The Cunning Man, page 22
Adam stared after her, unsure what to say. Should he go with her? It wasn’t as if she needed someone to escort her back to the university. And yet ... he didn’t feel right about letting her go on her own. She was going to be in a foul mood tomorrow.
Yvonne caught his eye. “Go after her, now.”
“But ...” Adam started. “I thought ...”
Yvonne ignored him. “Go. Now.”
Adam bowed. “Yes, Senior Craftswoman.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sky was darkening rapidly, the moon rising as Adam stepped out of the salon and looked towards the university. Lilith was ahead of him, heading up the road as if the demons of the night were after her. Adam shivered - Arnold had told him stories of strange creatures sighted deeper within the desert - then started after her. She wasn’t quite running, but she was moving quickly enough to make him work to catch her. It dawned on him, too late, that she might not thank him for coming after her. He’d thought it was a fun evening, a chance to share ideas and hopefully build something workable; she might not have shared his opinion.
His heart clenched as he picked up speed. It wasn’t fair. He’d been shunned by magical apprentices for not being magical and mundane apprentices for trying to be magical. He had never really had any friends, not until now ... and yet, he’d been forced to leave them behind to attend to a girl who didn’t like him, who’d made it clear she wished she’d never met him. It struck him, suddenly, that Lilith might not be pleased to find him coming up behind her, that she might tell him to leave or hex him or ... he hesitated, feeling like a coward. Why was it so hard to do the right thing? Why was it so hard to determine what was the right thing?
Lilith turned, her face illuminated by the moonlight. “What do you want?”
Adam hesitated, again. He wasn’t sure what to say. He could talk about potions and alchemy for hours, until he was told to shut up, but talking to a girl ...? He wasn’t sure how to talk to a city-girl from Beneficence, let alone a sorceress who’d been raised in a very different society and had very different ways of looking at the world. What could he say? He remembered all the stories, all the jokes and jibes, about Laughter and cursed under his breath. It might have been easier if he hadn’t heard the stories. They were probably untrue, but so what? They were still in his mind.
“To talk.” Adam held up his hands, showing they were empty. “How are you feeling?”
“I shouldn’t have gone with you,” Lilith said. “I should have stayed in the university.”
Adam said nothing for a long moment. “It wasn’t that bad ...”
Lilith’s face darkened. “You have no idea what bad is.”
Adam felt a hot flash of temper. “Someone speculating about magic is bad?”
“No.” Lilith clutched her dress, as if she was trying to control herself. “It’s people speculating about magic, or anything, when they don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about! That’s not just bad. It’s dangerous!”
“It was just an idea,” Adam protested. “And you pointed out what was wrong with it.”
“They’ll try it anyway,” Lilith said. “And someone will die - or worse - when they try to store magic within their blood.”
She shook her head. “That’s not the point,” she added. “I don’t belong here.”
Adam hesitated. He’d endured his brother taking him places he hadn’t felt he belonged ... sometimes, he’d grown accustomed to them, sometimes, he’d left as soon as possible without looking back. And yet ... where did Lilith truly belong? She had no friends, no cronies ... the closest thing she had to a friend was Adam himself and they spent half their time sniping at each other. If that was how Lilith treated her friends, he dreaded to think how she might treat her enemies.
“You do,” he said, finally. It felt weak, but he couldn’t think of anything else. “Didn’t you enjoy researching with me?”
Lilith laughed, humourlessly. “Do you know how I even got here? Why I had to start my apprenticeship here?”
“No,” Adam said. “Why?”
“My father has a dream,” Lilith said. “He’s never going to accomplish it, but ...”
She turned. The moonlight made her face look pale. “It’s political.”
“Your father is Master Dagon?” Adam was sure of it, but he’d never actually checked the records for himself. “Right?”
“Yeah.” Lilith said nothing for a long moment, then started to pace up the road. Adam walked beside her. “My father ... it’s a long story.”
