Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) (50 page)

She caught Alassa smiling as she stopped outside the doorway to the Great Hall, an odd little smile that puzzled her. Emily hesitated, half-expecting to discover that someone had left a bucket of water on top of the door, then pushed it open firmly. And then she stared in absolute disbelief.

The Great Hall was completely filled with students, but that wasn’t what caught her eye first. It was a glowing set of words, hanging above their heads, spelling out HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY. She half-turned to look at Alassa—she had
known
—and then someone pushed a drink into her hand and pulled her into the crowd. Almost everyone seemed to want to shake her hand.

“Happy birthday,” Alassa said, from behind her. “You deserve it.”

Emily stared at her as Cat shook her hand, then went on to chat to Imaiqah. “It isn’t my birthday...”

“But it
is
one year since you came...here,” Alassa pointed out. “And besides, no one knows just when your birthday actually is, so...”

She shrugged. “Besides, it isn’t just for
you
,” she added. “Everyone needed a party after what happened over the last few weeks.”

Emily found herself unable to speak. Part of her hated crowds, hated them all pressing in around her...and yet part of her loved the attention. They had come for
her.
..tears threatened to start prickling at the corner of her eyes and she wiped them away, then took a sip of her drink. It tasted vaguely of sunshine and rainbows.

“A magician’s drink,” Alassa said, as Professor Thande appeared and shook Emily’s hand before wandering off to supervise the punch. “A mundane who drank it would taste nothing more than water.”

A band composed of students started to play a dance tune, but several of the players seemed to have different ideas about which tune they were meant to be playing and the sound rapidly became a discordant racket. Mistress Irene marched over to them and, shouting almost as loudly as Sergeant Harkin, pushed them into some semblance of order. Emily had been told that most aristocrats were taught to play
something
, yet she never seemed to have the time to learn. But listening to the band when they finally started playing together made her think that she should make the time.

Maybe if I alter the interior of the pocket dimensions
, she thought, and then shook her head firmly. She’d gotten into quite enough trouble with that idea already.

She caught sight of Imaiqah being pulled into the dance by Cat and smiled to herself, although she had no idea if he was genuinely courting Imaiqah or if he was merely looking for a suitable partner. Alassa nudged her and pointed out just how star-struck Imaiqah looked, making Emily roll her eyes. The princess had danced with countless young princes only a few months ago.

“Lady Emily,” Master Tor said, from behind her. “I was wondering if I could have a word.”

Emily swallowed the response that came to mind and nodded, allowing him to draw her away from Alassa. She sensed the privacy ward as he cast it and frowned. What did he have to say that was so private her best friend couldn’t hear it?

“I may have...
misjudged
you,” Master Tor said, as soon as the privacy ward was in place. “I did not realize that you had such a father. To leave you ignorant of the fundamentals was nothing short of neglect.”

It took Emily a moment to realize that he meant Void. From his point of view, Void probably
did
seem like a neglectful father, the kind of person who would teach his children dangerous spells instead of basic safety precautions. On the other hand, there were very few people who would dare to tell Void that to his face.

“And you risked your life to save all of us,” Master Tor added. “I
definitely
misjudged you.”

Emily couldn’t think of anything to say, so she said nothing.

“I will be heading to the White Council after this year,” he said. “But if I can do you a favor in response, please let me know.”

He cancelled the privacy ward and walked off, leaving Emily staring after him.

“Sounds like that went well,” Alassa said, taking hold of Emily’s arm. “How many detentions did he give you
this
time?”

“No detentions,” Emily said, still puzzled. “He wanted to apologize.”

“You
did
save the school,” Alassa pointed out. “Maybe he thought better of treating you badly after that.”

“Maybe,” Emily said.

She caught sight of Melissa on the other side of the room and scowled. No one had realized how badly she’d hurt Melissa, apart from Melissa herself. Emily was surprised that she hadn’t already reported Emily to a tutor, but perhaps Melissa had just decided to keep her mouth shut. Or maybe coming so close to a Mimic, all unknowing, had convinced her that there were more important things in life than playing out a schoolgirl rivalry.

