Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10) (12 page)

“I can get his consent,” Bernard said, earnestly. “He has no reason to disapprove of me.”

“But I won’t be married off without
my
consent,” Julianne said. She turned, slightly. “My father cannot be asked, not yet.”

Emily felt Robin nudge her and glanced at him. He beckoned her back down the corridor as Bernard and Julianne talked in low voices, their words rapidly becoming inaudible. Emily wasn’t too keen on the idea of being alone with Robin—she couldn’t trust anyone who relied on a demon—but she didn’t see any polite way to avoid it. As long as Bernard and Julianne were within eyeshot, she would be comfortable enough.

“They’ve been dancing around one another for the last two years,” Robin said. He sounded faintly amused. “He spends half of his time moaning about her.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “And why doesn’t she marry him?”

Robin shrugged. “Who can fathom the mind of a woman?”

“Another woman,” Emily said, tartly. “Is Bernard as ...
inconsiderate
... as you?”

“He keeps promising her the world,” Robin said. He shrugged, expressively, ignoring her comment. “Her father should just marry her off to him. She’s of good blood, he’s a skilled and powerful magician ... their children will be great. And we are short on children.”

There’s more to women than merely producing children
, Emily thought, crossly. In her era, male and female wizards were regarded as equals.
But here women aren’t permitted to learn magic
.

She leaned against the wall, keeping one eye on Bernard. “What has her father said about it?”

“By custom, he can’t say anything until Bernard asks for her hand in marriage,” Robin said, bluntly. “And then he can either give his consent or refuse.”

Emily frowned. “And what would happen if he refused?”

“I imagine Bernard would be sent away,” Robin said. “It would be quite awkward all around.”

He looked up at Emily. “Do you have a father?”

“Not among the living,” Emily said. Her father wouldn’t be born for the next eight hundred years, give or take a few centuries. “Why do you ask?”

Robin smiled. “Who would someone ask if they wanted your hand in marriage?”

“Me,” Emily said, flatly.

“A woman as pretty as you should be married already,” Robin said. “Do you not have anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. Caleb, too, wouldn’t be born for another eight hundred years or thereabouts. She felt her cheeks redden as she realized that Robin was trying to flirt with her, poorly. “I ...”

“You don’t know,” Robin repeated. “How can you not know?”

“I had someone,” Emily said. It was true enough. “But I haven’t seen him for a very long time.”

“Then he’s probably married off by now,” Robin said. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

Emily shook her head. If there was no chance of getting home, she’d have to admit that she would never see Caleb again. There was no hope of him jumping back in time, not when neither he nor anyone else—save for the person who had shoved her into the nexus—knew what had happened to her. She’d turn to dust long before Caleb was even born. But then, she wasn’t about to give up so quickly. She had an idea. And given time and access to the nexus point, she could make it work.

“He won’t have been faithful,” Robin pointed out. “How long were you trapped in the castle?”

Emily scowled at him. “And what would you suggest?”

“Find someone else,” Robin said. He leaned forward, parting his lips as if he were inviting her to kiss him. “I think it would be for the best, don’t you?”

“No,” Emily snapped.

She found herself unsure of just what she should say, let alone do. Robin was flirting with her, he was flirting clumsily with her ... and she had no idea how to handle it. She didn’t like him personally—or at least she didn’t like the stench of demons that surrounded him—but what should she do, if there was no hope of getting back to the future? Find a husband and get married—or walk into the shadows and stay out of history?

“You have a duty to the community,” Robin said, softly. “If you can have children ...”

Emily turned and stalked down the corridor to where Bernard and Julianne were standing together, just an inch too close for friends. They
did
like each other, Emily realized, but she thought she understood Julianne’s concerns. If her father approved the match, it would become compulsory soon enough. Julianne would lose what little freedom she had to a husband who might not be so tolerant of her wish to learn magic.

“Lady Emily,” Julianne said. “There will be a bath for us before supper, if you would like to join me.”

“That would be good,” Emily said. She
knew
she was grimy. The only reason no one had commented on it, she suspected, was because everyone else stank worse. “Where do we go?”

