The Cunning Man, page 16
“Here,” Arnold said. “She has a rule. If the door isn’t locked, guests are welcome.”
He stopped outside a door, tapped it once and then pushed it open. Adam found himself stepping into a room that looked like a cross between an office, complete with desks and filing cabinets, and a workshop. Senior Craftswoman Yvonne sat behind the largest desk, studying a set of blueprints. She looked up as they entered.
“Yes?”
Arnold bowed. “Senior Craftswoman, this is my friend Adam,” he said. “He has a proposal you might wish to consider.”
Senior Craftswoman Yvonne studied Adam for a long thoughtful moment. Adam looked back at her, trying not to quail under her gaze. It was hard not to stare. She was about a decade older than he was, her hair cropped short, wearing a leather tunic that had clearly been designed for a man. Her bare arms were covered in scars and burn marks. Her face was not classically pretty - a nasty-looking scar ran down her left cheek, as if someone had taken a knife to her face - but she had a presence that was hard to ignore, a sheer determination to prove herself that could not be denied. Adam forced himself to bow. A woman who’d worked her way to the top of a male-dominated profession had to be very good at her job. And Lady Emily had selected Yvonne as a councillor ...
“I see,” Yvonne said. She had a Cockatrice accent, just like Arnold. “What do you have in mind?”
Adam hesitated, unsure how to address her. “Senior Craftswoman,” he said. “I need something forged for me.”
“Craftswoman is fine,” Yvonne said. She tapped her fingers against the desk, impatiently. “Details?”
Adam dug the papers out of his pocket and passed them to her. “I need these forged for my apprenticeship,” he said, all too aware he was babbling. “I designed them as best as I could ...”
“Runic tiles, made of iron?” Yvonne’s face betrayed nothing of her feelings as she studied the notes. Adam cringed, inwardly. He was no draftsman. She probably found it hard to read his handwriting. “What do you intend to do with them?”
“Channel magic into a potion,” Adam said, carefully. He didn’t intend to talk about blood to her. Not yet, perhaps not ever. “I don’t have magic, you see ...”
“So I heard.” Yvonne gave him a sharp look. “What do you think you could achieve?”
Adam swallowed a pair of nasty answers. She was a woman in a male-dominated field, damn it. She should understand how hard it could be to make one’s way when everyone else was different. And had power ... Adam put the thought aside. Yvonne was a craftsman. She wouldn’t appreciate an argument based on raw emotion, let alone emotional blackmail. And she’d probably clobber him if he tried. She was the most muscular woman he’d ever seen. Her fists looked big enough to knock him into next week.
“I can’t muster the magic to turn a cauldron of ingredients into an actual potion,” Adam said, curtly. She’d be familiar with the problem, he was sure. “But this should let me charge the potion without magic.”
“I see.” Yvonne’s expression didn’t change. Adam couldn’t tell if she thought he was right, if she thought he was wasting his time - and hers too, probably a mortal sin - or if she thought he was hiding something. “We could stamp out the tiles for you.”
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’ll have to pay for this, somehow,” Yvonne added. “Am I correct in assuming you haven’t told your master about this?”
Arnold snickered. Adam managed, somehow, not to glare at him.
“... Yes,” he said. He didn’t dare lie. “I want to prove it works first.”
“Understandable,” Yvonne said. Adam had the feeling she wanted to say something else, but refrained. “We can have these ready for you tomorrow. Come back after noon. If they work, we’ll discuss payment with your master. If they don’t” - she smiled - “I’m sure we can find a way to make you pay for it.”
Adam bowed. “Thank you, Craftswoman.”
“An interesting thought,” Yvonne said, meditatively. “We have worked with runes before, but nothing quite like this. We’ll discuss it further if you succeed.”
