Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) (11 page)

Emily nodded in understanding and relief. Last year, every training session had ended with her exhausted and soaked in sweat. Going anywhere but bed had seemed an impossible task. Now, with more advanced magic and exercise, she had the feeling that it would be even worse. She might not have the energy to have a shower before collapsing into bed for a quick rest.

“And there will be additional physical training,” Sergeant Miles added. “You need to keep your strength and endurance up, or you will be in for a nasty surprise when you are called upon to fight.”

He looked at Emily for a long moment, meeting her eyes. Lady Barb had to have told him that Emily had frozen when confronted with a potentially deadly threat. Even after Shadye, even after the cockatrice...she’d frozen. If Lady Barb hadn’t been there, Emily and Imaiqah might well have ended up dead. Or worse.

“There are a handful of spellbooks in the Armory marked out for your attention,” Sergeant Bane said, gruffly. “Do
not
take them out of the room, just read and master the spells.”

It was the first time Emily had heard him speak. His accent was thick, as if he’d barely learned how to talk; where, she asked herself, did he come from? On Earth, she would have pegged him as coming from Eastern Europe. Maybe one of the distant lands across the ocean, where the Empire had never been so powerful? It would make sense, she decided thoughtfully. The Empire might have shared a common language, but it wouldn’t have taken such firm roots somewhere thousands of miles from the Empire’s heartlands.

“But there is another matter we must discuss,” Sergeant Miles said. “Follow me.”

Emily and the rest of the students obeyed, following him as he jogged up to Whitehall’s walls and led the way through a door that hadn’t been there moments before. Inside, there was a large hall—it reminded her of a gym hall, but with weapons and equipment dangling from the walls—with enough room for all of them to duel. At the head of the room there was a large glass box, lined with rocks, plants and a small pool of water.

“Look inside the box,” Sergeant Miles said. “What do you see?”

It took several moments for Emily to see the snake, curled up beside one of the rocks. She’d never liked snakes, but she had to admit that this one was beautiful. It was bright blue, with a golden pattern on its scales that contrasted sharply against the rock. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it at once. It should have been immediately obvious.

Aloha coughed and turned pale. “Is that a...?”

“Correct,” Sergeant Miles said. The humor was gone from his voice. “This is a Death Viper. A single drop of poison is almost
always
fatal. There is only one recorded case of a person surviving—and that was only because he cut off his leg to prevent the venom from spreading through his bloodstream and into his heart. Everyone else died within two minutes.

“You’ll notice that the beast has no natural camouflage,” he added. “It does not even
try
to blend in with its surroundings. This is because its scales also carry poison, although a slightly less venomous kind than its fangs. Should you pick up the snake with your bare hands, you will be lucky if you
only
have to have them amputated. The venom is not called the Rotting Death for nothing. It is often used to inflict a particularly unpleasant and agonizing death.”

The Death Viper opened its eyes and reared up. It seemed tiny, Emily realized, hardly even as long as her forearm. But it didn’t have to be huge to be dangerous. It opened its mouth, showing sharp fangs; its beady eyes seemed to suggest endless malice. Emily caught herself taking a step backwards, then realized that she wasn’t alone. Almost everyone had reacted badly to the colorful snake.

“I mention this because a third year student was dumb enough to find this particular snake in the forest yesterday and pick it up,” Sergeant Miles said. “Luck, it would seem, favors the fools. The snake seemed to accept his petting without trying to bite him, leaving the poison on its skin to spread through his hands. That fool of a student is now in the infirmary. One of his hands will probably need to be removed permanently, unless the healers can patch it back together. There may also be long-term damage to the rest of his body.

“If you see a snake like this,
don’t
try to pick it up. If you see a creature you don’t recognize, don’t try to do
anything
with it, no matter how harmless it seems. In fact, give all creatures a wide berth unless you need to hunt—and if you do, be careful what you chose as your target. I expect all of you to review the books on dangerous creatures—Mistress Kirdáne, I am sure, will be happy to go over it with you.”

