Cursed (Schooled In Magic Book 17), page 13
Just like Randor, Emily thought.
“And House Fellini does have a reputation for pushing the limits of knowledge.” Melissa’s eyes lit up. “They produced some of the best healers in the world, including a couple who made a number of very important breakthroughs. I was going to try to get an apprenticeship with one of them, before ... well, before I became Matriarch. They might even have taken me.”
“They’re also not very open about their researches,” Lady Barb said. “The healing community can’t decide if they’re good guys or selfish bastards.”
Melissa shrugged. “They may — they may — be able to help Emily. There’s certainly no one else who’s done so much research into the roots of magic. They’re the ones who insisted that newborn magicians should be invited to marry into magical families, pointing out that it strengthens the blood. They’re even the ones who suggested that selected mundanes should be urged to take up residence in areas of high magic, as most of the newborn magicians can trace the linage back to mundanes who did just that. If there’s anyone who can help Emily, it’s them.”
Emily frowned. “Would you advise me to meet them?”
“They’re supposed to be good guys.” Melissa hesitated, noticeably. “But so was my grandmother, and look what she turned out to be.”
“A monster,” Frieda said, flatly.
“I don’t think you have any other choice.” Melissa stood. “I’ve got to head home now. If you need further help, just ask.”
“Thank you for coming,” Emily said. “And ... thank you.”
She watched Melissa leave, then looked at Lady Barb. “Do you think we should ask Cabiria and her family for help?”
“Melissa has a point,” Lady Barb conceded, slowly. “You don’t appear to have any other choices. And yes, House Fellini does have a reputation for asking questions that no one else seems to want to ask. But ... if they can help you, they may demand a price you might not want to pay.”
“And that price could be anything,” Cat rumbled.
“Yes,” Lady Barb agreed. “There’s also the problem that you are a treasure trove of knowledge, which could be taken from you with relatively little effort. House Fellini might be willing to do whatever seems necessary to take the knowledge for themselves.”
“But Cabiria was able to use her magic after ... after whatever happened,” Emily said. She forced herself to remember what her former roommate had said. “She was unquestionably able to use magic.”
“I remember,” Lady Barb said. “She certainly inherited her family’s determination to push the limits as far as possible. She would have been expelled a couple of years ago if her family had been a little less important.”
She shook her head. “Write to them, if you think it’s a good idea. Tell her ... tell her that you request a consultation with her family. Frieda can take the letter back to Whitehall and put it in Cabiria’s hands personally. We do not want this letter getting into the wrong hands.”
“But the secret will be out if Cabiria has to tell her family,” Cat warned.
“We might be on the verge of losing control of the secret anyway,” Lady Barb countered, grimly. “No one has seen Emily perform any magic for a week.”
She glanced at Cat. “I need a word with you,” she said. “Emily and Frieda can go back to her quarters and write the letter.”
“I’ll come back at once, after I deliver it,” Frieda said. “Emily will not be without a bodyguard.”
“Nice,” Cat said. “Are you going to sleep on her floor, too?”
Frieda clenched her fists. Emily saw sparks of light darting around her fingertips. “And where were you when that aristo bastard tried to rape her?”
Cat took a step forward, menacingly. “Would you care to repeat that?”
Lady Barb cleared her throat. “Behave, both of you. You can kill each other afterwards, if you like, but now ... I want you to remain focused.”
“Yes, My Lady.” Cat looked nonplussed. “Emily, I’ll see you tonight?”
Emily glanced at the clock. It was only five in the afternoon, but it felt later. The time difference between Zangaria and Mountaintop was a killer. “I’ll see you later,” she promised. “And I’ll write the letter now.”
She let Frieda chatter happily about life at Whitehall as they walked up the stairs to Emily’s quarters. Someone had been inside, she noted as she opened the door; Hansel’s body had been removed, the floor scrubbed clean of blood, the candlestick replaced and the bedding changed. It was easy to believe that she’d imagined everything ... she glanced down at her trembling hands and sighed. No, she hadn’t imagined anything. The room no longer felt safe. She wondered, morbidly, if Cat had had a point. Perhaps she should ask Frieda to stay with her.
“Your boyfriend is an ass,” Frieda said, once the door was closed. “What do you see in him?”
Emily hesitated, suddenly unsure what to say. She’d been attracted to Cat — and they’d made a good team — but was there anything beyond sex and a shared adventure? They were very different, in many ways. Cat didn’t share her love of theoretical magic and practical research; she didn’t share his love of a good fight or, perhaps more importantly, his drive to constantly prove himself time and time again. And now ... she was no longer Cat’s equal in power and training. He might not be able to keep from falling back into the patterns of his society.
“He’s a good man,” she said, finally. “And he risked everything for his friends.”
“If you say so.” Frieda didn’t sound convinced. “A man like that is always at your feet or at your throat. Goodness ... doesn’t come into it.”
Emily felt an odd stab of annoyance, mingled with amusement. “Frieda ... can I give you a word of advice?”
Frieda looked up, attentively. It was surprisingly endearing.
“Cat isn’t Caleb,” Emily said, steeling herself. “You gave Caleb a hard time ...”
