Love's Labor's Won (35 page)

Emily lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t like them?”

“My brother has always been a prat,” Caleb said. “The apple of father’s eye. And my younger brother just completed his first year at Stronghold, to general applause. One of my sisters seems torn between becoming a combat sorceress in her own right or finding a suitable boy to marry, while the other moans and groans because her magic hasn’t developed yet. I think they’re better off without me.”

“I know the feeling,” Emily said. “What about your mother?”

“She keeps yelling at my sister, telling her to actually apply herself,” Caleb said. “What’s the use of having powerful magic if you’re going to become a mere housewife?”

“Parents can be difficult at times,” Emily said.

Caleb nodded. “What was it like growing up with Void?”

“He was always distant,” Emily said. She felt an odd flicker of guilt at lying to him, something that puzzled her. Lying was never easy, but...why was it harder to lie to Caleb? “I didn’t have much interaction with him until I turned sixteen and my magic flourished.”

“My father tried, in his own way,” Caleb said. “I know he meant well, but...”

Emily nodded. Fathers expected their sons to follow in their footsteps. She’d known fathers who thought their sons should do everything they’d done, from becoming doctors and dentists to chasing girls or remaining chaste until marriage. There might be magic in the Nameless World, and fewer opportunities, but human nature remained the same.

“He used to insist on leaving the books behind and going to kick a ball around the yard,” Caleb added. “Casper was always great at football, too.”

“I bet he was,” Emily said.

“And he managed to become captain of the Regiment’s football team, a year earlier than normal,” Caleb added. “You know how he did it? I think father pulled strings on his behalf.”

“Or he might just be good at it,” Emily said. She loathed team sports, but Alassa and Imaiqah loved them. “Maybe he’s an undiscovered talent.”

“A discovered talent, perhaps,” Caleb said. “Or a hidden talent at convincing people to support him, even though it isn’t wise.”

Emily smiled. “Did his team win the games?”

“I have no idea,” Caleb said. He reached for a sheet of paper, but stopped. “Do
you
have any siblings?”

“Not that I know about,” Emily said. It was possible she had a half-sibling or two, if her biological father had married again, but she had no idea if he was even still alive. “And I don’t really want to know, either.”

“Lucky you,” Caleb said. “There are times when I wish I was an only child.”

“And then your father would insist that you followed in his footsteps,” Emily pointed out.

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “There is that.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

L
EARNING FROM CALEB, EMILY DISCOVERED, WAS
different from studying with Lady Barb or one of the other teachers. Caleb seemed to veer between trying to help her work the subject out on her own or giving her the answers on a platter. Part of her didn’t mind, but after three years of studying in magic schools she knew better than just to take the answers and write them down on her exam papers. She wouldn’t be marked down for not showing her work, unlike increasingly annoying math exams back on Earth, but she would have problems moving ahead. Magic demanded a clear understanding of the basics at all times.

But it was a fascinating experience. Caleb understood wards far better than Emily and he was able to offer quite a few suggestions, although there were limits to what they could do in Cockatrice. The walls were solid stone, not bound together with
Manaskol
or anything else that could be used to anchor magic. She could channel magic through the stone, she was sure, but it wouldn’t rest in place.

“Necromancers use stone knives,” she muttered. “Perhaps it would work better if they used silver, or gold.”

“They’d both explode in their hands,” Caleb said. He didn’t seem horrified at the mention of necromancy, even though it was a given he’d know the basic rite. “Which isn’t such a bad idea, is it?”

Emily nodded. “We could use stone ourselves for the spell mosaics,” she said. “Or perhaps...”

She broke off, considering the battery. If she rigged up a stone projector, she would be able to channel magic out of the battery and into a mass of spells. But if she did, she would drain the battery in one shot. The same rush of magic that tipped necromancers over the edge into madness would also render her battery useless. No, she told herself, what she needed was a
valve
, something that allowed her to control the flow of magic. But she wasn’t sure what she could use to do that...

“What is that?” Caleb asked, as she sketched out the idea before she forgot it. “A mixture of wood and stone?”

