Infinite Regress (41 page)

Emily glanced back, just in time to see Sergeant Miles sneak out of the room. She shivered, feeling oddly exposed, as Gordian sat in the middle of the spell chamber, his hands resting on the large crystal. It began to glow a second later, pulsing with an eerie white light that cast flickering shadows all over the chamber. Emily could
feel
the magic, a low thumping beating in time with her heartbeat. She couldn’t help feeling utterly naked as Gordian looked at her. The white light gave his features a distantly Satanic impression.

“Frieda, kneel to my left,” he ordered. “Emily, kneel to my right.”

Emily had to force herself to move. All her instincts told her to run, and run far. A faint glimmer of pain glittered between her breasts, the rune sensing the presence of subtle magic, as she gingerly lowered herself to her knees. Frieda looked equally nervous as she knelt on the other side of the crystal, the light turning her pale face even paler. Emily reminded herself—again—not to fight. This was going to be hard enough even without resistance.

“Emily, touch the crystal,” Gordian said. “Once you’re touching the crystal, your hands will be held in place.”

It was hard, so hard, to reach forward. The light seemed to grow brighter, even as she squeezed her eyes shut, as soon as she touched the crystal. It felt warm to the touch, pulsing with magic that seemed to pervade her very being. And yet, its mere presence made her try to flinch away. If her fingers hadn’t been stuck to the crystal, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate the contact for more than a few seconds. Instead, she was helplessly pinned in place.

She shuddered, remembering some of the medical procedures she’d watched with Lady Barb, procedures carried out by Chirurgeons rather than Healers. They’d strapped their patients down, knowing that their anaesthetic was pathetic and that their patients would scream and thrash around as soon as they started amputating their wounded limbs. No wonder patients feared Chirurgeons, she’d thought at the time. They might be trying to help, but even the best of them couldn’t hope to compete with a Healer...

A modern doctor could, though
, Emily thought numbly. The light was getting to her, sending her into a trance. She felt helpless, hopelessly exposed.
They couldn’t mend everything, but they could do a better job
.

“Frieda,” Gordian said. “Touch the crystal.”

The magic surged as soon as Frieda learned forward and pressed her fingertips against the crystal. Emily was suddenly
very
aware of Frieda’s presence, of her genuine love and respect... and of her fear of doing something terrible. Her heartbeat echoed through the magic, pounding in unison with Emily’s. Emily couldn’t help feeling dirty and ashamed, as if she’d spied on Frieda when the younger girl thought she was alone. But it was worse than that, far worse. Frieda should be looking at her, yet the strength of the link allowed her look back at the younger girl...

She could sense Gordian too, she realized suddenly. His presence was stronger than she’d realized, stronger than hers, yet kept under tight control. It was harder to sense anything from him, but she thought she could feel a growing concern and fear under his facade. Not for himself, she realized. It was for the school, for the students and tutors in his charge. She felt oddly ashamed, again, as she pulled back from the edge of his mind. Soul magic made voyeurs out of everyone.

“Frieda,” Gordian said, very quietly. “Look at Emily.”

The magic shifted. Frieda’s presence loomed forward, towering over Emily until she felt pinned beneath her gaze: naked, helpless and very alone. And yet, she sensed Frieda’s shock at just how vulnerable she was. A person could be attacked on such a level, the attack thrust deep into their very soul, and they would have no idea what had happened, or even that something
had
happened. They would change, their innermost personality rewritten, and they would never know it.

“I’m sorry,” Frieda said. Or perhaps she thought it. Her words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “Emily...”

Emily gritted her teeth, her mind flashing back to the moment Shadye had pinned her helplessly to the altar and planned to drive his knife into her chest, killing her to seal his deal with dark forces. The Harrowing would have been angered, Void had said; Shadye had promised them a Child of Destiny, unaware that Emily simply didn’t fit the bill. She wondered, idly, just what would have happened if Shadye
had
killed her. Would he have been killed himself, by the Harrowing, for his imprudence? Or would the ironclad laws of magic have recognized it as a good-faith attempt to keep his side of the bargain?

