Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (53 page)

She looked back at the floor, wishing that Lady Barb would go away so she could finish moving her possessions into her new chest. The damage she’d done to trap the cockatrice had weakened the spells binding the pocket dimension badly, to the point where she could tell that they were definitely fraying. Thankfully, Zed had been able to recommend an enchanter who had sold her another chest for her to use, at least until she could have the old one repaired. If it
could
be repaired. The enchanter who’d produced it had warned her not to try to alter the spells.

“I think they’re very grateful to you,” Lady Barb said, dryly. “You should know that you saved their lives as well as their rule.”

“After endangering them in the first place,” Emily pointed out. She couldn’t escape the nagging sense of guilt, that the entire episode had been her fault. Even removing the cockatrice and finding a new chest hadn’t provided a distraction. “I should think they’d want to drive me to the border and push me into the next kingdom.”

Lady Barb’s lips twitched. “What did they do to deserve you?”

Emily flushed, angrily. “All of this was my fault,” she said, flatly. “Why would they want me anywhere nearby?”

“Shut up and listen,” Lady Barb said. “You’re right; the ideas you introduced to this country
did
cause unrest, which encouraged the plotters to think that they needed to strike sooner rather than later. And you’re right; helping Alassa to be a decent human being convinced them that they couldn’t count on having an easily-manipulated puppet on the throne. But the original plot was in place a long time before you went to Whitehall and met the crown princess.

“Yes, you certainly contributed to the mess,” she added. “No, it was not
all
your fault.

“The correct way to deal with a problem that is your fault is to do what you can to make amends. If the problem isn’t your fault, the correct way to deal with it is to learn from it and get revenge when you have a chance. At no point is sitting in your room, indulging in self-pity, a valid option. Your friends need you.”

Emily nodded, slowly.

“Now, I suggest you go see the princess,” Lady Barb told her. “I think she needs to see you.”

Emily looked away, over at the walls. They’d been burned and clawed by the cockatrice, yet they’d remained largely intact. It had taken seven magicians to help her stun the beast–it hadn’t fallen for the mirror trick the second time–and then they’d had to transfer it to another pocket dimension just to get it out of the castle. And one of the magicians had made a joke about cutting the creature up for alchemical ingredients and Emily had almost bitten his head off.

“I’m surprised that she doesn’t hate me,” Emily admitted.

Lady Barb scowled at her. “What have I told you about self-pity?”

Emily stood up. “Tell me something,” she said. “What happened between you and Void?”

“That is between me and him,” Lady Barb said, tartly. “And really none of your business.”

“It
is
my business,” Emily snapped. “You seem to have decided to dislike me because of Void, right from the start. Why?”

Lady Barb gave her a long, considering look. “Your mentor is a poor example to any would-be sorceress,” she said. There was something in her voice that dared Emily to press further. “There are better people to learn from…”

Emily glared at her, feeling hot frustration surging through her body. “What did he
do
to you?”

“The White Council had received a report that a sorcerer of great renown had started experimenting with a form of necromancy,” Lady Barb said. Her eyes never moved from Emily’s face. “They asked Void to investigate–and to take along a new combat sorceress as an assistant.”

Emily blinked. “They asked Void to investigate?”

“They’re quite happy to use him to do their dirty work,” Lady Barb confirmed. “So they went to the sorcerer’s tower and discovered that they couldn’t get in–the sorcerer had devised wards so powerful that they couldn’t sneak in without setting off the alarms. Luckily, Void had a plan. The sorcerer loved slave girls and owned almost a hundred of them. Void caught one of the girls at the nearby market and replaced her with that new sorceress. And he transferred the slave-spell from one to the other.”

“He did…he did
what
?”

“He effectively turned me into a helpless slave and sent me right into the enemy camp,” Lady Barb said. The rage and hatred in her voice was no longer hidden. “Oh, he had this grand plan; no one ever looks twice at an ensorcelled slave, because the slaves can do naught, but obey. I’m sure it sounded good inside his head. But he never even
asked
if I would consider doing it for the White Council. He just went ahead and did it.

“I spent two weeks there, watching the sorcerer while my body did as it was told,” she added. “In the end, we concluded that one of the sorcerer’s rivals had tried to get him into trouble, because we found no trace of necromancy. When it was my turn to go to the market, Void met me, removed the spell and sent the old maid back again. And that was the end…”

Emily stared in horror. She’d known that Void used servants who were under loyalty spells, but she’d never even
imagined
that he would push someone into servitude. But that was silly…she couldn’t imagine why
anyone
would volunteer to be turned into an obedient puppet, even though servants were meant to obey orders. Maybe it was a condition of their employment, she’d told herself; loyalty spells worked at their best when they were accepted voluntarily. And someone like Void would be able to offer the best wages.

But what he’d done to Lady Barb was
cruel
.

“If something had gone wrong, I would have been trapped there,” Lady Barb said, quietly. “Or he might just have left the charm on me, out of fear of what I might do afterwards. He never even gave me the chance to decide if I wanted to take the risk or not.”

She turned and marched towards the door. “Go see the princess,” she ordered. “And then think about what I said.”

“I will,” Emily promised, too stunned to say anything else. How
could
Void have done that to anyone? “I’ll go see her now.”

She closed both chests, checked the security spells holding them closed and then followed Lady Barb out of the room. The outside corridors had been badly scorched by the flames, forcing a small army of maids to work for several days to scrub away the scorch marks and start replacing the destroyed portraits and tapestries. Emily couldn’t help wondering how willingly the maids had accepted their own loyalty spells. Had they been pushed into it by whoever had hired them? There was no way to know.

