Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) (21 page)

“My God,” Emily muttered.

“We don’t know who cursed her, or why,” Healer Crane said. “She cannot talk, nor can she write. The curse has embedded so deeply into her mind that she can do nothing but act like a dog. She knows she’s human, she knows she’s bespelled, yet...there’s nothing we can do to break the spell.”

Emily looked at Lady Barb, understanding just why her mentor had turned down the chance to become a Healer. There were too many problems that couldn’t be fixed, no matter what the Healers did, and too many people who would get away with it if someone didn’t do whatever it took to hunt them down. She toyed with the snake-bracelet, recalling the horrors she’d seen in the Cairngorms. It wouldn’t be easy to take an oath that forced her to do nothing more than heal...

Healer Crane led them through a pair of doors and into a small common room. A dozen patients sat at tables, eating food from charmed plates; there was so much magic crawling through the room that Emily thought her hair would stand on end. They wouldn’t be able to hurt themselves or anyone else, she realized, as she studied the charms. Knife-blades would blunt, if used against human skin; plates would shatter into harmless dust rather than hit someone and cause injury. It was the most elaborately charmed room she’d seen.

“Talk to some of the patients, if you wish,” Healer Crane said. “Or sit back and wait to go home.”

Emily nodded, and looked around. One man sat in a wheelchair, without any apparent sensation below the waist. He gave her a wink before turning back to his meal without paying any more attention to her. A woman sitting opposite him had to work to eat her food, as if every morsel tasted too disgusting to chew, let alone swallow. Emily felt a stab of sympathy at the way she washed each tiny morsel down with a big swig of water. And then she looked at the third patient. He just sat in his chair, dead to the world.

“Come with me,” Lady Barb ordered. She led Emily over to a dark-skinned man sitting at a table, reading a book. He was the first man Emily had seen wearing silk, let alone something that resembled a ladies nightgown. Somehow, he still managed to look dignified. “Pablo, this is Emily.”

“I’ve heard a great deal about you,” Pablo said. “I would shake your hand, but it would hurt me more than you.”

Emily looked enquiringly at Lady Barb, who shrugged.

“I was cursed in the Battle of Wanderer’s Light,” Pablo said. He muttered a number of words under his breath, just loudly enough for Emily to know he was saying
something
. “I deflected the first curse, but the second one bedded in before I could find help. These days, the mere act of touching something brings pain.”

“Pablo was a Mediator,” Lady Barb said. “He was caught up in a local skirmish...”

“Local skirmish my foot,” Pablo said. He shifted slightly, allowing Emily to see that he was practically surrounded with charms designed to insulate him from the rest of the world. “Sir Griffin the Unconquerable took exception to the ruling we made in the case and launched an invasion, hoping to seize and hold enough territory to force his neighbors to let him keep it.”

“And one of his pet sorcerers came up with something nasty,” Lady Barb added. “Even a Mediator can be brought low.”

Pablo eyed Emily sharply. “Are you thinking of taking up the job?”

“It’s a possibility,” Emily said. She looked back at Lady Barb. “Did you bring me here to meet him?”

“Yes,” Lady Barb said, flatly. Her blue eyes, just for a second, reminded Emily of Master Grey. “If you start training in earnest, you may wind up dead - or you may wish you were.”

“Never to feel the touch of a lover’s hand,” Pablo said. His voice became an exaggerated dirge. “Never to hold a weapon without dropping it moments later. Never...”

Emily winced, then covered her ears as she heard the sound of frantic barking from the doorway. The girl she’d seen earlier ran into the room on all-fours, followed by a tired-looking Healer. Emily felt another stab of pity, remembering the curses Mistress Sun and Lady Barb had taught her how to break. If the girl was incurable, the curse that had been cast on her must have been very strong indeed.

A thought struck her. “Was she forced to drink Dogbreath Potion?”

“They would have checked,” Lady Barb said. “It would have shown up in her bloodstream, when they ran charms to determine what she might have ingested. And it wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours or so.”

