other magicians without one of them cracking the secret and using it himself. Industrial espionage was rife among magic users. “Until then, I won’t know.”
“You might have to make your mind up very quickly,” General Pollack said. “If you are powerful enough to stand against a necromancer without going mad...”
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “I believe this conversation has taken a detour,” she said. “It is not remotely proper under the circumstances.”
Sienna smiled. “I must agree,” she said. “What are your plans for the future, Lady Emily?”
Caleb’s mother, Emily decided, was definitely formidable. She tossed question after question at Emily, some clearly understandable, others confusing. Why would she care what Emily liked to eat in the mornings? Or what spells she used on a regular basis to make her life more comfortable? By the time she died down, a little, Emily was feeling as if she’d been through another set of exams. It was almost a relief when General Pollack leaned forward.
“I was sorry to hear about Harkin’s death,” he said. “We were in the same Regiment at Stronghold, Lady Emily. He would have been proud, I think, to learn he’d turned his own death into a tactical advantage.”
Emily felt a stab of bitter guilt. She’d liked Sergeant Harkin, even though he’d been easily the most intimidating person she’d met. And he’d died at her hands...
“Thank you,” she said, softly. “What was he like? I mean, as a child?”
“Tough,” General Pollack said. “Never backed down from a fight. Never had the patience to...ah...speak sweetly to those in power. Always looked after his men, even when some lordly prat like myself wanted to get them killed. Broke my nose once when I argued with him. I wasn’t surprised when he became a sergeant at Whitehall. Someone needs to teach the snotty kids that mundanes can be dangerous too.”
He’s right, Emily thought. Someone does have to teach the students that magic doesn’t make them invincible.
“Father,” Caleb said.
Casper cleared his throat. “You killed Master Grey,” he said. There was something in his voice that worried her. Even if Caleb hadn’t warned her about his elder brother, Emily suspected she would have taken an instant dislike to Casper. “Have you realized that automatically puts you at the top of the dueling league?”
Emily blinked. She hadn’t thought about it. And yet, the first time she’d met Master Grey, she’d seen him duel. Lady Barb had even told her that Master Grey was too stubborn to simply walk away from the field. It would have been easy to take a fall during a non-lethal duel and leave the league.
“I’m not a duelist,” she said, uncomfortably. She didn’t like fighting. “And I don’t intend to join the league.”
“You can’t avoid it,” Casper said. “Everyone who wants to be on top will be thinking about challenging you. I would...”
“That will do, young man,” Sienna snapped.
You want it, Emily realized. She thought, suddenly, about simply offering to give it to him. It wasn’t as if she wanted or needed the ranking for herself. And if it brings you happiness, why not?
She dismissed the thought a second later. Casper would hold the title only as long as it took someone else to take it from him. He wouldn’t even gain a reputation from holding it unless he actually fought a proper duel with her. No one would be impressed if she simply surrendered it to him; they’d just take it and then try to make use of it for themselves.
“I apologize for my son’s rudeness, Lady Emily,” Sienna said. Her voice was so cold that Emily felt a stab of sympathy for Casper. “I assure you he will be disciplined.”
“We thank you,” Lady Barb said. Her voice was so tightly controlled that Emily had no difficulty in realizing she was trying not to laugh. “And we will happily consider the matter closed.”
Emily met Caleb’s eyes. He seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment. Emily couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have a caring mother, instead of a neglectful drunk. Would she have been glad of the support from someone who put her first or frequently embarrassed? If Lady Barb had been her real mother...
I would have been a very different person, she thought.
“We have prepared a room for you both,” Sienna said. “If you will do my family the honor of staying with us for two days, my son will happily show you around the city.”
“The honor is ours,” Lady Barb replied, formally. If things had gone badly, she could have declined and that would be the end of the courtship. “We thank you for your hospitality.”
Sienna clapped her hands together. “Karan, show Lady Emily and Lady Barb to their room,” she ordered. “Marian, Caleb; make yourselves scarce.”
Poor Casper, Emily thought.
She kept her face expressionless as Karan showed them up the stairs and into a medium-sized bedroom with two small beds. Lady Barb cast a privacy ward at once, then gave Emily a mischievous smile.
