The Cunning Man, page 37
The heat struck him like a physical blow. He blinked, staring into a giant chamber. A tiny flicker of unmoving flame hung in front of him. It wasn’t much and yet ... it was suddenly big and small, above him and below him and right in front of him ... he had the sense of power running through the darkened chamber, the air prickling against his skin as if he were caught in a thunderstorm. His head spun as he tried to pull back, his awareness twisting as if his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. He felt something tugging at his eyeballs, trying to pull them out of his head. It was all he could do to force himself to look down.
His awareness twisted, as if everything was snapping back into place. The immense chamber was a bottomless pit, lined with stone bridges that reached across the void and around the nexus point. The flame ... he felt it tugging at him, again, and looked away. It wasn’t easy. He had the feeling he could stare into the light and all his questions would be answered. He told himself it was a lie. What he was seeing wasn’t real. It was just his mind’s way of trying to cope with what his eyes were seeing.
But the power is real enough, he told himself. And ...
He looked along the bridge and swore inwardly. The Gorgon was kneeling on the stone, her head lowered. Her body looked limp, as if she no longer had any will of her own; her snakes hung down, utterly unmoving. Arnold was standing near the nexus point, holding a wand in one hand as he tended to a tiny windmill. Adam’s heart almost stopped. Arnold had told him there were enough spare parts to build another windmill, but ... what was he doing? Trying to tap the nexus point? It was impossible. The power surge would turn the windmill to molten iron and kill anyone within ... Adam wasn’t sure. Arnold’s windmill was tiny, barely coming up to his knees, but ... it might as well be a toy boat, caught in a storm that would smash a galleon to flinders. It wouldn’t last a second.
Arnold looked up. “Well, hello.”
His gaze slipped past Adam, to Lilith. “So ... what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Adam studied the windmill, trying to understand what it was designed to do. Did Arnold think the nexus chamber would absorb the excess magic? He couldn’t think of any other explanation. “What are you doing?”
Lilith had a different question. “How did you even get inside the chamber?”
“Lady Emily had to go off on her own apprenticeship,” Arnold said, conversationally. He kept his wand pointed at the floor. “If something happened while she was gone, something that required adjustments to the nexus point spellware ... well, there was no way she was going to get back in time. She knew it, too. So she devised the five keys, keeping one for herself. Right?”
“That’s true,” Lilith agreed, her voice hardening.
“That’s the problem with magicians,” Arnold said, addressing Adam. “They believe everything you tell them. Very few magicians think to question their superiors and the ones who do aren’t fool enough to do it. It never occurred to them to think about what she’d said. Five keys, one for each of the inner councillors. Except ... one of them isn’t going to be back for a long time, perhaps a very long time. Perhaps ever. So what happened to the fifth key?”
Keep him talking, Adam thought. Let him chat while you think of a plan.
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “I take it Lady Emily didn’t keep it.”
Arnold nodded to the kneeling Gorgon. She didn’t move. “The Gorgon. Mistress Irene’s de facto apprentice, as well as aide. Always present at the council meetings, yet not a councillor ... right? Right, except she’s also Lady Emily’s close, personal friend and she never leaves the university. Which made me wonder if she had the fifth key? And she did. I caught her by surprise and ... well, I got the key.”
“She turned Taffy into stone,” Adam said, flatly. “Why ...?”
“I needed a diversion,” Arnold said. “Taffy provided it.”
Lilith leaned forward. “Two keys will get you into the nexus point chamber, but they won’t unlock the spellware,” she said. “And even if you had three keys, you couldn’t undo everything Lady Emily did. The university is still hers.”
“Lady Emily has other problems right now,” Adam said. “And by the time she realises she needs to be here, it will be too late.”
“You’re mad,” Lilith said. “Do you really think that thing” - she waved a hand at the tiny windmill - “is going to take control of the university?”
“No,” Arnold agreed. “But it will disrupt the spellware controlling the nexus point.”
