Chapter Thirty-Nine

When she’d been living in the apartment with Daria, Elaine had been woken at dawn by the sound of the temple singers calling the faithful to prayer. In the Great Library, wrapped in spells that muffled all sound within the building, she needed to use a spell to snap herself awake at the appointed time. Coming awake, she swung her legs over and out of bed, then stood up and glanced at the clock. It was just before dawn.

She touched the wards and sent an order – wake Johan, gently – then headed into the bathroom, where she stripped and washed every last inch of her body. The rituals of accepting an apprentice were set in stone; Johan might have been correct that all they really had to do was say the oaths together, but Elaine knew that the rituals existed for reasons that were separate from the legal niceties. They gave their practitioners time to reflect on what they were doing, why they were doing it and if they really wanted to do it. Once she was clean, Elaine used a spell to dry herself and reached for the white robe.

The wards quivered a message to her – Johan was awake and washing too – then fell silent. Elaine nodded to herself, then tied her hair back into a long ponytail. Magic made grooming so much easier, although she remembered a girl from the Peerless School who would take hours to set her hair without magic. She’d been teased regularly until she’d mastered spells to silence her tormentors, but Elaine thought she understood. There was a certain comfort, sometimes, in doing things the mundane way. Besides, magic should be treated with respect, not used as a toy. No one knew better than her just how dangerous magic could be.

Once she was ready, she picked up the wand she’d borrowed and cast a simple light spell into the air, then cancelled it and placed the wand at her belt. She knew that she should practice casting spells without a wand – it had shocked her just how hard it had been to throw that spell at Hawthorne – but there had been no time. There might not be time in the future too, she knew; tutoring Johan while studying his magic was likely to take up much of her time, to the point where she might have to pass most of her duties to Vane permanently. Her deputy probably deserved her title too.

It was a bitter thought. Elaine loved books; they had been her friends and companions since she’d learned to read, taking her places she knew she would never have the nerve to visit in real life. Becoming a librarian had seemed the natural career choice; spending the rest of her life in the Great Library had seemed a worthwhile use of her time. And she’d gratefully accepted the promotion because, if she was being honest with herself, most of the work that involved interacting with customers could be passed on to Vane. But now ...

Maybe I should claim Howarth Hall, she told herself, and smiled. There were so many creditors that it still remained empty, despite the vast number of people who wanted to own a house in the Golden City. Maintaining it would still be beyond her, but perhaps she could rent rooms to visitors and only keep one floor for Johan and herself. But she still didn’t want anything from the young gambler who had largely ignored her and then sold her out. Besides, his creditors might just start pressuring Elaine instead ...

Bracing herself, Elaine strode out of her room and down into Johan’s suite. She tapped once, then opened the door; Johan was standing in front of the mirror, admiring himself. The white robe he’d been given made him look like a druid, although there was no belt of herbs or sickle hanging down to mark his rank. And, of course, the robe was of a different sheen; he couldn’t pass for a druid at close range. But then, falsely claiming to be a magician or a healer was a criminal offence.

“You look good,” she assured him, as he turned to face her. The white robe would be worn once and then placed in storage, at least until Johan’s eldest son decided to take on an apprenticeship. His family didn’t have any robes in storage and probably wouldn’t have let Johan use them if they had. “But you also look tired.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Johan confessed. “Is that normal?”

“I was never an apprentice,” Elaine admitted. “I have no idea if it is normal or not.”

Johan smoothed down his robes, then sighed. “Do we get something to eat before we go?”

“I’m afraid not,” Elaine said. “Once we swear the oaths, we will go eat at the temple and then come back here.”

“It does sound like a marriage,” Johan remarked. “What else do we do together?”

Elaine flushed, then rubbed her cheek in some annoyance. They would be living together, but as master and apprentice rather than husband and wife. She would give him a room in her suite, maybe even reconfigure parts of the library to grant them more space. Maybe they did need to find a house they could use ... hell, maybe she should swallow her pride and go outside the city. It was cheaper there, with fewer prying eyes.

“We work together,” she said, sternly. She saw him trying to fight back a giggle and rolled her eyes. “And you learn from me. I have a ton of books you have to read before you get a morsel of breakfast.”

Johan scowled, then realised that she was joking. He knew how to read – his tutors had been good, even if they hadn’t been magicians – but she knew that he didn’t share her fascination with books. For her, they had been an escape; for him, they had just been part of the prison walls holding him in. Still, there were quite a few books he ought to read – and not all of them were on magic. His father, for some reason, had never bothered to teach him more than a little etiquette.

