The Artful Apprentice Page 13

  “I would sooner clean out cesspits for a living than come here again,” Jan said, flatly. “They say anyone who comes here regularly goes insane. Or ends up looking like a monster.”

  “I can believe it,” Emily said. “There’s too much tainted magic in the air.”

  Jan passed her a glass of juice, then sipped his slowly. “I never even knew some of the things they offer here were even possible,” he added. “It’s... disgusting.”

  “People will do anything, if they think they have a right to do it,” Emily said. King Randor had broken every law and convention in the book while he’d fought to keep his kingdom. “And... it’s sickening.”

  She peered at the wall. It looked normal, but she could feel the pulsing alien city beyond. It buzzed against her mind, disturbing her thoughts. She hated the mere idea of sleeping here, surrounded by a relic from an alien world. If Void suggested it, she intended to argue soundly. She’d sooner walk home than stay overnight.

  Jan let out a breath. “Why did they want us to duel?”

  “I guess they wanted to keep us busy,” Emily said. “Or... what are you studying?”

  “Charms,” Jan said. “And a few other things I’m not allowed to talk about.”

  Which would make you an excellent duelist, Emily thought. Was that why Void arranged his meeting?

  She frowned. “I think they’re about ready to stop talking,” she said. “I’ll see you again?”

  “Can I walk out with you?” Jan looked shy and determined at the same time. “You pick the time and place?”

  “My next day off is in a fortnight,” Emily said. She was surprised at herself. She’d known Caleb and Cat for years before she’d let herself get into a relationship with them. “I’ll drop you a note? We can explore the town or walk in the mountains?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jan said. He winked at her. “And here they come.”

  “I heard that,” Master Lucknow said. His face was expressionless, but Emily thought he was displeased about something. “Why didn’t you use the more... interesting... spells I taught you?”

  “Not permitted by Mountaintop rules,” Jan said. “I didn’t want to kill her.”

  Void snorted. “Emily, cover yourself,” he said. “We’re going to have to walk out of the city before we can go home.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Master Lucknow said. “Are you sure...?”

  “Yes.” Void pulled up his hood. His voice was suddenly muffled. “Make the arrangements. I’ll handle it from there.”

  Emily glanced at Jan, wondering what their masters had been discussing, then pulled the veil into place. It felt odd, as if she’d put a barrier between them. He raised a hand in salute as Void led her through the door, through a maze of twisting corridors and back onto the streets. The stench of the city — once again – hit her like a physical blow. Emily swallowed to keep from throwing up. There was something deeply wrong with the city. It really wasn’t a human place.

  “This way.” Void took her hand, again. His touch felt oddly reassuring. “It’s only a short walk.”

  It felt like hours as they made their way down creepy streets. It felt as if the darkness was never ending, as if the city was permanently wrapped in shadow. She couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening or anything in between. The darkness absorbed everything. The crowds didn’t seem to care. They moved through their lives, heedless of their surroundings. Emily couldn’t help feeling sure they were making a terrible mistake.

  She glanced at Void as they reached the edge of the city. “How many people live here?”

  Void seemed to shrug. It was hard to tell. “No one knows. There’s no authority here. Even the gang lords rarely last long. You can move in or move out and no one will try to stop you.”

  “There seem to be a lot of people,” Emily said. She’d seen hundreds, perhaps thousands on the streets. She wouldn’t have expected so many. “And they’re all criminals?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Void said. “You’re looking at the human waste of an entire world. Even if a tiny percentage of the population came here, there would be more than enough to fill the city. Maybe. No one really knows how big the city is either. The maps aren’t reliable past a certain point.”

  Emily nodded, sourly. “And certain people find it useful, don’t they?”

  “Oh, yes.” Void stopped as they crossed the crater and headed into the inky darkness. “You can do things here you couldn’t do elsewhere. Find specialists in forbidden arts. Learn secrets that will either propel you to greatness or throw you into the shadows. They’ll deny it if you ask, but most of the magical families and kingdoms have people here. In theory, they’ve been disowned. In practice, they’ll still do favors for their families.”

  He stopped once they were clear of the city. “Rules are for little people,” he added, as he paced out a circle on the ashy ground. “Just ask King Randor or Fulvia.”

  Emily said nothing. “And we can’t free the slaves?”

  “I doubt it.” Void tightened his grip, just slightly. “Emily, some of the slaves are kidnapped and brought here. Poor bastards, yanked off a ship or sold by their families. Others willingly sold themselves to pay their debts. And still others used to be someone great, before they fell from grace. There are slaves back there who were once slaveowners themselves.”

  “It’s disgusting,” Emily said. “They don’t deserve it.”

  “Their former victims might disagree,” Void said. “Or would you argue with them?”

  Emily swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  She felt the teleport field build around them and closed her eyes. The world lurched violently, then settled. She opened her eyes and saw the tower. They’d materialized just outside the wards. She didn’t wait for orders. She pulled back her hood and let the sunlight stream down on her bare face. It felt wonderful, yet... her skin felt as if she’d taken a bath in mud. She wanted to scratch herself bloody. It was all she could do to hold herself still. She wanted — she needed — to wash herself as quickly as possible.