“Caleb will not be allowed to be with you without a chaperone, at least inside the house,” Lady Barb said. “But I’ll see to it you get some time alone together tomorrow. Just try not to do anything too demonstrative in public.”
She paused. “Do you like his family?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of either of Caleb’s parents, although the girls looked as if they would be worth knowing. “But I do like him.”
“Ah,” Lady Barb said. “But you’re not just marrying him, are you?”
“No,” Emily agreed.
She scowled to herself as she started to undress. It was something to think about when she got a chance. But for the moment, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Chapter Nine

“I’m sorry about Casper,” Caleb said, the following morning. “He’s...a little surprised he wasn’t the first one to bring a girl home.”
“I think he wanted the dueling ranking,” Emily said. She pulled her cloak over her robes as they stepped out of the house. “I could just give it to him.”
Caleb looked torn. “Someone would kill him for it,” he said, finally. “He can be a prat half the time, but I don’t actually want him dead.”
Emily nodded. Casper had been subdued through the dinner, which had been something of a trial. General Pollack had talked incessantly about the need for unity against the necromancers, while his wife and Lady Barb had chatted about training the next generation of combat sorcerers and Emily had done her best to chat with the younger girls. Karan seemed to admire her, something that probably shouldn’t have surprised Emily, but did, while Marian had found it hard to even meet Emily’s eyes. Caleb had kept his mouth firmly closed. Emily had wished she could do the same.
She followed him down the road, passing a handful of magical shops, and out onto a wider street that reminded Emily of Alexis. It was lined with shops and stalls, the latter hidden under canopies that suggested it was about to start raining at any second. Hundreds of men and women were wandering around, chatting with their friends or haggling with the stallkeepers. Emily was amused to note that at least one of the stalls was surrounded by a number of middle-aged women, holding printed books in their hands and discussing the heroic endowments of the book’s hero.
“Mother caught Karan with one of those books,” Caleb muttered, as they passed. “She was not happy.”
“She’s too young to be reading something like that,” Emily said. She’d glanced at a couple of the books, only to be repelled by a crudity that had put the handful of romance novels she’d read on Earth to shame. “Isn’t she?”
“She’s old enough to marry,” Caleb pointed out. “But I don’t think mother liked the story.”
“I wouldn’t like my daughter reading anything like that either,” Emily said. “They’re not particularly realistic.”
“And thank all the gods,” Caleb said.
Emily nodded and listened as Caleb talked about Beneficence. The city was divided into twenty-one districts, according to him, segregated by wealth and power. It was very familiar, Emily reasoned, although even the richest inhabitant couldn’t buy a mansion in the island city. There just wasn’t the space to go around. Most of the citizens worked, directly or indirectly, for the fishing trade, though the printing press and a number of other innovations had caused a small revolution. Emily wondered, absently, just how the locals would react if they’d known who she was and what she’d done. She’d designed their first printing press.
Though they’ve improved on the original design by now, she reminded herself. It isn’t mine any longer.
She pushed the thought aside as they passed a pair of temples, both flanked by giant statues of the gods. A handful of men in red robes stood outside the largest temple, handing out written leaflets and glaring at anyone who refused to take one. Emily took one and parsed it out, slowly; it called for the reader to repent of their previous gods and embrace the concept of justice.
“They’re the Hands of Justice,” Caleb told her. “They claim to speak for their god.”
“So they’re a kind of religious police,” Emily reasoned.
“I think so,” Caleb said. “They’ve been growing in popularity lately, particularly in the Lower Depths. The Hands have actually been patrolling the streets beside the City Guard, just to try to make the area a little bit safer.”
Emily winced as she put the pamphlet in her pocket. She knew, from Earth, the Faustian bargain communities made with the religious policemen. On one hand, the religious police started out by meaning well; on the other, they wouldn’t hesitate to crack down on anyone who dared to be a little bit different. It wouldn’t be long before the Hands of Justice either mellowed out or turned into a nightmare. Privately, she would have bet on the latter. Human nature tended to enjoy pushing the weak and helpless around. 