“He didn’t deserve you,” Frieda said. “He left you when the going got tough.”
Emily met her eyes, evenly. “Cat isn’t Caleb,” she repeated. “He’s a fighter, not a theoretical sorcerer. And if you keep pushing at him, he will push back. Hard. This isn’t Whitehall. This isn’t a place where someone will make accommodation for your age. This is ...”
“I know,” Frieda interrupted. “How do you think I know the type?”
“I’m serious,” Emily said. She knew more than she wanted to know about Frieda’s childhood. Her time at Mountaintop had not been pleasant, but ... it said a lot about her childhood that Mountaintop had been preferable. “Don’t push him too far.”
“But at least I can get him to teach me something,” Frieda said. “I’m sure he could ...”
“Like what happens if you push him too far,” Emily said. She shook her head as she opened a drawer and removed a sheet of parchment. “Don’t, please. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”
Frieda snorted. Emily sighed and put the parchment on the desk, trying to decide how to compose the letter. She needed to tell Cabiria the truth, or something close enough to the truth to get her to act urgently, but ... she didn’t want to write everything down. Perhaps Frieda could tell Cabiria, instead of putting things in writing. It would make it safer for all concerned. Cabiria ... had been a friend, of sorts, but she and Emily had never been that close. But they had shared an adventure that had nearly gotten them killed ...
And yet, Cabiria also risked expulsion to get into the Black Library, Emily thought. Can she be trusted completely?
“Once you take this to Cabiria, I need you to go to the house,” Emily said. “There are a few things there I need.”
“Of course,” Frieda said. “But I will be coming back.”
“I know,” Emily said. “I’ll ask Alassa to give you a room.”
“I’ll sleep here.” Frieda crossed her arms under her breasts. “Someone has to stay close to you.”
Emily opened her mouth to object, then decided it would be a waste of time. “Very well. I’ll ask the maids to put another bed in the room.”
She gave Frieda a list of things she needed, all of which her friend should be able to find, then passed her the letter and wished her luck. Frieda couldn’t teleport, as far as Emily knew. It would take several hours for her to reach Whitehall, give Cabiria the letter and then go straight to Dragon’s Den. Frieda nodded and gave Emily another hug before leaving the room. Emily sat down on the bed, feeling her heart begin to race. The room no longer felt safe ...
He’s dead, she told herself, sharply. She hadn’t had time to come to terms with what she’d done. I bashed his head in myself.
Her hands started to shake. Emily gritted her teeth, then clasped her hands in her lap. She hadn’t had a choice, not really. Hansel had been bent on raping her — no, he’d been bent on owning her. And if he’d been prepared to risk everything in a desperate bid for lands and power, what else had he done? Emily wondered just how many of Hansel’s former servants were celebrating his death. She wouldn’t have cared to be a maid — or a manservant — in Hansel’s establishment.
He nearly plunged us into a civil war within the civil war, she reminded herself. Hansel ... or his brother? A great deal of things made more sense — now — if one believed that Tobias had been working for Randor all along. Or for himself, perhaps. And where is Tobias now?
There was a tap at the door. Emily tensed, one hand fumbling for the knife in her sleeve. If it was someone else, someone bent on hurting her ... the door opened, revealing a tired-looking Jade. Emily relaxed, slightly. It was odd for Jade to come on his own, without Cat or Lady Barb or someone else who could act as a chaperone. Alassa had no doubts about him — and Emily knew Jade was besotted with his wife — but it only took one incident for nasty rumors to get started. The courtiers disliked Jade, simply because he wasn’t one of them.
“Emily,” Jade said. “How are you feeling?”
“Wretched,” Emily said, truthfully. She didn’t need to pretend to be strong in front of Jade. He’d seen her vulnerable — and worse. “What about you?”
Jade didn’t smile. “Alassa needs to see you,” he said. “Coming?”
Emily stood, brushing down her dress. “How many courtiers will recognize me if I look like this?”
“You don’t look that different,” Jade said. “Although I must say that the dress suits you.”
He opened the door and led her down the corridor, through a concealed entrance and up a servant’s staircase. Emily followed, glancing around with interest. Jade was clearly concerned about being seen, even though he had nothing to fear. Alassa was behind him and, when she gave birth, his position would be unassailable. Emily looked at his back, wondering what Jade would do if anything happened to Alassa. Stay and protect their child, perhaps as the baby’s regent, or take the child and run? It wasn’t as if Jade had any deep ties to the monarchy — or Zangaria itself.
She shook her head. It wasn’t something she could ask.
Jade opened a door for her, then stepped aside. “You go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be up later.”
Emily nodded and stepped into the room. Alassa was lying on a couch, her dress pulled up to reveal her baby bump. A healer was standing by her side, waving a wand over her belly. He stood upright as Emily approached, bowed politely to her and hurried to the door. Alassa muttered a charm as soon as the door closed, locking it. Emily sat down next to her and waited.
“The baby is very active these days,” Alassa said. She touched her belly, gingerly. “I think he wants out already.”
“He’s a boy?” Emily blinked in surprise. “Do you know ...?”
