Infinite Regress (3 page)

“You passed all of your exams,” Gordian said. It didn’t
sound
as though he was deliberately dragging out the moment, but it certainly
felt
that way. “Overall, I would have no hesitation—barring the current issue—in allowing you to progress into Fifth Year and take the courses you requested, as well as continuing your joint project. As it is, there will be one major change.”

Emily felt cold. Lady Barb hadn’t warned her about
this
.

“You have requested permission to continue to study combat sorcery under Sergeant Miles,” Gordian said. “He ensured that you would take the theoretical side of the Military Magic exam, which you passed. However, I am not minded to allow you to continue in your studies, even in exchange for working as a teaching assistant. Your apprenticeship to Professor Locke will preclude any other such commitments.”

“I need the training,” Emily said.

She swallowed, hard. Nanette was still out there, along with Fulvia and countless other enemies who resented the changes she’d brought to their world. She
needed
to know how to defend herself. Lady Barb had taught her, more than once, that raw power alone didn’t guarantee victory. As it was, her enhanced magic made her a target for more than just the necromancers.

“Regardless, you will not be training under Sergeant Miles,” Gordian said, flatly. “It would not be
proper
.”

Emily fought down the urge to say something sharp and unpleasant. She
needed
that training, but there were several other options. Mistress Danielle had offered private lessons, after all. She made a mental note to write to the older woman once she escaped the office, then looked up at the Grandmaster. He was regarding her with an unreadable expression.

“I
advise
you to remain in Whitehall until the start of term,” Gordian added. “Griselda has the details of your classes, reading lists and other details. Collect them from her, then Lady Barb will show you to your bedroom. Your... friend... will also be staying here.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said. Lady Barb had warned her to expect it, so she’d shut up the house before calling the carriage and heading to the school. Besides, there was only a week until the Fifth Year students were expected to return. A week sharing a room with Frieda wouldn’t be unpleasant. “And thank you.”

Gordian eyed her, darkly. “I’ve done you no favors, Lady Emily,” he said. His voice was suddenly very cold. “And I would advise you not to think otherwise.”

He pointed a finger at the door, which opened. “When you see Lady Barb, ask her to attend upon me when it’s convenient,” he added. “And I hope I don’t see you in here again.”

Because I’ll be in trouble
, Emily finished, silently.
And you’ll be expelling me
.

She dropped a curtsey, then turned and walked out of the room. Griselda—Emily had to admit that the name suited the sour-faced secretary—passed her a sheaf of papers, then nodded toward the door. Emily walked through, sweat prickling down her back, and caught sight of the portrait of the former Grandmaster. His death meant that nothing would ever be the same again.

Behind her, the door slammed closed.

“E
MILY,”
F
RIEDA CALLED, AS
E
MILY STEPPED
into the common room. She was sitting on the sofa, while Lady Barb leaned against the wall behind her, studying a manuscript book. “How did it go?”

“It could have gone better,” Emily said. She walked over to the sideboard and poured herself a mug of Kava. Her throat felt parched. “But I suppose it could have gone worse, too.”

“You accepted the probationary period,” Lady Barb said. It wasn’t a question. She’d known what Emily planned to do. “Gordian, I suspect, was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“He wants to see you,” Emily said. “As soon as convenient, he said...”

“You shouldn’t have,” Frieda interrupted. “Emily, there isn’t a school in the Allied Lands that wouldn’t take you. Or an apprenticeship...”

Emily shook her head. She didn’t
want
to leave Whitehall. Besides, she’d seen too much of Mountaintop to want to go back, even with a different MageMaster in control. And it would mean leaving Caleb and Frieda behind. She didn’t want to leave them either.

“There aren’t many masters who will take her as a full-fledged apprentice, now,” Lady Barb commented. “Her education is not complete. Anyone who
would
take her now is likely to do it for the wrong reasons.”

“Because they want the honor of training the Necromancer’s Bane,” Emily said. She sighed, inwardly. She’d never really come to terms with her fame, particularly outside Whitehall. Frieda and she had needed to travel the country incognito to ensure they weren’t recognized. “And they might make mistakes.”

