Infinite Regress Read online

  Emily shook her head. It could be a coincidence, she supposed. If artists could paint portraits that made her look like Melissa, why couldn’t sculptors do a statue of someone that looked exactly like her? And yet, the level of detail was far too perfect. Up close, the only real difference—save for the clothes—was a scar marring her left cheek. Hardly anyone knew she had the snake-bracelet...

  She reached out to touch the statue, ignoring her instincts, but her fingers skittered over the stone, as if they couldn’t quite make contact. Her senses, attuned to magic after four years in the Nameless World, sensed... nothing. But she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was looking at something significant. What was it?

  “Maybe the Grandmaster had it buried here,” Cabiria suggested, as Emily stepped back. “It might be a lot newer than we think.”

  Emily doubted it. The Grandmaster hadn’t hesitated to hang several portraits of her—or at least portraits claiming to be her—up in the school. Why would he hide a statue? And why would he bury it under the school when all the evidence suggested the gates had been sealed for hundreds of years? No, it made no sense. But neither did the presence of the statue.

  “Emily,” a voice called, echoing down the corridor. “Cabiria!”

  “Professor Locke,” Cabiria shouted back. “We’re coming!”

  She scooped up her knapsack, then turned and ran down the darkened corridor towards the voice. Emily took one last look at the statue before following, hoping desperately that they were running in the right direction. Tunnels could play merry hob with sounds, she knew from bitter experience; they might be running away from the professor. But when they turned the corner, they practically ran straight into Professor Locke. He didn’t look pleased, his face twisting into a worried scowl.

  “What happened to you?”

  “We got lost,” Cabiria said, before Emily could say a word. “You have to come and see this, professor!”

  “I found something very interesting,” Professor Locke said. He seemed torn between irritation and an almost childlike delight. “What have you found?”

  “This way,” Cabiria said.

  She led him back down the corridor, following the footsteps they’d left in the dust. Emily brought up the rear, silently puzzling over the mystery of the statue. What was it? She wanted to believe that it was just a coincidence, but the statue was too perfect to be anyone else. Cabiria turned the corner that should have led them into the chamber and stopped, dead. The statue was gone.

  We blinked, Emily thought, stunned.

  “It was there,” Cabiria insisted. She waved a hand at their footprints. “It was there!”

  Professor Locke scowled at her. “What was there?”

  “A statue of Emily,” Cabiria said. “It couldn’t have been anyone else!”

  “That’s what we saw,” Emily confirmed, when Professor Locke turned to look at her. “It was me.”

  “It was probably an illusion,” Professor Locke said, curtly. He stepped up to where the statue had been, waving a wand in the air. “What you saw wasn’t what was actually there, obviously.”

  Emily and Cabiria exchanged glances. They’d been so certain. And yet, there was no denying that the statue had vanished. Emily couldn’t help glancing behind her, as if the statue could move when they weren’t looking, but there was nothing. Even the layer of dust on the floor remained untouched...

  “It doesn’t matter,” Professor Locke said, impatiently. “Come and see what I found.”

  “We saw a statue,” Cabiria insisted. “Professor...”

  “Come and see what I found,” Professor Locke repeated, sharply. “I think you’ll find it even more interesting.”

  Emily took one last look at where the statue had been, then followed him through the maze of corridors, her stomach churning with unease. The statue had looked too real. And yet, she hadn’t been able to touch it—and it was now gone. Maybe Professor Locke had been right and it had been an illusion. There were constant flickers of magic in the background, after all. But why would an illusion take on such an odd form? She would have expected an exact duplicate, not one that had a handful of tiny flaws.

  The thrumming in the background grew stronger as Professor Locke led them into another huge chamber. Giant crystal structures stretched from floor to ceiling, glowing with an eerie light that threw the remainder of the chamber into utter darkness. They had to be right below the nexus point, Emily realized, remembering the structures she’d seen in the chamber itself. The sense of power was so appallingly strong that it was all she could do to step into the chamber. She had to fight to keep from turning and running for her life.

  “Look at this,” Professor Locke said. “This is how they tapped the nexus point!”

  Emily nodded, wordlessly. As her eyes became more accustomed to the odd light, it was easier to pick out more details. The crystals hadn’t been carved, she thought; it looked as if they’d been grown, propelled forward by the nexus point. She’d grown crystals at school, on Earth, but this was on a far greater scale. The floor itself, dark and silent compared to the crystals, hummed with power. It struck her, suddenly, that they were walking on glass, not stone...

  Power hummed through the giant crystals, pulsing in tune with the thrumming echoing above them. The light rose and fell too, sending jagged shadows flickering around the chamber as they walked closer. Emily felt her hair trying to stand on end as she walked up to one of the crystals, not daring to touch it. There was so much power in close proximity that she felt trying would mean death.

  “They must have learned how to embed spells in crystals here,” Professor Locke breathed. It was easy to tell why he hadn’t been too worried about the statue. The ancient magics he’d wanted to study were right in front of him. “I believe the original techniques were developed here, at Whitehall, but this is on a far greater scale.”

