Infinite Regress (29 page)

“You mean he grudgingly gave Professor Locke permission to explore, then starved him of resources,” Emily mused. “Or is credit a genuine problem?”

“A nexus point was destabilized to the point it exploded once, years ago,” Sergeant Miles reminded her. “Fiddling with the point
here
might be equally disastrous.”

Emily swallowed. “And if that’s the case,” she said, as they reached the infirmary, “why are we exploring at all?”

Sergeant Miles smiled, tiredly. “As I told you,” he said. “It’s a balancing act.”

Madame Kyla appeared from a sideroom as Sergeant Miles helped Emily through the door, her eyes going wide as she laid eyes on Emily. Emily had no time to protest before Kyla and Sergeant Miles half-carried her to a bed—Cabiria remained behind, sitting on one of the chairs—and started running all sorts of tests. Kyla made disapproving noises as she measured Emily’s remaining magic reserves, then turned and rattled off a long list of orders to her assistant. Melissa appeared a moment later, carrying a large tray of potion gourds. She blinked in shock when she saw Emily.

Melissa’s training to be a Healer
, Emily reminded herself.
And she’s getting experience
.

“Drink all of these, one by one,” Kyla ordered sharply, as Melissa put the tray down by Emily’s bed. “You are to remain here for the next day, at least. I don’t want you leaving the bed for anything. And you are
not
to use magic without my express permission.”

Emily knew it would be futile to argue. Kyla wouldn’t be impressed if she tried, either. The first potion tasted awful and she had to fight to get it down, but the others—thankfully—tasted a little better. Even so, by the time she’d drunk them all, her head was starting to feel truly rotten. The room spun around her, her thoughts rapidly coming apart. And then she blacked out...

It felt like bare seconds before she awakened, unsure of where she was. She had to fight, parsing her most recent memories, before she remembered the trap, the teleport and the oubliette. Her magic felt wonky, as if trying to battle the wards had knocked everything off-kilter; she started to put a protection spell together before recalling that she wasn’t allowed to use magic. Darkness rose up again and swallowed her...

... And then she awoke, again.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice said. Melissa stood by the foot of her bed, carrying a breakfast tray. “How are you feeling?”

“Famished,” Emily said, after a moment. She could smell the eggs and bacon, even though her head still felt a little fragile. “Is that for me?”

Melissa nodded and placed the tray on a table, which she pushed over as Emily struggled to sit up. Her body felt weak, as if she was still tired, but she managed to start shoveling food into her mouth. Each bite made her feel hungrier, something that puzzled her until she remembered that food in the infirmary was often spiked with an appetite-enhancing potion to make sure the patients actually ate. They
needed
their food to help their bodies heal.

“There’s quite a few rumors going round,” Melissa said. She stood at the foot of the bed, watching Emily eat. “What actually happened?”

“Long story,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss any of it with Melissa, let alone anyone else. “Did Caleb come to visit?”

“He did,” Melissa confirmed. “Last night. But as you were asleep at the time, Madame Kyla turned him away. I promised I’d let him know when you were awake.”

Emily glanced at the clock. It was seven bells, barely time to get out of bed. “I thought you’d be in bed?”

“My hours are a little erratic,” Melissa said. “Madame Kyla says I have to get used to odd hours if I want to be a Healer. It’s not easy, but...”

“You have to learn to cope,” Emily said. “Were you here all night?”

“I got here two hours ago,” Melissa explained. “And I had very little sleep.”

Emily nodded, reluctantly. “Can I leave the bed?”

“Not unless you have Madame Kyla’s permission,” Melissa said, firmly. She pointed a finger at the bedside cabinet. “Caleb brought you a handful of books, so you can read quietly if you wish without disturbing anyone. Hopefully, you’ll be able to leave the bed and shower after Madame Kyla’s finished her checks, although I think she would prefer to keep you here for another day. You burned up a
lot
of magic.”

“I know,” Emily said, quietly.

