Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) (20 page)

He paused. “Do you have any questions?”

Emily frowned. “Why are the requirements so high?”

“We need to know that a prospective recruit has all the skills we need,” Master Grey said, simply. “And then we need to know if he - or she - can use them while under pressure.”

He rose to his feet. “After hearing all that, Lady Emily, are you still interested in the job?”

“I think so,” Emily said.

“Then you will have to work very hard,” he said, flatly. “For starters, you can hand in an essay this time next week on the requirements for becoming a Mediator and why they exist, giving examples of what might happen if they are ignored. You’ll find all the information you need in the library, within the careers section. I suggest you consider the possible consequences for yourself, rather than simply mirroring the examples given in the books.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said.
Another
essay...at least it sounded easier than the essay Professor Thande had assigned them, on
Manaskol
. “I’ll get it back to you next week.”

“See that you do,” Master Grey said. He reached out and caught her hands before she could draw them back, stroking the knuckles with a delicate touch before letting go of them. “You don’t seem to be in pain any longer.”

“There’s just a dull ache,” Emily said. It was true; her fingers tingled, but they weren’t in real pain. “My chest hurts more.”

“Go to the Healer if you’re still sore tomorrow morning,” Master Grey ordered. “It shouldn’t be hard for you to get a potion, if necessary.”

Emily nodded, curtly.

“You may also wish to talk to some trainees who didn’t make it through,” he added. “I can give you contact details, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Emily said. She hesitated, then plunged on. “Would they talk to me?”

“Some would,” Master Grey said. He met her eyes. “Understanding your strengths and weaknesses is a core part of being a sorcerer. Even I have areas where I bow to other masters. To believe that you don’t have weaknesses is to court insanity - or death.”

And that’s what you’re trying to teach me
, Emily thought.

“Dismissed,” Master Grey said. He rose to his feet, slowly. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Emily nodded and left the room, feeling oddly respectful for the first time. He
was
trying to teach her something, even if it was clear he had his doubts about her career prospects. She’d look up the requirements in the library, complete her essay and then...

She shook her head, bitterly. Was there nothing she could do without abandoning Cockatrice? She should have asked when she would have to make that choice. The end of Sixth Year, she assumed, but...

Later
, she told herself. She needed to eat dinner, meet Caleb and then make a start on the next set of essays.
I’ll worry about it when the time comes
.

I
T WAS, EMILY DISCOVERED, HARD TO
keep her resolve to listen to Master Grey with an open mind longer than a couple of days. Thursday afternoon was spent running through Blackhall again, this time without using magic themselves. It ended badly, as Emily had privately expected, and by the time Master Grey had finished detailing their mistakes she was tired, headachy and drained. She crawled into bed as soon as she’d finished eating dinner, and sleepwalked through her classes on Friday morning. By the time Alassa dragged her to lunch and poured Kava down her throat, it was almost too late to reach the Portal Chamber before Lady Barb took her group to the Halfway House.

“You’re all dressed properly,” Lady Barb said, as they assembled in front of the inactive portal. “I expect you to
remember
what I told you about defending yourselves, understand?”

Emily nodded. The outfit she wore made Whitehall’s robes look immodest. It was loose, concealing the shape of her body, while a headscarf hid her hair from prying eyes. The charms woven into the dress, she’d discovered, made it hard for anyone to focus on anything, apart from her face. She checked herself one final time, and hastily prepared for the jump through the portal. Based on past experience, it was going to hurt.

“Be careful,” Imaiqah said, catching her hand. The portal flickered into existence, a single white square of light in front of them. “Come on.”

Lady Barb gave them all one final look before leading the way into the light. Emily braced herself, feeling a stab of pain and disorientation as she walked through the magic, and staggered as she came out of the far end. Imaiqah held her long enough for her to regain her footing, but she couldn’t help feeling sick. It took her several swallows to be sure she wasn’t going to vomit, then she gathered herself and looked up. She’d seen the interior of an emergency treatment clinic on Earth, years ago, but this was nothing like it. It looked more like the entrance to a jail cell.