“An idea,” Emily said. She’d become better with her hands, over three years of Whitehall’s ruthlessly practical education, but she knew she’d need help to build the valve. Yodel would be able to help her, if he didn’t throw a fireball at her on sight. “Something I can’t talk about yet.”

Caleb looked hurt. Emily felt another pang of guilt, which she ruthlessly suppressed. She couldn’t tell him about the battery, let alone the possible uses, without him swearing an oath to keep it to himself...and merely asking him to swear an oath could easily be taken as an insult. Lady Barb had offered her oath, without being asked, because she’d seen that Emily needed help, but Caleb? They were on an equal level...

“Not a piece of your technology, then,” he said. “Something magic?”

“I’m afraid so,” Emily said. She touched the battery in her pocket, surrounded by a haze of spells intended to both hide and protect it. “Very magical.”

There was a knock at the door. Emily touched the wards with her mind and frowned, inwardly, as she sensed Markus and an unfamiliar magician. Caleb hastily gathered up their notes as Emily rose, then opened the door. Outside, Markus and Steven were waiting, patiently. Emily hadn’t even known that Steven had returned to the castle.

“Lady Emily,” Steven said. “I was wondering if we might have a brief word.”

Emily hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll meet you in the drawing room,” she said, reluctantly. She turned back to Caleb. “Can I ask you to clear up here?”

“I suppose you could,” Caleb said. He picked up the drawings of steam engines and peered down at them. “Can I keep these?”

“If you like,” Emily said. “But there are diagrams and instructions for building your own on sale in any market place.”

Caleb laughed. “I would rather get my information from the source,” he said.

Emily blushed, then checked the wards, pocketed her own notes, and walked to the drawing room. It was one of the few rooms she’d managed to have redecorated; giant bookcases, most half-empty, had replaced the endless rows of slaughtered animals Baron Holyoake had hung on the walls. His table, a solid mass of wood, had been replaced by something smaller and lighter, while the hard-backed wooden chairs had been replaced with comfortable armchairs. She had no idea how anyone had been able to endure the previous layout, but perhaps no one had used it very often. Baron Holyoake had spent so much time hunting, either animals or maids, that Emily was privately surprised he’d been able to find any time to plot a coup.

Maybe he was just good with time management
, she thought, a smile playing around her lips.
Or maybe he left management of his estates to his men
.

“Lady Emily,” Steven said. He rose from his chair, then bowed to her. “I took the liberty of ordering Kava.”

Emily sat in her chair and smoothed her dress down. “That’s quite all right,” she said, firmly. Privacy wards tingled into existence around the room as Markus cast them with practiced ease. “I could use a mug myself.”

“It’s been an interesting few days at the Faire,” Steven said. “Quite apart from the guest list...well, it adds extra weight to what you told us before, in Mountaintop.”

“I recall,” Emily said. She’d told them that change was coming and that they needed to adapt, or be swept away when the changes built unstoppable momentum. “I’m glad you enjoyed your visit.”

“I have learned much,” Steven said. “And I have communicated all I have learned to the quarrel.”

Markus cleared his throat. “Steven may no longer be the local head,” he said. “But he is still very well connected.”

Emily shot him a glance. Markus had to be in an awkward position. On one hand, his relationship with Melissa depended on Emily keeping her mouth shut, at the very least; on the other hand, damaging his relationship with Steven might have had unfortunate long-term consequences. Were they friends? She couldn’t recall seeing them spending time together at Mountaintop. Or were they merely pushed together by events?

“You graduated last month, I assume,” Emily said. “Did you do well?”

“High marks,” Steven said. He smirked. “As if there was any doubt.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Emily said. She looked up as Janice arrived, carrying a tray loaded with three mugs of steaming Kava. “How much of that was your own work?”

“All of it,” Steven said, with pretended outrage. “Honestly, Lady Emily. Do you think I would have held the post I did if they thought I would abuse it?”