He looked down at the snake, which had lowered its head and gone back to sleep. “The idiot who found this snake will be lucky if he manages to return to classes by the end of next year,” he added. “His future career prospects have been shattered, if only because there are spells that depend on the caster making the right hand movements. One stupid mistake almost killed him. I expect all of you to avoid the same fate.”

Emily shivered as she looked down at the Death Viper. Its lack of natural camouflage made sense, she told herself. Any creature that tried to eat it would end up being poisoned and eaten itself. She wondered, briefly, just how smart the snake actually was, before deciding that it didn’t really matter. The snake would have evolved a hunting pattern that suited it—or it would have died out.

“These snakes are often used in alchemy,” Cat said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “What’s going to happen to this one?”

“I believe that the Grandmaster intends to show it to everyone in the school,” Sergeant Miles said. “After that, we will kill it and Professor Thande can turn it into something more useful.”

Aloha nudged Emily. “Would you want to drink something you knew had been made from a Death Viper?”

Emily shook her head.

“It’s really too dangerous to keep around,” Sergeant Miles explained. “If it managed to escape, it could kill other students before we hunted the beast down and destroyed it.”

Emily winced, inwardly. She
knew
, intellectually, where most of the ingredients for alchemy came from. As Professor Thande preferred to assign detentions rather than send students to the Warden, she’d spent several of her detentions chopping up various small animals and preparing them for the older students. But it was still hard to realize that the creatures had been living once—or that they might have been very dangerous.

The Sergeant clapped his hands. “Now,” he said, “back to work. We have another hour and I don’t want to waste it.”

Chapter Nine

E
MILY WAS STILL MULLING OVER WHAT
they’d been told in Martial Magic—and what she’d read from the private stockpile of books the sergeants had shown them—when she joined Alassa and the others in the arena. Like the swimming pool, it was charmed to keep it warm and deflect the snow away. There wasn’t even any water dripping on them as they gathered outside the main gate.

She hadn’t been sure how many students Alassa would manage to rope into the tryouts, but there were nearly fifty pupils gathered in front of her. Alassa was standing on a small stool so that everyone could see her, waving and smiling at everyone. Emily almost turned and walked away; she disliked large crowds at the best of times, and if there were so many potential players her friend hardly
needed
her. But it
was
important to Alassa that Emily at least
tried
to play.

“Welcome,” Alassa said, in her best regal manner. “How many of you have played before?”

Several hands went up. Emily blinked in surprise, then understood. She had been excused Whitehall’s counterpart to PE because she did Martial Magic, but just about everyone else would have taken part in gym class. Or, as Calvin had put it, studies in state-sponsored terrorism. Emily had never liked the experience. The only people who did were the ones who would have done it anyway.

“Excellent,” Alassa said. She gestured towards a small pile of balls just outside the arena. “We’ll start with a simple exercise. Twelve of us”—she jabbed her hand at eleven students, including Emily—will run through the arena. Everyone else will throw balls into the cage and we’ll try to dodge them. We won’t bother with the advanced settings this time, we’ll just see how we fare when dodging balls.”

Emily looked up at the arena, silently admiring the spellwork that had gone into its construction. From the outside, it seemed to be little more than a faintly translucent cage; inside, it was a network of tunnels, hallways and climbing frames. The local gravity was twisted around too, ensuring that there would be times when the students would be upside down. It wasn’t quite as impressive as Whitehall itself—and she suspected that it would be impossible to duplicate away from a nexus point—but it was striking.

“Here we go,” Alassa said, as she opened the gate. “Come along inside...”

Emily stepped into the arena and felt her foot sink slightly. The interior of the arena was semi-visible, but it didn’t
feel
quite right, almost like one of the safety wards surrounding the spellwork chambers she’d used when they’d been experimenting with hexes and jinxes. She poked the wall with one finger and felt it pushing back. If she crashed into it, it would protect her from the force of the impact—and throw her back. The few games she’d watched had included several players using it to best advantage.