They used to lock up madmen
, she recalled. Drugs that could help people with mental problems live a normal life were a relatively new invention on Earth - and completely unknown on the Nameless World.
Here, when those madmen have magic, keeping them anywhere else might be actively dangerous.

“Follow me,” Lady Barb ordered. She led them through a large door, practically crawling with defensive wards. Emily hadn’t sensed anything so complex since Mountaintop, where the school had guarded its innermost secrets thoroughly. “Do
not
try to probe the wards.”

“They’re keyed to specific people,” Imaiqah muttered. “I think they must be designed to keep the patients in, rather than others out.”

“Correct,” Lady Barb said. “Once a patient is keyed into the wards, they cannot leave without approval from the senior staff. One of those staff members is off-site at all times, making it harder for someone to escape.”

Emily nodded. The next room looked much nicer, although it still maintained the jailhouse ambience. There were no windows; illumination was provided by a handful of light globes floating near the ceiling, drawing power from the wards. The walls were decorated with small pictures, some clearly drawn by children. She caught her breath as she realized that one of them was from a young boy, practically begging his father to come home. Judging by the date, it was over ten years old.

“Greetings,” a voice said. Emily looked up to see a tall thin man wearing white robes. His face was angular - she couldn’t help thinking of Mr. Spock - while his head had been shaved bald, then tattooed with runes. “Welcome to the Halfway House. I am Healer Crane.”

He paused, eyeing them all darkly. “Should any of you cause any trouble,” he continued, “you will be returned to the waiting room” - he waved a hand around the chamber - “and held here until the rest of your class is ready to go. You will also be denied further access to the complex, unless you happen to become a patient. We have enough problems with the patients here without you adding to it.”

“You will also be severely punished when you return to Whitehall,” Lady Barb reminded them, sharply. “Your classmates will not thank you for making life difficult for them.”

Emily nodded, listening as Healer Crane launched into a detailed safety briefing. They wouldn’t be meeting any of the truly dangerous patients, he reassured them, but some of the ones they would meet could become violent. His advice was basically the same as Lady Barb’s, just more complex. He didn’t seem inclined to use one word where three would do.

“Follow me,” he concluded, leading them towards a stone wall. There was a shimmer and a solid metal door flickered into view, concealed by a cloak of magic. “Do
not
allow yourself to be separated from the group.”

He led them down a long corridor, then stopped in front of a pane of glass. Emily touched it lightly, marvelling at the cost; glass, true glass, was staggeringly expensive in the Nameless World. Someone had charmed it to be both unbreakable and one-way; they could look in, but the patient couldn’t look out. She peered into the room and frowned as she saw the patient, a middle-aged woman sitting on a comfortable chair. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her.

“Patient Current-37,” Healer Crane said. “The daughter of a famous alchemist; Current-37 was seven and wanted to be older, so she produced an aging potion and swallowed it, aging twenty years in three. She has the mind of an eleven-year-old trapped in the body of a grown woman. Her aging has slowed, but it is quite likely she will die within five years anyway, no matter what we do.”

Emily shuddered. “Why can’t she be helped?”

“We don’t know precisely what recipe she used,” Healer Crane admitted. “Even if we did, it would be impossible to undo the effects without risking further damage. Physically, she is a grown woman; mentally, she’s too young to cope with anything more elaborate than playing games. The only thing we can do is keep her here and study the problem.”

Imaiqah had a different question. “Don’t you even know her
name
?”

“We do, yes,” Healer Crane said. “But we are forbidden to share it with you. All medical files are strictly confidential without permission from the patient or their guardians.”

He turned and led the way down to the next window. Emily took one last look at the girl-woman and shuddered, again. She hadn’t enjoyed the experience of growing from a child into a young woman and
she’d
had it spread out over several years. To grow up so rapidly...no wonder the poor girl had to be kept in the Halfway House. She would be totally incapable of controlling the hormones unleashed by her aging body.

