The Scholomance (25 page)

No doubt he was
correct, she thought, and even let him hear her admit it. She knew she’d come
here with a single purpose, and she didn’t handle distractions well. As
evidenced by the man lying half-stripped on the floor.

‘I’m always
correct. It’s the curse of my kind.’ His mind tickled at hers, inviting
laughter, and when she didn’t oblige him, he blew a psychic sigh and thought,
‘What were you expecting, dormice drizzled in honey? Eels roasted in placenta
of porpoise, perhaps?”

Mara thought
that sounded worse than the gruel and told him so, which did surprise him, but
also made him laugh.

“Yes, well, so
tastes have changed. My point is this, o precious one, we give our students
only what is required to hold the life in their greedy bodies and no more. And
yet still they come, every year, expecting marble halls and golden platters
laden with—”

**Dormice?**
suggested Mara, taking another fingerful of that awful gruel and grimacing. She
had only the vaguest notion of what a dormouse was.

‘Sweets of some
sort. Oh damn me for a tender touch, come here.’

Mara got up and
went to the Master’s table, careful not to smile or hold out her hand
presumptuously. She even bowed, a gesture he waved off with two curt flaps of
his black hand before he gave her a long crust of bread, toasted brown and
covered first in a mouth-watering onion sauce and then by tart, golden-bubbly
cheese.

It was better
than sex.

“Indeed?”
Horuseps said dryly, watching her eat.

“I suppose that
really depends on my partner at the moment, but this is damned good.”

“You jellyfish,”
Zyera murmured, giggling behind her hand.

Horuseps sighed
theatrically, smiting the soft heart that so betrayed him. “Try the wine,” he
said next, and offered his cup.

Mara didn’t take
it. “I’ve had the wine, thanks.”

“Try ours. Ten
days in the barrel is enough for the sons of Adam, but for his Masters, ten
years or more.”

Mara had never
seen in the appeal in forfeiting one’s self-control to alcohol, and she
couldn’t help but think it was tacky to drink at breakfast anyway, but the
bread had made her thirsty. She accepted the cup and risked a short swallow,
aware of the envious eyes of the students. The taste was crisp and rich and
only slightly sweet, not the fermented fruitiness she associated with wine, but
almost more like some unknown blend of tea.

“Thou woman’s
heart,” said a demoness from further down the line. Tall, voluptuous, with
oiled-bronze skin shot through with quills, and yet still beautiful. Mara knew
her, sort of, had spied her once through an open door in the lyceum. Master
Letha, who taught Allure. Now this demoness uttered a melodious sigh and rolled
a fruit down the tabletop for Mara to catch. “Thou brooding hen,” she said to
Horuseps. “Thou quivering oyster. And yet, aye, who among us can resist so
pretty a pet when it standeth upon its hind feet and howls?”

It was a plum,
the soft rind black and speckled with sugary stars, the meat as golden as dawn.
Not in season, but fresh and juicy and simply delicious.

“I hope you
realize you’re getting a treat,” said Horuseps. “I don’t care how nicely you
howl, you shan’t embarrass me again.”

“You have always
been too good to me,” Mara replied, sucking juice from her fingers. “Thank
you.”

A good many of
the Masters laughed or clapped their hands at this, and even Horuseps hooked a
wry smile at her. “You’ll be the ruin of me yet. Another crust?”

“Please.”

He passed it
over, saying, “I suppose the meals we provide here truly are execrable, but we
must have our little revenges. You would be surprised how many humans come here
expecting their studies to consist of long walks in the golden cities of the
Underearth, where they feast at every hour on purple cushions, take peeled
grapes from the hands of aether-slaves—”

“And drink from
the cup of Solomon,” Mara agreed distractedly.

Horuseps looked
at her sharply, then laughed, but his laughter had a strained quality and his
mind was deeply armored. “Wherever did you hear about
that
?”

“From one of the
pilgrims who didn’t make it in.” Mara eyed him curiously as he evaded her gaze.
“Is there a cup of Solomon?”