She patted Emily on the back. “It was a good thought, though.”

“Thank you,” Emily said.

“A very good thought,” Pablo agreed. He gave her a droll smile. “But you also need to be able to do much more than come up with theories and test them out.”

“I know,” Emily said. She looked around the room, noting just how many of the other students looked sick at what they’d seen. “I definitely don’t want to be a Healer.”

“Not everyone does,” Lady Barb agreed. “There’s far more reward to be had in protecting the innocent from the guilty.”

She shook her head. “We’ll be going back to Whitehall in an hour,” she said. “You can work on your research. I believe your career interview will be on Monday afternoon.”

Emily blinked. “That soon?”

“There’s no time to waste,” Lady Barb said. “It isn’t just Whitehall holding these interviews, you know.”

“And so they have to visit all the schools,” Emily said. She nodded, slowly. “I’ll be ready.”

E
MILY HAD HALF-HOPED THAT LADY BARB
had been wrong about her careers interview, but when she returned to Whitehall she found a note in her bedroom, inviting her to an interview on Monday and excusing her from Alchemy. Professor Thande wouldn’t be happy, Emily suspected, but she was privately relieved. If she didn’t have to go back to class after the interview, she could use the rest of the time to catch up on her reading and essay writing.

Maybe they expect my interview to be short,
she thought, as she walked through the corridor on Monday to the designated chamber.
Alassa’s interview was nothing more than a formality
.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she tapped on the door and waited. The wards buzzed around her, confirming her identity, then the door opened of its own accord, revealing a comfortable office with a pair of chairs, a drinks table and a light globe glowing high overhead. A tall man she vaguely recognized was sitting in the chair, reading a set of parchment notes. It took Emily several seconds to place him as Master Gordian, a man she’d met briefly - very briefly - at the Cockatrice Faire.

“Lady Emily,” Master Gordian said, rising to his feet. “Thank you for coming.”

Emily shook his hand gravely and took the indicated seat, studying him thoughtfully. He was odd; there was something ageless about his face, as if he were young and old at the same time. It reminded her of Void’s ever-changing appearance, although there was none of the sense of power that surrounded the Lone Power. His hair was tied back in a ponytail that somehow added dignity to his face, drawing attention to the shape of his cheekbones. The Nameless World had different standards of beauty, Emily had come to learn, and she had a feeling Master Gordian would be considered handsome. Indeed, he was dressing to show off his character rather than his looks.

Which may mean nothing
, she reminded herself, firmly.
A nasty person could hide inside a handsome body
.

“This may be a short interview, depending upon you,” Master Gordian said, as he poured them both a mug of Kava and placed them on the table. He seemed very determined to put her at her ease. “I assume you read the briefing papers?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said. They hadn’t been
that
detailed; they merely stated that her careers adviser would offer neutral advice, depending on what career she wanted. “I prepared as ordered.”

“Good,” Master Gordian said. He sat, facing her, and crossed his legs. “You do realize you’re in something of an odd position? Your role as Baroness of Cockatrice both offers you guaranteed employment” - he smiled, as if at a joke only he knew - “and restricts your ability to work in any major role. You may feel that you merely want to go back to Cockatrice after completing your schooling and not seek outside employment. If so, please let me know now.”

“I don’t, sir,” Emily said.

She saw a flash of approval in his eyes, which vanished quickly. “Then I need to know your career objectives,” Master Gordian said. “What careers do you have in mind?”

“Mediator, Librarian and Teacher,” Emily said. It had been easy enough to decide on the first two, but she’d hesitated a long time over the third. If she hadn’t needed a third potential career, she would have left the final space blank. “Or a private tutor, if possible.”

“Private tutors are very much a mixed bag, these days,” Master Gordian muttered. He didn’t sound approving. “Some have excellent qualifications; others, unfortunately, have nothing beyond their own wits.”

He cleared his throat. “Why do you want to be a Mediator?”