“It’s been set up next to the kitchens,” Julianne said. She glanced past Emily and looked at Bernard. “If I go grab some clothes for us, can you show her to the kitchens?”

“Of course,” Bernard said.

Emily watched Julianne go, then glanced at Bernard. He had an oddly mournful expression on his face. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“And smart, too,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure
just
how smart Julianne actually was, but her father was
brilliant
. And very well-connected. “Do you
like
her?”

Robin cleared his throat, loudly. “Of course he likes her!”

Bernard scowled. “Go tell Master Whitehall just how much of the corridors we’ve cleared,” he ordered. “I’ll show Emily to the kitchens.”

Emily looked at him as they hurried down the stairs. “Do you want her to learn magic?”

“I don’t know,” Bernard admitted. His face heated. “You know about the curse, don’t you?”

“You were there when I was told about it,” Emily said. “Would you
want
her to learn magic?”

Bernard stopped and turned to face her. “I want her to be happy,” he said. “And if she wants to learn magic, I can teach her magic. But we wouldn’t be able to have children. And I want children, too.”

Emily frowned. Bernard was young, but a forty-year-old man would be considered old on the Nameless World. It wasn’t unknown for young commoner women to be grandmothers by thirty, assuming they survived long enough to see their grandchildren. Even for magicians, there was strong social pressure to marry and have children as soon as one graduated. And if that was true of her era, how much worse was it in a time when medical care was weak and female magicians practically non-existent?

“You might have to decide what’s more important to you,” she said, finally. It wasn’t as if
she
had any right to advise someone on their love life. “Having children or allowing her to study magic.”

“Her father wouldn’t approve of her studying magic,” Bernard said. “He could have taught her ...”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Give it time,” Emily advised. “And don’t try to push her into anything.”

“I won’t,” Bernard promised. “But she’s almost
nineteen
. It won’t be long before she’s too old to get married.”

Emily shook her head in grim amusement. On Earth, nineteen would be considered far too
young
to get married by most civilized people. But it made sense in a world where life expectancies were so much shorter. Julianne would be lucky—very lucky—if she lived to fifty. Emily was mildly surprised she wasn’t married already. It suggested that Whitehall was ridiculously progressive, by the standards of the time. She couldn’t help wondering just what—if anything—he knew of the relationship between his daughter and his apprentice.

“Give it time,” she repeated.

Bernard looked at her. “How did you avoid getting married?”

“There was a young man I was seeing,” Emily said. It was true enough. “But we came to the castle and ... and I have no idea what happened to him.”

“He wouldn’t have waited for you,” Bernard said. “If he had no idea what happened to you, Emily, no one would blame him for marrying someone else.”

Emily shrugged. Bernard was trying to be nice, she realized, but she didn’t want to talk about it. It was the same old problem, over and over again. The more lies—or half-truths mixed with lies—that she told, the greater the chance of tripping up badly. And then they’d know she was lying about
something
. And then ...

“Your young man,” Bernard said. “Didn’t he know about the curse?”

“He believed I could have children,” Emily said, stiffly. “And I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Bernard gave her an odd look, but said nothing else as they reached the bottom of the stairs and headed down to the kitchens. The smell of roasting meat wafted out towards them as they walked past the open door—Emily glanced in to see a makeshift fire burning merrily in the center of the room—and down towards a larger room. A grim-faced woman was standing in front of a door, her arms crossed under her breasts. She looked to be in her late sixties, although Emily suspected she was much younger. And the look she gave Bernard was far from friendly.

“You can’t go past this point,” she said, sternly.

“Of course,” Bernard said.

Emily glanced at him. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Probably,” Bernard said. He gave Emily a mischievous smile. “I don’t know where you’re going to sit, of course.”

He turned and strode off before Emily could ask what he meant. She watched him go, then shrugged and turned back to the door. The old woman stepped aside without a word, her eyes flickering over Emily’s body in a manner that seemed to combine fear and disdain—and an odd sort of yearning that worried Emily more than she cared to admit. She pushed the door open and walked into the room. Inside, a large wooden tub of water sat on the ground, a handful of smaller buckets piled up against the wall. Julianne stood on the far side of the room, placing two small bundles on a single large chair.

