Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10) (5 page)

She yawned, tiredly. Gritting her teeth, she walked back through the door and down the stairwell. It was harder to know just how far down she had to go now, she discovered; there was no way she could use the wards for directions. Her footsteps were barely visible in the dirt and grime ... she shook her head as she reached what she thought was the right floor and padded towards her bedroom. And then she stopped as she heard voices ahead of her, a faint mumbling that drew her onwards. She resisted the urge to use magic to spy on the speakers, even though she had a feeling it would be safe enough. Instead, she slipped closer and listened.

“... Not natural,” a voice was saying. “She shouldn’t have survived for a second in the nexus.”

“People have been killed or transformed by wild magic,” a second voice said. “Why
can’t
they be trapped in a nexus?”

“She’s a magician,” the first voice said. “The wild magic should have killed her outright.”

“Maybe she’s a fake,” the second voice said. “How many women do you know who can cast spells?”

Emily felt her cheeks heat. They were talking about
her!

The first voice sounded amused. “You were there when she saved us all,” he said. “She is very definitely a magician.”

“Then she’s cursed,” the second voice insisted. “You know it to be true.”

Emily blinked.
Cursed
?

“She’s dangerous,” the second voice continued. “If she could beat Bernard in a duel ...”

“Whitehall has chosen to take her as an apprentice,” the first voice pointed out.

“An unwise choice,” the second voice snapped.

“She’s a magician,” the first voice reminded him. “Do you want her walking around with incomplete training?”

He spoke on before the second speaker could interrupt. “If she’s cursed ... well, it’s not our problem,” he added. “She’s already gone too far to step back to safety. It isn’t as if she was ever
our
responsibility.”

“Whoever taught her was derelict in his duty,” the second voice snapped. “Do
you
think her story makes sense?”

“Her tutor is dead, if she is to be believed,” the first voice said. “And if you have a problem with her joining the commune, take it up with Whitehall.”

Emily heard the man striding along the corridor and pushed herself into an alcove, calling on magic to hide her presence. Sergeant Miles would probably not have been fooled, certainly not if he was
looking
for her, but the first speaker strode past her and into the distance without looking back. She stared after him, then peered back down towards the Great Hall, feeling oddly conflicted. Cursed? She wasn’t cursed. What did they
mean
?

I need answers
, she thought. Her thoughts churned as she slipped back down the corridor and into the bedroom.
And I don’t even know who to ask
.

She glanced at Julianne—still sleeping peacefully on the stone floor—and then settled down herself, closing her eyes as she tried to concentrate on her meditation. Maybe, just maybe, she could go to sleep now. And yet, sleep was elusive ... her mind just kept going back to the conversation she’d overheard, wondering just what they’d meant. A curse on female magicians? She’d never heard of such a thing ... or had she? There had been that vague note from one of Professor Locke’s books, suggesting that female magicians had trouble bearing children. But she could name a dozen magicians she knew who
had
had children.

Whitehall won’t believe how ignorant I am, if I start asking questions
, she thought. She’d been given a great deal of slack when she’d first come to Whitehall because she wasn’t even from the same
world
, but she’d already told Whitehall that she’d had a tutor.
And yet, if I don’t know the basics, I will keep making mistakes
.

She sighed. It was clear that not everyone had believed her story. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. But it had been the best story she could make up on short notice ... if she’d
known
she was going to fall back in time, she’d have taken the time to do her research and compose an airtight cover. And yet, given how inaccurate the history records seemed to be, it was unlikely she
could
have come up with something perfect. Maybe, just maybe, she’d come up with something that would suffice. Maybe ...

There was a flicker of magic. Emily jerked awake, shocked. She’d fallen asleep ... when had she fallen asleep? Julianne knelt beside her, unable to move. Emily stared at her, blearily. It took her several seconds to realize that Julianne had tried to wake her, only to trigger one of her protective spells and wind up frozen. Surely, that spell had been invented before Whitehall ...?