“Oh. Well.” He
waved one hand expansively, ending with his arm slung round Zyera’s shoulders
as he tried another of his boneless shrugs. “One might as easily ask, ‘Is there
a great sphinx of Egypt?’ but what one finds is merely a heap of crumbling
stone and not the magical guardian of unlimited arcane power heralded in myth.”

“So…there is a
cup.”

He interrupted
his unconcerned nibbling of Zyera’s coral-crusted cheek to cast a withering
glance her way. “Yes. There is a cup.”

“Did Solomon
make it or just own it?”

The other
Masters were watching them, all with nearly identical expressions of amusement.
No matter what they might have thought of her, they all relished the sight of
Horuseps in interrogation. He knew it, played to it, but his mind grew
increasingly dark to her, and cold.

“I’m sure he
considered it his personal symbol of power, particularly while he was here, but
whether he crafted it himself or ordered his alchemists to create it…or
plundered it from some other lord’s treasury, I’ve no idea. I wouldn’t have
thought it noteworthy enough for its legend to survive so many centuries. It’s
really rather a dull thing to look at.”

His use of tense
intrigued her. “Is it still here?” she asked, brushing the last bread crumbs
off her robe.

Horuseps looked
away, his lips tightening, and endured Zyera’s giggles with an expression of
pained resignation. “Perhaps I should show you. Would that satisfy your
curiosity?”

“Probably not,
but it sounds like a good way to kill an hour.”

“Very well
then.” Horuseps dropped a kiss on Zyera’s bristling brow and stood up. “Follow
me.”

“Now? Don’t you
have class soon?”

“I’m sure my
students will eventually notice my absence and find another theater in which to
prove hopelessly inadequate. Your wishes prevail. Come.”

They left the
dining hall and went out into the Nave, where students who had lost the battle
for a handful of gruel skulked on their way either to the lyceum or back to the
ephebeum. They all bowed to the demon, but there were a lot of dirty looks for
Mara beneath the respectfully-lowered hoods.

“You’re gaining
a reputation,” Horuseps remarked.

“I’ve had one
most of my life.”

“But not here.” Horuseps
glanced at her, sighed, and said, “Dear child, if I may make an observation,
you act as though this place is no different from any other you have known. It
is. You act as though the humans who inhabit it are no more dangerous than the
humans you have always lived among. They are. You act as though there are
protections in place to hold order over them, but all protections come through
the Masters, and you are deliberately avoiding the one who offers you shelter.”

“That’s three
observations.”

He sighed again
and gave her head a pat. “No one likes a know-it-all, darling. I merely wished
to warn you that surviving the dislike of your peers is slightly more difficult
when your peers do in fact want to kill you. Take a little care, Bitterness. Who
will you save when you are yourself laid low?”

“I feel the
love, Horuseps. I do.”

“Ah well. All
babes must burn their hands before they truly understand fire. So it must be
with even you. Here.” Horuseps waved, and one of the Nave’s many closed doors
sparked and opened for him. The tunnel beyond descended into darkness, its
stone walls riddled with dripping calcite formations like thousands of melted
candles, blowing back the breath of neglect.

The now-familiar
blister-lamps were in the ceiling and they began to glow as Horuseps moved
forward, throwing shadows around him in a dark starburst. She walked behind
him, shamelessly admiring the way his tall, angular body rose whitely out of
the dark, knowing he was listening by the single arch smile he sent back at her
over one shoulder, although he did not comment. His silence, and the silence of
his mind, began to weigh on her as they left the Nave and all other minds
behind. The Mindstorm quieted, became indistinct, ominous.

“It’s very
pretty here,” Mara said finally, studying the rock formations as she passed
them. “Why do you keep it closed off?”

“To prevent the
weak from wandering. The doors are shut,” Horuseps added, nodding towards a
sealed archway branching away from the main passage. “But not locked. We
encourage those with the will for it to explore. There are so many secret tests
in these quiet corners.”

“Does anybody
live down here?”

“Nothing human
and no Masters, but it would not surprise me to come across the lair of
something or another. The darkness appeals to many of the lesser creatures who populate
the mountain.”

“Like the
hounds?”

“The hounds, no.
They live under the close watch of Master Suti’ok.” He glanced at her. “No one
else can control them.”

