“You could tell them we had a messy break-up,” Caleb said, a hint of pain in his words. “Or maybe just say that we have too many other commitments.”
“The latter, perhaps,” Emily said. Her voice sounded harder than she’d wanted. A break-up wouldn’t be accepted as an excuse, particularly as they’d worked together in the latter half of Fifth Year. “And we might as well commit to finishing the project later.”
“Which won’t be in Whitehall,” Caleb said. “I don’t think he’d care.”
Emily shrugged. Their project had potential. If Gordian had looked at their notes—really looked at them—he might see it too. Coming to think of it, he was the only person who might realize just what their project had seeded, nearly a thousand years ago. And yet, to him, their project had to be just one of many extra credit projects. It was hardly important enough for him to study.
Which will cost him, she thought. Unless he decides to watch my work closely.
She wrote out a brief paragraph explaining the problem, then held it out for his inspection. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Gordian might just let it pass without comment. Or Master Tor might make the decision himself. Master Tor might be working for Gordian, but he wouldn’t want to give up too much of his power by passing the buck to his superior all the time. It would undermine his position in the long term.
Everyone has interests of their own, she recalled Lady Barb saying, years ago. And if you understand them, you can manipulate them.
“I think it sounds convincing,” Caleb said. “But I’m not on the Grandmaster’s shit list.”
“You might be,” Emily said. “You”—a handful of possible words danced across her mind—“dated me. For a time.”
Caleb reddened. “True.”
They sat together in awkward silence. Emily wondered, again, just how Imaiqah had managed to handle her string of boyfriends. Perhaps she’d never really grown attached to any of them. She’d opened her legs—Imaiqah had been very frank when they’d discussed it—but she’d never opened her heart. Emily found that hard to imagine. She couldn’t kiss someone—let alone go all the way—unless she cared about him. And she had—she did—care about Caleb.
But caring means you get hurt, when things go wrong, she told herself. And you have to pick up the pieces afterwards.
“I’ll take the note to Master Tor,” Caleb said. “Unless you want the job.”
Emily shook her head. Better not to remind Master Tor that his least favorite student was the other person involved in the project. Maybe he wouldn’t bother to glance at their names before approving it. Or maybe she was clutching at straws. Whatever his faults, Master Tor wasn’t stupid. Gordian wouldn’t have tolerated a stupid tutor.
Caleb leaned back in his chair. “Have you been spending more time with Frieda lately?”
“Not enough,” Emily said. She’d barely seen Frieda over the last few weeks. “Why?”
“She’s been acting ... odd ... lately.” He sounded reluctant to say much of anything. “Snapping at people, tossing hexes around in the corridors ... she got into a real fight with another student a couple of days ago. And she keeps glaring at me whenever she sees me.”
“She’s not having an easy time,” Emily said, slowly. She didn’t want to talk about Frieda with Caleb. Frieda didn’t like Caleb—she had never liked Caleb—and Emily suspected the feeling was mutual. “Fourth Year isn’t easy.”
“That doesn’t excuse her acting like a little brat,” Caleb warned. “How many times can someone get in trouble before she gets kicked out?”
Emily hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” Caleb said. “Emily, people are talking. Perhaps you should try to find more time to spend with her.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Talking about what?”
“About you.” Caleb glared down at the workbench. “I don’t hear much, because they know we were ... were lovers. But I hear whispers. People are talking about you.”
“They always have,” Emily said. She would have preferred to pass unnoticed. But Void had blown that possibility out of the water when he’d arranged for her to ride a dragon to Whitehall. “There have always been rumors ...”
“These are worse,” Caleb said.
He paused. “Have you even bothered to visit the bookstores in Dragon’s Den?”
Emily shook her head, suddenly unsure if she wanted to hear what he was going to say. The bookstores in Dragon’s Den were crammed with novels, blue books and little else, certainly nothing of value to a magical student. She’d read a handful of what passed for novels in the Nameless World, but most of them hadn’t been very good. It would be a while before the Nameless World produced its own Tolkien, let alone Asimov, Heinlein and Susanna Clarke.
“There are books about you and some of your friends,” Caleb told her. “They’re worse than the ones we saw in Beneficence.”
“I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She hadn’t seen anything about her in Beneficence, but there had been a number of obscene semi-libels about Alassa. King Randor would have a heart attack, perhaps literally, if he ever read them. Emily didn’t know who benefited by writing such crap, but she was fairly sure they didn’t mean any good. “Caleb ...”
“There are broadsheets questioning everything you’ve done,” Caleb said. “And people are reading them.”
Emily sighed. “There are people who believe that I used the power of love to destroy Shadye,” she snapped.
“And people who believe you’re a necromancer yourself,” Caleb added. “Or someone who might pose a worse threat than all of the remaining necromancers put together.”
“Madness,” Emily said.
“Perhaps.” He met her eyes. “Did Void really make you walk around naked until you learnt to materialize clothing?”
Emily felt her temper flare. “You know perfectly well ...”
She caught herself. “Is that what they’re saying?”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “And that is one of the tamer things.”
Emily sucked in her breath. In a way, it was a backhanded compliment. A skilled magician would have difficulty materializing clothes. Conjuring them into existence was hard enough, but locking them in place was harder. She doubted she could do it now, as a student in her last year at school. There was no way a child could do it, certainly not regularly. And yet, it was also a deliberate dig at her.
And Void, she thought.
“Fuck,” she said, finally. “What else?”
Caleb hesitated.
Emily glared. “What else?”
“That you had affairs with Alassa, Imaiqah and Frieda,” Caleb said. “That you and Jade were lovers before you gave him to Alassa. That you copied ideas from other magicians and merely claimed credit for them. That you ... that you did things with King Randor to get a barony. That you ...”
Emily held up a hand. “Enough.”