“They
would
make mistakes,” Lady Barb said. She walked around the sofa and rested a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “But it’s definitely an option.”

Emily shook her head. No tutor, not even Void, could give her access to Whitehall’s massive collection of textbooks and ancient tomes, let alone the chance to speak to masters specializing in a dozen different subjects. Magic had fascinated her since the day she’d first set foot in the Nameless World. She didn’t want to give up the library either.

“It hardly seems fair,” Frieda grumbled. “They expect you to spend all your free time working for the
history
professor, of all people. After all you’ve done for them!”

“There may not be
much
free time in any case,” Lady Barb said. “This is your fifth year, Emily. Students have been known to retake the year even
without
having to work on a professor’s private project.”

Emily leaned forward. “Do you know what it is?”

“No,” Lady Barb said. “But you might find it interesting.”

“It’s
history
,” Frieda protested. “It
isn’t
interesting.”

“Those who don’t learn from history,” Emily said, “are doomed to repeat it.”

She snorted at the thought as she finished her drink. She’d always
loved
history, both the history of Earth and the history of the Nameless World. Indeed, there were so many gaps in the latter that she’d wondered just how many of the history textbooks they’d studied were actually accurate. Professor Locke had even told them, back during their first set of lessons, that there were hundreds of question marks over anything that had happened more than three hundred years ago. An event might have one date in one textbook, but a different date in another; the outcome of a particular battle might differ, depending on which book one read. It was impossible to know for sure what had happened.

“We shall see,” Emily said, finally.

“Mistress Irene offered me a chance to go to Stronghold,” Frieda said. “A chance to study there for a couple of years...”

Emily stared at her. “She offered it to you
now
?”

“Just now, while we were waiting,” Frieda confirmed.

Emily swallowed. The thought of being alone in Whitehall—her friends elsewhere—made her uneasy. There had been a time when she’d had no friends, but that had been before Whitehall, before the Nameless World. Now, she found herself enjoying the company of others more than she cared to admit. Frieda was a friend too...

And was she offered the chance to go
, she asked herself,
to keep me isolated?

“I said I was staying,” Frieda told her. “I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“Thank you,” Emily said. She felt a wave of relief and gratitude that surprised her. “I...”

“And I’m going to be Ken Captain,” Frieda added, sticking out her tongue. “And I don’t want to go to a
third
school in as many years.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great captain,” Emily said. She’d always loathed team sports, but Alassa—and Frieda—loved them. Alassa had founded the team, then left it to Frieda after her departure from Whitehall. “Just remember, you’re not allowed to cheat.”

“You’re not allowed to get
caught
cheating,” Frieda pointed out.

Emily laughed, despite herself. “True,” she agreed. “But the referee has seen every cheating trick in the book.”

“Then I’ll have to invent some new ones,” Frieda said.

Lady Barb cleared her throat, drawing Emily’s attention back to her. “Grandmaster Gordian inherited a mess from his predecessor,” she said, curtly. “Your situation is one of many... issues... confronting him right now. I believe he’s doing his best to clear the decks before the term starts.”

“I thought he meant well, when he was giving me career advice,” Emily said, sullenly.

“He probably did,” Lady Barb said. “But it will take time for his position to solidify. He needs to avoid anything that might convince the White Council that they made a mistake in appointing him to the post. I suspect he fears that you were allowed to get away with far too much.”

Emily scowled, but conceded the point. Any
other
student would probably have been expelled for experimenting with pocket dimensions within Whitehall, even though she’d had two different excuses. Neither one, she suspected, would be considered valid, certainly not by a man who wanted to get rid of her by any means necessary. Given what had been at stake, Grandmaster Hasdrubal’s punishments hadn’t
remotely
fitted the crime.

“But she saved the school,” Frieda protested.