Lilith raised a hand. “You’re just a mundane,” she said. “And that wand does not make you my match.”
“No?” Arnold leered at her. “Are you sure?”
Lilith gestured. The wand flew out of Arnold’s hand and fell into the void. Adam thought he saw it falling from above, a second later, but he suspected he was seeing things. Lilith took a step forward, her finger pointed directly at Arnold. Adam hesitated, unsure what to do. Arnold was no fool. He had to know Lilith could stop him in his tracks with a wave of her hand. And yet, he was standing his ground. He wasn’t even trying to duck behind the nexus point.
Arnold narrowed his eyes. Blue light flared around Lilith. She froze. Adam swore, his mouth dropping open in shock. Magic? Arnold didn’t have a wand now ... did he? Had he stuck a second wand up his sleeve? Adam had heard cautionary tales about people who’d done that, with pistols as well as wands. And yet ...
He stared at Arnold, the pieces suddenly falling into place. It was unthinkable, the one thing he would never have expected. And yet, in hindsight, it was all too clear.
“You’re a magician,” he said.
Arnold smiled, but there was something sharp and cold about it. “How many magicians do you know who’d expect to see a magician playing at being a mundane?”
Adam shook his head. It was hard to wrap his head around the sheer scale of the betrayal, around the sheer nerve ... it was unthinkable. Jasper would never have dreamed of posing as a mundane. Lilith would never have ... magicians wanted people to know they were magic. They boasted all the time. He stared, wondering if he’d ever known the real Arnold. How long had he been at Heart’s Eye? How had he stayed without anyone suspecting what he really was?
“None,” he said, numbly. “They’d never play at being powerless.”
“Yes.” Arnold’s voice was cold, but there was a hint of dark amusement in his tone. “You know the mistake they made, when they founded the university? They went out looking for magicians to study magic, in a bid to merge magic and mundane concepts together. Problem was, most of the magicians they found were ...”
Adam scowled. “Unpleasant?”
“No,” Arnold said. “Well, yes” - he shrugged, elaborately - “but that wasn’t the real problem. The really good students, the ones they needed, were the ones who already had apprenticeships, proper apprenticeships, lined up. They weren’t going to give up their apprenticeship for a chance to study at a university that isn’t even a year old. Of course not. The majority of the magicians were ones who didn’t want to be there - such as your pretty little bitch of a girlfriend - or magicians who didn’t have the power or grades to advance in their studies, let alone get an apprenticeship. Jasper may be powerful, by your standards, but ... his grades were poor. He didn’t even get a chance to retake his fourth year at school. He’s such a ... brat ... because he knows he isn’t anything like as powerful as he wants to be.”
“So you were able to manipulate him, too,” Adam said. “And you framed Master Dagon ...”
“He was a pretty obvious suspect,” Arnold said. “Really, a little too obvious.”
“Those papers you left in his office are fakes,” Adam said. “They’re not going to fool anyone.”
Arnold shrugged. “People will believe anything, particularly when they want to believe,” he said. “The rumours will spread anyway, growing more and more outrageous with each retelling. No matter what he says or does, people will think he found a way to circumvent his oaths. They’ll believe it because it’ll suit them to believe it. No matter the outcome, I win.”
Adam stared at him. “Who are you?”
Arnold changed. His face darkened, as if he’d taken off a mask. Adam shuddered, resisting the urge to take a step back. Arnold looked ... older, older and tougher and ... and very much like a magician. Adam felt a flicker of pure terror. He’d met his share of nasty magicians, from Matt to Jasper, but Arnold was easily the worst. Jasper was unpleasant, yet understandable. Arnold had posed as his friend for months and Adam had never been any the wiser.
“My mission is to destroy the university,” Arnold said. “If I manage to take control of the nexus point, I can lock Lady Emily out. If I snuff out the nexus point, I win. If I trigger a power surge that blows up the university, I win. If the damage isn’t as bad as I hope, the papers I left behind will be found; Master Dagon will get the blame, the university will be thoroughly discredited and I’ll win. Again. And I’ll be taking you and your girlfriend with me. I think you might be very useful to me.”