  It was more than that, Emily thought. She was slowly growing accustomed to the chamber—and the more she looked at it, the more she became convinced that the spellware was oddly familiar. A virtual spell, she thought, anchored in place by the sheer power of the nexus point. Anything lesser would have disintegrated long before. And she’d seen something like it before. But where?

  “This is how they did it,” Professor Locke added. “They tapped the nexus point...”

  His voice trailed away for a long moment. “And the power goes down into the earth, grounding the nexus point,” he breathed. “They must have been like gods!”

  “There’s a nexus point at Rose Red,” Emily pointed out. “Don’t they have similar techniques?”

  “Nothing on the same scale,” Professor Locke reminded her. “The techniques used to make Whitehall have been long lost.”

  He reached out to touch the crystals, his face strikingly calm.

  “Wait!” Emily shouted. She hastily mustered a shield. “Don’t...”

  Too late. A brilliant flash of light flared through the chamber—she covered her eyes, desperately, as she sensed a surge of magic—but nothing happened. Professor Locke looked giddy, but otherwise unharmed. Cabiria, behind him, looked terrified. Emily didn’t blame her.

  “Great plunging stratas of power,” Professor Locke breathed. Emily shuddered, despite herself. He sounded drunk; he staggered around as though he’d lost his balance. “Reaching down to... down to where?”

  “We need to go back,” Emily said. If Professor Locke had been harmed, he needed immediate medical attention. She glanced at Cabiria. “Take his arms.”

  Cabiria nodded. Together, they helped the stumbling professor out of the chamber and back down the corridor, following the trail they’d left in the dust. Professor Locke, it seemed, had followed the traces of magic right into the chamber. Emily rubbed her eyes—everything seemed dim, now they’d left the light behind—and prayed silently that they could find the gates without trouble. Much to her relief, there were no spells blocking their way when they finally returned to the gates.

  The builde
rs wouldn’t want to discourage us from leaving, she thought, as they stumbled up the passageway. They just wanted to keep people from breaking in.

  Professor Locke seemed to return to normal as soon as they reached the top of the passageway, turning around as if he wanted to walk straight back down into the lower levels and continue exploring. Emily had to fight the urge to stick his feet to the ground or paralyze him, even though she knew assaulting a tutor would probably guarantee her expulsion. But what else could she do?

  She heard the doorway opening above her and turned, just in time to see Grandmaster Gordian and Sergeant Miles enter the chamber. Neither looked very happy. Gordian’s eyes passed over her, then fixed on Professor Locke, held between his two students. Behind him, Sergeant Miles looked deeply worried.

  “Professor,” Gordian snapped. “What happened?”

  Sergeant Miles leaned forward. “And what did you do down there?”

  Emily felt a shiver running down her spine. They hadn’t been down in the tunnels for very long, had they? She doubted it. Her watch insisted that they’d been underground for no more than two hours. And yet, there were stories of students who’d walked down some of the older corridors, only to emerge a year or two later. She’d always assumed the tales were rumors, designed to scare younger students, yet it was possible. God knew she’d crafted a pocket dimension where time ran at a different rate...

  “I found a piece of their spellwork,” Professor Locke said. Thankfully, he sounded sober—and composed. “There’s another chamber further below. I sensed it when I touched the crystals...”

  Gordian looked angry. “Yes, but what did you actually do?”

  Emily looked at him. “Sir, what happened?”

  “The entire school reconfigured itself,” Gordian snapped. He didn’t sound angry with her, much to her relief. “Nothing is the same any longer.”

  “That happens,” Cabiria said.

  “Not on this scale,” Gordian said. “Everything has been changed. We’re just lucky no one was in class or the confusion would have been a nightmare.”

  Emily stared. Whitehall reconfigured corridors from time to time—it was why students were taught to feel their way through the wards—but changing everything? Had it happened when Professor Locke touched the crystals? If so, why? Had they stumbled across a back-up system for the user interface in the nexus chamber? But if they had, why had Professor Locke ordered the school to reconfigure itself?

  Her blood ran cold as the answer ran through her mind. He didn’t know what he was doing...

  “So we found something of great importance,” Professor Locke said. “We need to go back there, immediately.”

  Emily swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. “Is that wise?”

  Professor Locke swung round to glare at her. “The secrets of the ancients are lying in front of us, just waiting for us to learn how to use them,” he insisted, loudly. “We have to go back!”

  “But if your touch reconfigured the entire school,” Emily began, “surely...”

  “Hold your tongue,” Professor Locke snapped. “This is a vitally...”

  “Enough,” Gordian said, firmly. He held up a hand when it looked like Professor Locke was prepared to carry on. “Right now, all three of you need a shower and your clothes need to be burned. Afterwards, I want a full report covering everything that happened from the moment you walked through the gates to when you returned. Write them separately, understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Professor Locke said. “But we do have to go back down there.”

  “We will,” Gordian assured him. “There’s no harm in taking a day or two to consider our next step.”

  His face twisted into an odd little smile. “And I think you should use the showers in the martial magic changing rooms,” he added. “You’ll be treading dust all over the school.”