“Make sure you lock that door,” Julianne advised, as she picked up one of the buckets and carried it to the tub. “We don’t want any of the lads walking in on us.”

“Definitely not,” Emily agreed.

Julianne gave her an odd little smile. “They don’t know what to make of you,” she said. She poured the water into the tub, then started to undress. “They keep asking if you’re
really
a magician.”

Emily snorted. “
You
could answer that question,” she said.

“Yes, I could,” Julianne said. “But I won’t.”

She stepped out of her dress and started to splash water on her body. Emily blinked in surprise, then reminded herself that a hot tub of water was the height of luxury outside Whitehall, even in her time. Hot and cold running water was a rarity, certainly outside the mansions and castles of the rich and powerful. The servants—the camp followers—would have collected the water from the lake and carried it up to the castle ... she shook her head, feeling a stab of sympathy, as she started to undress. Their work would never end.

“You’re perfect,” Julianne said. She looked up at Emily, studying her body with an intensity that made Emily blush. “There isn’t a scar on your skin, just ...”

She indicated the rune between Emily’s breasts. “What is that?”

“Protection,” Emily said, shortly. “I carved it myself.”

Julianne nodded, her eyes still sweeping Emily’s body. Emily sighed, pushing her embarrassment aside as she looked in turn. Julianne was beautiful, but she was dangerously thin and she had a nasty-looking scar on her right arm as well as reddish pockmarks on her feet. She’d seen similar pockmarks before; they were almost always proof that their bearer hadn’t been able to afford decent medical care. A dark patch was clearly visible just below Julianne’s left breast, a purplish bruise that Emily hoped desperately was a birthmark. If someone had actually injured her ...

Poor nutrition
, she thought. She was hardly the tallest student in Whitehall in
her
time, but here she was amongst the tallest people in the castle.
Poor nutrition, and a lack of decent medical care
.

“I always thought I was too pale,” Emily said. She started to wash herself, splashing warm water over her face. There was no soap, let alone shampoo or anything else she could use to wash her hair. “I didn’t get enough sun when I was younger.”

“You’re perfect,” Julianne said, again. She gave Emily an odd little smile. “What do you think of my father?”

“I think he’s an interesting man,” Emily said, after a moment. She was too tired for word games. “I’m grateful for the chance to study under him.”

Julianne’s expression twisted. “My mother died in childbirth,” she said. “I never knew her.”

Emily frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that ...”

“He needs a wife,” Julianne added. “You could ...”

Emily had to fight down the absurd urge to start giggling. “Are you seriously suggesting I marry your father?”

Julianne colored. “It would give you a place ...”

“Your father is old enough to be
my
father,” Emily said. She had no idea how old Whitehall was, but if his daughter was nineteen, Whitehall had to be at least thirty-five. Not that old, not compared to Void or Grandmaster Hasdrubal ... she shook her head. Even if she
was
inclined to marry someone, it wouldn’t be a man nearly twice her age. “And I don’t need a place.”

A hint of bitterness flickered across Julianne’s face. “Every woman needs a place,” she said, sourly. “And I’m the only one in mine.”

Emily frowned. “There are other young women here ...”

“Yes, there are,” Julianne interrupted. “But I’m the only magician’s daughter. I have no place amongst the magicians and no friends amongst the other women.”

“I would have thought that wouldn’t matter,” Emily said, after a moment. She tied her hair back as she splashed more water on her face. “You’re all on the run, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Julianne said. Her face twisted, as if she had bitten into a lemon. “But it does matter.”

“I know,” Emily said.

She understood. She understood all too well. Julianne was isolated by gender, by birth, and by social status in a world where such status could be lost in a heartbeat. She was no serving girl, nor was she a magician. She had no place; she could not join the magicians any more than she could join the servants and camp followers. And she would never be anything other than her father’s daughter—or, if she married Bernard, his wife.