Her tone made it clear they were being dismissed. Adam bowed, again, then followed Arnold out of the chamber. His eyes swept from side to side as they made their way back through the chambers, passing row upon row of workbenches groaning under the weight of pieces of machinery. It was fascinating - he stared at a young man carefully fiddling with a piece of clockwork - but, at the same time, it wasn’t him. He wanted to be there, to be one of them, and yet he didn’t.
“I think you impressed her,” Arnold said, once they’d left the complex behind. “You did well.”
Adam frowned. “How so?”
“She would have demanded payment up front if she thought you were wasting her time,” Arnold explained. “Or simply put it at the back of the list of things they need to do. They’re charged with churning out steam engines and guns and everything else, all the while trying to train up the next generation of craftsmen and women. It causes problems. Do you know how many people come and go all the time?”
Adam shook his head. “No ...?”
“Thousands,” Arnold said. “And she has to deal with them all. If you hadn’t impressed her, she wouldn’t have agreed to put your project at the top of the list.”
He clapped Adam on the back. “Well done.”
“Thanks.” Adam couldn’t help taking pleasure in Arnold’s approval. It was rare for other apprentices to approve of him. Matt had regarded Adam as a dabbler, at best, and Lilith would sooner tear out her own tongue than let a word of praise pass through her lips. “What are we going to do now?”
“Now?” Arnold shrugged. “Now, the three of us are going to go down to the town and help with the clean-up. And see what else we can do.”
He frowned, suddenly. “Your bitchy peer took you to town, didn’t she?”
Adam nodded, then frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Do you ... do you think she knew what was coming?”
“I’d bet on it,” Arnold said. “Magicians brag. She’s pretty isolated, but she still has access to the magical dorms ... I’d bet good money she knew what was coming and went down to town with you anyway. She might have been hoping you’d get hurt or worse.”
“Maybe ...” Adam wasn’t so sure. Lilith hadn’t had to block Jasper before he could hex Adam. She could just have sworn blind she’d failed to stop him in time. It could have been a cunning plan to rub his nose in his insecurities - he’d been saved by a girl - but he didn’t think she knew enough about mundane society to realise that might be an issue. “She could have hexed me herself.”
“She might not have wanted to get her hands dirty,” Arnold pointed out. “She wouldn’t be the first toff to turn a blind eye to thugs doing dirty work on their behalf.”
“She saved me,” Adam said. She could simply have looked the other way when Jasper came into view. “Did they get the timing wrong?”
“They might have,” Arnold agreed. “What would your master say if she failed to come to your aid?”
Adam had no answer. In Beneficence, apprentices were expected to help their peers. An apprentice who failed to come to his peer’s rescue would be shunned for letting the side down. But here ... he didn’t know. Lilith could have planned everything or she could have simply gotten unlucky. Hell, she’d never been afraid of doing her own dirty work. She could have hexed him at any moment and laughed if he dared to complain.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But ...”
He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
“At least you know she’s an enemy,” Arnold said. “The real danger comes from the ones who pretend to like you, right up until they put a knife in your back.”
Chapter Sixteen
The thought nagged at Adam as he spent the day in town, helping to clean up the mess, then returned to the university to sleep. Had Lilith known? He honestly couldn’t decide. She didn’t like the town. It was odd to think she would have willingly walked into crowds, and then into danger, if she’d known the latter was coming. And yet ... she might have assumed she’d be in no danger. Jasper and his cronies wouldn’t have hexed anyone in black. It would have landed them in very hot water indeed.
Lady Emily would not approve of this, he thought, as he ate a hasty supper and then headed to his room. Why isn’t she here?
He sighed, inwardly, as he clambered into bed. The Levellers had been surprisingly upbeat, despite everything, but it was hard to feel optimistic. Muskets and cannons might have levelled the playing field - rumour insisted that riots and revolutions were on the verge of breaking out right across the Allied Lands - yet magic was a very different ballgame. What did right matter, when the other side had might? He was on sufferance, he knew it, and the knowledge burned. If he was wrong about the runic tiles ...
