The Artful Apprentice Page 2

  “You shouldn’t be going to him,” Lady Barb said, finally. “I don’t trust him.”

  Emily bit her lip, lightly. “Because of what he did to you?”

  “He said, back when I was his student, that the ends justified the means.” Lady Barb’s face went carefully blank. “I’ve always found that the means make the ends. You might start with noble intentions, you might think you’re doing the right thing, but — in the end — you jump right off the slippery slope. It helps” — she smiled, sardonically — “if you’re not the one doing the bleeding. Or the dying.”

  “The path to hell is paved with good intentions,” Emily said, quietly.

  “Yes!” Lady Barb met her eyes. “There aren’t many people out there who dance in glee at their own evilness. There aren’t many people who openly rejoice at being bad people. But there are millions of people who will cheerfully do something evil for their cause, telling themselves — all the time — that it’s perfectly fine. Because it’s in a good cause.”

  Emily wasn’t sure that was true. She’d met a lot of people who seemed to be unpleasant merely for the sake of being unpleasant. But... she scowled. Many of them had thought they were entitled to take whatever they wanted, to loot, rape and kill to their heart’s content. Or simply to be in charge because of who their parents had been.

  “He’s one of them,” Lady Barb said. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing. He might even be right, from his point of view. But he’s prepared to do awful things for his mission. Missions. He doesn’t let anything get in his way.”

  She met Emily’s eyes. “I know you like him. I don’t blame you. He saved your life.”

  “He sent me to Whitehall,” Emily pointed out.

  “Yes,” Lady Barb agreed. “Now tell me... was he doing what was best for you, at the time, or merely getting you out of his hair?”

  Emily felt a hot flash of anger. “He didn’t have to send me to Whitehall.”

  “No,” Lady Barb said. “He didn’t. But it got you out of his hair.”

  “He could have done anything to me,” Emily said. She owed Void for sending her to Whitehall. “He could have left me to die. Or thrown me out. Or sold me to the slavers. Or turned me into a... into anything. He didn’t have to do anything. But he sent me to Whitehall.”

  “And it worked out for him,” Lady Barb said. “Everyone thinks he has a daughter who’s changed the world.”

  “It worked out for me too,” Emily said. She’d felt sad, at the time, when Void had told her she had to go. But, in hindsight, it had worked out perfectly. “I can live with it.”

  “I know.” Lady Barb shook her head. “Emily, I understand. I know he did something good for you. I know you want to think the best of him. But I also know he moves people around like pieces on a kingmaker board. He used me. He might use you. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already used your reputation for advantage. Having a daughter who killed one necromancer would be a huge asset. How many necromancers have you killed again?”

  “Too many,” Emily said.

  “And everyone else would say not enough,” Lady Barb said. She let out a heavy sigh. “He taught me a lot. I won’t deny it. But he also used me. He also put me in terrible danger. And, in the end, he didn’t even fight to keep me. He didn’t even care enough to badmouth me to everyone else.”

  Emily blinked. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not for me.” Lady Barb snorted. “But... if a master-apprentice relationship fails, it isn’t uncommon for each of them to blame the other. I certainly expected him to tell the world what a bad student I was. Or, if the master is honest enough to admit it wasn’t the apprentice’s fault, I would expect him to say so. Void said nothing. No praise, no slander, no nothing. I don’t think he really cared enough to bother.”

  She held up a hand. “I think he can do a good job, if he’s prepared to engage with you. But I also expect him to have his own agenda. You’re a priceless asset — far more than I ever was — and I expect him to find ways to use you. And you may not like what he does. And you may not like his arguments, afterwards. And you...”

  Her voice trailed off. Emily said nothing. She understood Lady Barb’s anger. She would have found it hard to forgive if she’d been used as the bait, particularly if she hadn’t been told about and consented to the plan in advance. And yet, Void had been nothing but good to her. He’d saved her life, sent her to Whitehall, given her a chance to stand on her own two feet... he’d even saved her life again, back during the Tarsier War. Dua Kepala would have killed her — or worse — if Void hadn’t intervened. She had every reason to be grateful.

