Cursed (Schooled In Magic Book 17), page 22
“You blacked out,” Frieda said. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”
Emily gritted her teeth. “Can you remove the straps?”
Frieda looked hesitant. “I’ve been given orders to leave them on until you were tested,” she said. “You nearly hurt yourself quite badly.”
Emily felt a flash of hot rage. “Let me go!”
“Bad idea, right now,” a new voice said. Allophone stepped into view. “How are you feeling?”
“Let me go,” Emily repeated. It was so hard to keep her temper under control. Where was Cat? He’d let her go. “Now!”
“I need you to answer some questions first,” Allophone said. “How much do you remember?”
Emily glared at her. She’d drunk the potion, then ... then what? The memories were lost in a fuzzy haze. There had been something ... hadn’t there? She wasn’t sure. The last clear memory she had was drinking the potion ... and fire, lots of fire. She wondered, suddenly, if the fire had been real. Magicians rarely worked magic in their sleep, but it had been known to happen. Night terrors could become real when a magician lost control of her powers. It was one of the reasons so many newborn magicians were shipped to Whitehall as soon as they were discovered.
“I’m not sure,” she said, finally. “I ... there was fire. Did I hurt someone ...?”
“Well, no one is going to be sitting on that sofa again.” Allophone sounded relieved, rather than angry. “You burned it to ash. And you nearly burned my face off.”
“It would have been a great improvement,” Cabiria said, from somewhere out of sight.
Allophone made a rude gesture in her sister’s direction, then looked down at Emily. “What’s five plus nine?”
Emily had to think — hard — to figure out the answer. “Fifteen.”
“Your brain is still a little scrambled,” Allophone said. “What’s seven plus eight?”
Emily flinched. Had she managed to get the first question wrong? It was hard, so hard, to get her thoughts in order. Seven plus eight? Fifteen? It was the sort of sum she’d mastered so long ago that she never had to actually think to come up with the answer. It was fifteen, wasn’t it? She was sure it was fifteen.
“Fifteen,” she said. “And two plus three is five.”
“That’s good to know,” Allophone said. She touched Emily’s forehead with a silver wand, then frowned again. “Try a spell for me. Any spell.”
Emily felt her heart sink. The restraints on her wrists and ankles were tight, too tight for her to break physically, but she knew a dozen spells she could use to escape. There was no magic holding her down. She was sure of it, at a very basic level. But ... she cast the spell carefully, going all the way back to the handful of techniques she’d learned at school. Nothing happened. She tried again, just in case. It didn’t work.
She knew, Emily thought, grimly. Her mind was starting to clear, but her magic was as useless as ever. She wouldn’t have strapped me down like this if she’d thought I could just magic my way out.
“It doesn’t work,” she said. Bitter despair threatened to overcome her, just for a second. “I can’t use magic.”
“You did something,” Allophone said, bluntly. “That potion tapped into your magic and ... and unleashed it, just for a few seconds. You’re not powerless.”
“Then we can try again, once she feels better,” Frieda said. “Can’t we?”
“We may have to rethink the dosage,” Cabiria said. “Belladonna is messing around with her formulas now, trying to figure out a way to get you to push out more power without actually killing you. But something clearly happened.”
“Thanks,” Emily said, dryly. Her body felt stiff and sore. “One hundred and fifty plus two hundred is three hundred and fifty. Can I get up now?”
“I think so,” Allophone said. She unstrapped Emily, then frowned. “Just don’t hesitate to lie back down if you feel unsteady.”
“I will.” Emily sat upright. Her throat hurt — she had a vague memory of screaming herself hoarse — but otherwise there was nothing wrong with her that a good meal and a sleep in a proper bed wouldn’t cure. “Where’s Cat?”
“I had to tell him to wait outside,” Allophone said, bluntly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want him to see you like that.”