“There’s a case to be made that bringing Emily to Whitehall also endangered it,” Lady Barb said. She held up a hand before either of them could protest. “And Gordian doesn’t have anything like the freedom of action Hasdrubal enjoyed.”

She met Emily’s eyes. “It’s not too late to apply to Stronghold or Mountaintop,” she added, gently. “I can take you to either of them now.”

“I’m staying,” Emily said. She didn’t
want
to leave Whitehall. And besides, the school had been her first real home. She would be damned if she was allowing Gordian to drive her away merely because he found her
inconvenient
. “Will Frieda and I be sharing a room for the next week?”

“I’m afraid not,” Lady Barb said. “You’ll have been assigned a room in the fifth year dormitories. I believe your roommate is already there. Frieda will have a room in the third year dorms. I’ll escort you both to your rooms now.”

Emily swallowed. “And then you’ll be leaving?”

“I have to talk to the Grandmaster, one last time,” Lady Barb said. “And then I’ll be gone.”

She gave Emily a smile. “You can always write to me, you know.”

“It isn’t the same,” Emily muttered.

She couldn’t help feeling down as she followed Lady Barb out of the common room and up a long flight of stairs. She’d come to think of the older woman as a mother, of sorts; someone who would advise and help her when necessary. The thought of being separated from her was unbearable. And yet, Lady Barb had a life of her own. Emily told herself not to be selfish as they reached the dormitory entrance and stopped. The entrance to the fifth year dorms looked surprisingly elaborate, compared to the fourth. A large golden eagle hung above the door, strikingly detailed. It took her a moment to realize that a real bird had been transfigured into gold, then locked in that form. She hoped, for its sake, that it had been dead before the spell had been cast. The idea of being trapped in an immobile form for days was terrifying, let alone months or years. She’d go mad quickly.

“I’ll see you around,” Lady Barb said, awkwardly. “And don’t forget to write.”

Emily nodded. Lady Barb had taught her how to write a letter, then charm it so only the intended recipient could open the envelope without destroying the message inside. They’d created a chat parchment to allow them to talk privately, but Lady Barb preferred letters even though the parchment was more convenient. Emily gave the older woman a tight hug, not trusting herself to speak. She’d see Lady Barb around—if nothing else, she’d come to visit Sergeant Miles—but it wouldn’t be the same.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Frieda said, quietly.

“Goodbye,” Lady Barb said.

The wards covering the door parted at Emily’s touch, allowing her to push the door open and step into an ornate corridor. She shook her head in disbelief as she saw the fancy decorations on each of the doors—it looked as if every last centimeter had been covered with ornate gold runes—and then slowly walked down the corridor. A handful of wards brushed against her magic as she checked the doors, looking for her name. But there was no sign of it.

She looked up as she heard a woman bustle out of the door at the end of the corridor and turn down to face her. “Ah, you must be our new prisoner,” she said. “Welcome, welcome!”

Emily blinked in disbelief. The woman was a powerful sorceress—she was making no attempt to mask her magic—but she looked like an old gypsy woman. She looked almost East Indian, with dark skin, darker eyes and a multicolored headscarf covering her hair, wearing a sari that shimmered from red to yellow as she moved. Looking more closely, Emily thought she appeared around fifty years old, although it was impossible to be certain. Mundanes aged quickly on the Nameless World, while sorcerers could retard aging indefinitely. The woman could easily be in her second century.

She blinked as the woman’s words caught up with her. “Prisoner?”

“Just my little joke,” the woman said. She looked Emily up and down, then nodded to herself cheerfully. “I am Madame Rosalinda, child. Your housemother for the next two years, unless you actually manage to get yourself expelled. I assume you’ve had a chance to review the notes on life in fifth year?”

Emily shook her head. It was hard not to stare at the housemother. Anyone
less
like a Rosalinda was hard to imagine. But she hadn’t had time to review anything, not when she hadn’t even been given her exam results until she’d faced Grandmaster Gordian. She assumed the details were in the sheaf of papers she’d been given, along with everything else she’d need to know before term officially started. She’d have to read them as soon as possible.