Probably thought that his powerless son would forever remain a secret, Elaine thought. And now it’s too late to rebuild his relationship with Johan.

“We should get a great breakfast,” Johan said. He made a show of rubbing his tummy. “What do they serve at the temple?”

“The kind of food they think that all apprentices should be served,” Elaine said, dryly. In truth, she had no idea. There were ritual meals, but they weren’t part of the apprenticeship ceremony. “Are you ready to go?”

“I should have a wand,” Johan said, softly. “Even if I can’t use it, I should have one.”

“We can buy you one if you like,” Elaine said. She wasn’t too keen on the idea – her problems with casting spells without a wand still nagged at her – but it could be done. “There is a more important question to be asked now.”

She took a breath. “This is your last chance to change your mind,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. The prospect of taking on an apprentice scared her, but it was also something she needed to do. “If you want to back out, you can do it now.”

Johan hesitated, then shook his head. “I need this,” he said. “I need to be free of my family, Jayne needs to be free of her family ... I have to do this.”

Elaine scowled, angrily. She didn’t have the clout to convince a Potions Master to take Jayne, certainly not now. Light Spinner, on the other hand, could probably talk one into it, certainly after Johan had sworn himself to Elaine. The gods alone knew where Johan and Jayne’s relationship would go, if his father hadn’t managed to kill it, but it would be at least five years before they could marry. But then, she doubted they would want to marry at all.

“Not the best of reasons,” she said, reluctantly. “An apprenticeship exists to help the student develop. If you feel that this is best for you ...”

“I do,” Johan said. “And ... I know this won’t be easy for you, but I really appreciate it.”

Elaine felt herself melt. How many others had told her that? No one, apart from Daria once or twice. Bee, for all the attentions he’d lavished upon her, had never truly needed her. But Johan needed her ... she pushed the emotion aside and stood upright, then looked him up and down. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

“It’s time to go,” she said, quietly.

The Great Library never slept. Even when most students were tucked up in bed, there was always a handful of students trying frantically to study. Elaine would have preferred to leave through the hidden exits, but tradition couldn’t be ignored, not on this day. She led Johan though the winding corridors and out through the main entrance, ignoring the stares and sidelong glances from the students and a couple of her staff members. There was no sign of Jayne, thankfully. The girl had taken a week off to hide in her room in the boarding apartment, according to Vane. Elaine could only pray that she was all right.

She won’t be, her thoughts mocked her. How would you feel if your life was suddenly upended so brutally that there was no hope of recovery?

Elaine’s life had been, she knew, but she’d been offered the post in the Great Library and started to rebuild her life. Or had she merely walked into a gilded cage? But she had at least enjoyed being in her prison, while Jayne would have hated every last moment of hers, even if she did like Johan. Johan’s father, she told herself, had a lot to answer for.

Outside, the first shimmers of light were beginning to rise above the Four Peaks. Elaine motioned for Johan to climb into the carriage, then turned and took one final look at the Great Library. When she returned, she knew, the library would no longer be her first priority. She would have an apprentice, someone to whom she owed her full attention. Vane would need a promotion, or at least a raise. Once Johan was inside, she joined him and pulled the door closed. The driver, already briefed on his duties, cracked his whip and set the horses into motion.

Elaine closed her eyes, silently praying that they would reach the Garden of Apprenticeships before the sun rose fully above the Watchtower. Long-standing tradition insisted that apprenticeship oaths were spoken as soon as the first rays of sunlight reached the garden, symbolically linking the oaths with the magic of the dawn. Elaine knew that it didn’t make a difference if the oaths were spoken at dawn or in the dead of night – or the middle of the day, for that matter – but it was important to honour tradition. Or, as Light Spinner had once cynically pointed out, to be seen to do so.

She reached out and squeezed Johan’s hand, sensing his nervousness. He had good reason to worry, she knew; no one really understood how his magic would react to the oaths. Even Elaine, for all the knowledge in her head, had been stumped. It might behave normally and bind him to her, or it might do nothing, or ... it might do something completely unprecedented. Elaine would have bet money, if she’d been asked to bet, on the latter. When Johan became emotional, he started to lose control of his magic and surprises happened. It was almost the only normal thing about his powers.

The carriage rattled to a halt. Elaine jumped out, noting with relief that the sun hadn’t yet risen high enough to cast light into the grove, and then motioned for him to join her. Johan hopped down, then followed her towards the line of trees. The Garden of Apprenticeships was surrounded by trees – and a number of spells – intended to keep prying eyes out, although they weren’t truly effective. How could they be when so many people needed to use the garden?