Caleb kept talking as they walked down the street and stopped outside the bank. Markus had to have started with a major investment, Emily noted; the bank was larger than several of the guildhouses or temples she’d seen along the way. A stream of men and women headed in and out, lining up outside a set of cashiers, while a number of armed guards watched them carefully. Again, a number of women seemed to be completely alone.
“There’s no law against freeborn women owning property here,” Caleb said, when she asked him. “And I suppose there isn’t any rule against them putting money in the bank too.”
“And a good thing too,” Emily said. It made a pleasant change; outside magical society, it was rare for women to be anything other than second-class citizens. They might have informal influence, but no legal power. Alassa was going to have to fight to make herself heard and respected once she took her throne. “Shall we go in?”
The interior of the bank - the Bank of Silence, according to a large engraving in the wall - was drenched in privacy wards. Faint blurs surrounded the cashiers, making it impossible for her to hear their words or even read their lips. She glanced around until she saw a guard and strode over to him, standing close enough to allow him to hear her. She’d never seen so many privacy wards in one place before.
“I’m here to see the manager,” she said. “My name is Emily. I believe he’s expecting me.”
“He’ll be down in a moment,” the guard said. “Please stand to one side and wait.”
He must have signaled, somehow, because Markus was down within five minutes, wearing a long grey robe that looked surprisingly respectable. He’d let his hair grow out a little, Emily noted as they shook hands; he smiled, cheerfully, as he welcomed them to the bank and led them through a heavily-warded door. A handful of patrons stared as they left. Clearly, Markus had become both important and famous within a year.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, once they were in a small room. Melissa sat at the table, reading a healing textbook. “Can I get you anything?”
“Kava would be nice,” Emily said, as she sat down. Melissa looked happy, at least; she’d have spent the night with her husband while Emily had shared a room with Lady Barb. It made Emily wonder what sharing a room with Caleb would be like. “I see you’ve made a splash.”
“Definitely,” Markus said. “You know the definition of a good idea? That everyone thinks it was so obvious that they try to steal it at once? There are four other banks in the city now and two more planned.”
Emily had to smile. “Is there room for all of them?”
“I don’t know,” Markus said. “But we’ve had quite a few depositors coming in from all over the Allied Lands, so...”
He shrugged, expressively, as he poured the drinks. “We’ve also had a great many complaints about tax evasion,” he added. “But we’ve been ignoring them, as per your suggestion.”
Melissa looked up. “Do you think there’s room for seven banks in Beneficence?”
“It would depend, I think,” Emily said. She could name five or six banks on Earth, but they’d all existed on a far more advanced world. “How does the system work?”
“Cleverly,” Markus said. He pulled a money pouch out of his robe and dropped it on the table, opening it up to reveal a handful of gold, silver and bronze coins. “As you can see” - he picked up a gold coin and passed it to Emily - “there’s a rune carved into the coin. If someone tries to clip it, the rune will turn black and the coin will be devalued.”
Caleb frowned. “What’s to stop someone selling the raw gold?”
“There isn’t any, beyond a tiny layer of gold leaf,” Markus said. “The coin itself is worthless as anything other than a medium of exchange, backed by the gold in the vaults. You could melt it down into a puddle and it would still be useless. Our system of crowns, coronets and cents actually stabilizes the currency, as we have discovered over the past year. We’ve shared many of our innovations with the other bankers.”
“I see,” Emily said. “Who actually produces the money?”
“We do,” Markus said. “We’ve actually had inquiries from several kingdoms about setting up a local currency - and I believe that a number will do it, with or without us - but we haven’t expanded that far yet.”
He pulled a sheet of parchment out of his robes and held it out for inspection. “This is a blood-linked parchment, based on the ones your friend Aloha designed. We hand them out to each of our customers, allowing them to monitor their balances and transfer money from one vault to another. It isn’t as flexible a system as I would like, but combined with the checkbooks and money drafts it allows people to pay others without exchanging gold and silver.”
“So if I had a check,” Caleb said, thoughtfully, “what could I do with it?”
“Bring it here and we’d exchange it for money,” Markus said. “It’s as simple as that.”
“It strikes me that the system must be easy to fool,” Caleb said.