  Void gave her a reproving look as he let go of her hand and pulled off his hood. “What did I tell you about keeping your hood on until I said otherwise?”

  Emily flushed. “I...”

  “It’s safe here,” Void told her. “Next time, you might be somewhere a little more dangerous.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said, reluctantly. He was right. It felt unfair, but... She couldn’t deny it. “I... I didn’t think.”

  “Clearly,” Void agreed. He stroked his chin, drawing out the next few words long enough to make her sweat. “And, for punishment, you can break Hawley’s Housing down to its bare essentials and then put it back together again. Carefully. I’ll be testing you on the results.”

  Emily sighed, inwardly. She knew it was a mild punishment. And one she deserved. She could have been seriously hurt — or worse — if she’d uncovered her face anywhere near the Dark Ziggurat. And yet, it still felt humiliating. She was glad no one else had seen it. It would have been embarrassing...

  “Yes, sir,” she said. It would have been a great deal worse if she’d done it in front of someone else. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as you would have been, if you’d done it back there,” Void said. “You’re learning dangerous magic, Emily, and visiting dangerous places. And you’re under my care until you graduate.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said.

  She ran her hand through her hair, trying to distract herself. It felt grimy, as if she hadn’t washed her hair in weeks. She felt unclean. She had the feeling she wasn’t going to be sleeping comfortably for a few days. She’d be seeing the alien city in her nightmares.

  “I...” Emily swallowed and started again. “Can I go for a shower first?”

  “Yes.” Void headed for the tower. “And, when you write to your friends, I suggest you don’t mention where you’ve been.”

  Emily nodded. She hadn’t been planning on saying anything about the brief v
isit to them anyway. “Yes, sir,” she said. “How do they even live there?”

  “Humans are very adaptable,” Void said. He didn’t look around. “It helps if they don’t have a choice. Some of the people living over there would be hung without a trial if they went back home. Others are just too... different... to fit in here. The people who let themselves be warped... some of them are dangerous, some are merely pitiful... they’d be killed or driven out if they came over here. I know people who think the tainted magic opened the way for newer and stranger gifts …”

  His voice trailed off.

  Emily frowned. “Is that true?”

  “I doubt it.” Void turned and looked at her. “There’s some evidence in support of the theory, but nothing too clear. Nothing reliable. And half of the poor bastards are insane. It’s hard to tell if they’ve truly gained across to worlds beyond worlds or if they’re just mad. I think the researchers are deluding themselves.”

  “I see,” Emily said. “Why...?”

  “Why do people delude themselves?” Void’s voice was suddenly hard. “Because the truth is often too hard to bear. Because they don’t want to think about it. Because it’s better to cling to a comforting fantasy than face cold hard reality. Those poor warped bastards have nothing, not even hope. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “We could set up a place for them to live,” Emily said.

  “Yes, you could,” Void agreed. “And who would want to live next to them? It’s hard enough to convince communities to take refugees from their homeland. Strangers who are literally inhuman? It won’t work. No one would trust someone who had a brush with tainted magic.”

  He led the way into the tower. “Go have your shower, then see to your punishment,” he said, coldly. “I’ll review your work after dinner.”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “WELL,” VOID SAID, AS THE MAIDS cleared the table. “Did you bring your punishment?”

  Emily nodded, feeling her ears burn. The maids would have heard every word. They’d be talking about it after they retired to their room. She tensed, then forced herself to relax as she picked up the parchment and held it out to him. Hawley’s Housing was an extremely complicated spell, designed to craft and secure a mid-sized pocket dimension. A full-fledged enchanter would have found it difficult. Emily had nearly given up twice before she worked out how it went together.

  Void took the parchment and made a show of carefully reading it. Emily watched, knowing that the slightest mistake could lead to utter disaster if the spell was actually cast. Enchanters normally had their spells checked and rechecked before they actually tried to use them, unless they knew the spell inside and out. Better to be sure, her tutors had told her, than to risk disaster. It was extremely difficult to fix an enchantment on the fly. Too many things depended on the spell fitting together perfectly.

  “Interesting,” Void said. He studied the parchment one final time, then passed it back to her. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Emily frowned. She’d gone through it time and time again. She was fairly sure it all went together perfectly. She’d accounted for everything. And yet... Void thought something was wrong? She took back the parchment and worked her way through the spellwork, one final time. The notation was perfect. It practically sang. There was nothing wrong with it.

  “Nothing,” she said. Perhaps it was a trick question. She wouldn’t put it past him to force her to check her own work for errors that simply didn’t exist. “The spellwork goes together perfectly.”

  “More or less,” Void agreed. “That’s not the problem.”

  Emily looked down at the parchment, then back up at him. “Oh.”

  “Oh,” Void echoed. “There are actually two separate problems. First, your spellwork is so complex that it would be difficult for a single enchanter to cast the spell. You’d need to get a team together, which wouldn’t be easy. And second” — he raised a hand before she could object — “you’d need a nexus point. You’d never be able to amass the power you’d need to cast the spell anywhere else.”