Inside, the grove was hidden in darkness. Elaine muttered a spell that gave her basic night vision and looked around, silently admiring the effort the monks had put into creating their garden. There was a single pond of bubbling water, a series of paths that wrapped around the garden in a pattern that invoked the blessing of the gods ... and a flat patch of stone where they were meant to take their oaths. Statues of the gods were everywhere; Elaine could have sworn that they moved whenever she took her eyes off them. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into the statue of a winged human, its motionless face cast in an expression of profound sadness. There was something about it that terrified her, something oddly familiar ...

Johan coughed; the spell was broken. “Here we are,” he said, very quietly. “What do we do now? And where are the monks?”

“This is a private moment between us and any witnesses we choose to invite,” Elaine said. Unlike a wedding, where it was considered bad form not to invite everyone who was anyone, an apprenticeship ceremony was meant to be private. She had thought about inviting Dread, Light Spinner or Jayne, but in the end she had chosen to keep it completely private. No one knew what would happen when Johan spoke the oaths. “Do you have your oath?”

Johan reached into his pocket and produced the piece of paper – and a silver knife. “I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Elaine checked, out of habit; it was the right piece of paper. “And I have the knife.”

“Good,” Elaine said. She reached into her own robes and pulled out her own knife. The oath was already memorised, ready to be spoken. When the time came, they would cut their palms and clasp hands, allowing their blood to mingle. It would seal the magic between them, binding mistress and apprentice together. Even after the five years were over, there would still be a link. “Come with me.”

The garden seemed to grow colder as she led the way up towards the patch of stone. Magic crackled around the plinth, an echo of all the oaths that had been sworn since the Golden City had been founded. The first Grand Sorcerer had intended to keep a record of such oaths, Elaine knew, but it hadn’t stopped the monks from creating somewhere truly holy. Even those who doubted the existence of the gods didn’t doubt the power of magic – or of oaths, sworn by two magicians. And even if they had, it was oaths that bound the Empire together.

She looked up to see the first rays of sunlight sweeping down towards the garden. The trees shielded where they were standing, but that would change in a few minutes. She drew her wand, cast a numbing charm on her right hand, then cast a second charm on Johan’s hand. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, part of the ceremony, but the last thing they needed was pain to distract them when there was so little time. Blood-based rituals had to be completed very quickly or they would have to be started again, if the caster was lucky. There were plenty of horror stories about what happened to people who cast rituals that went wrong.

“All right,” she said, as she lowered her wand. Her hand already felt useless, barely responsive to her thoughts. It was never easy to use such spells on one’s own body. “When I give the order, cut your palm and clasp hands with me, then speak your oath.”

Johan nodded, lifting his knife. “I’m ready ...”

The magic surrounding them spiked, suddenly. Elaine threw herself aside as a blast of red light came out of the darkness, aimed directly at her. There were figures there, emerging from the trees; Elaine stared in horror as she realised that someone had decided to profane the ceremony. Desperately, she lifted her wand and threw a spell at one of them, blowing him backwards to land amongst the trees. Two of his compatriots threw spells back at her, propelled with such power that all she could do was dodge.

“Get back,” she snapped at Johan. He wasn’t ready to duel with anyone, even if he had managed to beat a Dark Wizard. She had no idea how bad it could become if he tried to fight. “Go!”

She swore as she darted back, looking around. The sunlight was already streaming down into the grove; the ceremony was ruined, utterly. They would have to do it again tomorrow, right down to the smallest detail. She cast an emergency charm, summoning Dread and the Inquisitors, then raised her wand just in time to block another curse. Blue-green balefire flared in front of her, then crackled out of existence. Johan’s bubble-shield stopped two more curses; his hands were raised, but he looked unsure of what to do. One of the magicians just crumbled to the ground; the others jumped back, then started hurling spells at Johan. One of them even animated the statues and sent them running at him. Elaine was almost impressed.

That moment of inattention killed her. She barely noticed the magic surge before it struck her, slicing through her protections and right into her flesh. Her body went rigid, as if she could no longer move; she tried to muster a counter-spell that didn’t involve her wand or hand gestures, but it was already too late. She was glass, she realised numbly; she’d felt the spell before, back at the Peerless School. A second spell sent her falling over backwards ...

... And her body and thoughts shattered into a million pieces.