Emily hesitated. She’d come up with several possible answers over the weekend, but now that she was facing Master Gordian, her mind had gone blank. It took her a moment to gather herself before she spoke.

“Because the job needs to be done,” she said, finally.

“It doesn’t have to be done by you,” Master Gordian pointed out. “Why do you feel
you
should do it?”

“Because...I saw the results of rogue magicians,” Emily said, after an internal debate. “I saw Shadye, but I also saw the results of petty evil, evil that left its victims marked for life. I can’t just sit there and do nothing.”

“The Halfway House, I presume,” Master Gordian said. He looked down at the parchments for a brief moment. “You might also work as a researcher, solving the problem of breaking the unbreakable curses.”

“I could,” Emily agreed. “But I’d want to be doing
something
.”

“The glory may go to those on the front lines,” Master Gordian said. “But those at the rear, those who solve previously unsolvable problems, are often just as important. You might save more lives as a researcher than you would as a Mediator.”

He had a point, Emily had to admit. But there were more reasons than just fighting evil, reasons she didn’t really want to discuss. The Allied Lands
needed
to work together to stave off the necromancers, perhaps eventually defeat them. If she could do something to keep them together, she had to do it.

Master Gordian sat back and cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said. “I’ve looked at your grades. Based on your current progress, I believe you will qualify to proceed into Fifth Year without needing to retake your exams. If you are serious about being a Mediator, you will need to stick with several of your current courses and add a couple of new ones. You will also need additional training in Martial Magic
before
you take up an apprenticeship.”

He paused. “You may, at the time, be able to trade training for serving as an assistant,” he added. “However, I believe Sergeant Miles would be reluctant to take you on.”

Emily nodded, unsurprised. Lady Barb had told her, more than once, that it was rare for a woman to serve as a tutor in Martial Magic. The male students required a father figure, someone who could serve as the alpha male; the female students needed to learn, if they wanted to become combat sorcerers, or soldiers, that they would have to forsake both modesty and feminine pursuits. It hadn’t struck her as fair, at the time, but she could see the logic.

“Otherwise, you would probably need to make arrangements with someone separate,” Master Gordian said. “You would be able to do that through the school administration, although you’d have to pay for it yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said.

“The
real
stumbling block would be Cockatrice,” Master Gordian warned. “As a Mediator, you would be expected to be neutral at all times. You would
not
be permitted to own lands in a kingdom.”

“I know, sir,” Emily said. “When would I have to make my choice?”

“Before you started your apprenticeship,” Master Gordian told her. “However, you should properly make the choice before then, so you
know
where you’re going. And there are other implications...”

He paused. “You wouldn’t just be renouncing your title,
permanently
,” he added. “You’d be renouncing any future claim your children might have, too. I don’t think you could pass the Barony to any child you happened to have now, before starting your apprenticeship.”

“I don’t
have
a child,” Emily said. It wasn’t uncommon for girls in the Nameless World to marry young, but even if she’d had a child the year it had become physically possible the baby would be only five or six. “But couldn’t I pass the lands to someone I chose?”

“It would depend on your liege lord,” Master Gordian said. “I imagine King Randor would want a say in the disposition of your territories. But...the White Council would not want a Mediator who could be influenced by family, friends or former masters. Whatever happened to your lands would have to be something that satisfied them. You couldn’t be allowed to put the lands aside, while you work for the Allied Lands, and then return to them once you retire.”

Because Randor could hold them over my head
, Emily thought. It made sense, in a way; no one would want a Mediator who had good reason
not
to be neutral.
Would he try to manipulate me if I did complete an apprenticeship
?

She shuddered. She had a feeling that the answer to that was
yes
.

“It’s a worthwhile job,” Master Gordian said. “However, you will need to work very hard to achieve the grades necessary to undertake an apprenticeship. On the other hand” - he shrugged, expressively - “you
will
have two more years to work on Martial Magic. You may have started from a very low position, thanks to your father’s influence, but you should be well above average by the time you reach Sixth Year.”