Emily looked down at herself. Someone had undressed her, replacing the dress she’d been wearing — the dress she might have burned to ash — with a translucent hospital gown that left very little to the imagination. Cat had seen her naked, but ... she didn’t really want him to see her so vulnerable. And yet, he’d already seen her vulnerable ...
“I’ll see him after I get dressed,” she said. “Um ... what happened to the dress?”
“You damaged it beyond repair.” Cabiria chuckled. “Don’t worry. There are plenty more dresses in the house.”
Emily had to smile. “It wasn’t yours, was it?”
“It belonged to some ancestor who willed her possessions back to the family,” Cabiria said, as if the question wasn’t particularly interesting. “I don’t think she’d mind you ruining it, wherever she is now. My uncle was more pleased to hear that we did something ...”
“Which we will discuss tomorrow,” Allophone injected.
“... Than angry at the destroyed dress.” Cabiria grinned. “Believe me, we have wardrobes and trunks and bags of clothing that hasn’t been touched for generations. I used to play dress-up in the old chambers before ... well, you know. Auntie Janna threw a massive fit when I dressed up like her.”
“I think it was your impression of her manners that really got under her skin,” Allophone said. “You were a little too close to the truth.”
“Just a little.” Cabiria snickered. “You should have heard the threats she shouted. If Uncle Alanson hadn’t calmed her down, she would probably have boiled me up for potions ingredients. I didn’t look that much like her, really.”
“How old were you?” Emily took the dress Cabiria offered her and pulled it over her head. “Five? Six?”
“Eleven,” Cabiria said. “And it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Allophone opened the door. “You can come in now,” she said to Cat. “Cabiria and I will see you all at dinner.”
“Emily.” Cat rushed in, his face worried. “What happened?”
“I had a magic surge,” Emily said. Her legs weakened suddenly. She sat back on the bed before they could give out completely. “It was ... it was not good.”
“But you have magic,” Cat said. “You can’t have a magic surge without magic, can you?”
“I don’t think so,” Emily said. She’d hoped the surge of magic would destroy the curse’s spellware, ripping it to shreds. It didn’t seem to have worked. “But I don’t seem to have gotten any further. My spells still aren’t working.”
“It’s progress.” Cat seemed unsure how to react. The treacherous part of Emily’s mind noted that Caleb would have sat down and wrapped an arm around her by now. “You don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”
“We will discuss what happened today in great detail,” Emily guessed. They would have to go through everything, just to figure out precisely what had happened. Who knew? They might have seen the curse in action as it battled to keep hold of Emily’s mind. “But if there was fire ...”
She frowned, remembering Cabiria’s story about how her uncle had died. “Perhaps, just perhaps, we’re on the right track.”
“Yeah,” Cat said. He helped her to her feet. “And the day after tomorrow ...? Who knows?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I’M BORED,” CAT SAID AT dinner. “We should go out.”
Emily gave him a surprised look. The five days since the experiment had been interesting, although she had the nasty feeling that they were nowhere near close to finding a way to remove the curse permanently. They knew more about how it worked, Allophone had said, enough to model ways to weaken it enough to tear it out of her mind, but so far they hadn’t found anything that might remove the spell without killing Emily in the process.
Cat looked back at her, evenly. “Are you not going a little crazy here?”
“Just a little,” Emily conceded. The research was interesting — and the chance to dig into realms of history untouched by the professionals was impossible to ignore — but the manor was driving her insane. It was simply impossible to navigate more than a handful of rooms without getting lost. “Is it safe to go out?”
“The girl I knew didn’t worry about safety,” Cat said, sharply.
“The girl you knew did worry about safety,” Emily corrected, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “She just had more margin for error.”
Cat said nothing for a long moment. “I have no reason to think there is any danger lurking outside,” he said. “And, as long as you do nothing to draw attention to yourself, you should be safe.”
