Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) (41 page)

“I have been unable to take direct control of the wards,” the Grandmaster said. His voice was soft, but there was a grim undertone that chilled her to the bone. “Producing a new Warden will take months, if we could obtain the clay we needed to build the homunculus. You might be able to do better.”

He faced her. “We’re running out of options here,” he added. “If we can take control of the wards, we can locate and trap the Mimic before it feeds again.”

Emily blinked in surprise. “Again?”

“We found Sergeant Bane’s body, not too far from where you dived out the window,” the Grandmaster said, tightly. “And we found two more bodies the following day.”

“It’s eating its way through the victims quicker and quicker,” Emily said, grimly. “What are you doing to keep the others safe?”

“We’re trying to keep them in groups,” the Grandmaster said. “But there are always idiots who go off on their own.”

Emily flushed. If she hadn’t been alone in the barracks, she might not have encountered the Mimic. But then, at least they now knew what they were hunting. If they’d still been looking for a necromancer, the Mimic could have feasted to its heart’s content. For all she knew, she might wind up being lynched by terrified students. Or perhaps even the more doubting tutors. Master Tor would probably take the lead in blaming her.

The Grandmaster turned to face her. “There are normally years of training to go through before anyone touches the nexus points,” he said. “But you’ve already done it once, back when you killed Shadye. I’m hoping that you can do it again.”

“I was desperate,” Emily protested. “I needed to find some way to strike back at him.”

“And you did,” the Grandmaster said. “And we are desperate now. In less than a month, we will have to lower the wards or starve to death. We have to catch the Mimic now.”

He turned back to the door and started to unlock the wards, one by one. Emily watched with some admiration; the spellwork was far above her head. The last time she’d opened the stone door, Shadye had been using her as a puppet. She hadn’t been truly aware of what she’d done to get inside. The memory made her shiver as the last of the wards unlocked, allowing the door to click open. She stepped forward, drawn by the power of the nexus, and into the room.

The Grandmaster placed a hand on her arm. “Be careful,” he advised, softly. “Stronger magicians than you have been overwhelmed by the nexus.”

Emily nodded. The nexus chamber was immense, a giant cave filled with glowing pillars that reached up towards the building far overhead. They looked almost
organic
, she realized, as if they’d grown out of the nexus and merged into Whitehall. The sense of power surrounding them was utterly overwhelming, calling her onwards at the same time as it repelled her. It made her wonder, suddenly, just how practiced the magicians who had tamed the nexus had actually
been
. They had to have been truly brilliant.

“It takes years,” the Grandmaster said, when she asked. “A single flash of power can destroy all of their work in a heartbeat. They need to monitor the nexus, focus its power and then channel it into the wards. Done properly...it can be very rewarding.”

And if it isn’t done properly, the results can be disastrous
, Emily thought, remembering how Sergeant Harkin had talked about the dangers of tapping nexus points. He’d told her about an experiment that had caused an explosion, one that had devastated the country for miles around. Given the sheer level of power she could feel in the chamber, it was surprising that it hadn’t cracked the planet in half. She had the strangest sense that the nexus was actually
alive
and looking right back at her.

She staggered against the Grandmaster, who held her upright.

“I had the same reaction when I first came here,” he said. “Was it so extreme when you killed Shadye?”

“I don’t think so,” Emily said. “But I was desperate.”

The Grandmaster smiled, then nodded to one of the pillars. “I think you had a great deal of help from the spells that govern the nexus,” he said. “Thankfully, the Warden wasn’t destroyed at the time. But now...”

He scowled. “I need you to try touching the power directly,” he added. “And be careful.”

Emily looked at him. “What—exactly—do you want me to do?”

“Scan the school,” the Grandmaster said. “If the spellwork is still in place, you should be able to rebuild the wards and take control.”