She took a breath, then stopped. “You know the story of Heart’s Eye?”
“Lady Emily killed the necromancer and claimed the university for herself?” Adam nodded. “I may have heard it a few ... hundred ... times.”
Lilith didn’t laugh. “Heart’s Eye was a school, one of the oldest - perhaps the oldest - in the Allied Lands. My father was a student when he was a young man, along with a bunch of others. He graduated, completed his charms apprenticeship and joined the Old Boys League. It’s ... it’s a bunch of former students who have, had, a certain amount of influence over the school. When the necromancer arrived and kicked everyone in the ass, the Old Boys concentrated on trying to convince the Allied Lands to put together a force to boot the necromancer back out of the school. It didn’t work. The first two attempts failed and no one was interested in a third.”
Adam frowned. “And then Lady Emily killed the necromancer.”
“Yeah.” Lilith shook her head. “The Old Boys were astonished. Their first thought was that they could reclaim the school. That rapidly proved impossible. She’d reignited the nexus point and used it to anchor wards, securing her claim on the school. The Old Boys - at that point, Master Highland was their acknowledged leader - worked hard to either undermine her claim or convince her to grant them a share in the school. I don’t know precisely what happened then, but some kind of deal must have been struck. Master Highland accompanied Lady Emily and her team to Heart’s Eye, a year ago, to assist her in turning the building into a university. The Old Boys believed the concept would fail and then they’d get to resurrect their school.”
“But it didn’t work out that way, did it?” Adam looked towards the university in the distance. “Lady Emily came out ahead.”
“Perhaps.” Lilith shrugged, bitterly. “Something happened ... I don’t know what. If my father knows, he never told me. Master Highland died. The Old Boys were asked to submit a replacement and my father volunteered. He insisted on taking me with him and making sure I did my apprenticeship in Heart’s Eye. Master Landis was the only person willing to accept me as an apprentice, under those terms.”
Adam frowned. “It wasn’t what you wanted?”
“I never wanted to come here,” Lilith said. “And I’m not welcome here.”
“I don’t get it,” Adam said. “You’re beautiful and well-connected and powerful and ...”
Lilith laughed, darkly. “There are five seats on the inner council. My father holds one. Lady Emily and her supporters hold the others. My father can simply be outvoted, whenever something comes to a vote. What can he do?”
She went on before Adam could think of an answer. “And most of the magicians here are her supporters,” she added. “They like the concept of a magical university, even if they think people like you shouldn’t be here. What do you think they think of me?”
Adam stared at her as the pieces fell into place. “They’re shunning you because they think your father is going to turn back the clock?”
“Worse than that,” Lilith said. “They think he can’t turn back the clock.”
“Oh.” Adam sucked in his breath. A once-powerful or titled man wouldn’t be shunned as long as there was the slightest chance he’d regain his former position. Adam knew people back home who had no formal power, yet - because they’d held their positions once - were still treated as people of consequence. Master Dagon might be a powerful magician, but he was far from unique and his influence was minimal. There was no way he could punish them for their disrespect. “They think he’s just ...”
“Powerless,” Lilith snapped. “Why do you think they want nothing to do with me?”
Adam felt his heart go out to her. If Lilith had nothing to offer ... no one would want to even try to approach her. She was no better than Vesperian’s children, as far as the students were concerned, only worse because there were no tales of them having access to hidden vaults of gold and silver that had been - somehow - buried under the city. Adam understood, now, why she’d wanted to go to dinner with him. She literally had no one else.
He met her eyes. “Where do you want to be?”
“Somewhere else.” Lilith snorted. “I could have studied in Celeste or Dragon’s Den ... I could have had an apprenticeship anywhere, if my father had been willing to let me go. But instead ... I’m stuck here, while he spends his time battling the incoming tide.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“The university isn’t solid yet, but it’s getting there,” Lilith told him. “The Old Boys are deluding themselves if they think it’s going to collapse into a pile of sand and stone. Even if it fails, the wards and nexus point still belong to Lady Emily. She could build herself a castle out here and live in glorious splendour while the Old Boys gnash their teeth in helpless rage and humiliation. The school they knew and loved is gone. They are fighting a rear-guard action long after the war itself has come to an end.”
