Dark apprentice, p.17
Dark Apprentice, page 17
Medea looked at him levelly. “Before we go in, I’d like to discuss the rules.”
Of course she did. “Replace everything times two?” he teased.
“No.” Her perpetual frown deepened. “Many of the manuscripts here are irreplaceable. Food and drink are not permitted. Hands must be clean. Do your palms sweat?”
“No.”
She grabbed one of his hands, rubbed the palm while peering at it intensely, then dropped it again just as suddenly. “Everything must be placed back exactly where you found it, though you can leave books out in designated areas if you have longer projects that require multiple consultations. Nothing leaves the library without my permission.”
“Okay.” Nikolai started toward the door.
Medea refused to budge and pierced him with her gaze. “Failure to follow the rules will mean your expulsion from my island—possibly worse. I do not take damage or theft lightly.”
The severity of her expression was almost comical. It was all he could do not to needle her. “I understand.”
She scanned his face as though expecting to catch him in a lie, then turned to open the door. His gaze wandered to the other locked door.
“What’s through there?”
“What? Oh. That’s the gateway room.” Again the dismissive wave.
“Can you unlock it for me?”
“I told you, everything remains locked until I’ve had a chance to explain it.” As if gateways needed explaining and it wasn’t completely suspicious to keep the only exit locked. In her words, not even a good lie.
“Great! You can show it to me now.” Feigning studious interest, he walked over to the other door.
Medea stood rooted, mouth a thin line. “Today we’re doing the library.”
“Oh, alright then. Maybe you can show me afterward.” He affected a nervous laugh as he came back to her side. “Boy, I’d sure hate to be stuck here if something happened to you.”
“We won’t have time later, and nothing is going to happen to me.” She preceded him through the door.
Her volume-expanding spellwork, already impressive beyond imagining in the common area and its attached rooms, had nothing on the library. The place was a cathedral. He couldn’t even see the back.
Dark wood framed the vaulted ceiling, which was painted to look like the sky. Closest to the entrance, pink-suffused clouds and shafts of golden light mimicked sunrise. Tufts of white broke up the blue farther back, which eventually darkened into a midnight sky dotted with constellations.
On either side of the central archway were alcoves with bookshelves towering to the ceiling. There were three levels, though he could see no ladders for accessing the upper reaches. Each alcove was labeled with a type of magic. The left side seemed completely devoted to Healing. On the right, he could make out Nature, then Summoning. Unlike the rest of her home, the furniture in the library was abundant and reasonably modern, or at least better maintained. Tables were polished to a shine and every alcove sported a comfortable chair for reading.
Immense as it was, the library managed to have a quality every other room thus far had lacked—it was welcoming. He smiled with genuine pride to have pegged her so right. Here was a place of worship, where Medea knelt at the altar of knowledge. He couldn’t wait to see her section on black magic.
She led him to the fifth alcove. Instead of bookshelves, it contained a raised dais with a podium. A huge magnifying glass attached to a tall metal arm sprouted from a small table in front of the podium. They walked around to the front of the podium, which held a massive book. Medea opened it and motioned Nikolai next to her. The pages were blank.
“This is my master grimoire. It can be used to access books within the library. Well, some of them anyway. Not everything is cataloged. As you may have noticed, I have quite a few books. It takes time to get them all tagged.”
“Tagged?”
“A spell connecting individual books with the grimoire. Watch.” She flipped to the first page. Blue runes shimmered across and formed into words. What was it with her and blue runes?
What knowledge do you seek?
Medea retrieved a fountain pen from a nook in the podium. “Let’s say you want to call lightning. You write on the first page and the first page only.”
Nikolai nodded and Medea wrote ‘lightning’ in a clear, strong hand. The runes moved, filling the page with a list of books and their location within the library.
“Handy.”
“It gets better.” She flipped through the book. The once-empty pages were now filled with excerpts from other works, in all different languages and styles of writing.
Impressive. He could find anything here, though he’d probably have to learn a few more languages.
“Do you have translations for any of these?”
Medea sighed. “I had begun writing a compendium of my own, containing all of this—” She gestured vaguely to the entire library. “But there’s so much here, and magical theory changes. I would complete a chapter and a few centuries later it would be out of date. It’s a work in progress. In the meantime you can use this.”
She pulled the magnifying glass over, adjusting the arm so it was suspended over the page. Nikolai peered through. What had previously been Greek was now Russian, albeit a very garbled version.
“It’s a translation disk. I have a few others stashed in the desks around the library. They’re not perfect, as you can see. Language is a complicated thing, full of double meanings, connotations, and unspoken assumptions.” She closed the book and walked on.
The tour seemed to go on forever. Medea spoke at length about her collection and the work to amass it. With distaste, he saw the largest section by far appeared to be Healing. Elemental and Nature were also quite extensive. Botany at least made some sense, considering how often plants were used in potions, but he had to cough to avoid laughing when they passed several alcoves devoted to music.
