M ARAH BARELY NOTICED HER SURROUNDINGS AS Emily took them back to her house, collected a handful of supplies and then teleported them somewhere else. She was lost in her own thoughts, her mind a conflicted mess of feelings that left her feeling utterly unsure of herself. Her stepfather had been going to beat her, and she’d been going to bend over and take it, while her mother had done nothing and even Roth… she hated herself and hated her family and hated everyone who had put them in that mess and then left them to suffer rather than doing something to help. Her thoughts ran in circles. She knew how hopeless it had been, for the townspeople; she understood, all too well, why so many ran away and became dissidents. They had nowhere else to go.
Her heart sank as she recalled the endless struggle to remain alive. It wasn’t right . People shouldn’t have to live like that, not when they could look up and see others living in luxury. Why should the daughter of a wealthy man look down on her? Why should Prince Jeremy just inherit the throne, and absolute power, because of an accident of birth? Why should her mother remain married to a monster, just because they were husband and wife? It was easy to be angry at her mother, and yet she’d felt the helplessness herself. If Emily hadn’t been there…
She wasn’t sure what she would have done. Her fingers twitched, clenching an imaginary wand. Would she have used her wand, if she’d had it? It had made her feel powerful, given her the confidence to do anything, but… it had been a trap. She had left one abuser far behind and found herself in the clutches of another, one far more subtle and dangerous. Garang, damn the man, had had his uses for her. Virgil had clearly considered her expendable…
And yet, when he’d railed against the system, he’d had a point.
He did , she told herself. Or was it all a lie?
Emily rested her hand on Marah’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Marah shook her head. She knew better. Opening her heart to anyone was just asking for trouble. Emily might be more honest than Garang or Madam Rosemount or Virgil, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Marah didn’t know how far she could trust Emily, if at all. She wasn’t convinced Emily trusted her either. No aristocrat could be fully trusted, and that included wealthy men who had bought their titles or married their daughters into noble families. They forgot their roots and turned their backs on their fellows, just for a title.
“Then we should start your lessons,” Emily said. “What do you make of this place?”
Marah looked up, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The building felt… weird , magic brushing against her senses in a manner she found faintly disconcerting. The chamber was a comfortable sitting room, decorated in a manner that suggested its owner marched to the beat of his own drum, ignoring anyone else’s feelings on the matter. There was something about the layout – she couldn’t put her finger on it – that implied it wasn’t Emily who’d decorated the room. It was just… weird .
“Weird,” she said, finally. “What is it?”
“My tower,” Emily said. “Among other things, it is a safe place to practice magic.”
She leaned back in her chair. “The trick to learning magic is to learn to channel both power and spellware through your mind,” she said. “Most magicians learn as they come into their magic, mastering control before their inherent power increases to dangerous levels. You might think of it as a child learning to walk, and move their body, before they get big and strong enough to hurt themselves – or someone else – largely by accident. If they don’t have a good sense of their own capabilities…”
Marah nodded, slowly. “But in my case…?”
“In your case, you were taught to channel power without proper control,” Emily said, flatly. “Your power kept rising, which means that trying to teach you proper magic now could be incredibly dangerous, to you if not to me.”
“Oh.” Marah wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to learn, but… she swallowed hard. She didn’t want to say stop , even though she was now aware of the danger and she knew it was selfish. She wanted to master her magic, and yet she didn’t want to put Emily in danger. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
Emily’s brown eyes were sympathetic. “Luckily, I’ve been giving the matter some thought,” she said. “We’re going to drain some of your power into a battery, every day, reducing your power levels to the point we can work on the basics properly. We are also going to work with magitech to let you get a sense for basic spells, although… that may not work perfectly. The spells were adjusted for magitech, and they may need to be adjusted back .”
She paused. “And we are also going to lay the groundwork for basic charms,” she added. “I won’t teach you more than the basics, because that will be covered in school, but it’ll be a start.”
Marah smiled, despite her fear and gnawing guilt. “Will it work?”
Emily smiled back. “I don’t know,” she said, picking up a simple metal ring from the table and connecting it to a device that looked alarmingly like a wand. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
She held out the conjoined device. Marah eyed it warily, her head starting to pound the moment she looked at it through a magician’s eye. It was tiny, little bigger than Emily’s palm, and yet it seemed immense, as if it went on and on forever. She had to fight to close her inner eye and look up, listening carefully as Emily outlined how the battery worked. It was simple and yet brilliant. Emily had changed the world. Again.
“Watch carefully,” Emily said. She pressed her hand against the battery and channeled a little magic into the device. Marah could see the flow of raw power flickering and flaring as it moved into the battery. “Do you think you can do it yourself?”