“Why?” Adam reached into his pocket, grasping the tiles. “What’s the point?”
“It’s nothing personal,” Arnold said. “My employers merely want the university destroyed.”
“Merely,” Adam repeated. He forced himself to keep talking, in the hope of buying a few more seconds. “How did you know about me?”
“I didn’t.” Arnold smiled. “Not the way you think, anyway. I spotted you, a mundane apprenticed to a magician, and I knew you’d be someone worth cultivating. It worked out better than I could have dared hope, you and Taffy ... she was willing to do anything for me, after I saved her.”
“From someone you summoned,” Adam said. “You told her husband where to find her, didn’t you?”
“He was never her husband, but yes.” Arnold grimaced. “It was a calculated risk. A magician wouldn’t have thought how odd it was, how contrived, but a mundane might start thinking about it. Taffy herself was too grateful to think too much ... I wasn’t so sure about you. I had to come up with a cover story before you started thinking. Now ...”
He raised a hand, silently daring Adam to jump him. Adam grasped the tiles in his pocket and held them firmly. “It’s time ...”
“Wait,” Adam said. “Those papers aren’t going to fool anyone.”
“They’ll be charred, if they survive at all,” Arnold said. “Any ... inconsistencies ... will go unnoticed. By the time anyone works out what really happened, the three of us will be gone. You will work for me and Lilith ... I’m sure she’ll have some use. Perhaps as a slave. Do you think she’d like that?”
He snapped his fingers. Adam darted to one side and pressed the tiles against Lilith’s frozen form. Magic surged. He found himself flying through the air, barely missing the Gorgon before he hit the stone. The bridge shook ...
“No,” Lilith said. “I wouldn’t.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Adam rolled to a stop and looked up, keeping as low as possible. Lilith and Arnold were fighting, flashes of light darting between them as they cast spells and counterspells ... he felt torn between fear and awe, between a grim awareness he needed to grab the Gorgon and run and a desire to stay and watch even if it killed him. Lilith was glowing with magic, her hair spinning around her as if it was caught in a storm; Adam couldn’t help thinking, as magic flared around her, that she’d never looked so beautiful. It was hard not to lose himself as he stared.
He’d seen a handful of magicians in duels, back in Beneficence, but most of them had been little more than performative. Master Pittwater had sneered at the duels, pointing out they were fought by the rules; a true sorcerer, someone who wanted to win at any cost, would consider the rules little more than guidelines. Matt had fought a couple, but ... it struck Adam, as Lilith and Arnold kept exchanging curses, that Matt had never been as powerful or skilled as he’d claimed. There couldn’t be more than a year or two between Matt and Lilith, if that, and she was far - far - better than him.
Adam crawled forward until he was behind the Gorgon, then shook her hard. Her skin felt ... odd, a strange mixture of dry and scaly that creeped him out, but she didn’t react. He braced himself, half-expecting to be turned into a statue himself, and slapped her cheek as hard as he could. There was no reaction. It looked as if he’d hurt himself more than her. He might as well have struck a mattress, one stuffed with potatoes. The Gorgon was so deeply entranced she was effectively trapped in her own mind. And he didn’t have a second rune to break her free.
“You’re wasting your time,” Arnold said, conversationally. “She isn’t going to wake up for a very long time.”
Adam looked up. It was hard to be sure, but he had the feeling Arnold was an order of magnitude more competent and powerful than Matt, too. He wasn’t overdramatic, he wasn’t screaming out the names of spells as he cast them ... every motion spoke of someone who knew what he could do and saw no reason to show off, not more than strictly necessary. It would have been impressive, if he hadn’t been so scared. There was no time to get help from someone else. If Lilith couldn’t best Arnold, the plan would go ahead. The windmill was already glowing with magic.
Think, he told himself. There has to be something.
