Infinite Regress (27 page)

We’re looking at the very heart of Whitehall
, she thought.
Surely everyone would want to help
.

She found herself looking around, uneasily, as they entered the latest section of the underground network. The corridors were caked in dust, again; there was no trace that anyone had walked through the tunnels for over a hundred years. She cursed under her breath—she would have been happier if
someone
had come up with a convincing explanation for the statue—as she opened the notebook and started to sketch. Professor Locke had devised a notation system to help her keep track of each part of the tunnels, even if they shifted position suddenly. Emily couldn’t help thinking that mapmaking was an exercise in futility, but it kept them busy.

And away from the crystal chamber
, she thought, morbidly.
What is he doing in there?

“The Grandmaster looked pleased at the last report,” Cabiria said. “What do you think
he
was thinking?”

Emily shrugged. Gordian could have overruled Professor Locke at any moment and insisted on allowing others into the tunnels, if he’d wished. Did he want to limit the number of people who knew what they’d found? Or was he more concerned than he wanted to admit about the possible dangers in mucking around under the school? But then, he could have resealed the gates and forbidden everyone from going down into the tunnel network at any moment. His behavior didn’t make sense.

“I suppose he’s balancing politics with practicalities,” Cabiria added, after a moment. “The person who cracks the secret of how Whitehall was built will become very important, if they keep the secret to themselves.”

“Perhaps,” Emily said. “Or perhaps he’s secretly hoping that Professor Locke will find nothing.”

Cabiria lifted her eyebrows. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Emily said. “Whatever he finds here will upset the balance of power.”

She’d given more thought to the implications than she wanted to admit. There were twelve nexus points within the Allied Lands, nine of them tapped using methods far inferior to Lord Whitehall’s. If Gordian managed to gain control of the secret, he could use that knowledge to boost his power and prestige. Or, if he wished, trade it for future favors. Having such complete control over their nexus points would be worth almost anything, to their owners. They’d agree to whatever Gordian demanded in exchange.

“It’s always political,” Cabiria said. “My uncle said as much.”

Emily nodded as she finished adding the tunnel to the map, then peered into the next set of rooms. They were empty, stripped bare of anything that might have pointed to what they’d been, once upon a time. The layers of dust were so thick it felt like wading through snow. She glanced around, just to make sure there was nothing hidden in the far corners, then turned to the door and hurried back into the corridors. All five of the rooms were exactly the same.

“That one could have been a classroom,” Cabiria mused. “But I would have thought it was really too small.”

“It’s barely any larger than a private workroom,” Emily agreed. Two people could work comfortably, barely, but three or more would have real problems. “Maybe that’s what they were.”

“Or they might have been bedrooms,” Cabiria added. “Perhaps the old servants slept here.”

Emily shrugged. It was possible, she supposed. The servants at Whitehall had a private section that was isolated from the rest of the school. Students were banned from entering, regardless of circumstances. Given how badly servants were treated across the Allied Lands, it was yet another reminder that Whitehall was strikingly progressive compared to everywhere else. Maybe the servants
had
bedded down here, once upon a time. She doubted she’d ever know for sure.

She led the way into the next set of corridors, then sucked in her breath as the tunnel started to slope downwards. Professor Locke had told them to watch for ways to go further under the school, but Emily hadn’t been too optimistic. If finding the first set of gates had been tricky, let alone opening and walking through them, she doubted it would be easy to find a second set. And yet, the tunnel definitely headed further underground.

“More runes,” Cabiria breathed. “And I don’t recognize half of them.”

Emily reached for her notebook and started to copy the runes onto the paper. She’d spent hours in the library digging through runic reference books, but two-thirds of the runes they’d spotted underground hadn’t been included in the books. Emily had no idea what
that
meant, although Professor Locke had merely chalked them up to yet another secret of the ancients that had been lost, somewhere in the mists of time. He’d needed to be talked into showing the runes to several other tutors at Whitehall.

