Edward is less than happy when I hobble into Spells with a minute to spare, but I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to discuss my absence from breakfast where Felicity can hear us. She thankfully refrains from making any snide remarks about this morning’s papers, so I’m spared finding out how they’ve twisted my words for a little longer.
I abandon him for Magical Theory (where I sit with Elsie; neither of us want the other to sit alone). It’s a particularly mathematical lesson today, and my mind is slow and unresponsive; I struggle to follow the lesson and focus on taking clear notes so that my future self will be able to understand better than I can.
I’m only a little surprised to find Edward waiting outside the classroom when lessons end. “We need to talk,” he says.
“Please don’t make me climb all the way to the private meeting rooms.”
He laughs. “I don’t think we’ll be discussing state secrets.”
“Good to know.”
We make it to an empty study room instead. I spend our walk there trying to read him, to figure out why he’s annoyed at me. Is it hiding from the papers? He might not agree with what I did, but I think he’d still at least sympathise, so I doubt it’s that.
I’m not left in too much suspense, at least; as soon as the door swings shut he hisses “What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry?” I try. “I just… I couldn’t face seeing them turn me into something I’m not.”
“You could still have come down and told me that. I wouldn’t have shown them to you if you didn’t want me to.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure – just with everyone staring at me as well – “
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I shrug. “I… don’t think so. Is it another one of those Blackthorn things?”
Edward sighs. “I’m beginning to think it must be. When someone deviates significantly from their established routine… that’s a sign that something is wrong.”
“Something was wrong,” I point out.
“Not that sort of something. It means they’re up to something, or they’re in trouble. I trust you enough to rule out the former, so – “
“You’re saying that because I didn’t come down for breakfast, you thought I’d been… attacked? Abducted?”
“When you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.”
“How would you put it, then?”
He shakes his head. “You’re right. It is ridiculous. It’s just… I’m worried about you, Tallulah. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”
It’s the same thing Elsie said to me earlier, but it sounds very different coming from Edward starry Blackthorn who’s been dealing with this for months at least. “And you should?”
Edward pauses and blinks once. “Turns out the incredible wealth and magical talent have a price, I guess.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Not how it should work,” Edward corrects. “But it’s how it does. And you – “
“We’ve been through this already,” I tell him firmly. “Turns out the best friend I’ve ever had has a price. And I will gladly pay it.”
That silences him for a moment. “Thank you,” he says. “I suppose I have to accept that, don’t I? So neither of us should have to deal with this, but we’re both stuck with it. And I’m still worried about you, because unlike me you haven’t been trained in how to deal with this.”
“You don’t know any more about dealing with the papers than I do. You came to me for help.”
“Okay, maybe not this specifically. But defending myself. Finding the resources I need. Playing politics. If you’re getting dragged into the mess that is the country’s affairs, you need to know how to survive it.”
He has a point. “Are you offering lessons?”
“Do you want them?”
I hesitate.
“Serious question. I will teach you whatever you want to learn from me. But… I didn’t realise this until I got to know you, but the lessons have a price as well. Once you’ve learnt to think in the right ways, you can never switch it off.”
“You mean… learning these things would corrupt me?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I don’t want you to become like me.”
There’s something very sad about hearing him say that. “Give me time to think about it?”
“Of course. All the time you need. I am going to teach you defensive magic regardless, though, as soon as your ankle has recovered. My dad will be on the case otherwise.”
My ankle feels a little better today, actually; I didn’t notice it until he mentioned it, but the pain is less than it has been. Maybe soon I’ll be healed of at least the physical wounds of that day.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I realised something recently,” I say. “That I don’t have a purpose.”
Edward raises his eyebrows and waits for me to elaborate.
“I guess you won’t relate to this much, since you have your purpose, but… I don’t want to be just struggling to survive, to qualify as a magician and then…”
He nods. “You’re right. I don’t relate to that. But survival on its own is worth fighting for. I don’t think it’s something you can decide consciously; it’ll come, if you give it time.”
“Thank you.”
“And sorry I snapped at you. I was worried, but that’s not an excuse.”
I wonder what the Blackthorns’ many enemies would say if they could see him now, apologising sincerely and offering me sensible advice. Probably that it was part of some elaborate plot – or worse, that of course he’d be nice to his people.
I receive a mysterious parcel at lunchtime, and open it right there in the post room without thinking. It contains a metal ring, a book, two boxes (one of metal and the other of wood) and a note.
Miss Roberts,
Since I had to leave so abruptly after our last meeting I was unable to give you any recognition codes. I will ask Edward to pass on certain of those codes, but for now I trust that the following will prove that this parcel was in fact sent by me –
I laugh. I don’t think I need any further evidence that this is indeed from Lord Blackthorn, but he quotes several lines from our past conversations and adds that the packaging is enchanted to reveal whether it has been tampered with (it hasn’t).
I’m instructed to keep all of the items except possibly the book on my person at all times, ask Edward to demonstrate their usage as soon as possible, and not reveal I possess any of them unless absolutely necessary. I shoot the woman working in the post room a nervous glance as I gather the enchanted objects up and hide them in the depths of my satchel.
