Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) Read online

  She shook her head. “Do you want to walk all the way to the peak?”

  “We can try,” Jade said. “Or maybe we can just walk up to the lake instead.”

  The air surrounding Whitehall was pure, clear of anything that might signify the presence of a technologically-advanced society. Emily knew enough to appreciate the wonders of technology, particularly after having to live without it for several months, but there were times when she wondered if she was doing the right thing by trying to jumpstart the industrial revolution on her new world. Inhaling the air argued against it…but the sheer depth of human suffering argued for it. Those living without magic had lives that were nasty, brutal and short. Even the aristocracy, with access to magicians if they couldn’t work magic themselves, lived in squalor, at least when compared to Earth.

  They chatted about nothing in particular as they walked out of the school’s grounds and up towards Mount Sunset. It was a strange place, even by the standards of her new world, but it was reasonably safe as long as walkers didn’t stay there after dark. Emily saw strange flickers of…something darting through the air, hovering right on the very edge of perception. It wasn’t unknown for climbers to discover they couldn’t reach the peak, or that their path twisted on itself so that they found themselves starting up the mountain and then realizing that they’d reached the bottom of the path. There were even stranger tales, but none that had been verified. And if the staff had believed it wasn’t reasonably safe, they would never have allowed the students to go near the mountain.

  “I’ve been offered a chance to stay at the school as an assistant,” Jade said, suddenly. “I did well enough in alchemy that Professor Thande thinks I have potential.”

  Emily made a face. Alchemy required talents she didn’t have, which was at least partly why she was burning her caldron every second lesson. Thande wasn’t a bad teacher, but his lessons clashed with Emily’s upbringing, where precisely counting the number of times one stirred a caldron didn’t matter. She was still puzzling over the fact that it did seem to matter to Alchemy. A numbing potion worked perfectly if you mixed the ingredients over a low heat and stirred fifty-seven times. It failed if you stirred fifty-six or fifty-eight times.

  “There are a few other tutors that want a teaching assistant too, at least for a year,” Jade added. He looked down at her. “Do you think I should stay?”

  “I’d miss you if you left,” Emily admitted, honestly. She didn’t have enough friends to casually accept the chance of losing touch with one of them. But on the other hand…“What do you actually want?”

  “I want to be a combat sorcerer,” Jade admitted. “Helping to tutor at the school might be a step backwards. I just don’t know.”

  Emily didn’t know either. The Allied Lands seemed to consider a person’s ability to do the job as well as just their qualifications, something she found rather more sensible than the focus on qualifications back home. She could see tutoring serving as useful experience for a combat sorcerer, but in truth she simply didn’t know. But she knew who might be able to offer proper advice.

  “You could ask the sergeant,” she suggested. Miles was a trained and experienced combat sorcerer, one of the best. He had to be the best to be trusted to teach potential sorcerers. “He would know what you should do.”

  Jade frowned. “But what if he sees it as a lack of confidence?”

  “I don’t see why he should,” Emily pointed out. Not that she could blame him for being cautious, even a little paranoid. The sergeant tested them constantly, in ways that were sometimes obvious and sometimes very subtle. “You need advice and the sergeant is the best person to answer your questions.”

  She shrugged. “What would you do if you refused the tutoring position?”

  “Apprenticeship to a combat sorcerer,” Jade explained. “He’d tutor me, supervise me…and finally put me in front of the White Council for final exams. If I passed, I’d be a qualified sorcerer in my own right.”

  And if you failed, you might end up dead, Emily thought.

  Jade turned away from her, looking down towards Whitehall where it sat in the valley below, pressing his hands together as if he was nervous. “Have you given any thought to what you will be doing in the next few years?”

  Emily had to smile. “There are five more years of schooling to go,” she reminded him, rather dryly. “After that…I don’t know. There are just too many things that need to be done.”

  “I know,” Jade said. He seemed almost hesitant, unwilling to continue. That was strange and rather out of character; Emily had never seen Jade actually scared. He’d once casually worked his way through an obstacle course that had terrified Emily when she’d first seen it, without showing the slightest sign of fear. “Emily…have you given any thought to marriage?”

  “Marriage?” Emily repeated, astonished. She’d never given any real thought to marriage, in either world. “I…”

  Jade turned to look at her, his face flushed red. “There is interest,” he admitted. A dozen possible scenarios flashed through Emily’s mind, all rather comparable to a bad romance novel. “You’re the most powerful sorceress of your generation–the most potentially powerful sorceress, I should say. There is no shortage of interest in you.”

  “People I don’t know have been discussing my marriage prospects?” Emily spluttered. The very thought was outrageous, too shocking for words. “Why?”

  “Because your children will be powerful too,” Jade explained, blushing slightly. “If you had children with a powerful magician, they might be extremely powerful. And you’re the Necromancer’s Bane, as well as a Child of Destiny. There are ballads sung about you.”