Emily shrugged. Markus had been Head Boy...but he was also the Ashfall Heir. Nanette had been Aurelius’s personal project, a girl who had nowhere else to go. And Steven had been closely linked to Crystal Quarrel before being appointed its representative in the school. She rather doubted that academic credit alone had smoothed their paths to advancement.

But, at the same time, a magician who didn’t know the source matter from cover to cover was likely to prove a poor magician in the future. Few quarrels would see any great advantage in giving their representatives marks they hadn’t earned.

She picked up her mug and took a sip. “It isn’t my concern,” she said. “But I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” Steven said. “With your permission, therefore, I will skip any further pleasantries and get right down to business.”

Emily had a nasty feeling she knew what was coming, but she merely nodded.

“You spent five months at Mountaintop, during which you attended a dozen meetings of Crystal Quarrel without actually swearing any of the formal oaths,” Steven said, bluntly. “I do not believe you attended many other meetings...or am I mistaken?”

“I was not asked,” Emily said, flatly.

The memory was thoroughly embarrassing. She’d found the whole arrangement somewhat amusing, although it was rather more than just another frat boy sorority house. Maybe the quarrels had more influence than she’d realized in the school, but it involved networking and making friends, two things she had never been very good at doing. And yet, in hindsight, it would have been easier to spy if she’d gained access to more quarrels.

“I imagine they thought we’d gotten to you first,” Steven said. “We were not shy about our success.”

“They weren’t,” Markus confirmed. “I think Steven did a little dance while crowing.”

Emily smiled as Steven glowered at Markus before looking back at her.

“The point is this, Lady Emily,” Steven said. “We do consider you one of us, but there are limits to what we can do with you unless you swear the oaths. There are many advantages to belonging to a quarrel.”

Emily looked at Markus. “Do
you
belong to a quarrel?”

“The Ashfall Family
is
a quarrel in its own right,” Markus said. “There’s no room for joining a bunch of outsiders.”

“You would also have the opportunity to work with other members in Whitehall,” Steven added, gently. “The Grandmaster forbids recruiting until Fourth Year, but we do have representatives there.”

Emily blinked in honest surprise. She hadn’t known there were quarrels at Whitehall — apart from the one she’d formed herself — but it shouldn’t really have been a surprise. If quarrels pervaded magical society to the degree Steven had claimed, they would definitely not have left Whitehall alone. Maybe Steven had moved so quickly to speak with her out of fear she’d go to another quarrel. After all, she
hadn’t
sworn the oaths.

“You would probably rise to become the local head,” Steven added. “You could recruit and train newcomers from the students, then pass the interesting ones on to us for further development. Your personal status would be enhanced beyond measure.”

“I can’t,” Emily said, after a moment. “My father would not be amused.”

“Your father is powerful enough to survive alone,” Steven said. “Are you?”

Emily swallowed. “He is still my Guardian,” she said. It was true enough, although Void had never actually interfered with her life. “I cannot defy his edicts without a very good cause.”

Steven met her eyes. “The advantages of being part of a union of magicians?”

The hell of it, Emily knew, was that it was a very good deal. If she’d been what everyone thought she was, the bastard daughter of a Lone Power, the chance to ally herself with a quarrel would have seemed ideal. It would have given her friends, a family of sorts, and access to some of the highest places in society. But there would be a price. She would be expected to uphold the quarrel, forsaking all other concerns.

And I already belong to a quarrel
, she thought.
The one my friends and I made
.

“My father would not be impressed,” she said, firmly. “I’m sorry for putting you to so much trouble, Steven, but I cannot disobey his rules.”

Steven’s eyes glittered. “Do you think he’d punish you?”

Emily had no idea how Void would react, in real life, but it was as good an excuse as any.

“He is my Guardian until I turn twenty-one,” she said. If Melissa could be pushed into a marriage because she was still too young, no one could dispute Void’s far less significant edicts to his daughter. “I don’t think he would be too pleased with me if I compromised myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steven said, his eyes betraying a hint of anger, “but I do understand.”

“That’s why he got the job,” Markus commented. “Someone else would be screaming curse words by now, demanding that you swear the oaths at once.”