“Not as easy as you’d think,” Markus said. “The checkbooks are based on blood magic - no one but you could write out a check on your account. A faked check wouldn’t fool our cashiers. We’re catching glitches in the system from time to time, but we actually pay a reward for anyone who finds one; I’ve got a couple of young magicians working for me who cracked holes in one of our previous systems.”
He looked back at Emily. “We’ve also been offering microloans, as you suggested,” he said, carefully. “The results have been mixed. Some businesses have taken off; others have run into trouble and we’ve had to call in the loans. Enforcing this outside Beneficence has not been easy.”
“As long as we’re fueling a world of change,” Emily said.
“We are,” Markus said. “But we’re also causing other problems. Some of the new businesses are upsetting noblemen to the south, others are costing them tax revenue when their taxpayers start moving to the cities. Swanhaven in particular is experiencing a crackdown on new ideas, pushed by the competing lords. It’s turning into a botched potion, Emily. It won’t be long before it explodes.”
“There will be other problems,” Emily said. “You’ll need to set up exchange rates between different kingdoms.”
She shook her head. No matter what she did, a great many problems would only become apparent when they exploded. Making the transition from a makeshift currency to a floating one would be tricky; there’d be bubbles when stock prices rose beyond anything the market could support and investors lost everything they’d put into the business. It hadn’t been that long since the Dot Com Boom on Earth. But, to Markus, that was so far away it might as well have been imaginary. 
But we need this, she thought. A floating currency would spur investment and development, making it impossible for the old guard to put the genie back in the bottle. The entire world needs this.
“We’re working on it,” Markus said. He smiled, rather tiredly. “Would you like a tour of the vaults?”
Emily glanced at Caleb. “Coming?”
Caleb smiled. “Anything that interests you interests me.”
Markus rose and led them through a set of long stone corridors and down a flight of stairs. Emily was rather disappointed that there weren’t any mining carts, let alone a dragon at the bottom, but there simply wasn’t room for anything more than powerful wards and a series of increasingly unpleasant traps. A handful of vaults were used to store goods, Markus noted; the Bank of Silence took them into custody and kept them, as long as the fees were paid. So far, no one had tried to take anything from the bank.
“The guilds have been quick to take advantage of our services,” Markus explained, as they made their way back to the surface. “I don’t think they’d allow the city’s taxmen to raid our premises, even if we were aiding and abetting tax evasion. But anyone who doesn’t pay taxes, if they happen to live in the city, can be exiled - or enslaved. It’s the tax collectors outside the city who have a real problem.”
“But they could just forbid people from putting their money in your bank,” Caleb said. “It wouldn’t be that hard, would it?”
“The people they want to tax are the ones who might leave, as their skills can be used anywhere,” Markus said. “Locking a few of them up to discourage the others is always possible, but that would merely create an incentive for the remainder to flee.”
Emily nodded. Farmers could be taxed in kind; a farmer might be expected to hand over a set number of crops, eggs, and live animals each year. But the taxmen would want money, something that could be exchanged for something else; they’d be desperate to strike a balance between collecting vast sums of money and accidentally killing the goose that laid the golden eggs. She actually expected, as the new money spread, for farmers to be taxed in money too. They’d have to sell more of their wares to make the payments...
And if they get it wrong, there will be famine, she thought. She’d seen farmers in the Cairngorms hiding some of their produce from the taxmen, but it would be harder to hide the fact they had money. Farmers will be unable to produce and the rest of the population will starve.
They chatted briefly about nothing as they walked back to the surface, then Emily shook hands with Markus and wished him luck. Melissa waved them both goodbye as she held Markus’s arm; Emily felt a stab of sympathy as she left, realizing that Melissa had literally no one in her life but Markus. Maybe she’d be able to make more friends in Beneficence...
“That was odd,” Caleb said. He looked down at one of the coins Markus had given them. “How is this worth more than its weight in gold?”
“It isn’t,” Emily said. “It just serves as a medium of exchange.”
Caleb frowned. “It sounds like madness to me.”