He said the word as though it were a curse. Emily winced, inwardly. She was no coward — she knew she was no coward — but she had been more dependent on her magic than she cared to admit. Losing it had crippled her confidence, even after she’d battered Hansel into a bloody pulp. Her reputation wouldn’t protect her if potential attackers thought she’d lost her powers. She was all too aware that the rumors might well have spread all over the Allied Lands by now.
Spread by people who want to take me down a peg or two, she mused. Or even by people who delight in other people’s misfortune.
“And I will be with you,” Cat added. “I’ll protect you.”
Emily took a breath. “We can go tomorrow,” she said. “And we can take Frieda and Hoban with us.”
“If they’ll come.” Cat didn’t sound pleased. “It isn’t that long a walk to the Faire.”
Emily shrugged. Frieda wouldn’t be happy if she was left behind ... and Emily had enough experience with social exclusion to know that she didn’t want to leave Frieda behind, if it could be avoided. Cat ... she winced, again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Cat, even in the middle of the Faire. They had to have a talk, she supposed, but she didn’t know what to say. Things had been so much easier when they’d been equals, well-aware their relationship wouldn’t last. Now ...
Men have it so much easier, she thought, as she headed to bed. They don’t get so attached to their girlfriends.
The following morning, she donned a simple dress, tied her hair in a long ponytail, concealed the pistol under her dress and headed down to breakfast. It wouldn’t fool anyone who knew her — the disguise was very basic — but anyone who only knew her through rumors or portraits would look right past her, particularly if she looked like a merchant’s daughter rather than a powerful magician in her own right. Besides, there was no reason for anyone to expect to see her at the Faire.
“Cabiria said she’d come, too,” Frieda said, as they ate breakfast. “Is that alright?”
“Yeah,” Emily said. It wasn’t as if they could reasonably say no. “She will be more than welcome.”
“Just don’t wander too far,” Cabiria warned. “We might be one of the leading families here, but we’re not the only one. And there are magicians who think it’s funny to play tricks on mundanes.”
“I remember,” Emily said. She’d hosted the Faire once ... and, afterwards, she’d sworn never to do it again. “I’ll stay close to Cat.”
Cat nodded. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. He wore an outfit that made him look like an Elizabethan swashbuckler, complete with dueling sword and feathered cap. Emily couldn’t help thinking that he looked faintly ridiculous, although she knew it was the height of fashion amongst young magicians and noblemen. “And if you do get separated from us, go back to the manor at once.”
Emily concealed her annoyance, even though she knew he had a point. “If you say so,” she said. She glanced around the table. Everyone had finished their breakfast. “Shall we go?”
The air was crisp and clear as they walked through the gates — Cat muttered something about powerful wards lurking along the low wall — and down the road towards Kingstown. Emily looked around her with interest, noting how much of the foliage had been cunningly woven into the manor’s defenses. It was unlikely that anyone could reach the wall, let alone cross it, without triggering an alarm within the manor itself. The road appeared to be well-maintained, something that surprised her. The Empire had gifted the Allied Lands with a remarkable network of roads, but they’d fallen into disrepair over the past few centuries. Her lips quirked in grim amusement. Perhaps the peasants would be more interested in maintaining the roads if they were allowed to use the roads.
Zangaria might be a little backward, she reminded herself. King Randor had invested considerable energy in maintaining the roads, but his nobles and peasants had found themselves in an uneasy alliance as they tried to undermine him. Neither really wanted to make it easier for the king to move his troops and tax collectors around the kingdom. Or the family may simply pay the locals to maintain the roads.
The forest — she couldn’t help thinking that the manor was surrounded by forest — slowly gave way to civilization as they reached a fork in the road and turned left. Kingstown itself rested in a valley, seemingly unprotected; she couldn’t see any boundary walls, let alone the kind of fortifications she would expect around a town or city that might be attacked without warning at any moment. They counted on the magicians to protect them, she decided. It wasn’t the first place she’d seen that had been established in the shadow of powerful magic.