“You could have burned yourself
out
,” Melissa added. “What were you
thinking?
”

“That the alternative was worse,” Emily said, fighting off a yawn. She really felt too tired to argue. “Death was looking us in the eye.”

She glanced at Melissa. “Is Cabiria all right?”

“She was fine, apparently,” Melissa said. “Nothing that a few hours of rest wouldn’t cure, I think. She said she’d be back to see you later in the day.”

Emily felt oddly touched. Most of the students—the remaining students—seemed to be scared of her. It was nice to know that someone apart from Caleb was prepared to look in on her... but then, she
had
saved Cabiria’s life. Her roommate owed her a debt.

“Melissa,” she said, slowly. “What does it mean, magically speaking, if you save someone’s life?”

“They owe you,” Melissa said. She frowned, thoughtfully. “Probably very little, if they’re your blood relatives. Certain friendships might also fall into this category. Anyone else... they would owe you something, if you wished to call on it. Unless, I suppose, you took the right set of oaths. Only a complete fool would fiddle with life debts.”

She frowned, again. “Are we talking about anyone in particular?”

Emily shook her head, firmly.

“Get some rest,” Melissa advised. “The more you rest now, the sooner you can get back to class.”

“Understood,” Emily said. “Can you pass me one of the books?”

“If you wish,” Melissa said. She picked up a small textbook and held it out. “I’m sure this will put you to sleep very quickly.”

Emily glanced at the cover—
Advanced Concepts In Runic Alphabets—
and smiled. “I’m sure it will,” she said. “And thank you.”

“H
OW ARE YOU FEELING?”

Emily winced as she sat down at the workbench, facing Caleb. “I’ve been better,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “But it could have been worse.”

“I suppose,” Caleb said. He waved a hand at the door, locking it with a simple charm and then fixing the privacy ward in place. “Did you manage to get coursework notes for Monday?”

“Yes,” Emily said. Thankfully, she’d only missed one day of schoolwork, but it was still going to be a headache to catch up. “I don’t think we can go to Dragon’s Den on Friday.”

Caleb’s face shifted, slightly. “Just make sure you tell her,” he warned. “She will
not
be pleased if you skip a lesson without informing her.”

“I’ve already sent a note,” Emily said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“You’re welcome,” Caleb said. He looked embarrassed. “I was worried about you.”

Emily blushed. “Thank you,” she said, again. “Did you... did you manage to get anywhere?”

“I think so,” Caleb said. He produced a notebook and held it out to her. “The spell-structure should work indefinitely, if my calculations are correct.”

She took the notebook and opened it, skimming through the diagrams and filling in the blanks. Caleb had balanced everything neatly, allowing the combined spell to endure far longer than any of its components would on their own. It wouldn’t
do
much, Emily noted, but it would be enough to prove the concept was workable. And then...

“Casting it is going to be a pain,” Caleb warned. “It isn’t one spell, it’s twelve. And they all have to be cast within the first thirty seconds.”

“I’ve been getting better at casting fast,” Emily said. The downside was that she couldn’t rewrite the spells, but Mistress Danielle had insisted that it was better to get a spell off quickly than waste time trying to match the perfect spell to the situation. “Still...”

Caleb frowned. “Are you feeling up to casting them?”

“I’m still a little tired, but I should be up to it,” Emily said. She picked up the piece of paper and read it again, carefully memorizing each section of the combined spell. It
would
be tricky to cast, she knew, but it should be doable. “We really need to find a way to keep the spell in being long enough to fiddle with it.”

“Infusing it into a crystal might work,” Caleb suggested. “But tampering with it afterwards would be tricky.”

Emily couldn’t disagree. What they really needed, she suspected, was a spell processor, something that could rewrite the spellwork on the fly. But they were so far from making a viable spell processor that she doubted her grandchildren would see it. Building a computer from stone knives and bearskins would be easier.

And we’re years from computers too
, she thought.
It might be decades before the Nameless World sees its first computer
.