She felt uneasy as she walked further into the arena, as if she were balancing on top of an unstable boat. The floor kept shifting between her feet, making it harder to concentrate. No doubt she would get used to it eventually—she’d gotten used to quite a few things in Whitehall—but it was still disconcerting. The realization that the outsiders could throw things
into
the arena was just as worrying.

“They’ve put a labyrinth spell on the arena,” the Gorgon’s voice said. “We might not be able to leave unless we
wanted
to leave—or were forced out.”

Emily twisted around, wondering why she hadn’t realized that the Gorgon was there. She wore a headscarf that covered her snake hair; without them, her face wasn’t
too
inhuman, or scaly. Emily couldn’t help thinking of the Death Viper and wondering what would happen if one of the Gorgon’s snakes bit her, before deciding that she was being silly. There were more important things to worry about.

Alassa blew her whistle and the outsiders started throwing balls into the arena. There must have been a spell on them, Emily realized, because the balls simply kept going. Sometimes, they bounced off the walls and something they went right
through
the walls; there was no reliable cover inside the arena at all. Emily snatched out at a ball that flashed past her, only to miss and land sprawling on her face. The Gorgon landed beside her, helped her back to her feet and winked. It wasn’t very reassuring.

“If you get hit by a ball,” Alassa said, using a spell to magnify her voice, “go stand in the penalty box for a minute. And don’t lie about it.”

Emily rolled her eyes, then concentrated on dodging the next two balls that came in her general direction. She’d never been very good with ball games, even when the games didn’t warp the laws of physics. Catching the balls seemed impossible, despite everything they’d done in Martial Magic. She made a grab for a third ball, only to have it slam into her chest and send her falling over backwards on her ass. Red lights lit up as the outsiders jeered.

“Penalty box,” Alassa said.

Emily felt her face burning red as she pulled herself through the arena and into the penalty box. The sadist who’d crafted the arena had placed it right at the top, where she could be seen by everyone in the stands. Thankfully, the outsiders were too busy throwing balls into the arena to take much notice of Emily, but during real games the spectators would point and laugh—and sometimes throw things, when the referee wasn’t looking.

She scowled at Alassa, who seemed to be having no trouble dodging the balls or catching them and hurling them at the nearest target. Why had her friend suddenly become a sports-mad fanatic? Maybe King Randor had urged her to take on the job of crafting a new team for Whitehall...it would certainly make a change from jousting or rugby. But then, Alassa had never been allowed to do either in Zangaria. Perhaps she’d come up with the idea of founding a new team on her own.

“Hey,” Song called. “I’m in, you’re out.”

Emily nodded and allowed Song to take her place in the penalty box. Alassa’s roommate looked to be enjoying herself; Emily almost offered to stay there and let her go free, before she decided that it was probably against the rules. She wasn’t clear on the precise details, but ideally the better players should be trapped in the penalty box as long as possible. Or hexed, when the referee was looking in the other direction. Teamwork was more important to
Ken
than she’d realized.

And we haven’t even started including traitors yet
, she thought, ruefully.
When that happens, things are going to get worse
.

Alassa finally blew the whistle to end the game after what felt like hours. A quick check of her watch revealed that it had barely been fifteen minutes. Emily left the arena gratefully, feeling sweat trickling down her back again. She sat down on the bench and watched tiredly as Alassa organized the next set of players to go into the arena. It was hard to see how Alassa would make the final decision on who would play and who wouldn’t.

As long as she doesn’t want me
, Emily thought.
She must have noticed that I didn’t play well
.

Watching the second match was slightly more interesting than actually taking part, she decided, even though it
looked
thoroughly odd. The arena’s walls seemed to shimmer in and out of visibility, then reshape themselves at will. Emily wondered, as one of the other players started to run upside down, if she’d done that without even noticing. The constant shifts had rapidly made it impossible for her to keep track of her own orientation.