“Not even
Kazuul?”

“Does it comfort
you to think of his power as finite? But no. He could kill them, but that would
distress Suti’ok. Our lord is so considerate of our feelings,” he concluded
tartly.

“Are the hounds
demons?”

Horuseps
appeared to think about it. “Demon-stock,” he judged at last.

“Are you
breeding them?”

“Not deliberately.”
He gave her another glance, one a little darker than the last. “You recall that
it is not forbidden for Masters to enjoy fornications with students.”

“On the
contrary, it seems to be one of your privileges.”

“Understand that
it is never our intention to breed one of the degenerate kinds that dwell among
us,” Horuseps said with impressive sincerity. “But having done so, we are
compelled to care for them, even the more unpredictable of them.”

“If they’re so
unpleasant to be around, why would you risk it at all?”

“I could fuck
you a thousand times and never father of you,” he said bluntly. “Ten thousand
times. You, indeed, and every other human female who resides with you at this
hour.”

“Is that an
explanation or an offer?”

“You tease.” But
he smiled. “The pleasure outweighs the inconvenience, and so we prey upon our
students freely and accept whatever rare consequence may follow. However, if we
rescinded the law which holds humans from mating without restraint, we would
see every sow made a mother by the end of the year.”

“You could be
right.”

“How good of you
to acknowledge the possibility. We are aware, Mara, that trapping several
hundred rapacious males in an enclosed environment with relatively few females
and fewer standards of behavior has made for a rather…predatory situation. We
have done what we can to make the punishment suitably steep so as to discourage
the crime, but honestly, it isn’t as though the females are entirely cast as
victims.”

“No, I imagine
they’re not. People like to think that women don’t think about sex, but we can
be pretty rapacious ourselves.”

She felt his
attention waver ever so slightly, and the part of him which he believed hidden
from her withdrew even further to consider that, and all the pleasant
possibilities which might be implied. Then he let it all go with a dry laugh. “If
I wanted you, my Bittersweet, I have only to command your submission.”

“You do want
me,” Mara countered. “And you’re not commanding me. Why not?”

“You’re not my
taste.”

“I don’t think
that’s it. It’s something else. Something to do with Kaz—”

He moved fast
when he wanted to. Just a flash of whiteness in a high arc and suddenly her
back hit the tunnel wall, his arm was a silver bar bruising her throat, and his
eyes were blazing before her like exploding stars. “Are you in my mind,
precious?”

“No,” she
answered, honestly enough. “You have more windows than doors and you think
loudly when you’re not paying attention.”

He stared her
down without blinking for a very long time.

“Touching me
doesn’t help,” Mara said finally.

He pulled his
arm back at once, then frowned and used that hand to slick along his long
eyebrows.

“You should know
this,” said Mara. “You’re a telepath, I know you are.” And silently, **Why
don’t you ever talk this way? Why just put out thoughts for me to read?**

“Or simply to
take,” he murmured with an arch sidelong glance.

Mara waited,
tapping at him impatiently for an answer.

“Yes,”
he sighed, “I am a mentalist. Rather a better one than you, I dare say. My
touches…are more intimate than I desire to share.”

“I’m
hurt,” said Mara, trying to joke.

His
smile broadened in a nasty slant. “You would be, if I opened my mind to you
fully. You may, in fact, be killed. You have a considerable raw talent,
precious, but note my use of the word ‘raw’. Perhaps in time, with training, we
will come to some deeper communion, we two. Until then, these pale shadows are
all that can be safely shared. Shall we speak now of mentalism and all the ways
it has diminished in the bloodlines of this Earth or may we continue on to the
reliquary?”

She
frowned at him, staring deep into the flickering lights of his eyes. “You’re
trying to distract me.”

“More
fool I,” he replied with some exasperation. “But ah well, for the sake of our
great friendship, I’ll tell you why I shan’t command you to your back, dear
Mara, and yes, it does have something to do with Kazuul. You recall that I
expressed some sympathy for the plight of the students here, their many
hundreds of males and few females.”

“I recall you
acknowledging it, I’m not sure I’d call that sympathy.”