Or maybe she’s just plotting
, Emily thought.

King Randor hadn’t told her
much
about being an aristocrat, but he had warned her that it was always a bad sign when people weren’t grumbling. It normally meant that they were plotting something drastic. Emily hadn’t quite dared to ask him what the barons had been saying before they’d launched their coup attempt, but she had a feeling she knew. Some of
them
had complained loudly to distract the King.

“You deserve a party,” Lady Barb said, coming up to her. “I’m glad the Grandmaster saw fit to allow it.”

Emily blinked. “It was your idea?”

“I thought you deserved
something
to remind them that you just saved the school—again,” Lady Barb said. “How...
quickly
they forget.”

“Most people are sheep,” Alassa commented. There was an edge in her voice that made Emily blink. Was Alassa feeling guilty that she’d been called home? “They were quick to start accusing her of performing necromancy and they threw hexes at her whenever she turned her back.”

“And then they started blaming the Gorgon,” Emily added, pushing her concerns about Alassa to one side. “What should I do
next
year?”

Lady Barb gave her an odd little smile. “People have always been worried when someone has vastly more power than them,” she said. “You have always attracted envy as well as admiration. And enemies.”

She took Emily’s arm and steered her towards a corner, leaving Alassa behind. “What do you intend to do during your holidays?”

“I intended to go back to Zangaria,” Emily said. “I have a great deal of work to do in Cockatrice that I cannot leave in my Castellan’s hands.”

“It’s traditional for students who want to serve the Allied Lands to spend a month or two working with a qualified sorcerer,” Lady Barb said. “If you want to become a combat sorcerer, you might work with the military; if you wanted to be a Mediator, you might shadow one around, learning by doing. I think that you would benefit from doing it for yourself.”

Emily hesitated. The chance to learn more was always welcome...if she had the time to take advantage of it.

“You would be welcome to come shadow me,” Lady Barb said. “It would give you a far wider range of experience than you’d find in Whitehall—or Alexis. There are people out there who have never seen a magician, or who are scared of magic because they live too close to one of the places touched by the faerie. And they wouldn’t talk to Baroness Cockatrice, not to tell you what you need to know.”

“But they might talk to a roving magician,” Emily said, quietly.

She could understand the problem. The peasants knew better than to annoy the aristocrats, no matter what laws the aristocrats gaily broke. Superior authority was a long way away, while the local aristocrat was right next door—and was willing to do
anything
to peasants who stepped out of line. The problems in Zangaria had only grown worse since the barons had launched their attempted coup—and, in failing, crippled their authority. Hundreds of thousands of peasants were moving off the land.

“Precisely,” Lady Barb said. “It would also give you a chance to learn how to do certain things outside Whitehall.”

Emily nodded.

“You don’t have to decide at once,” Lady Barb told her, “but I would like to know a month before Whitehall closes down for summer. That’s when I have to make arrangements with the White Council.”

“I’ll let you know,” Emily said, although she had already made up her mind. The chance to spend some time away from Whitehall—or Zangaria—would be very welcome. “And thank you for your support.”

“I was surprised that your guardian hasn’t shown himself,” Lady Barb said. There was a dark tone in her voice, a reminder of what she’d told Emily about Void, several months ago. “It is always worrying when he does what I want him to do.”

Emily shrugged. One thing she had learned about Void was that he appeared and disappeared as it suited him. No one, as far as she knew, could
summon
him, even when his ward was in serious trouble. Or had the Grandmaster actually tried to call him when Master Tor was threatening her with expulsion?

“I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” she said, dryly.

The look on Lady Barb’s face suggested that she wasn’t convinced.

“Leaving him aside,” Emily said, changing the subject, “has there been any sign of Lin?”