The next scene was far more disturbing. A young man - he couldn’t have been any older than Jade - was sitting on the floor, doodling with a set of crayons. The entire room was covered in drawings, all child-like stick figures with oddly disturbing proportions. Emily looked at them, then back at the drawer. There was a love-struck expression on his face that sent chills down her spine.

“Patient Current-45,” Healer Crane said. “There was a young woman who wanted him, so she dosed him with a love potion. Again, it was brewed inexpertly; the effects, unfortunately, became permanent. We altered his fixation to drawing, because it was the only way to keep him from killing himself after his lover was executed, but strands of the original fixation still bleed through. It isn’t a pleasant sight.”

No
, Emily agreed. Love potions were akin to rape, banned on pain of immediate expulsion from Whitehall, but they were easy to find in back-alley brewshops. Lady Barb had told her that while most of them could be easily countered, some of them were so strong as to do permanent damage.
It certainly isn’t a pleasant anything
.

“He has issues in common with Current-17 and Current-47,” Healer Crane continued. “In the case of the former, the love potion - more accurately, a lust potion - spurs the poor girl to attack any man she sees within the right age group. The latter, as far we can determine, made the mistake of using an aged potion for his wedding night. His bride died - the brew had turned poisonous - while he became warped and twisted. He was sent here as an alternative to execution.”

“Sickening,” Emily said.

“Indeed,” Healer Crane said. Emily swallowed. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until he answered her. “Love potions, even when used under strict supervision and with full consent, can have unpleasant effects. We advise people, time and time again, to allow love to develop naturally, rather than seeking the quick fix.”

He sniffed before leading them down the corridor to another window. This one had a large sign hanging over the door, banning men from entering. Inside, Emily saw a young woman lying on the bed, her hands and feet chained to the railings. Her eyes were open, but she seemed utterly unaware of her surroundings.

“She would try to jump me, if I went inside,” Healer Crane said. “Only female Healers can tend to her and we’re nowhere near finding a cure.”

“Poor girl,” Imaiqah muttered. She raised her voice. “Do you have to keep her chained to the bed?”

“She tries to escape if she isn’t obviously restrained,” Healer Crane said. “Healer Sami got a broken nose after she made the mistake of undoing one of her hands. Magic is better, but she doesn’t seem to realize she’s under restraint and keeps struggling against it.”

“Some people have no sense for magic,” Lady Barb interjected.

Healer Crane nodded, and showed them the next room. A young man lay on the bed, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling. Emily frowned - there didn’t seem to be anything obviously wrong with him - and looked at Lady Barb. The older woman tapped her lips and motioned to the glass. There was still nothing obviously wrong with him.

“Current-51,” Healer Crane said. “He was cursed as a young child, cursed by a sorcerer we were never able to identify. All we really know is that he went to sleep when he was five and never woke up. A traveling sorcerer tried to crack the curse, failed, and brought him here for study. He’s been here eleven years, sleeping all that time. Nothing we do seems to be able to break the curse.”

Pandora snickered. “Have you tried true love’s kiss?”

“
That
is just a fairy tale,” Healer Crane said, reprovingly. “If the curse had been bound to a specific person, a lover, perhaps it would work. But at the age he was cursed, it would be impossible to determine who, if anyone, he would love. Stories in which someone’s true love just happens to come wandering by are nothing more than badly-written fantasy.”

Or romantic movies
, Emily thought. She’d researched Sleeping Beauty once and discovered that the original version featured Sleeping Beauty being awakened by the birth of twins, after Prince Charming had come and gone.
But magic doesn’t work like that, not here
.

Healer Crane scowled at them, then led them to the next window. It looked far more comfortable, as if it was designed for a child. Even so, Emily had to look around carefully before she spotted the occupant, curled up in a corner. Healer Crane tapped the glass and the occupant rolled over, revealing a young girl in shorts and a shirt. She sprang to life and gambolled - Emily could think of no better word - over to the window on all fours, leaping up like a dog. It was impossible to hear anything, but it was clear she was barking like a dog too. The desperation in her eyes chilled Emily to the bone.