The night was an uncomfortable one and he rose, the following morning, half-convinced he hadn’t slept at all. There was almost no one in the dining hall, save for a pair of young men who eyed him thoughtfully and the Gorgon, sitting by herself at the staff table. Adam was torn between the urge to talk to her and a feeling he didn’t want to look at too closely, a strange mixture of embarrassment at how she’d saved him and a reluctance to look at her inhuman features. She wasn’t a bad person, he told himself, but ... she stood and left before he could decide what to do. He was almost relieved, even though he knew he was being dumb. The Gorgon was a demihuman. So what? She was still far superior to Lilith.
He half-expected to see Lilith as he finished his breakfast, but there was no sign of her. He had no idea where she slept, although he doubted it was one of the dorms. She probably had a whole suite to herself. He put the thought out of his head as he stood, took the trays to the hatch and headed for the door. There was no point in heading to the lab. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to enter without Master Landis or Lilith. Besides, he had been told to take the weekend off.
He’s up to something, rather than trying to teach me, Adam thought. He understood his master’s point - there were limits to what he could teach Adam - but it still made him feel resentful. He’s not even trying to teach Lilith.
The thought gnawed at him as he wandered the university, silently expanding his mental map of the building. It truly was huge. He passed entire sections devoted to academic concepts and departments he’d never even known existed, workshops and classrooms devoted to everything from magical theory to charms and supernatural creatures. There was so much knowledge, just waiting for him to learn, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in the university. He would too, if it was allowed. Perhaps he could come to an accommodation with Master Landis and Lilith. He could serve as their assistant if they let him stay at the university ...
But that would be giving up, his thoughts mocked him. You’ll never be anything more than a servant.
He kept walking, as time slowly ticked away. He passed through the outer dorms, avoided a pair of magicians who looked ready to hex first and ask questions later, spent a couple of hours in the library and finally returned to the dining hall for lunch. It was a little busier, but there was still no sign of anyone he knew. He would almost have welcomed Lilith, although she would have asked pointed questions if she’d seen him going to the basement after eating. Instead, he ate alone and took a rather circular route back down to the basement. He wasn’t sure why he was being paranoid, but ...
No, he corrected himself. You do know why.
The thought made him pause, just outside the doors. Master Landis would not approve of his experiment. If he decided to terminate the apprenticeship, right there and then ... Adam wasn’t afraid of being thrashed, or being forced to do endless punishment duties, but he was worried about being kicked out. Lilith would gleefully point out just how many safety rules he’d violated, even though the risk was minimal. She’d said so herself. And yet ... he was torn, unsure if he should carry on or back out now, while he still could. He could tell Arnold he’d gotten cold feet ...
And then Arnold would call you a coward, Adam told himself. And he’d be right.
He pushed the door open and walked inside. It was Sunday, but the workshop was as busy as ever. The craftsmen were intent on their work. No one so much as glanced at him as he made his way across the room and stopped outside Yvonne’s office. Arnold had insisted it was safe to open, whenever the door wasn’t locked, but Adam wasn’t sure that was true. A magician would be furious if someone entered their space without permission. He braced himself, knocked and waited. There was a long pause, then the door opened of its own accord.
“Come in,” Yvonne said. She indicated a seat. “I’ll be right with you.”
Adam nodded and sat, watching as she picked up a box on her desk and passed it over to him. He opened it slowly and stared. The runic tiles looked ... real. He couldn’t think of a better way to put the sensation into words. One of them, designed to detect magic, quivered slightly as he ran his fingertips over the metal. The remainder were dead and cold. He scowled, remembering how he’d checked and rechecked his calculations. He’d done all that and yet he had no way to know if they were doing their job, let alone how well. It was quite possible he’d missed something so fundamental no one had bothered to write it down.
One of the runes is clearly responding to magic, he told himself. Even if the others are useless, it wasn’t a complete failure.