She shook her head as she closed her eyes, readying the spell. Producing gunpowder was easy, once the formula had been perfected; producing abacuses and printing presses was merely a matter of putting them together. But a computer? Even the most basic of computers was centuries away. She wasn’t even sure how to steer the engineers towards the concepts, let alone the actual hardware. It was so far beyond her that she didn’t even know where to begin.

“Here we go,” she said.

The spellwork glowed in her mind as she cast the first spell, followed by the second and the third. Caleb let out a hiss, a sharp intake of breath, as the whole series of spells followed, locking together into a seamless whole. Emily opened her eyes, just in time to see the entire structure glowing in front of her. Pearly white light illuminated the workroom, reflecting off the walls and casting the entire room into stark relief. Caleb looked back at her and smiled.

“They’re going to say it would be easier to cast a simple light spell,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

“Probably,” Emily said. She met his eyes. “Are you ready for the second part of the experiment?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “Here goes nothing...”

He reached out, his fingertips brushing—very gently—the lowermost spell component. Emily braced herself, half-expecting a surge of magic or an explosion, but all that happened, as Caleb went to work, was the light turning green. She grinned as Caleb removed his hand, revealing that the spell had worked perfectly. He’d altered the spell after she’d cast it, something everyone had
known
was impossible.

And the spell is still holding strong
, she thought, as she carefully tested the outer edge of the spellware.
Even the strongest of wards bleeds a little power
.

Caleb glanced up at her, the green light washing over his face. “Do you want to try to switch it again?”

Emily hesitated, then reached forward. Tingles of magic ran down her arm as her fingertips brushed the spellware, carefully altering the setting. The changes flickered through the entire combined spell a moment later, turning the light blue. It grew brighter a second later—she recoiled, covering her eyes just in case it turned blinding—and then faded and died. The entire piece of spellwork collapsed and vanished.

“Drat,” Emily swore.

Caleb laughed. “We’ve already done something no one else has ever done,” he said. “A piece of semi-autonomous spellwork!”

Emily had to smile as he walked around the table and gave her a tight hug. “Do you want to try the second experiment?”

“We may need to find some way to reinforce the spell structure,” Emily mused. Caleb had flicked the color once, without destroying the spell, but
her
touch had broken too many pieces of spellwork for the spell to endure. Or had Caleb simply been gentler? “But yes, cast the second spell.”

She leaned back in her chair as Caleb returned to his, then cast the spell sequence for the second time. Emily watched, shaking her head in delight as the spell-structure took on shape and form. This time, she had a better view. It was perfect, a glittering network of components that worked together in unison. She hadn’t seen anything like it, save for the Mimic—and the spellwork under Whitehall School. The thought that they might be well on their way to duplicating the spellwork made her smile.

“Try and flip the colors first,” she said. If it had been
her
touch that had destroyed the previous spell, had it been because she hadn’t been delicate—or because she’d been the one who’d created the spell? “And be careful...”

“Of course,” Caleb said.

The light turned from white to green, then blue. Emily leaned forward, shaking her head in irritation. It had been
her
touch, then, that had destroyed the spellwork. She would have to force herself to be even more delicate... she cursed silently as Caleb changed the spell color one final time, casting a yellow light over the chamber. There was just too much power at her fingertips for her to be
delicate
.

“You may have to put in the next component,” she said, as she studied the spellwork. “My touch is too harsh.”

“Try anyway,” Caleb advised. “We have to prove that the spell can be switched from person to person.”

Emily nodded reluctantly. If the spell
couldn’t
be transferred to another person, or altered by that person, all they’d really done was reinvent the ward. Maybe a couple of minor innovations would be usable, in the long term, but they couldn’t claim to have discovered something entirely new. Bracing herself, she reached out and shaped a final spell component in her mind, pushing it forward and into the combined spell. It glowed brightly, just long enough for her to think they’d messed up, then fell into place. She heard Caleb gasp as the spell started to hum, like they’d planned. The new component had gone to work,
without
changing any of the older components or tearing the spellwork apart.

“They’re still going to say there are easier ways to do it,” Caleb pointed out.