  And I want to know what he can teach me, she thought. She’d met hundreds of powerful magicians, from maddened necromancers to the Grandmasters of Whitehall and legendary figures from the past, but Void was in a class of his own. He was practically a power in his own right. There were nations that lacked his power. I saw him using magics I can’t even begin to match.

  “You’re terrifyingly innovative,” Lady Barb said, after a moment. “And he’ll find a way to use that too.”

  Emily nodded, stiffly. The nuke-spell alone would be utterly disastrous in the wrong hands. It was sheer dumb luck that no one had managed to work out what she’d done, let alone duplicate it. And then there were the batteries, or the portable portals... her counterpart from the alternate dimension had even managed to create a portable teleport. Emily knew it could be done, even if she didn’t know how. She’d crack that problem eventually. In a sense, she already had.

  “He doesn’t have any right to demand my innovations,” she said, carefully. “The Sorcerer’s Rule...”

  “Doesn’t apply to anything you devise while you’re an apprentice,” Lady Barb warned her. “He’ll want to know what you did, believe me. And... there have been cases of masters stealing ideas and credit from their students. Maybe you’ll be safe from that — everyone knows you’re brilliant — but you should still be careful.”

  And half the ideas they credit me with inventing came from Earth, Emily thought. Too many people already know there’s something odd about them.

  She put the thought aside, meeting Lady Barb’s eyes. “Do you want me to turn and walk away?”

  “If it were up to me, then yes.” Lady Barb looked back at her calmly. “I don’t think this is going to end well. I don’t think he can be trusted to put your safety first. And... given the impact you’ve already had on the world, there’s a strong case to be made that he really shouldn’t. You need to watch your back.”

  Emily shivered. “I know you don’t trust him...”

  “I don’t,” Lady Barb said, flatly. Her face was cold and hard. “He was a poor master. His track record with apprentices is not great. He has power and skill enough to awe anyone, even me, but... it isn’t that he’s a bad teacher. It’s that he might well put you at risk for his own purposes. Or worse. You cannot afford to assume he has your best interests at heart.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Emily promised. “And I’ll keep in touch.”

  “If you have the time.” Lady Barb smiled. It looked unnatural. “Apprentices are traditionally kept very busy. I won’t be surprised if you don’t write to me. But that won’t keep me from worrying.”

  Emily reached forward and gave the older woman a tight hug. “Thank you for caring, really.”

  Lady Barb hugged her back. “I do care,” she said. “If things were different...”

  She shook her head. “I can’t take you any further,” she repeated. “Go down the path, approach the tower and... good luck. And watch your back. Please.”

  “I will.” Emily let go of Lady Barb and stepped back. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes.” Lady Barb and nodded curtly. Magic gathered around her. “I’m sure you will.”

  There was a flash of light. When it faded, Lady Barb was gone.

  Emily stared at where she’d been for a long moment, her stomach churning. She didn’t know what to make of the older wo
man’s warning, even though she knew it had been delivered in good faith. She’d watch her back, but... she sighed. There was no more time.

  Turning, she started to make her way down the path and into the valley

  Chapter Two

  THE PATH WAS HARDER TO NAVIGATE than Emily had expected. The wild magic in the air bubbled around her, making it harder to pick her way than it should. She wished she’d thought to levitate, even though it would have been dangerous with the magical currents swilling around the tower. The tower seemed to blur, even as she reached the bottom of the path and peered through the trees. She couldn’t see any doors or windows. It wasn’t clear how she was meant to get inside.

  The first test, she thought, as she started to walk. He won’t make it easy.