The further they walked into the library, the more his disappointment grew. Of curses he saw nothing. Demonology and Necromancy had comparatively small sections, at least two-thirds of which was blocked off. Only the ground floor, she explained, was available to novices. Journeymen and masters had access to the second and third floors, and levitation was required to reach them. It would have been simple enough to bypass if she hadn’t also warded them with an invisible barrier barring anyone of insufficient rank. Several other sections, most notably Healing, had no such barriers.
They arrived at one alcove that appeared to be more anthropological than magical. The library was a lot less impressive when one factored in these Mundane texts. As Medea enumerated her difficulties in sorting the regional magics of various peoples, Nikolai seized the opportunity to interrupt her.
“Where is the section on black magic?”
“I’ve told you, there’s no such thing as ‘black’ magic. There is only the caster and their intent. As I was saying, here we have the Tohunga section, native to New Zealand, which contains a variety of magics, including healing, fortune-telling, astronomy, tattoo . . .”
It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so frustrating. He’d been dying to get Medea as a mentor, and here she was rambling about tattoos and tribes, and her magical library had a section on music.
“But certainly there are spells designed only for harm? Bleed, Fear, Flay . . .”
“Yes, there are some spells that have more limited applications, but these should not be the focus of your studies.”
“But it’s my choice though, isn’t it? I didn’t come here to learn about astronomy and music.”
The gaze that met his was stony. “I was hoping to forestall this conversation a while longer, but I suppose it’s best to get it over with.”
Medea took him back to the front of the library, to an alcove with two armchairs. When they were both seated, she steepled her fingers and leaned back. “What do you hope to accomplish here?”
“I want to become the most powerful dark Magi in the world. I’ll leave the title of most powerful overall to you.” He smiled.
Medea’s face remained impassive. “And you wish to do this how? By learning nothing but offensive spells?”
“The best defense is a good offense. Opponents should be crushed quickly and without mercy.” Unless they were significantly weaker than you, in which case it was more amusing to watch them squirm.
“On that we agree. But there is more to combat than offense. The best defense is an unbreakable defense. You will encounter opponents who cannot be dispatched quickly.” She rubbed her forehead. “For the first few years I will teach you the basics. There are also things you must unlearn.”
“My wand, I know.”
“Yes, the wand, among other things. Once I see you making strides in the basics, I will allow you to choose your first specialty. I teach an assortment of magic, but specializing will allow you to reach the rank of master or grand master in your chosen school.”
“I’d like to choose now.”
She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Given that your life is comparatively short, I recommend no more than two specialties, possibly three.”
“Great, I choose—”
She raised her voice. “You have not even been exposed to all the magical schools yet. How could you possibly know which will be the best fit?”
“I’ve known for a long time.”
“I bet you have. Bear in mind that children are fascinated by flashy things, and steel is more functional than gold. One moment.” A sheet of paper and pen flew around the alcove wall and landed in front of Medea. She scribbled something, folded the paper, and handed it to him. “Don’t open that yet. First let me hear your selections.”
“Necromancy, of course, curses, and, hmm . . . probably demonology.”
“Okay, now read the paper.”
He unfolded the sheet and glanced down.
You will pick one or more of these:
Curses, “death spells”/necromancy, demonology, voodoo
Definitely a telepath. Her previous apprentices had no doubt been suitably impressed. He smiled and pretended to chuckle. “I forgot about voodoo. Looks like you know me pretty well.”
“You and every other Magi with delusions of grandeur and a taste for ‘black magic.’ They all pick these!” She gestured testily at the paper, obviously upset he knew her secret.
“That’s where the best spells are.”
Medea sighed and leaned back, running a palm over her face. “No, they’re not. Tell me, what is the largest section in my library? You must have noticed.”
“Healing, but it’s not like I can heal my opponent to death.”
The look she gave him was so serious that he burst out laughing. Why did she persist with this ruse? She must know it wasn’t working. And yet she plowed on despite his chuckling. “With healing spells, I can outlast any opponent. I can also ravage their body with things like cancer—”
He laughed even harder and mimed speaking with someone else. “Excuse me, sir, I know we’re in the middle of a duel, but would you mind taking a break for six months so my cancer spell can work?”
“Your comments belie your ignorance. You do not even know what a curse is.”
His temper flared. “Of course I do! And if you can’t teach me anything of interest, I might as well leave now.” He moved to get up. Fuck her and her bullshit excuses. This was a mistake.
A force slapped him back into the chair so hard it nearly overset. Medea was suddenly in front of him, eyes blazing.
“You admit I am more skilled than you, then have the audacity to insult my knowledge and abilities?” She stalked around his chair like a hungry tiger, glowering down at him, though even while standing she wasn’t much taller than him sitting in the chair.
He glared back at her, seething.