“That one there is an old symbol for power,” Cabiria added. She was sketching out the runes, too. They’d compare their drawings afterwards. “And that one is...”

She paused. “What is
that
?”

Emily followed her pointing finger... and froze. A face was looking back at her, etched in the wall. She
knew
it. She’d seen it in countless movies and television shows. An outline of a grey alien face: hairless forehead, almond eyes, tiny mouth and a sharp pointy chin. It chilled her to the bone, even though it was nothing more than a drawing. There was no magic around it at all. And yet, it shouldn’t have been there. There was no way that it had made it to the Nameless World from Earth...

Unless there’s some truth in the stories of alien abduction after all
, she thought.
Or if their presence is a reflection of something buried in our racial memory
.

She forced herself to
think
. There were no dragons on Earth, but she’d seen several on the Nameless World. Who knew where the stories of dragons had originally come from? Maybe there were grey aliens on the Nameless World too. She’d heard stories about dwarves, but she’d never met them. Could
they
be the little grey aliens?

Cabiria cleared her throat. “Emily? Are you all right?”

“Just... just shocked,” Emily managed. “Have you seen anything like it before?”

“No,” Cabiria said. She frowned. “I’ve no idea
what
it is.”

Emily sketched out the face despite her revulsion, then led the way further down the corridor. It leveled out a few moments later, revealing a handful of darkened tunnels leading into the shadows. Emily stepped forwards, but the lights didn’t come on. The magic that had kept the tunnels above them illuminated might have failed, she thought, or the lower levels might have been kept dark for a reason. She cast a light globe into the air and nudged it down the nearest corridor, watching grimly as the shadows drew back. They ebbed and flowed around the light like a tangible presence.

“A defense system,” Cabiria said. She added her own light globe, pushing the shadows back further. “I’ve seen this before, back home. Mundanes can’t hope to make their way through the darkness.”

She glanced back, then swore. “Emily...”

Emily turned. The passageway they’d come down was gone. She spun back, just in time to see the shadows vanish, revealing that the tunnels they’d seen were also gone. Cold ice ran down her spine as she realized there was no way out. They were confined to a tiny corridor, without any way to escape. She pushed against the wall, feeling nothing but stone. There was no hope of escape.

They were trapped.

“Fuck,” she breathed. She turned and checked the other wall, looking for secret passages, but found nothing. Cabiria did the same, knocking on the stone and listening for echoes. “What now?”

“It could be a trap for intruders,” Cabiria said. She sounded worried, although she was trying to hide it. Her face was impassive, but she was biting her lower lip nervously. “There’s one in my home, Emily. Intruders get shunted into the pit and held there until the patriarch can check on them. This might be just the same.”

Emily winced. The tutors used similar charms to protect their offices, she knew from experience, but
they
were alerted whenever one of the traps sprang. Here... she doubted Gordian knew they were trapped, even though he
was
linked to the wards. Professor Locke wouldn’t even notice they were missing, at least until lunchtime. He was too engrossed with studying the crystal network. And even if he came to look for them, there was no guarantee he would
find
them.

She sucked in her breath as she realized the danger. They were trapped in a reasonably small section of the corridor, without any air vents. It wouldn’t be long before they ran out of air and suffocated, no matter what spells they used. Or starved to death, if they managed to alter the spells to keep themselves alive. They
had
brought sandwiches with them, but nowhere near enough to stay alive indefinitely...

“We have to blast our way out,” she said. “If we use a blasting spell, we should be able to get through the stone.”

“I doubt it,” Cabiria said. She ran her fingers along the stone, testing it. “I bet the stone is reinforced with magic. I don’t think we can break it.”

“And if we don’t get out, we suffocate or starve,” Emily pointed out, tartly. “Stand back. I’ll try to blast a hole in the wall.”