  The temperature continued to rise. Her dress stuck to her skin as she made her way through the eerie forest, her footsteps echoing oddly. She could feel unseen eyes watching her, even though she saw nothing amidst the foliage. This far from civilization, there could be anything lurking in the undergrowth. The locals talked about the other folk and stayed as far as they could from high-magic regions. Who knew what might be waiting for someone foolish enough to wander in? Who knew if the poor intruder would ever be seen again? A prickle of magic pressed against her wards as she reached the edge of the forest. The tower stood in the middle of a grassy clearing. It still looked strange, as if it was so close she could touch the stone walls and yet, at the same time, hundreds of miles away. There was just too much raw magic in the clearing.

  She braced herself, mouth suddenly dry. Lady Barb’s vague warnings echoed in her head. She’d known enough of the story to know the older woman couldn’t have wanted to talk about it. And yet... she hesitated, torn between her friend’s advice and her desire to learn more. Lady Barb’s first apprenticeship had gone sour. It didn’t mean that Emily’s apprenticeship would go the same way. Jade had mastered combat sorcery at an unprecedented pace. Cat — too — had learned the ropes at terrifying speed. She knew others who’d been shaped by their apprenticeships...

  Her thoughts spun in circles. She’d done more in six years than most sorcerers would do in a lifetime. She was hardly short of options. She could study at her own pace, if she wished, or devote her life to Heart’s Eye and the New Learning. There were hundreds of concepts she wanted to develop, if she managed to work out what was missing. The gaps in her knowledge — the gaps between knowing something was possible and knowing how to do it — were maddening. She knew it was possible to build an internal combustion engine, but how? She didn’t know. She could happily spend years trying to close the gaps. She didn’t have to go to Void. She could turn around and walk away.

  But she knew, even as she formulated the thought, that she wouldn’t. Magic called to her in a way no earthly discipline had ever done. She knew, without false modesty, that she was good at it. She knew she’d outgrown Whitehall long before she finally left. She knew... she knew she didn’t want to stop. She’d seen Void go toe-to-toe with a necromancer and hold his own. There were no other sorcerers she knew who could do that. She’d cheated to win her battles. And the magics he’d used... she wanted them for herself. She knew the dangers, but she couldn’t stop. She had to go on.

  Emily centered herself, then walked forward. The tower shimmered in front of her, maintaining a steady distance. Emily frowned. The space around the tower was warped and twisted. The distance between the edge of the clearing and the tower itself seemed infinite. She could walk for days and never close the gap. She smiled — she should have known it wouldn’t be that easy — and reached out with her mind, studying the currents of magic as they boiled around the tower. They were odd, strong and weak at the same time. She wasn’t sure what they were designed to do. Keeping intruders out seemed to be a happy accident. They seemed more focused on something else. She felt her eyebrows furrow as she realized Void — or whoever had built the tower — had combined active magic with subtle magic. She’d been told that was impossible. She wondered how they’d managed to do that without burning out the runes.

  She looked down, eyes picking out faint discolorations on the grass. She’d seen the runes worked into the surrounding foliage, but — up close — she understood just how much effort had been lavished on turning the tower into a place of power. The surrounding magic was channeled into the tower, turned into a protective field that was — in some ways — more powerful than Whitehall’s defenses. Void didn’t have a nexus point, as far as she knew, but he didn’t need it. He’d turned the local magic into his first line of defense.

  Brilliant, Emily thought. She had to admire the trick. The grassy runes would regrow if the local magic burned them out. Indeed, the power itself might be channeled through the runes without doing any damage. And very difficult to overpower.

  She studied the runes for a long moment, then started to inch forward. It felt as if she were picking her way through a minefield. The tower seemed to expect her to dance forward, following a path only she could see. She sensed greater powers lurking in the shadows as she approached, powerful spells readying themselves to blast an intruder to flinders — or worse — if someone tripped the alarm. The flares of magic grew stronger, confusing her. The magic tried to make her turn around and walk back the way she’d come. She gritted her teeth, tightening her defenses as much as possible as strands of power plucked at her thoughts. Void wouldn’t be impressed if she let herself be manipulated. Or if she had her memory wiped by his spells.

  No wonder no one comes here, she thought. Anyone who enters the valley without permission leaves with a gap sliced out of their memory.