“I discussed the matter with Praxis,” Yvonne said. It took Adam a moment to connect the name with her lover, the enchanter. “It was his considered opinion that the magic charge wouldn’t last long enough to do more than warm the tiles, if that. It won’t trigger off a potions cascade.”
“I know,” Adam said. He still didn’t want to talk about the blood. “I have an idea.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Yvonne said. “Good luck.”
Adam stood and carried the box back to his room. He hoped he knew what he was doing, too. The risk of causing an explosion was very low, unless his calculations were so far wrong they were on the other side of the globe, but the chances of making a complete and total fool out of himself were a great deal higher. If he was wrong, nothing would happen. He would almost prefer an explosion. It would be proof he’d stumbled onto something, even if it claimed his life. Adam wondered, as he closed and locked the door, if he should leave a note for Master Landis. If he died ...
Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. There was no point in allowing his imagination to scare him before he’d even gotten started. The worst thing that can reasonably happen is nothing.
His heart started to race as he wiped down the table, then carefully unpacked the tiles and placed them on the bed. He examined them one by one. Yvonne and her apprentices had done a very good job. The runes were perfect. Or so he hoped. It was hard to be entirely sure without magic. And who could he ask to test them? Lilith? He laughed as he dug through his small collection of tools. Master Pittwater had given him the traditional set, back when Adam had hoped he’d be able to turn his time at the shop into a career. In hindsight, Adam wondered why Master Pittwater had bothered. Perhaps he’d had hopes, too.
Or perhaps it cost him very little, Adam thought. The silver knife was worth its weight in gold, literally, and the tiny glass dish wasn’t that much cheaper, but he knew how much money the shop had taken in every week. Master Pittwater had never been poor. For all I know, it cost him only a tiny sliver of his fortune.
He took a breath as he put the glass dish in the centre of the table, then carefully pressed the knife against his bare palm. The pain stabbed through him. It was all he could do not to scream. He reminded himself, sharply, that Lilith had done the same and shown no sign of pain. Perhaps she’d used magic. Her blood was magic, as she’d told him. It was hard to believe a little more magic would hurt, despite the risks of contamination. He let the blood drip into the dish, then kicked himself mentally as he looked around for a cloth. He’d forgotten to have a bandage within reach. Master Pittwater would have beaten him for such an oversight. Adam knew he couldn’t have blamed him.
Gritting his teeth, he wrapped a cloth around his hand and clenched his fist as he started to put the tiles in place. They would not only gather the magic in the room and channel it towards the blood, but also - if his calculations were correct - keep it in place long enough for the blood to absorb the magic. If his calculations were correct ... he sat back on his bed, clenching his fist tightly until the blood stopped flowing. He didn’t dare go to a healer with a cut that was clearly from an alchemical blade. There would be questions he didn’t want to have to answer.
And if I leave the blood here, he asked himself, will anyone notice?
Adam didn’t know. Lilith had told him that magical students regarded breaking and entering as a harmless prank. She’d even insisted she’d broken into the headmistress’s office, although Adam wasn’t sure he believed her. Matt had said much the same. Here ... Adam sat up and stared at the blood, unsure what would happen if someone sneaked into the room. Lilith never had, as far as he knew. Why would she? He supposed the fact he hadn’t found himself zapped into a frog the moment he sat on the bed was proof she hadn’t. It was just the sort of puerile joke that magicians considered the height of humour and everyone else thought utterly horrifying.
If someone asks, Adam decided, I’ll tell them the truth.
He checked the time. It would take hours, at least, before the blood was charged to a usable level. It was impossible to be sure ... he cursed under his breath, wishing he’d had the sense to wait until the next weekend. There was no way to store the blood long-term ... not without magic, at least. He had no idea how long it would take for the magic to flow back out of the blood, leaving it powerless. His calculations had been pretty much useless. No one had done any research into the concept, as far as he could tell, and most of his estimates were - in truth - little more than guesswork.