Marah reached out and tried, gingerly. Nothing happened. She gritted her teeth and tried again. Virgil had taught her that releasing her magic openly, without a wand, was asking for trouble… she swore under her breath, then closed her eyes and imagined the device was a wand. The magic flowed slowly, sluggishly, into the battery. Marah felt her head spin unpleasantly as she started to run low, an uncomfortable hunger-headache gnawing at her mind. It went on and on…
Emily reached out and pinched her, lightly. Marah jerked, feeling the flow slowly subside to nothingness. Her head spun, a sense of… weakness threatening to overcome her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, even though she knew she was safe. And yet… it was hard to work up any feeling of concern , as if she was too drained to care. She recalled her mother’s face and shuddered. It felt as if she were on the verge of being so battered she couldn’t bring herself to worry about anything.
“You did fine,” Emily said, putting the battery back on the table and holding out a mug of chicken soup. “It’ll take a few moments for you to recover, but you will.”
Marah nodded, sipping the soup gratefully. “What… what’ll you do with my power?”
“The battery?” Emily shrugged. “Nothing. The power will stay there until you need it.”
“You can’t use it yourself?”
“I can,” Emily said. “It’s just raw magic. It isn’t really connected to you… not like your blood. Speaking of which, did he tell you about the importance of keeping your blood safe?”
Marah swallowed, then shook her head. “He just said that anything involving blood and bone was bad news.”
“It is,” Emily said. “Blood is intimately linked to you . If someone else gets their hands on your blood, they can influence or control or even curse you from a distance – and even if you realize what is happening, it isn’t easy to defend yourself. I’ll show you how to cut the links later, and” – she reddened – “how to use magic to deal with menstruation. That blood can be dangerous too.”
Marah colored too. “And bone?”
“Anything that comes out of your body can be turned against you,” Emily said. “Blood is the worst, because the bloodlink lingers indefinitely, but flesh and bone can also be dangerous.”
“Shit,” Marah said.
“Yes,” Emily agreed dryly. “That too.”
She straightened, brushing down her dress. “We’re going to start with a simple exercise, the kind of basic training newborn magicians receive,” she said. “If you get tired, or feel your magic starting to strain, tell me at once. Don’t push it too far. The trick is to get used to wielding magic, not to hurt yourself.”
Marah leaned forward, watching as Emily demonstrated the first exercise. It wasn’t easy to follow, even when she opened her magician’s eye as much as possible. The magic was so low and yet… she tried, and tried again, and…
The world went white. Marah yelped and shut her eyes hastily, hoping and praying her mistress wouldn’t explode with rage. The light hurt . Emily muttered a charm, and the world went dark, so dark Marah thought for a terrifying moment she’d gone blind – or been cursed – before her vision started to clear. She blinked hard, trying to banish the floaters from her eyes. Emily looked more pleased than angry, although Marah found it hard to relax. She knew the rules. If her mistress wanted to beat her, she could. There was certainly nothing stopping her.
“Not bad, but also a grim reminder of how poorly you were taught,” Emily said, calmly. “You put too much power into the spell.”
Marah blinked, again. “Too much?”
“Yeah,” Emily said. She wiped her eyes. “You overloaded the spellware.”
She shook her head. “Again.”
Marah hastened to obey, trying to cast the spell again. The world flared white… again and again. Emily watched her calmly, showing no hint of anger or frustration… Marah told herself, firmly, that Emily was nothing like Madam Rosemont. She wasn’t looking for excuses to punish her, to indulge her own sadism in the guise of helping her servant. It was a relief. Marah knew she was failing, and her frustration was starting to get the better of her.
“Think of the spellware as bricks, put together to make a greater whole,” Emily said, quietly. “And cast the spell again.”
Marah gritted her teeth and tried. This time, everything fell into place… she wasn’t sure if it was because she was running out of magic, or if she had a better idea of what she was doing, or… it didn’t matter. A glowing ball of light flickered into existence, hovering right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t the first piece of magic she’d done, even wandless magic, but it felt good. Right. She reached up a hand to touch it lightly, feeling the raw power flickering around her fingertips. It was weirdly cold, as if she’d forgotten to make it warm. But it was hers.
“Very good,” Emily said. “Now, get rid of it.”
Marah glowered at her, mulishly, then caught herself. It was hard, almost impossible, to affect the glowing light in any way, even cutting off the power. It was going on and on, still there… Emily reached out her hand and cast a spell, the ball of light snapping out of existence with a faint crackling sound. Marah felt a hot flash of anger, disconcerting in its intensity, before she calmed herself. She knew how to cast the spell. She could do it again.