  “You’d just need a burst of power,” Emily said. She swallowed a curse as she realized her real mistake. “Once the spell was in place, it would be maintained by background magic.”

  “Yes,” Void said, with heavy patience. “But you’d still need a colossal burst of magic to cast the spell. No magician ever born could sustain it, even a necromancer. And he’d have to keep his mind together long enough to make it work. It wouldn’t be easy.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Unless you have an alternate source of power.”

  Emily hesitated. She did have an alternative. She also knew it was only a matter of time before the secret leaked out. Too many magicians had seen her cast overpowered spells, in Cockatrice and Zangaria. The portable portals she’d crafted in Alexis were flat-out impossible, as far as anyone knew. But she’d proved they weren’t. Given time, someone would work out what she’d done. Lady Barb, Jade and Cat already knew the secret. Did it matter, she asked herself, if Void did too?

  “Yes,” she said, finally. “I do.”

  Void frowned. “You think you can draw power from a nexus point and channel it here? Or draw power from the local wards? Or...?”

  “No.” Emily shook her head. “I invented a battery.”

  “A battery?” Void sounded puzzled. The word meant nothing to him. “What is a battery?”

  “A power storage device,” Emily said. “I devised a way to store magic for later use.”

  Void’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  Emily took a breath. “You craft a pocket dimension, tied to a small ring,” she said. “You channel magic into the dimension through the ring. The magic has nowhere to go as long as the ring remains closed, so it doesn’t bleed away. When you’re ready to use the power, you release it in a single burst.”

  “Which would drive you mad,” Void said, coldly.

  “You don’t channel the power through your mind,” Emily explained. “You channel it through a wand — I call it a valve. You set the spell in the valve, connect it to the battery and open the gate. The magic rushes through the valve and triggers the spell.”

  “I see,” Void said. “Does it work?”

  “Yes.” Emily met his eyes. “That’s how I created a portal in Alexis. It lasted as long as the magic held out.”

  “Not that long,” Void said.

  “Long enough.” Emily decided it would be better not to point out that she’d ended up captured and on her way to the chopping block. “We managed to get Alassa and Imaiqah out of jail.”

  “Clever,” Void said. “But you could only use it once. Right?”

  “The first batteries were one-shot devices,” Emily said. “I have an idea for modifying the device so it can be turned on and off, but I simply haven’t had time to experiment.”

  “You’ll have time here,” Void said. It sounded more like a command than a statement. “And I may have some insights. Let me think about it for a bit.”

  Emily nodded, hoping she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Lady Barb, Jade and Cat had all agreed to keep the batteries secret. They wouldn’t use them unless there was no other choice. Void, on the other hand, was unlikely to give his word so rapidly. He’d have plenty of reason to keep the trick to himself, yet... would he? Emily could imagine hundreds of uses for batteries. The impossible spells might suddenly become very possible.

  She picked up the parchment. “I could cast this spell, with a battery,” she said. “I’d have to craft the spellwork first and place it inside the pocket dimension, then use the battery to blow it up like a balloon. I don’t think you could create something like Whitehall, but you could make a small house within the pocket dimension.”

  “Which many sorcerers would regard as inherently unsafe,” Void said, dryly. “Did you ever hear about the sorceress who built a castle in the clouds?”

  Emily frowned. “What happened?”

  “
She ran out of magic,” Void said. “And she took a rather long fall to the ground.”

  “Or someone cast a spell to disrupt hers,” Emily pointed out. “Right?”

  “It’s possible,” Void agreed. “But no one ever took credit for it.”

  Emily nodded. She’d been oddly disappointed when she’d discovered that real witches and wizards didn’t fly on broomsticks, but it was easy to understand why. A skilled magician would have no trouble flying on a broom, yet another skilled magician would also have no trouble canceling the spells and sending the unlucky rider plummeting. Done properly, there would be no hope of arresting the rider’s fall before he hit the ground. And that would be that.

  “The castle must have been bleeding magic,” she said. “And the demands just got too high for her to meet.”

  “No one’s quite sure,” Void admitted. “But you’re right. She would have been bleeding magic a long time before her spells fell apart.”

  He took back the parchment. “An unconventional approach, to be sure,” he said. “What would you do if you didn’t have a vast source of outside power?”

  Emily gathered her thoughts. “I’d have to split the spell up into several separate sections,” she said. “At least five... possibly six. If I couldn’t convince five other people to help me, I’d have to put them together one by one and fiddle with the time gradient to ensure the sections didn’t fall apart before I had them all ready to fit together. It would be complex, almost impossible, but I could do it.”

  “You’ll have your chance to try,” Void said. “Would you be linking the pocket dimension to the mundane world?”

  “I’d have no choice,” Emily said. “Better to be thrown out of the dimension than simply blinked out of existence.”

  “True,” Void said. He returned the parchment. “You’ll be trying this spell later. And no, you won’t be using a battery.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said.

  She took a sip of water. It could have been worse. She could have messed up the spellwork completely. Void wouldn’t have let her get away with even a tiny mistake. It would have proven fatal if she’d tried to cast the spell. And yet, she felt embarrassed. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that other magicians didn’t have access to nexus points. She really should have borne that in mind.