  Emily glanced down at herself as Gordian swept out of the room. Her shirt and trousers looked as if she’d been rolling in the dust. It caked her body, drying out her skin. She was suddenly very glad there wasn’t a mirror in the room. Cabiria looked as if she were a walking statue and Emily doubted she looked any better. The thought sent chills running down her spine. Professor Locke might not believe them about the real statue, but she knew what they’d seen.

  “He’s right,” Sergeant Miles said. “You really don’t want to be seen covered in dust.”

  He led them up three flights of stairs and down towards the armory. Emily was silently relieved it was a weekend, although it wasn’t uncommon for students to use the spellchambers or sparring rings to keep their skills sharp. She smiled inwardly, remembering how many times Jade had dragged her down to the armory back in First Year. He’d been a good friend, even though she was thankful their relationship hadn’t progressed any further. It was far easier to relax with Caleb.

  And Alassa would have been disappointed, she thought. They do go together.

  The corridors had definitely changed, she noted. They should have been able to walk straight to the armory, but instead they had to turn two corners and hop over a stuffed leopard that had been in the zoo. Sergeant Miles said nothing, yet she could tell he was annoyed. If he’d had students using the spellchambers it would have been harder for him to intervene if something had gone wrong. But they met no one as they reached the showers. Professor Locke, looking rather irked, hurried into the male showers without a backwards glance.

  “There are spare robes in the changing room,” Sergeant Miles reminded them. “Make sure you return them once you’ve changed into something more comfortable.”

  He turned to walk away, then stopped. “And I look forward to reading your reports.”

  Emily said nothing as she followed Cabiria into the shower and started to tear off her clothes, cursing the dust as it stained the wet floor. She’d never liked undressing in front of her roommates, but for once she just wanted to get naked. Dust fell from her hair as she stepped into the shower, hoping desperately it wouldn’t choke up the plumbing. It had handled mud—and worse—before, yet she couldn’t recall ever coming back coated in quite so much dirt and grime. She could easily believe the tunnel network hadn’t been opened for well over seven hundred years.

  “Professor Locke is crazy,” she said, as water cascaded over her body. It was such a relief to be clean again, even if she could still feel the dust on her skin. “If touching the crystals can change the school’s entire internal configuration, what will happen if he starts probing further?”

  “He wants to unlock the secrets of ancient magic before he dies,” Cabiria reminded her. She didn’t seem concerned about being naked. Emily couldn’t help noticing that her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. “There’s no way he’ll let the Grandmaster forbid him from going back without a fight.”

  “And to think I thought the Grandmaster’s will was absolute within the school,” Emily muttered. Not that she expected Gordian to forbid further exploration. He needed a big success to justify his promotion and learning to understand and duplicate ancient magics would be a step in the right direction. “This could go horrendously wrong.”

  She scowled as she stepped out of the shower and used magic to dry herself, then summon a robe from the changing room. It felt dirty and stained as she pulled it over her head, but it would suffice until she returned to her bedroom and changed. Behind her, Cabiria finished washing herself and stepped out of the shower. Emily glanced at her, then sighed. They’d been told to write their reports separately.

  “Help me clean the floor,” she said, casting a cleaning spell to remove the dust. “We don’t want to be blamed for the mess.”

  Cabiria gave her an odd look. “It doesn’t clean itself?”

  Emily shook her head. Their bedrooms might be spelled to remain clean—she’d put the spells against dust in place herself—but Martial Magic students were expected to clean everything themselves, from their weapons to their showers and changing rooms. Sergeant Miles was a decent man, far less terrifyi
ng than Sergeant Harkin, but she knew he’d be furious if they left a mess behind. They’d be lucky if he didn’t make them clean it up with their own toothbrushes.

  “Be glad we’re not in the class,” Emily said. “We’d have to do it without magic.”

  There was no sign of Professor Locke outside, much to Emily’s surprise. She wondered, briefly, what they should do, then decided that Sergeant Miles had effectively dismissed them anyway. They had reports to write.

  “They won’t be interested in the statue,” Cabiria said, as they headed up the stairwell. It looked different too. “But we have to tell them about it anyway.”

  “I know,” Emily said. Professor Locke might have dismissed it, but she had a feeling that it was important. “If you see it again, try not to take your eyes off it.”

  Cabiria eyed her. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Emily said. There was no point in trying to explain the Weeping Angels to someone who had never heard of television, let alone Doctor Who. “I just heard stories of statues that moved—and killed—when they weren’t being watched.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “YOU’RE IN DANGER OF FAILING THIS class,” Professor Lombardi said.

  Emily sighed, inwardly. The seventh attempt at working a ritual had failed as badly as the previous six. She’d hoped that Cirroc would be able to work with her, but even his brashness hadn’t lasted when the ritual had begun. Professor Lombardi had told her to remain behind after dismissing the rest of his students.

  “I know, sir,” she said.

  “It isn’t solely your fault,” Professor Lombardi added. “But it is growing quite worrying.”

  Emily bit down, hard, on the temptation to insist it wasn’t even remotely her fault, but she knew better. There was no way to hide her magic reserves from the other students, not once they joined hands. She’d thought about trying to expend as much as possible before the class, but she knew that could be dangerous. She needed a reserve to cope with any unexpected demands.