Frieda looked closer. Emily was aware, all too aware, of her mental touch pervading every aspect of her mind and soul. Caleb had been hurt when she’d named Frieda over him, she knew, but it had been no mistake. Such intimacy—Frieda could see everything she was, laid out right in front of her—would destroy their relationship completely. Even the most dedicated of lovers would flinch away from such exposure.

“I see an oath,” Frieda said. “But it’s an old one.”

“It hasn’t been called in,” Emily said. “Not yet.”

She drew back as best as she could, hoping Frieda would take the hint. She didn’t want to talk about it. Even telling Frieda what had happened, instead of allowing her to lift the information from Emily’s mind, might be lethal. She’d wondered, from time to time, why the oath hadn’t been called in, but the fairies might be playing a long game. Their sense of time—and morality—was different from humanity’s.

“There’s nothing else,” Frieda said. “There are no other oaths, no traces of compulsions... not even a little prank spell. Nothing.”

Emily felt a wash of relief that left her feeling weak. Her knees buckled. If she hadn’t been touching the crystal, her hands frozen to the glowing light, she would have collapsed into a puddle. She
hadn’t
been influenced. At such a level, she was sure, any outside interference would be easily noticeable. She had no explanation for her magical signature being there—perhaps it
had
been faked, as Caleb suggested—but at least she hadn’t been made to remove the books and then forget what she’d done.

“Pull back now,” Gordian said. Emily couldn’t help wondering what
he’d
seen, although she hadn’t felt his presence probing her soul. She would have fought, if she had, even though it would probably have been futile. “Pull back as gently as you can.”

Emily shivered as Frieda’s presence withdrew from her mind, torn between relief and an odd kind of yearning that chilled her to the bone. Such enforced intimacy was terrifying, but it was also a relief. There was no need to hide herself, no need to lie or dissemble. Frieda could have no illusions about her any longer... she almost began to cry as the last traces of Frieda’s presence slipped out of her mind, her fingertips coming away from the crystal as soon as Frieda had gone. There was a part of her that wanted to call Frieda
back
.

A strong hand rested, very briefly, on her shoulder. “Take as long as you need to compose yourself,” Gordian said, gently. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Emily opened her eyes, just in time to see Gordian pick up the crystal and carry it out of the spellchamber. Frieda stared at her, tears running down her pale cheeks. Emily reached for her and pulled the younger girl into a tight hug, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes as Frieda hugged her back. It felt like hours before she could bring herself to let go and, when she did, her gown was sodden with tears.

“You’re a better person than me,” Frieda said. She reached out and clasped Emily’s arms, very lightly. “I couldn’t have done that, not in a million years.”

Emily nodded, wiping her eyes. If she hadn’t been so desperate to
know
if she’d been influenced—or not—she wouldn’t have done it herself. Gordian
might
have gleaned something from her mind, even if he hadn’t looked directly into her soul. Frieda would have seen hundreds of images from her memory, including dozens from Earth. Who knew what she’d make of them?

“We’d better dress,” Frieda said. She seemed to have composed herself completely, but then she hadn’t been the one having her mind and soul examined. “And then wipe our tears away.”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “Thank you.”

“You saved my life—and more,” Frieda said. She stood, moving very gingerly. “It was the least I could do.”

Emily rose too, feeling her legs threatening to buckle under her. She wasn’t physically tired, but mentally tired. It was hard to force her fingers to cooperate long enough to remove the gown, then don her undergarments. She found herself seriously considering just wearing the robe and going commando—no one else would know—but she’d feel odd if she did. Frieda seemed to be having problems dressing too.

“I don’t know everything you saw,” Emily said, as she smoothed the robe down and tested her magic reserves. She’d done almost nothing, but she still felt drained. “If there’s something there you didn’t understand...”

“I saw...
things
,” Frieda said. “Is that where you came from?”

“I think so,” Emily said. Alassa had seen cars and airplanes in Emily’s memories, back when they’d touched minds. She’d thought they were dragons. “We can talk about it later, if you like.”

“Your stepfather was as bad as my father,” Frieda added, after a moment. “But at least he didn’t beat you.”

I could have taken bruises to the police
, Emily thought numbly.
And that would have seen him thrown into jail
.