  Emily groaned. Years ago, back when her teachers on Earth had been trying to spark some interest in music in their charges, they’d been made to sing songs written by the Beatles. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t had to sing Michelle–when one of her classmates had been called Michelle. Her classmates had teased the poor girl mercilessly for weeks. Maybe it was karma, but there were at least seventeen songs about Emily herself running through the Allied Lands, each one more embarrassing than the last. Emily couldn’t remember who had claimed that medieval society was genteel; he’d obviously been completely wrong. One of the songs was crude enough to make a punk rocker blush.

  She collected herself as much as she could. “They just want me for my fame?”

  “Yes,” Jade said. His blush grew darker. “It’s forbidden to approach someone in her first year, no matter how…famous they are. And no one is quite sure how to approach your guardian. But that will change.”

  “Oh,” Emily said. The thought of hundreds of people she’d never met proposing marriage to her was nightmarish. She’d never even had a boyfriend, nor had she really wanted one. She’d had enough bad experiences with her stepfather to put her off the idea of dating men forever. “Maybe I should just change my face and hide.”

  Jade looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Emily,” he said, slowly, “would you consider marrying me?”

  A second later, his form flashed with blue-white light and he froze solid, suspended in time. Emily stared, wondering if her shock and embarrassment had made her work magic by accident, before she sensed the presence behind her. Only one person would have approached them in such a manner–and frozen Jade with absolutely no regard for his feelings.

  “Hello, Void,” she said, without looking around. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Two

  IT’S BEEN A WHILE,” VOID SAID, as Emily turned to face him. “Am I not allowed to visit my favorite ward?”

  Emily scowled at him. Void had rescued her from Shadye, moments before the maddened necromancer would have plunged a knife into her chest, sacrificing her to an extra-dimensional force he’d called the Harrowing. And then he’d sent her to Whitehall, where she’d learned to manipulate magic and–eventually–to defeat Shadye when the necromancer had attacked the school. But she still knew very little about Void, fr
om why he’d saved her life to why so many other magicians were scared of him.

  Even his appearance seemed to be variable. Right now, he looked like a young man, with long dark hair, a sly smile–and a way of moving that suggested his body wasn’t quite suited to his mind. He wore the simple outfit of a common laborer, rather than the glorious robes affected by other magicians, and carried a wooden staff in one hand. His face was too striking to be really called handsome, even if he hadn’t had the smile hinting that he couldn’t be completely trusted. She thought there was something aristocratic in his looks.

  “He wants to marry me,” Emily said, wondering inwardly if Void’s appearance was a coincidence. “What did you know about that?”

  “Nothing,” Void said. He grinned, brilliantly. “But I can’t say it surprises me.”

  “Well, it surprised me,” Emily said. And yet, in hindsight, wasn’t it obvious that Jade had been interested in her? He’d certainly spent more time with her than necessary. “Why does he like me?”

  She hesitated, then plunged on. “And he said that there were people discussing my marriage prospects,” she added. “Why?”

  Void tilted his head slightly, as if he didn’t quite understand why she was upset. “You know that magic is passed on through the blood,” he said. “The children of magicians are likely to be magicians themselves. If you were to marry another magician, or at least bear his children, those offspring would be very powerful indeed. Quite a few of the older bloodlines would be interested in recruiting you.”

  “I’m not a brood cow,” Emily snapped. She looked into his dark eyes, glinting with suppressed amusement, and felt her temper fray. “And are you arranging my marriage with someone I don’t know?”

  “You killed a necromancer,” Void reminded her, dryly. “I rather doubt that anyone would dare to try to force you into a marriage.” He paced over to Jade’s frozen form and examined him, thoughtfully. “They are much more likely to try to seduce you, or to seduce your guardian.”

  “You are my guardian,” Emily said. “Have you been getting offers for my hand?”

  “I never bother to pay attention to such things,” Void said. “Should I be arranging a match for you?”

  “No,” Emily said, sharply. “I… I don’t want to marry anyone, particularly not someone I don’t know. I’m too young.”

  “Girls can be married from the moment they start their cycles,” Void reminded her. “And marriages can be arranged from the moment a girl takes her first breath. Just ask your royal friend.”

  Emily flushed. She’d known that Alassa would have to marry for political reasons, not for love–and even Imaiqah, the daughter of an increasingly wealthy merchant, would have to consider her father’s wishes when she married. But it had never really occurred to Emily that such rules might apply to her. Why should they? She had no family here, unless one counted Void…

  What if someone wanted to get close to him?

  But she didn’t have to take it that far. She was powerful, she was wealthy…and she was famous. There would be no shortage of people willing to court her, just in hopes of sharing the benefits she might bring to this world. The fact that an extremely powerful sorcerer was her guardian was merely the icing on the cake.

  She looked up at Jade and cursed under her breath. What were his true motives?

  “He wants to marry me,” she said, numbly. “He’s five years older than me and he wants to marry me.”

  “There are elderly men who marry very young wives,” Void pointed out. He sounded bored, as if he hadn’t really wanted to discuss Emily’s marriage prospects at all. One thing Emily had learned about her guardian was that he had a very short attention span. “Five years is not that great a difference.”

  But it would be on Earth, Emily thought. Anyone Jade’s age who courted a sixteen-year-old girl would have raised eyebrows, at the very least. It wouldn’t have made that much difference if Emily had been ten years older, but sixteen…

  “Why me?” Emily asked. “Does he really want to marry me?”