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, sitting upright. The spell was normally an easy one to cancel, but she took a moment to catch her breath before casting the counterspell. Julianne unfroze and toppled forward; Emily caught her before she could hit the ground. “That’s just one of my protections.”

“It must be a very useful protection,” Julianne said. She sounded annoyed—and bitter—as she pulled free of Emily and stood. “I wish I could do that.”

Emily frowned. “Your father hasn’t taught you?”

“Girls are forbidden to learn magic,” Julianne said, flatly. “Those who do are cursed.”

“Cursed,” Emily repeated. “In what way?”

Julianne shook her head. “There’s a set of trousers and a shirt for you,” she said, tossing Emily a bundle of clothes. “They should fit, but if they don’t I’ll make the alterations now, before we go to breakfast.”

Emily frowned as she unwrapped the bundle. Julianne wore a long dress that wouldn’t have been out of place on a peasant farm in Zangaria, but
Emily
had been given male clothes. She had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her status as an apprentice, yet she didn’t want to ask when Julianne was clearly out of sorts. Did she
want
to learn magic? If she had the talent—and she should have the talent—she shouldn’t have any trouble learning ...

I could teach her
, Emily thought.
But what would her father make of that?

There were no underclothes, she discovered, as she undressed and started to don the new outfit. The clothes were clean, but itchy against her bare skin; the shirt was loose, while the trousers felt uncomfortably tight. Emily couldn’t help thinking that the outfit had been designed to show off male muscles, just like some of the more absurd fashions she’d seen at King Randor’s Court. Julianne looked disapproving, then motioned for Emily to step back out of the trousers and let her fiddle with them. Moments later, the trousers were much looser around her thighs.

“You look relatively decent,” Julianne said, finally. “But you really should cut your hair.”

Emily gave her a sharp look. “Why?”

“You never know what might try to grab hold,” Julianne said, evasively. Emily couldn’t help noting that
her
hair was long too. “I can cut it for you now, if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Emily said. She hadn’t cut her hair for nearly a year. It was her one true vanity. Besides, Caleb liked playing with her hair. “I like it the way it is.”

“As you wish,” Julianne said.

Emily sighed, inwardly. There was so much she didn’t understand, so much she didn’t know ... so much she didn’t dare ask about, when it would reveal just how much she didn’t know. If only someone else had fallen through the nexus and into the past with her!

There was a sharp knock at the door. “Company,” Julianne said. “Are you ready?”

Emily glanced down at herself. She looked odd, she thought, in clothes that had definitely been designed for a man, but Julianne was right. She
was
decent.

“Yeah,” she said. “Shall we go?”

“L
ADY
E
MILY,”
B
ERNARD SAID, AS
J
ULIANNE
opened the door. “My Master—
our
Master—bade me escort you down to breakfast.”

Emily nodded, slowly. Bernard didn’t look as though he bore a grudge, she decided; indeed, there was something about him, now she’d had a good night’s sleep, that reminded her of Caleb or Jade. His face had been washed clean—she hoped she could find a place to wash after breakfast—although it remained pockmarked. Either he couldn’t remove the marks, or he just didn’t care enough to try.

Another boy stood behind him, gazing at Emily. His face was scrubbed clean and very pale; his short dark hair was cropped close to his skull. Emily could sense his magic jumping around him, flickering and flaring in a manner she found rather alarming. The last person she’d sensed with such chaotic magic had been in the Halfway House. He wore a brown shirt and a pair of trousers exactly like the ones Julianne had given to Emily, although there was an odd rune sewn into the garment just below his right shoulder. She didn’t recognize the rune at all.

“This is Robin De Bold,” Bernard said, introducing the stranger. “Apprentice to Lord and Master Chambers.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Emily said. She didn’t recall a Robin De Bold from any of the books she’d read, although that proved nothing. Master Chambers had only been mentioned once or twice. “I think I saw you in the nexus chamber.”

“You did,” Robin said. He had an odd voice. He spoke as though he was trying for dignity, but his voice wasn’t deep enough to pull it off. “I thank you for saving my life.”