She shook her head. Her stepfather had been
far
worse than Frieda’s father.
He’d
grown up in the Cairngorms, where a daughter was always less useful than a son. Frieda would have left the farm as soon as she married—or was sold to a traveling slaver—if she hadn’t been discovered by a wandering magician, depriving her father of any return from the support he’d given her. It was cold and heartless, an attitude that disgusted her, but the dictates of survival in the Cairngorms mandated it. An extra mouth to feed could make the difference between life and death for the whole family.

But my stepfather had no such excuse
, she told herself.
I was just in his way
.

She took a breath, and walked out the door. Gordian, as promised, stood outside, flanked by Master Tor and Sergeant Miles. The former looked relieved, while the latter flashed her a brilliant smile that warmed her heart. And Gordian himself looked surprisingly pleased with her. In some ways, she realized, she’d actually won a shred of respect.

“You’re clean,” Gordian said, without preamble. “We still have no explanation for your magical signature being found there, but we now know you neither took the books willingly nor were forced into taking the books. I thank you for your cooperation.”

Emily nodded, feeling too tired to speak.

“Professor Lombardi assures me that he is within days of finding ways to manipulate the spellware in the control room,” Gordian continued. “As large parts of the castle seem reasonably safe right now, I have decided that we will attempt to return to normal—or what passes for it, given where we are.”

“Normal?” Frieda repeated. “Grandmaster...?”

“The only other option is keeping the student body penned up for the next couple of weeks,” Gordian told her, patiently. “There have already been a few nasty incidents. They’ll be killing each other in the next couple of days.”

Emily nodded. It sounded absurd, but she had to admit that Gordian had a point. Classes had been cancelled when the Mimic had been on the loose, leaving students at loose ends, snapping and sniping at one another. Trying to re-establish some semblance of normality might just keep students from going mad with cabin fever.

“Go get some rest,” Gordian added. “Your bedrooms have been located, so Master Tor will show you to them. I’ll have food sent to you later. You can both resume classes—save for charms, I believe—tomorrow.”

“But if you’re not feeling up to it, stay in bed,” Master Tor added. “You’ve both been through a very rough time.”

“Thank you,” Emily said.

“No,
thank you
,” Gordian said. He turned, then looked back at her. “There are very few students who would willingly do what you just did.”

And that, Emily knew, was all too true.

I
F
G
ORDIAN HAD GENUINELY BELIEVED THAT
things would return to normal, Emily decided over the next few days, he’d been wrong. A number of classes ran, as planned, but many of the students walked to and from the classrooms in fear. The corridors seemed relatively stable, yet some of them stretched into apparent infinity and others into directions that no human mind could comprehend. Emily found herself and her classmates recruited for several more mapping missions, in-between classes of their own. She’d tried to argue that she should dedicate all of her time to assisting Professor Lombardi and his team, but Gordian had reminded her that she had other responsibilities. She needed to spend time with her charges.

But even
that
wasn’t easy. Tiega had received two new notes over the last four days, after a brief pause when the students had been forced to sleep in the Great Hall. Emily had checked and rechecked the ward she’d concealed within Tiega’s room, but she’d been forced to admit that it hadn’t been tripped—or subverted. It made her wonder if either of Tiega’s roommates had managed to fox the truth spell, although that should have been impossible for such inexperienced magicians. Had one of them been given similar protections as Emily herself?

They would be obvious
, she thought grimly, as she contemplated the latest notes. Once again, there was no trace of either fingerprints or a magical signature.
Just using a truth spell on someone with such protections would be visible
.

She cursed the letter-writer under her breath as she rose to her feet. Her charges seemed to be coming apart at the seams, the pressures of being trapped in the castle slowly driving them insane. They couldn’t play Ken or anything else that would burn off a great deal of energy, save for running around like lunatics. And
that
had been forbidden, save for a handful of corridors that had been checked and declared safe. It wasn’t enough. Adana and Julia had been severely punished for hexing two other students in the middle of class, while Tiega had been kicked out of history for punching Lillian hard enough to break her nose and nearly breaking Jasmine’s leg. Emily, all too aware of the frustrations building up inside the younger girl, had read her the riot act. Tiega was right on the brink of being expelled.