“They wouldn’t check, not even for me,” Alassa said. She caught Emily’s hand and pressed it against her bare skin. “Boy or girl ... I won’t know until I give birth.”
She gave Emily a wan smile as the baby kicked. “I can’t wait, you know. Walking around like this has been ...”
“You have an excuse to reduce your workload,” Emily pointed out. “No one will risk suggesting you harm the baby.”
“They’ll see it as a sign of weakness,” Alassa said. She let go of Emily’s hand and smoothed down her dress. “Father never stopped when he was having a child.”
“He wasn’t having the child,” Emily snapped. “It was your mother who carried you and gave birth to you and ...”
Alassa laughed, humorlessly. “I know that,” she said. “But, to hear some of those idiots talk, Mister Seahorse himself carried me to term.”
“You need to take it easy,” Emily said. “Find someone who can help you ...”
“There isn’t anyone,” Alassa said. “Jade doesn’t have the training or the experience — and even if he did, the marriage agreement limits his power. My mother ... was kept away from power by my father. She never had the training she needs to help me. Imaiqah would be ideal, but she’s still too ill to go to work. And there are just too many things I have to do personally.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I wish I could help.”
“I wish you could, too,” Alassa said. She made a face. “The inquisitors are coming tomorrow. I think they want to collect witness statements from everyone, including you.”
“Shit,” Emily said.
“They moved up the schedule,” Alassa continued. “They might also want to check out a few rumors ...”
“About me,” Emily finished. Had Zed told them? Or ... had they spies in Zangaria? It wouldn’t be impossible. The White Council might have sent spies into the kingdom as soon as they realized that Randor had been experimenting with necromancy. No one would fault them for doing everything in their power to confirm the rumors before it was too late. “Did ... did they give any reason?”
“No.” Alassa’s voice hardened as she sat up. “Our position is that my late father of infamous memory was the only necromancer within the kingdom. And that is the truth, as you know.”
“We believe it to be so,” Emily said. She had no reason to doubt it. Necromancers tended to be noticeable. She was mildly impressed that Randor had managed to hide his powers for so long. “They can’t blame you for it, can they?”
“Not fairly, no,” Alassa said. “But we might wind up in some trouble. We might have to surrender the books.”
“And we still need them,” Emily said. “Or do we?”
“I don’t know,” Alassa said. “I think they can probably be put in Lady Barb’s care, but ... I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry to drop this on you, Emily,” she said. “But they do want answers.”
“I know,” Emily said. “And they want to know if I’ve really lost my powers.”
She smiled, despite the churning sensation in her chest. It wouldn’t be easy to fool trained magicians, but ... she thought she could make it work. Perhaps. It would depend on Frieda recovering the right tools from the house. If she couldn’t ... Emily shuddered. Too many people knew already. It wouldn’t be long before the entire world knew what had happened to her.
And then I will have to hide, she thought. Cabiria might — might — be able to help her. If she couldn’t ... Emily wasn’t sure what she could do. It might be a good idea to leave the castle before something else happened. Or see if Void can help me.
She stood. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “And thank you for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome,” Alassa said. She struggled to her feet, ignoring Emily’s offer of a helping hand. “It was scant enough, I fear.”
“But enough,” Emily said. It wasn’t as if they needed to devise and rehearse a lie. “We’re just going to tell them the truth, aren’t we?”
Just not all of it, her thoughts added, silently.
Chapter Fourteen
FRIEDA FROWNED AS EMILY CAREFULLY SLIPPED the battery into place. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
Emily shook her head. The batteries hadn’t been easy to control even when she’d had her powers. Now ... she’d had to rely on Frieda to prime the valve, knowing that a single mistake would be all too revealing to watching eyes. Frieda was a skilled magician — Emily had taught her the basics herself — but there were limits. She simply hadn’t had a chance to work with batteries before she’d been plunged into the deep end.
We should have found time to practice, Emily thought. She’d always intended to share the secret with her younger friend, once they’d both left school. We could have smoothed out the bumps before I lost my powers.
She pushed the thought aside as someone knocked on the door. It hadn’t been a comfortable night, even though she’d been used to sharing a room with her friend. She’d spent too much time alternately fretting over the letter she’d written, wondering if she had said too much or too little, and shooting down Frieda’s increasingly crazy theories about what had happened and why. The cynical side of her mind noted Frieda would probably have made a great alchemist, if she’d had the patience to practice the art. She certainly was alarmingly good at thinking outside of the box.
Frieda opened the door. “My Lady,” Mouse said. “The inquisitors are ready for Lady Emily.”
Emily placed the battery in her pocket and stood, smoothing down her robes. She had no way to know if the inquisitors expected to see her in magician’s robes or not, but Frieda had insisted Emily wear them. It was rare, very rare, for a mundane to wear magician’s robes. The visitors might not question Emily’s powers if she was dressed like a magician. Emily wasn’t so sure, but she had to admit that Frieda had a point. Besides, the robes had one great advantage over courtly dress. They had pockets. It wouldn’t be anywhere near as easy to touch the battery and valve if she wore a dress.
And people would wonder what I was doing if I had my hand in a handbag, Emily thought, wryly. If I was allowed to carry one into the room ...