“It isn’t,” Emily assured him. “If you were a shoemaker, you could make shoes for the blacksmith in exchange for knives or...or whatever else a blacksmith makes. But that depends on the blacksmith actually needing a pair of shoes. If he doesn’t want any, you don’t have anything to trade with him.”
“Which would be bad if you needed a set of knives,” Caleb noted.
“Precisely,” Emily said. “That’s why people invented money in the first place. A gold coin is largely worthless without an agreed rate of exchange.”
“Gold isn’t worthless,” Caleb objected.
“You can’t eat gold,” Emily said. “The point is, money serves as the middleman between two different people. The blacksmith no longer has to barter his services to the shoemaker to get shoes - in this sense, money is nothing more than an acknowledgement of favors owed, but it’s a favor that can be redeemed by anyone. There’s nothing stopping the blacksmith from taking your coins, going to the tailor and ordering a new set of robes.”
“Or go to a magician and order new charms for his workplace,” Caleb said. He smiled as he studied the coin. “I think I see your point.”
“Exactly,” Emily said. She smiled back at him. “You would no longer need to barter your goods and services in exchange for his.”
She took the coin and held it up in front of her. “The real problem with the current monetary system is that the value of the coins keeps changing. It’s impossible to say what any given gold coin is worth without weighing it carefully. Value doesn’t lie in the coin itself, but in the metal used to produce it. A sudden influx of gold onto the market, perhaps when a new gold mine is discovered, lowers the value of everyone else’s gold.”
“Because there’s suddenly more of it,” Caleb said.
“Exactly,” Emily said. “But with these coins, the value is fixed; the currency system remains stable, no matter what happens to the market. Everyone can use it. And there’s more to it than that. Everyone will be using the same system of measurements, everywhere. There will be an economic boom in the next five years as more and more money spreads through the country.”
“And people won’t have to haul a chest of gold with them, wherever they go,” Caleb said, mischievously. “We’ll see how it works in practice.”
He glanced up at the sun. “We do have an hour or so left until we’re expected for lunch. Do you want to explore a little more?”
Emily smiled at him. “Why not?”
They walked through the Shopping Road to Fishing Plaice, where the fishermen beached their boats and sold their wares to eager buyers. Emily silently admired the harbor, encircled protectively by great walls of rock that kept out the worst of the storms; Caleb chatted happily about how pilots from Beneficence were the only ones skilled enough to navigate through the rocks and shoals that lay below the water, a deadly menace to unprepared shipping. The city made a tidy profit just hiring out pilots to incoming vessels.
“You can buy anything here,” Caleb told her. “If you want spices from the other side of the world, you can place an order and get them six months later. Or if you happen to want to outfit a trading mission, you can do that here too. The necromancers aren’t such a threat on the waters.”
Emily nodded, slowly. “Do you think your father’s right?”
“He wants to defeat the necromancers permanently,” Caleb said. His voice darkened. “Shadye worried a lot of magicians when he invaded Whitehall, but not everyone takes the threat seriously. The Craggy Mountains are a long way away.”
“Not by magic,” Emily said.
“No,” Caleb agreed. 
Emily glanced at him, sharply. “What do you think about this?”
Caleb looked doubtful. “My father may believe that you could be useful to him,” he said. He caught Emily’s hand, just for a second. “Having your support might help him make his case for launching an invasion of the Blighted Lands.”
“It wouldn’t be easy,” Emily said. Sergeant Miles had made her study terrain during her second year of Martial Magic; she’d learned that moving an army down a well-built road was considerably easier than moving one over a desert. “I’ve seen the Blighted Lands.”
“So has he,” Caleb said. “He was on campaign when he met my mother. They did their best, but they couldn’t stop the necromancers from walking off with thousands of captives and devastating an entire country. I think he’d do whatever it took to keep them from winning another skirmish in the endless war, even dragging you into the mix.”
He frowned. “Don’t let him talk you into anything unless you actually want to do it.”
“I won’t,” Emily promised, sincerely. She liked General Pollack rather more than she liked his wife. “But he’s right about one thing. They do have to be defeated.”
Caleb nodded. “I love my father dearly, Emily, but he can be incredibly overbearing at times,” he said. “And I don’t want you to get hurt. Don’t let him talk you into anything, please.”
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