  She walked into the wall. Emily staggered, swallowing a curse as she pressed against the stone. The magic tightened, a defensive circle around the tower. There was barely any space to move without crossing the circle and inviting certain death. She gritted her teeth and reached out with her senses, trying to find the entrance. The tower seemed dead and cold, despite magic flowing through the stone. She wondered, suddenly, if the entire tower was comprised of magic. It should be impossible, without a nexus point, but Void seemed to have power to spare. His runic structures might be able to keep a conjuring in place for more than a few short minutes.

  The tower felt... solid. She inched along the wall, pressing her fingers against the stone as she kept searching for the way in. There was nothing, yet... she had the uneasy sense that something watched her, biding its time. She felt like a mouse, all too aware that the cat lurked on the other side of the wall. She kept moving, hoping to find something — anything — that might show her how to get inside. Last time, Void had teleported her into the tower. She looked up, wondering — again — if she should try to levitate. But the magical currents surrounding the tower were so strong that she suspected she’d wind up being smashed against the stone or thrown into the mountains. There was no way to know if she’d manage to survive...

  Think, she told herself. How does he get into the tower?

  She scowled. Void had teleported. She didn’t dare. If the wards weren’t programmed to accept her, she’d wind up scattered across thousands of miles. Or worse. Whitehall dumped unwanted teleporters in an oubliette. She dreaded to think what the tower’s defenses might do. And...

  A thought struck her. She lifted her hand and tapped on the stone. “Knock, knock.”

  The world spun. She tightly closed her eyes against a blinding light. When it faded, she stood inside a small room. It was completely barren, save for a single door leading into a room. Emily blinked, then remembered Lady Barb’s lessons. She was an apprentice now, on the verge of formally presenting herself to her master. She had to prepare herself properly. She reached out with her senses, but found nothing beyond the room itself. There had to be wards surrounding her, yet... she couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t help being impressed as she stepped into the room. Normally, she’d be able to sense the wards even if she couldn’t look past them.

  She sucked in a breath as she looked around
. The bathroom was surprisingly modern, by local standards. A tub, a shower, a simple robe sitting on a chair, a large mirror... she eyed it warily, remembering the mirrors in Heart’s Eye. Her reflection looked back, evenly. There were no differences, as far as she could tell, but it would be a long time before she trusted any mirror ever again. The alternate versions of herself and her friends had been nightmarish. She hated to think that, if things had been different, the alternates might have been them.

  Shaking her head, she turned and undressed before climbing into the tub. The water was perfect, the charms woven into the tub keeping it warm and ready. She let out a long breath as the sweat and dirt left her body, resisting — as best as she could — the urge to just lie back in the bath and sleep. She’d done it before, at Whitehall. The baths had been a luxury, even for her. There were students who’d never even seen a shower until they’d gone to school.

  You can’t stay here, she told herself. You have to move.

  The water flowed through her hair... she winced, wondering if she should have cut it. Her hair was her only vanity... she dismissed the thought, irritated. Void would tell her if her hair was getting in the way.

  She sat up, then removed the bath plug and reached for the shower. Warm water cascaded down her bare skin, removing any remnants of dirt. She smiled tiredly, then turned off the water and muttered a spell to dry herself. She’d never liked wasting time with towels, even at Whitehall. She reminded herself, dryly, that she'd been safer at Whitehall than she’d ever been on Earth. If nothing else, she had been able defend herself in the school.

  Putting the thought aside, she stepped out of the bathtub and picked up the robe. It was simple, yet elegant. Emily had never been a clotheshorse, unlike Alassa, but she knew enough to tell that the robe had been made from the finest silks. It was black, so dark she felt as if she were touching a shadow, save for a single white band around her upper right arm and a sigil just above her right breast. It was a simple interplay of red thread, four symbols drawn into a pattern that nagged at her. She was sure she’d seen something like it before, but where? It wasn’t a rune. It was her master’s colors.