Her voice rose. “And they’re just wasting my time!”
“You don’t have to stay,” Adam said. “You’re old enough to leave ...”
Lilith rolled her eyes. “How many masters do you know who’d take me without my father’s permission, and - more importantly - his money?”
Adam had no answer. Lilith didn’t seem to expect one. She was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to compose herself. Adam forced himself to look away, giving her what privacy he could. Girls were allowed to cry, but ... it couldn’t be easy for her to lose control so openly. He thought he understood her point now. She could have been doing her apprenticeship in a magical community, rather than a university crammed with people who hated her because of her father. It was hard to understand. Lilith was hardly responsible for the sins of her father. Hell, he hadn’t committed any sins!
But they think he wants to take away their brave new world, he thought. And they also think he can’t even begin to do it.
He looked at her, realising - not for the first time - how beautiful she was. It was easy, suddenly, to see the person behind the mask. Lilith was more than ... than just another magician looking down on a powerless mundane. She was a person, with hopes and dreams and fears. She was ...
“You don’t have to live in your father’s shadow,” Adam said, resisting the urge to point out that some people didn’t have fathers. “You can work to make the university a success instead.”
Lilith gave him a sharp look. “You think so?”
“You did help me develop a whole new technique for making potions,” Adam said. “And we were experimenting earlier ... do you know what we could develop, if we work together? What we could do?”
“Hah.” Lilith shook her head. “What does it matter, when no one even knows if our degrees would be worth anything?”
Adam considered it. “We could try,” he said. “Lady Emily doesn’t have a degree and she’s turned the world upside down.”
“You are not Lady Emily,” Lilith said. He thought he saw a flash of hope in her eyes. “And you do not even begin to have her influence.”
“She had to start somewhere,” Adam said. He met her eyes. “We’ve already made a start.”
“You’ve already made a start,” Lilith corrected. “I was just the test subject. And the butt of all the jokes.”
She sagged. “Do you know what they were saying about me?”
“It didn’t happen,” Adam said, sharply. He stepped forward and gave her a gentle hug. Her arms wrapped around him as if he were a life preserver. He was suddenly very aware of her breasts pressing against his chest. “We went out to dinner together. No one’s going to believe the rumours after they saw us eating peacefully ...”
Lilith looked up. Her lips were suddenly very close to his. He leaned forward without conscious thought, pressing his lips against hers. She was soft and warm ... he felt his heart beating rapidly, pounding in his chest. It wasn’t his first kiss, but ... it felt perfect.
He saw a flash of panic in her eyes as she pulled back, a fear he didn’t understand. She shoved him hard, pushing him back. He let go of her, opening his mouth to ask ... he wasn’t sure what. Her eyes were wide and staring ... she lifted her hand, her body swaying as if she were drunk, and cast a spell. Adam had no time to react before he felt his body start to change, his muscles hardening to something immobile even as the world started to expand around him. He felt a surge of panic himself as he fell - he wasn’t sure where he was falling from - and hit the ground. His last sight of Lilith was her turning and running as if she was fleeing a necromancer,
His thoughts grew sluggish. It was hard, so hard, to think. She hadn’t killed him, had she? She hadn’t condemned him to perpetual living death? She hadn’t ... he wanted to swallow, even though he wasn’t sure he had a mouth any longer. What had she done? What had she turned him into? He tried to focus his mind, forcing himself to remember magical theory he’d studied when he’d hoped he could become a theoretical magician. His thoughts refused to cooperate. They just kept drifting back to the kiss ... had she been offended that he’d dared to kiss her? Or ... had she feared the worst? Or ... she’d kissed him back ... had she been horrified at herself? His thoughts just drifted away ...