It didn’t
sound
like a very good idea, Emily realized, but there wasn’t much choice. She stepped forward, eying the pillar, and gently touched the crystal with her bare hand. Strange lights ran over the structure, but nothing else happened until she tried to pull her hand away and realized that it was stuck. Moments later, there was a sudden surge of power and she was suddenly
very
aware of the entire school. Whitehall was, on some level, a living entity, one that existed on a very different plane to humanity. The sudden awareness almost sent her staggering backwards, but she couldn’t break the contact...

The wards were in ruins, she realized, as she tried desperately to focus. It hadn’t been so hard last time, had it? She couldn’t recall—the experience had faded from her memory quickly—but she was sure that it had been easier to control and direct the power flowing from the nexus and into the school. This time, it either refused to heed her or was powerful enough to burn her mind. There was a wave of red-hot pain...

...And she found herself in the Grandmaster’s arms, staring up at the crystal ceiling high overhead. Her head hurt, but the pain seemed almost illusory, as if she were imagining having a headache rather than actually having one. She reached up and touched the side of her head, feeling almost fragile. The memories of touching the nexus had already faded away.

“You were pushed out,” the Grandmaster said, softly. “It didn’t allow you to make contact properly.”

Emily nodded. “I can try again,” she said, although in truth she would have preferred to put some distance between herself and the nexus. “But I don’t think it likes me any longer.”

That
was an understatement. The nexus seemed rather unfriendly now...perhaps it remembered how Shadye had manipulated her to attack it. Or, perhaps, how Shadye had almost taken it for his own. The thought of a necromancer wielding the almost unlimited power of a nexus was terrifying. Shadye might well have become a god—or a devil.

“Probably not a good idea,” the Grandmaster said. His tone was firm enough that she knew there was no point in arguing. “Too many such contacts might destroy your mind—or suck you into the nexus. No one who has been sucked inside has ever been seen again.”

Emily half-remembered the waves of endless power and shivered. It was possible that the people who had been sucked inside didn’t
want
to return. If they could, of course...but the nexus was so powerful that it could do almost anything. Surely it could rebuild their bodies if they wanted out. Or maybe they had long since been destroyed beyond hope of recovery.

The Grandmaster helped her to her feet. “Thank you for trying,” he said, seriously. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that experience. There was no other choice.”

“No,” Emily agreed. “Is there anyone else who might be able to touch the nexus?”

“Not in Whitehall,” the Grandmaster said. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “And substituting a different homunculus didn’t work either. The level of spellwork that went into the Warden was quite considerable, far more than any lesser entity. I still don’t understand how the Mimic managed to destroy it so quickly.”

Emily frowned, considering the problem. “What would happen,” she said slowly, “if the spells that gave the Warden life were drained?”

The Grandmaster turned to peer at her with sightless eyes. “Are you suggesting that the Mimic sucked the spells right out of him?”

“I can’t think of any other explanation,” Emily said. The only alternative was that the Mimic had replaced the Warden after the Battle of Whitehall...but if that had been the case, it should have had access to enough power to maintain its stolen form indefinitely. “Wouldn’t that have killed him?”

“It might well have done,” the Grandmaster agreed. “And if the spells that should have alerted the staff were destroyed too, there would have been no alert.”

Emily nodded, slowly. The Mimic had presumably
believed
that it was Travis after it had replaced him...but then, it hadn’t sounded the alarm over the destroyed Warden. What did
that
mean?

The Grandmaster led her through the door and closed it behind them. Emily watched as he replaced the spells, then added a twist or two that were completely beyond her comprehension. It was a droll reminder, she realized, of just how much more she needed to learn before she graduated from Whitehall. The tests in Blackhall were tough, but they were calculated to push the students to the limit. The Grandmaster’s wards on the nexus chamber were designed to keep intruders out.

She asked a question that had been bugging her for some time. “Shadye was a student at Whitehall, wasn’t he?”

“He used to be,” the Grandmaster admitted. He inspected his handiwork thoughtfully and nodded in satisfaction. “But then he went missing for a while...until he appeared out of nowhere and took over the Blighted Lands near Whitehall. That isn’t exactly uncommon, unfortunately.”