Alassa’s rooms were heavily guarded, even though King Randor knew that it was a case of locking the barn door after the horse had been stolen. The guardsmen relaxed slightly as they recognized Emily and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. There was no sign of Alassa until Emily glanced into the bedroom and saw her friend lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She should have been surrounded by maids, but she was alone.

“Alassa?” Emily called, stepping into the room. “Are you all right?”

“I killed the duchess,” Alassa said, without looking at her. “Why do I keep having nightmares about it?”

Emily remembered some of the nightmares she’d had and nodded in understanding. “It happens,” she said, finally. The dream where they had been chased by orcs and goblins had haunted her for months after the incident itself. “There are potions for it, if you want to take them…”

“I don’t think I do,” Alassa said. She turned her head slightly, allowing her to look at Emily. “I didn’t tell father about the Blood Magic.”

Emily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Blood Magic was bad enough, but when it involved the heir to the throne…the bird-magician had wanted to use Alassa’s blood to control her. King Randor would be furious with
anyone
who messed around with his daughter’s blood, even her best friend.

“Thank you,” she said, finally.

“But tell me,” Alassa added. “What happened to the rest of the blood?”

“Here,” Emily said, producing the handkerchief. “I thought you could dispose of it safely.”

“I will,” Alassa said, taking it. She smiled, rather faintly. “Half of your memories don’t make sense.”

“My
life
doesn’t make sense,” Emily grumbled. But she knew it wouldn’t distract her friend for more than a moment or two. They’d been bound to talk about what Alassa had seen in Emily’s mind, sooner or later. “What did you see?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Alassa said. “What
were
those dragon-creatures?”

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. There were
no
dragons on Earth. Could she have seen a car? Or a massive truck? Or even a jet plane? “I don’t know what you actually saw.”

“Neither do I,” Alassa said. They shared a smile. “I spoke to my father. He has pledged never to ask me about your past.”

Emily felt her eyes narrow. King Randor would keep his word, but he’d know that there was something important about Emily’s origins. Who knew what would happen in the future if he started to investigate her more thoroughly? And yet…if Emily told Alassa the truth ahead of time, it might convince them not to bother looking any further. As far as she knew, even the most powerful sorcerer in the world couldn’t open a portal into another universe.

But if they can build pocket dimensions
, she asked herself,
why not
?

“So you can tell me,” Alassa said. “Where do you come from?”

Emily hesitated. She
wanted
to tell one of her friends, someone closer to her than Void or the grandmaster, but at the same time…Alassa would be queen. Who knew what her duty would compel her to do after she was crowned? But Emily
had
promised her that she would tell her the truth. Eventually.

“Another world,” she said.

She had to smile at Alassa’s expression. Her friend might have imagined that Emily came from another continent, one more advanced than her own, even though no such continent had been discovered. How could she have imagined an alternate world? But in hindsight, Emily suspected that it would appear obvious. Alassa, more than almost anyone else in the world, had deduced that Emily
wasn’t
a genius who could invent a whole branch of science in an afternoon. It wasn’t a big jump from there to realize that Emily had learned her knowledge somewhere else.

The whole story came tumbling out, from Shadye’s decision to kidnap her to Void’s rescue and her enrolment at Whitehall. Alassa listened, staring at her, as Emily calmly described parts of her world. Emily had wondered what she would make of Earth, if she ever had the chance to visit; in many ways, Earth was a paradise.

“I never even considered,” Alassa said, finally. “Would you go back, if you could?”

Emily shook her head. Back home, she’d been a nobody with no prospects of a better life. Here, she had friends, magic…and money. Whoever had said that money was overrated had clearly never had to worry about being poor. Whitehall
didn’t
have internet, or television, but it did have magic. Why would she ever want to go home?

“This is my home now,” she said, seriously.

She shook her head. “I think those dragons you saw are actually
cars
,” she added. “Given enough time, steam engines will eventually lead to internal combustion engines, allowing you to have thousands of cars on the road.”

And there would be other changes too. By Zangaria’s standards, even a relatively small country such as Britain or Ireland was grossly overpopulated. As medical care advanced, lives would be longer; as farming techniques improved, the population would grow rapidly…as knowledge spread, smart people would build on what they read to produce new ideas of their own. And to think that the barons had thought that change was already moving too quickly. They’d be horrified when they realized that it would only grow faster.

“You weren’t happy there,” Alassa said. “Is it something we actually want to emulate?”

Emily gave the question serious consideration. “I think that you need to find other ways to counter the necromancers,” she said. “The next time Whitehall is attacked, we might not be so lucky.”

“You might not be able to save us,” Alassa said. She looked down at her hands for a long moment. “All of your memories of Shadye are
strange
. I cannot follow them.”

“Probably for the best,” Emily said. It was frustrating, sometimes, to have to keep so many ideas under wraps, but the consequences of losing control of some of them could be disastrous. “I still have nightmares.”

Alassa snorted. “So would any citizen of the Allied Lands,” she said, rather dryly. She looked up at Emily. “Will you be coming to the ceremony?”

“If you’ll have me, I’ll come,” Emily said, as reassuringly as she could. “Where are you going to hold it?”

“In the Great Hall,” Alassa said. “The Assembly won’t be rebuilt–my father wants them to build a bigger and better building; the Assembly remained loyal when so many of the aristocrats hedged their bets. And there’s gratitude for what Imaiqah’s father did for us…”