“All of our lives,” Bernard corrected. He glanced at Robin. “Perhaps you could escort Lady Emily down the corridor ...?”

“Of course,” Robin said. He smirked. “Remember to leave the door open.”

Bernard wants to be alone with Julianne
, Emily realized, as Robin led her through the door and a short distance down the corridor.
He likes her.

She shook her head at the thought—people never changed, no matter the time or place they were born—and then leaned against the wall, waiting. Julianne was unlikely to be in any real danger, certainly not from her father’s apprentice. Bernard didn’t have anything like enough power to challenge his master, unless he was far better at masking it than she assumed. She found it hard to believe that Whitehall would allow his apprentice to molest his daughter—and besides, she didn’t get those sorts of vibes from Bernard. He might be a jerk—he’d certainly
acted
like
a jerk—but he didn’t seem the sort to be a rapist.

Her stomach growled, unpleasantly, as they waited. She didn’t know what to say and Robin seemed content to keep his mouth closed, although he looked at her with undisguised curiosity. There was something about him that bothered her, something that put her hackles up, something that was oddly familiar. And yet it was impossible to put her finger on it.

“Thank you,” Bernard said. He strode down the corridor, Julianne following a pace or two behind. “Shall we go eat?”

Emily glanced at Julianne—she looked red, but otherwise unharmed—and then allowed the two boys to lead the way down to the Great Hall. Sunlight was streaming in from the far wall, something that caught her by surprise—the wall she knew, from her time, was solid, impossible to move. A number of young men—she put them between thirteen and twenty—were sitting on a rug, eating bread and butter. Bernard glanced back at her, then walked over to a smaller rug, waving to a pair of young women. Julianne threw Emily an unreadable look and then strode away. Bernard didn’t seem inclined to call her back.

“We don’t have much to eat,” Bernard said, as he sat down on the rug and motioned for Emily to sit facing him. “But you are welcome to join us.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, as she sat and looked around. Save for herself, the only women in the hall seemed to be servants. “You don’t want to join the others?”

“They’re not linked to a
proper
master,” Robin said. “They cannot share our food.”

Emily frowned as a serving girl brought bread, honey and a jug of water, which she placed in front of them. “They’re not apprentices?”

“They’re apprentices,” Bernard explained. “But they don’t have a master.”

Emily’s confusion must have shown on her face, because he hastened to explain. “There was an attack on another commune, near where we were staying. Their masters were killed, but the apprentices fled to us. Lord and Master Whitehall took them in, even though teaching them more than the basics is impossible.”

“This is the largest commune in the world,” Robin added, with obvious pride.

“It is,” Bernard agreed.

Emily took a piece of bread, spread some honey on it and ate slowly, savoring the taste. It was clear that
someone
had found the kitchens and started to bake fresh bread for breakfast—and, perhaps, located a beehive too. Or maybe they’d just carried it with them as they’d made their way to the castle. It wasn’t the breakfast she was used to, in the future, but it would have to do.

“And so you came here,” she said. “Why did you come here?”

“My master, Lord and Master Chambers, is one of the greatest DemonMasters of all time,” Robin said. “It was his idea to consult a demon to find a safe place for the commune.”

“It was Lord Alfred who actually
summoned
the demon,” Bernard countered, rudely. “He ...”

Emily barely heard him. A demon ... she was back in the time of the DemonMasters! Her blood ran cold as she considered the implications. Meddling with demons was considered part of the Black Arts, in the future; but she’d
seen
demons. They lived outside the normal framework of time and space, free from the petty concerns of cause and effect ... a single demon could break her cover easily, if anyone thought to ask.

And if one of them urged the commune to head to the castle
, she thought numbly,
there’s probably a sting in the tail somewhere
.

“Emily,” Bernard said. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”

Emily gathered herself. “My tutor forbade me from summoning demons,” she said. It was true enough. Aurelius had warned her never to take the risk unless she was desperate. At best, demons were always jerkass genies, taking advantage of each and every loophole to screw around with the fools who summoned them. “I’ve never dared use them.”