There is something rather fun about receiving a parcel of enchanted gadgets from a spymaster. My inner seven-year-old enjoys it, anyway, but I can’t quite let go of the implications. None of this is a game; I’ve found that out the hard way already.
Edward takes me to a private meeting room once we’ve eaten for my lessons in what the enchanted objects I’ve just received are and how to use them. The book is titled An Elementary Study of the Theory of Partial Enchantments, but its pages are blank.
“It’s for sensitive information,” Edward says. “Notes on important events or conversations, emergency contacts – I’m supposed to give you those as well – anything you don’t think you can memorise but need to have recorded. Enchanted so no-one but you can open it, or it will be once I’ve shown you how to activate it. My dad says he’s set some of the best enchanters he knows on it and it took them a week to break his work, so it’s far from perfect but – “
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Look. I don’t really need to know how hard it would be to subvert all these things. I don’t even really want them. Just show me how they work, okay?”
“Friendly advice,” Edward replies. “Never let my dad hear you say that unless you want a detailed lecture on operational security.”
I laugh. “Noted. So. That’s the book. The ring?” I remove it from my satchel and let it sit in my palm. It’s a thin metal band with a diamond – probably real given who it came from – embedded in it, and doesn’t look particularly special.
Edward hesitates, then shakes his head. “We need to improve the privacy wards at this point. I think – “ he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of chalk – “I can manage a basic sound-proofing ward at this point – “
He kneels down and draws a circle a couple of metres in diameter on the floor, with me at its centre, then sketches a symbol just in front of me and places his hand on it for a second. “There. That should work. No sound from within this circle can reach outside until we break the ward.”
I’m wondering if this is really necessary, and whether there’s a realistic chance people happen to be spying on us at this specific moment, but I know Edward well enough by now not to say that. “So. The ring.”
“Allows you to transmit signals remotely to the person with the sympathetically linked ring – in this case, my dad. He can use them to work out your approximate location. You press the diamond down to send a message – no, don’t do it now – not unless you have to.”
I move my other hand hastily away from the ring.
“The code is one press for come at once, I’m in danger, two for come soon, I could use your help, three for I’m safe and four for I’m sending this message under duress.”
It’s a struggle not to react visibly to that last one. I tell myself that I’ve already nearly died once and probably would have died if Edward hadn’t been able to summon his father’s help, and that I never know when something equally disastrous could happen again. I tell myself that these are sensible, rational precautions.
“And if you receive a signal – you’ll know when it happens, the ring vibrates on your finger – reply immediately unless you want a team of Birds descending on your location.”
“…birds?” I repeat. I’ve heard them mentioned before, but can’t quite recall the context.
“Oh. Right. That’s not technically classified, but it’s Intelligence terminology that isn’t spread too widely outside. They’re one of the SMO groups. It’s a joint project between the Army and Intelligence but they answer to the Minister. Mostly they end up doing covert security detail and wardwork, though… actually, no, the details of how they’re used are classified. You can probably guess at least the broad picture though.”
Those people who were with Lord Blackthorn on the Abbey steps that day; they must have been Birds. I’m not sure I particularly want to take guesses at the broad picture. “Classified. Got it.” I slip the ring onto my finger. It isn’t as heavy as it looks; before long I’ll probably forget it’s even there. “Boxes,” I say.
Edward picks up the wooden one and opens it to reveal half a dozen smooth, round pebbles.
“I… take it those aren’t ordinary stones?”
“What gave it away?” Edward laughs. “They’re ward-stones.”
Of course Lord Blackthorn is giving me ward-stones. They’re absurdly hard to manufacture and as such cost a small fortune; just the thing to give to your son’s friend for emergencies. Ward-stones allow a magician to set up a makeshift ward around their location – they’re much less stable than full wards but can be activated in seconds rather than the minutes to hours it would take to construct the latter.
“Ward-stones,” I repeat. “Right. What ward does this specific set make?”
“Complete privacy,” Edward replies. “Blocking sound and blurring light travelling outwards, no-one can get in and no spells can be cast from exterior to interior.”
Yeah. Even for Lord Blackthorn, producing ward-stones with as complex an effect as that isn’t easy. He must be taking my safety very seriously. The thought disturbs me more than anything else.
“You know how to use them?”
Sort of; I’ve read about them but have obviously never seen one physically before. “Let’s say I don’t,” I say. “I know you’re dying to explain it to me.”
“Place them on the ground around you in a regular hexagonal pattern, and channel magic into each one in turn. That simple. Don’t test it, though – apparently these are complex enough they’ll only last two or three uses.”
“Save it for an actual emergency, then. That just leaves…” I gesture to the second box, the metal one.
“Perfectly normal box,” Edward says, opening it to show that it’s empty.
“Yeah, right.”
“Perfectly normal box that can be enchanted so that only you can open it, like the book.”
That sounds significantly more plausible.
“Shall I show you how to do that?”
I don’t want to know how to activate my new enchantments. Even the fact of accepting them makes me feel a little closer to being a Blackthorn. With all due respect to both Edward and his father, I will never be one of them and I’d never want to be.
Still. It’s this or making Lord Blackthorn angry with me, and I do not want Lord Blackthorn to be angry with me. “Yes. Please.”