She heard music drifting on the wind as they reached a field and stopped. The Faire lay in front of them, a massive collection of tents, wagons and stalls ... she felt her heart skip a beat as she saw a pair of unfamiliar magicians, both wearing Whitehall robes, walking past them and into the Faire. If they recognized her ... she braced herself, unsure what to expect. But nothing happened. She was simply too insignificant to register.
And, for once, that’s a good thing, she thought. I don’t want them paying too close attention to me.
“Well,” Cat said, as they passed through the stile and into the Faire. “Where shall we go first?”
“I promised I’d show Frieda the dueling grounds,” Hoban said. “Cabiria? You want to come?”
“I’ve got something else to do, later.” Cabiria shrugged. “You two go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”
Emily felt an odd pang as Frieda and Hoban hurried off into the distance. There had been a time, once, when Frieda wouldn’t have left her side for anything. Now ... she wondered, absently, if Frieda was attracted to Hoban. He was handsome and competent and — most importantly of all — wasn’t one of the magicians who judged her by her association with Emily. It might do Frieda good to have a relationship outside Whitehall ...
Cat took her arm. His grip was uncomfortably tight. “Shall we go see what’s on offer?”
“I suppose,” Emily said.
A couple of years ago, she admitted to herself, she would have loved the Faire. Dozens of magicians stood around, performing casual parlor tricks like eating fire or turning themselves into animals for the amusement of the crowds. Others demonstrated more complex magics, or performed little skits; the crowd laughed and jeered, on cue, as the performers went through their acts. Emily watched a young man showing off a handful of card tricks that owed more to sleight of hand than magic, torn between pity and envy. The man — boy, really — was a poor magician, but right now he had more magic in his fingertips than Emily had in her entire body. And the crowd seemed to be loving his act.
“Pathetic,” Cat muttered.
“He’s earning money,” Emily muttered back. It was hard to relax. She wasn’t enjoying herself. “Let him get on with it.”
Cat snorted as they made their way to the stalls, Cabiria following them. Emily had to smile as she saw a pair of elderly women selling potions, half of which were almost certainly nothing more than colored water. One bottle offered magic to the drinker, if he followed the instructions to the letter. She wondered, sourly, just who would be stupid enough to buy the liquid and perform a series of increasingly humiliating acts, particularly as there was nothing that could transform a mundane into a magician. Perhaps it was simply psychology, she decided finally. Anyone who did would be too embarrassed to complain. And if they did ... she eyed the unfriendly runes carved into the wooden stall and shuddered. A dissatisfied customer might find himself in worse trouble if he made a terrible fuss.
“A pity that doesn’t work,” Cat said, just loudly enough to be heard. “It might be useful.”
One of the stallkeepers heard him. “Would you not like to buy your girl a bottle of perfume?”
She uncorked the bottle and held it out to Emily. The smell was heavy, almost overwhelming ... she felt a sudden flush of arousal that made her heat with embarrassment. She stumbled back, keeping a tight grip on her emotions. She dreaded to think what would happen if the women offered the potion to someone who didn’t know how to cope with it. They’d be in real trouble.
Cat lifted his hand. Emily saw a deadly hex sparking around his fingertips before he thought better of it and dragged her away instead. The woman’s laughter followed them as they hurried away from the stall, mocking them. Emily didn’t need to see Cat’s face to know he was angry. If there weren’t such strong rules about violence, he would have started a fight right there and then.
“Bitches,” he said harshly. “Are you alright?”
Emily forced herself to calm down. “Yeah,” she said, finally. Her body felt sweaty — and cold. “You?”
“I should go give them a piece of my mind,” Cat hissed. “Or even ...”
“You’ll get into trouble if you start a fight here,” Cabiria said. “Don’t get too close to any of the stalls unless you want to buy something.”
“Hah.” Cat was coldly furious. “I could take them.”
“You couldn’t take everyone at the Faire,” Cabiria said. “And that’s the point.”