... He came back to himself in a flash, his body suddenly human again. He was lying on the stony ground, curled up in a ball ... his muscles ached when he uncurled and forced himself to stand, staring up at the moon. It hadn’t risen that far, as far as he could tell. He thought it couldn’t be later than midnight, although it was hard to be sure. He’d been trapped for two hours? Perhaps three? He didn’t know.
For a moment, he just stood there. It would be easy to walk down to the town, to find a place to sleep until morning and then simply leave the university for good. He wasn’t sure how he was going to face Lilith, after this ... a flash of raw anger shot through him, mingled with confusion and the bitter taint of betrayal. He’d thought Lilith was better than Matt and Jasper and all the other magicians who thought that being able to cast spells made them superior to everyone else. He’d thought ... he remembered the feel of her lips against his and gritted his teeth. What had she been thinking? She’d kissed him back ...
He turned and forced himself to start walking back to the university. He didn’t know what was going through her mind and he didn’t much care. He’d earned his place, damn it; he’d done more in a couple of weeks to earn his apprenticeship than Lilith had done in her entire life. He would stay and research magic and learn how to use it and to hell with her. She could go jump off a cliff. If she didn’t have the sense to make use of the apprenticeship, to earn her mastery and use it to go anywhere she liked, it was her problem. He didn’t have to help her. He didn’t have to share the credit with her. There were no shortage of students who would happily take her place if she decided to leave.
His temper cooled, becoming icy, as he walked back to the dorm. Arnold was sitting on his bed, studying the potion orbs. He’d come up with the concept himself, then convinced some of his fellows to help make it work. Adam had been impressed by the synergy. They’d all had one part of the puzzle, but by putting them together they’d created something new.
“What happened?” Arnold gave him a wink. “Did you have a good time with her?”
“No,” Adam snarled. He was in no mood for the sort of questions he expected from his dormmates. “She ...”
Arnold put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said. “Tell us what you want to tell us.”
Adam felt numb as he spilled the whole story. Arnold listened quietly, not interrupting, as Adam went through it all. He expected to be laughed at, to be humiliated, but Arnold took it seriously. And, when Adam was done, Arnold patted him on the back.
“It’s a common trick, I’m afraid,” he said. “The witches get a man nice and hot, then zap him before he can do anything about it. And then the poor bastard is completely shocked out of his mind. He can’t complain or everyone will laugh at him.”
“I can’t,” Adam said. Master Landis wouldn’t take him seriously if he complained. It would be laughable. “I just can’t ...”
Arnold cleared his throat, summoning the rest of the dorm. “I know what’ll cheer you up,” he said, holding up one of the orbs. “It’s time to teach Jasper a lesson.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Is everyone clear on what they have to do?”
Adam hesitated as Arnold’s voice echoed through the dorm. He couldn’t decide if he was excited, terrified, or both. Apprentices - and magical students - fought endless prank battles and wars, but it was the first time anyone had asked him to take part. The wars between the brewing and fishing apprentices were legendary, the conflicts between the craftsmen and tailor apprentices rooted in rivalries that dated so far back no one knew the truth, yet ... he’d always been, at best, a passive observer. Master Pittwater had never encouraged him to go out and fight with other apprentices. He’d felt as though he was missing something, although the injuries he’d seen had often been severe. The City Guard rarely managed to tamp down the violence, when the conflict got out of control, before someone got more than a black eye.
He felt his heart starting to pound as he looked from face to face. Arnold had gathered five other apprentices, all from the same dorm. He’d cautioned them not to talk to anyone as they prepared the gas, even though having more people along would make it easier to give the magical apprentices a fright. Adam wasn’t sure why Taffy hadn’t been invited, although he could make a very good guess. She might face worse than simple transfiguration if the raid went spectacularly wrong.