“None,” Lady Barb said. “But she was clearly a very well-trained magician. Unless she does something stupid, she can avoid detection and make her way back to Mountaintop—or wherever she is going. We convinced Dragon’s Den to make a search, but they turned up nothing. The Grandmaster is still investigating. I dare say that he will tell you what he finds out when he knows what it means.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What—precisely—did Lin take with her?”

Emily hesitated. “Concepts,” she said. The problem was that she wasn’t entirely sure
what
Lin had seen. If she’d been poking around Emily’s desk since the first day they’d met, she might have seen almost everything. And what if she’d managed to get into the trunk? “I don’t know for sure.”

She scowled. If Lin had been looking for technology alone, she might have gunpowder, steam engines and a dozen other concepts Emily had been reverse-engineering. She would have the diagrams for basic cannons, muskets and other weapons. But if she’d looked at the magical notes, she might well have the pocket dimension batteries too...if she could make them work. Emily’s experiments had never reached the next stage...in hindsight, channelling that much power might be very dangerous. And yet Lin had already proven herself to be a sneaky opponent.

“I’ll be asking you for details later,” Lady Barb said. “And so will the Grandmaster.”

And King Randor
, Emily added, silently. She didn’t know how much King Randor knew of the gunpowder project, but she doubted that Imaiqah’s father had hidden it from him. Not when he was a noble himself now.

She shook her head. How far could Lin and her backers go with what they had? Emily had already been surprised by how fast Zangaria had advanced from what she’d told them. How far could others go
without
her help? There was no way to know.

A sudden rustle ran around the Great Hall as the Gorgon entered. Instead of wearing robes, or a human-style dress, she was wearing a long tunic that seemed to show off her inhuman attributes. It seemed to be made of snakeskin—
Gorgon scales
, Emily suspected—and showed her bare arms. They too were a strange blend of human skin and scales. Her snakes, fanning out around her head, seemed to be smirking at the crowd.

“Your friend seems to have decided to abandon her attempt to pretend to be human,” Lady Barb said. She sounded approving. “Good. We need more contacts among the Gorgons.”

Emily looked at the Gorgon, then smiled.

“Go enjoy your party,” Lady Barb said. “You earned it.”

Emily nodded and walked over to join the Gorgon, noticing the half-admiring, half-fearful glances some of the male students were directing at her. It was impossible to avoid noticing that the Gorgon had a kind of eerie glamor, a beauty that drew their attention towards her scales—and snakes. She couldn’t help wondering which of the boys would be the first to ask the Gorgon to dance.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, as she took the Gorgon’s hand. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

The Gorgon winked at her, then nodded to a stuttering third-year who was trying to ask her to dance. Emily couldn’t tell if he was merely immature or if he was scared of the Gorgon as well as being attracted to her. She fought down a laugh as the Gorgon led him onto the dance floor, moving with a grace that rivalled Alassa’s.

“Come and dance,” Alassa said. “This day won’t last forever.”

“You taught her,” Emily muttered. “Didn’t you?”

“Father taught me that you can either apologize endlessly for being what you are or you can just rub their noses in it,” Alassa said, with a nod. “I decided to show her how to do the latter. She doesn’t
need
to pretend to be human. And look! They’re all falling over her.”

Emily felt her smile widening as her friend pulled her over to a group of boys. Maybe it was strange to wish otherwise, to wish that the day would last forever, but—despite everything—she was content.

She was home.

The End

About the author

Christopher G. Nuttall is thirty-two years old and has been reading science fiction since he was five, when someone introduced him to children’s SF. Born in Scotland, Chris attended schools in Edinburgh, Fife and University in Manchester before moving to Malaysia to live with his wife Aisha.

Chris has been involved in the online Alternate History community since 1998; in particular, he was the original founder of Changing The Times, an online alternate history website that brought in submissions from all over the community. Later, Chris took up writing and eventually became a full-time writer.

Current and forthcoming titles published by Twilight Times Books