His eyes roamed the chamber. Perhaps he could get around Arnold, sneak up behind him and snap his neck. Arnold was a magician. He wouldn’t expect a physical attack. But ... Adam shook his head. Arnold had punched magicians, back when they’d first tested the gas. He was clearly more than capable of using his fists, rather than just his magic. There was no guarantee Adam could do more than get himself turned into a frog and thrown to his death.
Lilith stumbled back, her magic sparking violently. “You’re good,” Arnold said. His tone didn’t change. “Given a proper teacher, you could have been great indeed. But instead ...”
He lowered his voice. “Come with me. I can teach you. You could be great.”
“You framed my father,” Lilith snarled. Sweat dripped down her face as she gathered herself. “Why should I trust anything you say?”
“I can give you an oath,” Arnold said. “You come with me. With us. Your father refused to let you unlock your potential. I can do it for you. You can even keep Adam. He’ll have a lab and everything he needs to create newer and better tricks ....”
Lilith sneered. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”
Adam felt a rush of affection. Lilith hadn’t wanted to be at the university. Arnold’s offer had to be tempting. And if she wanted him, too ... he’d heard all sorts of stories about relationships between sorceresses and mundanes ... stories, he recalled, that had mostly been spread by Arnold himself. She could have had everything she wanted, or claimed to want, if she took his hand. Instead, she was defending her father and the university.
“Very stupid,” Arnold said. Magic flared around his hand and lashed out at Lilith, sparking against her wards. “You are good. Given time, you might have been great. But without proper training, you will never achieve your potential ... and now, you won’t live long enough to even try.”
Adam saw Lilith stagger and forced himself to stand. “If you hurt her, I won’t do anything for you.”
“Really?” Arnold gave him the kind of look normally reserved for someone who added two plus two and got five. “And you think we can’t make you? A single spell and you’ll do anything I want.”
“No,” Adam said. “I won’t ...”
He forced himself to inch forward. “Tell me something,” he said. It might buy Lilith some time. He couldn’t think of anything else. “Was everything you said and did a lie?”
“I really was born in Cockatrice,” Arnold said. “It wasn’t Cockatrice back then, of course, but it was the same place. Everything else ... pretty much, yes. I crafted a story that would let me befriend everyone, to get access to people who’d help me ... Arnold isn’t even my name!”
He smirked. “And you are running out of time to stall.”
Lilith held up one hand, holding her wards in place as she cast a spell with the other. “I’ll take you down with me.”
“You don’t have the power to kill me,” Arnold said. The certainty in his voice made Adam shudder. “And if you hit the nexus point and trigger an explosion, you’ll complete my mission for me.”
“No,” Lilith said. “I won’t ...”
She cast her spell. Adam recoiled, choking as the stench rolled through the chamber. Durians. Lots of durians ... Lilith’s magic flickered and failed, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath, as the stench grew worse. Arnold raised a hand and jabbed it at her ... nothing happened. Adam stared, trying to understand what she’d done. She’d turned the air around them to durian gas!
“There,” Lilith managed, between coughs. She started to retch, then stopped herself by sheer force of will. “Now we’re both powerless.”
Arnold reached into his pocket and started to draw a knife. Adam ran forward and slammed into him, resisting the urge to tend to Lilith. She’d spent the last of her magic evening the odds, rendering both Arnold and herself powerless. Adam ... Adam had to best Arnold before he regained his powers or it would be too late. A low clicking ran through the air as he passed the windmill. It wasn’t affected by the gas. Magic was flaring around it, blue sparks wafting through the air.
The knife fell from Arnold’s hand and clattered to the bridge. Adam kicked it into the void as he threw a punch at Arnold. The magician was smart enough to know he was disoriented, so he stumbled back instead of trying to block the blow or throw one of his own. Adam forced himself to keep going, trying to shove Arnold into the nexus point or off the bridge. Arnold steadied himself, then punched back. Adam had more experience than he wanted to think about, trading punches with drunken apprentices when he couldn’t run from them, but the blow nearly took out his throat.