“This is why I stopped taking apprentices. Why do you even need me if you already know everything? Don’t answer that,” she snapped, grabbing the paper back from him. “This”—she brandished the list—“is ridiculous! First of all, ‘curses’ are not a magical school. It’s a generic term. Every magical school contains curses. If you curse someone to spontaneously combust, you are using a fire spell. If you curse someone to be pursued by crows, you are using a nature spell. And if you curse someone to bleed to death, you are using a healing spell.”
Semantics. She was arguing semantics. At least now he knew the library did contain curses. They were simply buried alongside Useless spells.
“Okay, I can’t specialize in curses,” he said in a calm voice, “but the rest are still valid. I could summon dead bodies, great demons, and—”
“Are you going to run around town with a pack of dead bodies at your side?” She had her hands on her hips, and for a moment she was his mother, scolding him for getting into trouble again.
“Of course not.” He could, but that would draw a lot of attention. The Mundane would go nuts, Enforcers would be sent in . . .
“If someone attacks you in the middle of a city, where are you going to get bodies for your little army?”
Everywhere. The bodies were literally everywhere—frozen in the streets surrounded by rubble, crouched in doorways, piled up in ditches, abandoned on children’s sleds when it no longer seemed a reasonable trade to burn precious calories moving them. You couldn’t even tell if they were male or female. Mother hadn’t wanted him to see, but he’d never been a good listener.
Nikolai yanked his thoughts away, hand on a hot stove. Had Medea read his thoughts, or had she somehow dredged them from the depths?
He turned his mind back to her question. Most cities didn’t have an abundance of corpses. He could kill bystanders, provided there were bystanders to kill, but that would definitely draw unwanted attention. How long did it take to reanimate a corpse? What did it take? Okay, maybe the logistics were a little fuzzy, but it would still be incredible to command an army of the dead.
But then he’d have to house them somewhere. If they had a limited shelf life, that could be a problem. Would they smell? How long did they last? Necromancy began to look a lot less attractive.
Medea relaxed and sat down. “You see the problem. Good.”
“What about demonology?” No storage needed. Probably smelled better too.
“That requires a special circle. It’s easy enough to paint on a large cloth, which can be folded and carried in your pouch.”
“Okay, I pick demonology.”
“It also requires candles, sometimes a sacrificial offering . . .”
Annoying, but still doable. She could be lying about all of it. At the very least, she was spinning his favored magical schools in a negative light. Probably trying to drive him to something less powerful.
“The real problem with demonology,” Medea continued, “is that you cannot summon anything more powerful than yourself. Technically you can, but it would be unwise.”
That definitely sounded like a lie. The whole point of demonology was to summon something with ridiculous abilities to do your fighting for you. “Why?”
“Imagine this. You call forth an archdaemon. It towers over you, immense in power. What does it do?”
“Whatever I tell it. The summoning binds it to my will.”
“Yes, but your power is what keeps it in bondage. If you are less powerful than the archdaemon . . .” She gestured expectantly with her hand.
Oh. “It will break the bond and kill me.” There had to be a way around that. Surely demonology was Useful for something. She would shoot down his last option, but he asked anyway. “What about voodoo? I suppose that’s worthless too?”
“No, actually, voodoo is quite useful—”
Finally!
“—but it’s a religion, not a magical school, with its own set of spells and beliefs, most of which aren’t designed to hurt people. I can get you a list of gods and you can decide which you’d like to pledge service to.”
“You know damn well I have no interest in that.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to ask. You don’t have to pick a specialty today. I recommend you take time to learn each school so you can make an informed decision, especially since they complement one another. If they’re too similar, it will put you at a disadvantage. Your first choice should be something based off your natural strengths.” She moved to get up.
“Telepathy. That’s my first specialty.”
Medea froze halfway out of the chair, then sank down heavily. “Telepathy?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“No, I just . . . you realize it’s incredibly difficult to learn, let alone master? It could take decades. Unless you’re born with the skill, the odds of success are—”
“I was. Born with it, I mean.” He studied her face for anger, fear, anything, but she continued in the same tone she used when talking about potion ingredients.
“Interesting. Natural telepaths are quite rare. Usually they spring up when a child with latent magical proclivities has a desperate need to understand those around them. I always found it odd that it was not the case for me.”
“You didn’t want to understand people?”
“That’s just it—I did. In fact, when I was a child, I thought everyone was telepathic except me. They understood each other with such ease, whereas I found them baffling, and they me. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized they were reading other cues.”
“And that’s when you decided to learn telepathy?” If he was natural-born and she wasn’t, he likely had an edge.
“Oh, that came much later. In truth I put it off for a long time. I’m . . . I’ve met enough people to know that their minds are something I’d rather not see. But magic is magic, and so I learned it eventually, or enough to keep people out of my own mind. I don’t consider myself proficient.”
“You seem perfectly capable to me.” He smiled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never felt your intrusions. I’ll admit I’m jealous. I’ve never been able to get into other Magi undetected.”