Emily nodded in understanding. A known magician who was slipping into necromancy might attract attention before he was too powerful to challenge directly. Shadye might well have absented himself from the Allied Lands a long time before he made the final transformation into a mad necromancer. His humanity had been sacrificed long ago.

What were you expecting
? She asked herself, silently.
To discover that he’d left a piece of his soul behind for you to find
?

The Grandmaster turned and led the way back up the hidden staircase. “I should remind you not to come down here again without an escort,” he added. “The nexus can be seductive if you are unprepared for its pull. We always have to guard it carefully when newcomers are being trained.”

“And you wouldn’t want them in the chamber on their own anyway,” Emily said. She couldn’t blame the Grandmaster for being paranoid. If she had been able to create a simulation of a black hole without any prior training, what could someone do if they
did
have the training? “I won’t come down here again.”

But she felt the pull of the nexus growing stronger as she walked up the stairs, tugging at her very soul. It had hurt her and yet she wanted to go back and throw herself into the raging torrents of power that blazed beneath Whitehall. She felt her hands trembling and clasped them together, trying to keep them under control. The tug faded until it merged into the back of her mind, part of her ever-present awareness of the wards running through the school. And yet it was still there. She could feel it every time she remembered the nexus.

“Everyone who touches the nexus is changed forever,” the Grandmaster said, softly. “And sometimes the price can be quite high.”

Emily looked at him. How and why had he lost his eyes?

There were rumors, of course. Some students claimed that he’d plucked his eyes out and traded them for wisdom. Others believed that he’d been experimenting with a new practical joke hex—or perhaps something more offensive - and accidentally destroyed his sight permanently. And there were some who believed that he’d lost them battling a necromancer before taking over the position of Grandmaster. Emily wanted to ask, but she didn’t quite dare. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

The Grandmaster led her through the main corridor and out into the Great Hall. Lady Barb was already hard at work, aided by Sergeant Miles and Professor Lombardi, both of whom were constructing wards to trap the Mimic. Behind them, Professor Eleas was drawing out runes on the wooden floor. Emily looked at the completed runes, but couldn’t discern their purpose. One of them seemed to be intended to urge someone to move in a particular direction; the others were completely unfamiliar.

“We may have to start tomorrow,” Lady Barb said, straightening up. “Professor Thande says that the remaining potions won’t be ready for several more hours.”

Emily looked over at the professor. He was standing in front of a table, messing around with a massive collection of test tubes, glass beakers and a tiny stove. Beside him, Imaiqah was watching with interest and passing him ingredients as directed. Emily had to smile at her friend’s intent expression. She had always been much better at Alchemy than Emily herself and Professor Thande had even made noises about offering her an apprenticeship. But that would have to wait until sixth year.

“Understandable,” the Grandmaster said, although he sounded cross. “Not the right ingredients?”

“Not for
this
level of replenishment potion,” Lady Barb said, flatly. “We’re going to need a dose for just about everyone, unless we get lucky and the Mimic happens to be caught very quickly. And there’s no way we can get more ingredients in time.”

Emily scowled inwardly. The greenhouses were on the other side of the wards—and they couldn’t be extended, not that far from the school. Nor could they go to Dragon’s Den or somewhere else where they might find more supplies. They would have to work with what they had—and if they didn’t have enough...

“Do
not
attempt to substitute anything else for the required ingredient,” Professor Thande had said, back during her first week of formal lessons in alchemy. “If you replace one with another, the alchemical reaction will be very interesting, but not what you’re trying to achieve. Leave experimenting until you get into fifth year.”

He’d followed up with a set of warnings, concluding with a dire threat that anyone caught deliberately altering the recipe would be severely punished—and anyone who wasn’t caught would probably wish they had been, after they drank the botched mixture.

“We may be able to find substitutes,” Lady Barb added, “but I wouldn’t take chances with something like this.”