She shaped the spell in her mind as she strode down to the far end of the corridor, then turned and hurled the hex towards the wall. There was a brilliant flash of light and a loud bang, but when the light faded it was clear that the wall hadn’t even been scratched. Emily swore under her breath, then threw a second hex. Cabiria threw one of her own, but again... the wall wasn’t even
slightly
damaged. It wasn’t even warm to the touch.

“We’re dead,” Cabiria breathed. Naked horror was clearly written on her face. “We are so dead.”

Emily slumped against the wall. She had a nasty feeling that Cabiria was right. There was no way out, no way to use magic to escape. Their only hope was being rescued, but unless the wards triggered an alert to the Grandmaster...

He wouldn’t even know where to find us
, she thought.
And that’s if he even looks!

“Brilliant,” Cabiria added, sitting down next to her. “I should have let myself be expelled.”

Emily gave her a tired smile. “Professor Locke would still have come exploring down here,” she said. “It would be someone else who died down here.”

She reached out, touching the magic surrounding them. It was weaker than she’d expected, but perfectly crafted to prevent her from blasting her way out. Her magic was strong, yet no amount of hammering on the walls would make a difference. And yet... a thought crossed her mind as she tested the wards. Perhaps, just perhaps...

“I’ve had an idea,” she said. She glanced at her watch. By her rough estimate, they’d been in the tunnel for barely ten minutes. “I could try to teleport us out.”

Cabiria stared at her. “Are you mad?”

Probably
, Emily thought.

She cleared her throat. “We can’t break our way out,” she said. “And there’s little hope of being found and rescued. Do you have a better idea?”

Cabiria swallowed, hard. “Do you know what happens when someone tries to teleport into Whitehall? The wards stop them!”

“We’re
already
inside Whitehall,” Emily pointed out. “The wards may simply expel us from the school...”

“We’ll die,” Cabiria predicted. “No one will ever know what happened to us.”

Emily met her eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I can’t teleport,” Cabiria added.

“I can,” Emily said. “Cabiria... I don’t see any other way out.”

“Wait for a while,” Cabiria said, after a moment. “Give them some time to find us.”

Emily nodded and leaned back against the wall, gathering her strength. She had no idea
precisely
what would happen when they started to run out of air. Spells could clear the air of dust and poisonous gas, but they couldn’t automatically turn carbon dioxide into a breathable air mixture. It should be possible to transfigure the atmosphere, yet doing it long enough for them to be rescued would be difficult. Even if she managed it, how long could she keep it up?

“Teleporting could kill us,” Cabiria breathed.

“So could staying here,” Emily said. Was it her imagination or were the walls looming closer? She hoped it was just an illusion, but she’d read enough horror stories about nasty traps guarding magical homes to fear the worst. “Cabiria, whoever programmed the trap didn’t want visitors.”

“Or merely wanted them held for inspection,” Cabiria breathed. “Like my family.”

Emily sighed and glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes. It felt longer, far longer.

“Tell me about your family,” she said, after a moment. “What are they like?”

Cabiria smiled. “What’s it like growing up with a Lone Power?”

“I didn’t see much of him,” Emily said. The lie fell easily from her lips. It was almost true, after all. “The people who raised me... didn’t have much to do with him. He only took an interest in me after I developed magic.”

“He must have thought you were a normal magician,” Cabiria said. There was a hint of bitterness in her tone. “Try growing up without magic.”

Emily kept her face expressionless. In a way, Cabiria had been lucky, even though she would probably never appreciate it. If she’d been born to a merchant family, like Imaiqah, she would have been married off by now; if she’d been born to a servant or serf family, she would have toiled from the moment she could walk. Or worse. Families were known to sell girl-children to strangers, just to save themselves the burden of feeding them. It was sickening, but she understood it all too well. A son would take care of his parents, in their old age; a daughter would marry and leave the household for good.

“I was lucky,” Emily said. “If I’d developed magic early, I would probably not have survived puberty.”

“True,” Cabiria agreed. “But magicians who
do
develop magic early—and survive—tend to be
very
strong.”