“This is the basic cancellation spell,” Emily said. “It effectively pulls apart the spellware and dissipates the magic itself. Most elementary spells can be neutralized quite easily, if” – her eyes met Marah’s – “the spellcaster has the presence of mind not to panic and cast the cancel spell. More advanced spells are harder to cancel, and you’ll have to unravel them carefully, but… you’ll learn that at school. You’ll also learn to cast the cancel spell without moving your hands or saying any words out loud.”
Marah frowned. “Why…?”
“There’s a game students play, called freeze tag,” Emily said. “Two or more teams, with the objective being to freeze every one of your opponents while remaining unfrozen yourself. If you can cancel spells without needing to move, you can free yourself and continue the game; if not, you’re out, unless you get freed by one of your teammates.”
Marah smiled. “The game could go on for days .”
“There’s normally a time limit, even if a purely nominal one,” Emily told her. She cast another lightglobe. “Cancel it.”
Marah tried. The globe flickered, oscillated wildly, then returned to normal. She sighed and tried again. This time, the globe snapped out of existence. Emily nodded and cast another spell, a flickering something that advanced towards her threateningly. Marah felt a shiver run down her spine, nearly panicking as it came closer before she managed to cast the counterspell. Emily met her eyes silently, assessing her, then snatched a fireball out of nowhere and tossed it at her. Marah dived out of the way, rolling over in time to see the fireball hit the chair and vanish. She realized, too late, that it had been an illusion.
“Good move,” Emily said. Marah though she was being sarcastic, then realized she meant it. “Better to keep moving than let yourself take a hit.”
Marah picked herself up. “Why…?”
“You need to learn to think about what you’re doing,” Emily said. “If you react on instinct, you could easily make a serious mistake.”
“I see,” Marah said. “What happens if I find a spell that can’t be cancelled?”
“It depends,” Emily said. “We may have time to go over unravelling spells, depending on your progress, otherwise you’ll learn it at school. Others… need specific counterspells or can’t be undone at all. For the record” – she met Marah’s eyes – “casting a spell only you can undo, or can’t be undone at all, is a serious crime. You could – you will - get expelled for it, if you do it at school. Doing it outside school…”
She shrugged. “You might get away with it, but it is still a terrible thing to do.”
Marah frowned, hearing a wealth of feeling in those words. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later, when you’re ready to hear it,” Emily said. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Marah said. “Just… tired.”
“We’ll take a break,” Emily said. She stood, brushing down her dress. “For the record, there’s a spellchamber just down from your room. You can practice your spells there, but make sure you keep draining off the excess power before you start casting. You could easily hurt yourself through pushing too much power into your spells.”
Marah nodded. “Does it get easier?”
“The more you practice, the more you’ll get a feel for how much magic to use,” Emily assured her. “And how to avoid overpowering the spells.”
She led the way through the door and along a stone corridor that felt as weird as the rest of the tower. “Some doors will be closed to you; don’t try to open them. The kitchen is at the bottom of the stairs; feel free to take whatever you like, at least until I find someone who can cook for us. We can eat out from time to time, but I’d prefer to concentrate on studies for the moment. The library foyer is open to you; I’ll arrange for a handful of textbooks covering the basics, but not much more until you’re ready for them.”
Marah scowled, then forced herself to relax. Her reading wasn’t great. It was hard enough parsing out the new textbooks, let alone books and manuscripts written in OldScript. She wasn’t sure what Emily was keeping from her, but… she shook her head as Emily showed her to a room. It was larger, by far, than anything she’d ever enjoyed, even with Virgil. The bed was soft and comfortable, the wardrobe almost painfully empty… there were two more doors, one leading to a washroom and the other to an empty space she could use as a private office or workroom.
“This will be your room, as long as you want it,” Emily told her. “You’ll find blankets and suchlike in the drawers – I’ll show you how to make the bed, if you don’t already know, because you really do have to master that before you go to school. If you don’t, the maids will make it for you.”
“That doesn’t sound bad,” Marah said. “What’s the catch?”
Emily smiled. “They dissolve protective wards, and they don’t bother to replace them,” she cautioned. “And that means your roommates can hide charms on your mattress or under the sheets and… well, you can go to bed as a human and wake up a toad. Or get charmed into doing something stupid. Or… better to be careful. Too many magicians practice their magic by casting spells on each other.”
“Oh.” Marah looked at the floor. “Can you teach me how to turn someone into a toad?”
“I will,” Emily said. “But you have to be careful. A magician will see it as a minor inconvenience. A mundane will see it as a death sentence.”
And as power , Marah thought. She had never had power until Virgil had taken her in… and that power had come with a price. She would almost have been happier if he’d demanded her body in exchange for lessons, as odious as that would have been. At least the price would have been obvious. If I master magic, no one will ever look down on me again .