  Void let out a sigh. “While I cannot deny that his family would benefit from having you marry their son,” he said, tartly, “they are not well-placed to take proper advantage of it. It is therefore likely that Jade genuinely does have feelings for you.”

  He waved his hand in the air, dismissing the matter. “But I didn’t come here to help you handle your suitors,” he added. “There are more important concerns.”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of it all,” she admitted. “Does he–like–like me?”

  Void ignored her. “Your friend the crown princess is taking you to Zangaria,” he said. “Are you aware that her country is currently balanced on a knife-edge?”

  Emily hesitated, then shook her head. She’d done her best to follow local politics, but they were often confusing, seeming to rely more on personal relationships than geopolitics. And there were times when the Allied Lands seemed too stupid to survive. The necromancers were still lurking in the Blighted Lands, waiting for an opportunity to break through the mountains and invade the free territories. If Emily hadn’t killed Shadye, the necromancer who had kidnapped her from Earth, the war might have been over six months ago. The necromancers would have won.

  And yet the Allied Lands still squabbled over petty issues.

  “Alassa is the only heir her parents have,” Void said. “If she fails to inherit the throne–if she fails to have children who can inherit the throne in turn–her country will face considerable unrest. Or, for that matter, if she marries poorly, her husband might become a plague on the country. There are too many issues surrounding her future–and some of those issues are your fault.”

  Emily blinked. “Mine?”

  “You helped your friend to introduce new ideas into their society,” Void reminded her. “Some of those ideas are proving quite…destabilizing.”

  He shrugged, expressively. “Not that they really need the excuse to start slipping towards civil war,” he added. “If something were to happen to Alassa, there would be an unprecedented struggle to determine who would be the next monarch.”

  Emily scowled at him. “If that were the case,” she said, “why would they want to kill Alassa?”

  Void smiled, but it didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Who benefits from chaos in the Allied Lands?”

  The answer to that question was obvious. “Necromancers,” Emily said. Shadye hadn’t expressed any interest in capturing Alassa, but he’d been completely fixated on Emily herself. Given time, he might have seen the advantages in using mind-control spells on Alassa, or simply killing her to produce chaos. “Are they planning to kill her?”

  “It’s possible,” Void said. “But you know how hard it is to get intelligence out of the Blighted Lands.”

  He carried on before Emily could say a word. “There are other threats,” he added. “Do you realize that Zangaria has never had a queen?”

  Emily nodded. She’d learned that from studying Alassa’s country, before they’d become friends, and she’d discovered that she didn’t really envy the princess. Female sorcerers weren’t uncommon, but female rulers were unusual in the Allied Lands. Part of it was because the law stated that male heirs were always first in line to their thrones, yet there was also a sexism pervading the attitudes to monarchy. A female ruler was assumed to be incapable of displaying the thrusting vigor of a king.

  But there was more to it than that. Women were expected to be subordinate to their husbands–at least, unless they were powerful sorceresses. A queen who married would find herself sharing power, even through a king would be under no such obligation. And if she chose the wrong man, the results could be disastrous. Earth’s history showed that all too clearly. Mary, Queen of Scots, had chosen badly and the whole affair had blown up in her face. So too had Mary Tudor.

  “You also know that Alassa was not given a proper magical education,” Void added. “Do you realize that may have been because certain factions w
anted her dependent upon a Court Wizard?”

  Emily remembered her first meeting with Alassa and scowled. Alassa had been spoilt, surrounded by cronies who kept telling her that she was the most important person in Whitehall. The thought of someone like that on a throne was chilling. Later, they’d become friends, but Alassa still had a strong sense of self-importance even if she had learned a little humility. At least she’d also learned, the hard way, that sycophants were not to be trusted. When they’d come crawling back, long after Alassa had been given time to brood, she’d sent them all packing with a few well-chosen words.

  But Alassa had also not been a skilled magician. Indeed, she had memorized a number of spells, rather than actually understanding the theory behind them. She’d been powerful, but a properly-trained magician would have tied her up in knots if they’d fought. It had been Emily’s patient tutorage that had helped her to understand magic theory and to actually make progress. They’d passed the Charms exams together.

  And, in truth, Emily had deduced that someone wanted to keep Alassa dependent on her Court Wizard much earlier. And there was only one logical motive.

  “Because they thought a girl-ruler would be easier to handle without magic,” she said, feeling vaguely insulted. All of her knowledge of her own world’s history suggested that male rulers were allowed to get away with a great deal of crap, while female rulers were held to an impossibly high standard. “Why don’t they just shut up and accept it?”

  Void eyed her darkly. “If Alassa marries someone from within the kingdom, that person’s family will be promoted above all others,” he said, as if he’d expected her to know that. “The balance of power within the kingdom will be upset. If Alassa marries someone from outside the kingdom, a new factor will be introduced into local politics. Normally, a queen would be expected to find a strong protector, someone masculine who will safeguard her rule. Whoever Alassa chooses will become very powerful indeed.”