She shook her head as she rang the bell for the maids. It bothered her that she hadn’t heard anything from Jade; he hadn’t written to her once since she’d been raised to the peerage. Had he decided that she was too good for him now, even though her reputation as the Necromancer’s Bane made her more dangerous and forbidding than the average Royal Princess? Or was he busy with his new master? His last message had spoken of new lessons, although he’d been very vague. Vows of secrecy were taken seriously by the magical community. Someone who broke a vow would almost certainly be killed or lose their magic permanently.
The maids appeared and curtseyed to her, something that still made Emily feel rather silly, even though she was their baroness. She directed them to take the luggage down to the coach, then followed at a rather more sedate pace. There had seemed little point in holding a grand farewell ceremony, not when she would be back in nine months to take a full accounting from Bryon of what had happened in her absence. Besides, she might have been rich, but she didn’t feel rich. Her early life hadn’t prepared her for sudden wealth.
She checked the wards on the carriage before she climbed in, then issued orders to the driver. The carriage lurched into life a moment later, the horses pulling it out of the courtyard and onto the badly-maintained road outside the castle. If it hadn’t been for the spells on the carriage, Emily knew that she would probably have felt motion sick within five minutes—and besides, she certainly wouldn’t be able to get any reading done. Still, she pushed the book aside and stared out of the window. The land surrounding the castle were all hers too.
The previous baron had been a dominating guy, she’d come to realize; he’d rarely allowed his peasants a chance to buy their own land and start growing whatever they wanted to grow. Emily had changed that, to some extent, but making so many changes so quickly would have almost certainly unhinged the local economy. Luckily, the influx of people into the nearby city—taking advantage of Emily’s looser laws—had balanced the increase in food production quite nicely. She hadn’t been so lucky with other matters...
It still struck her as absurd that she was the mistress of all she surveyed. Back on Earth, she would have been trying to scrape up the marks to go to college on a scholarship, hoping that it would give her the background she needed to escape her mother and stepfather once and for all. Here, she was the baroness...and a single word from her could change the lives of thousands of people. She’d learned that the hard way.
Settling back in her seat, she opened a book and started to read. The previous baron had been a collector of expensive books, although Emily had a private suspicion that it had been more for the pleasure of ownership than out of any intellectual habits. He’d probably felt that intellectual was a dirty word. Some of the books were on magic, including several that made Emily’s skin crawl whenever she touched them. She’d placed them all in her trunk for Lady Aylia to examine, once she reached Whitehall. The librarian might be able to tell her more about their history.
It was nearly two hours before they reached the outskirts of Alexis, the capital city of Zangaria. Unlike Emily, Alassa couldn’t hope to leave without a major send-off, even though she was only riding to the portal outside the city, where she would step through and reach Whitehall. Emily waited until her coach had come to a stop, then jumped out and pointed the coachman towards the portal. After what had happened the last time she’d used one, she would have preferred to be with her friends when they went through the next portal. At least Alassa already knew how badly portals affected her.
“Lady Emily,” someone shouted, as Emily walked towards the Royal Carriage. “Are you going back to Whitehall?”
Emily did her best to ignore them. The combination of the new printing presses and the relaxation of most censorship laws had created a flourishing newspaper industry. Most of the newspapers would be gone within six months, she suspected—the economy probably couldn’t support over six hundred new publications within Alexis alone—but that didn’t stop them from being annoying. The society pages alone seemed to be ruder than anything she recalled from Earth.
She placed her hand against the wards surrounding the Royal Carriage, waited for them to recognize her and then climbed up, into the cool interior. Alassa, as perfectly poised as ever, gave her a smile; Imaiqah, who seemed a little overwhelmed by all the attention, looked relieved to see Emily. Given how badly the two girls had gotten on before Emily had arrived at Whitehall, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Now, after Imaiqah had helped save Alassa’s life and kingdom, she was nobility too. It was depressing to realize that made the girls get on better.
“It’s good to see you,” Alassa said, once the door was closed. “I hope that everything is prepared in Cockatrice?”
“I hope so,” Emily said, unsurprised by her discretion. This world offered all sorts of ways to spy on someone—and the new newspapers printed whatever their snoops found out. She had a private suspicion that King Randor already regretted giving the editors so much freedom. “And yourself?”
“They spend most of their time complaining that I didn’t choose a husband,” Alassa said, ruefully. “But after everything that happened...”
Emily nodded in understanding. Alassa’s planned engagement had been pushed to one side by an attempted coup—and, after that, most of her suitors had been recalled home so their parents could consider the new situation in Zangaria. Alassa hadn’t been too upset, although she’d made a show of moping whenever she’d known she was being watched. She hadn’t really wanted to get married so quickly, even if she was the Crown Princess.
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily advised. “You have plenty of time before you take the throne.”
She shaped her defenses in her mind as the carriage lurched forward, approaching the portal. The nexus of magic seemed to reach out for them, pulling the vehicle onwards...and then Emily gasped in pain as the magic threatened to overwhelm her. There was a long moment when she felt she was about to die, or have her soul sucked out of her body, and then the feeling was gone. Compared to the first time she had passed through a portal, it was nothing.
Thank you, Lady Barb, she thought.
“Welcome to Whitehall,” Alassa said, quietly. “And it’s snowing.”
Emily nodded, peering out of the window as the spires of Whitehall came into view.
Somehow, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was coming home.
Chapter Two
THE COLD GRIPPED THEM AS SOON as they climbed out of the carriage and started to walk towards the main entrance. Emily shivered and drew her cloak closer around herself, half-wishing that she was back in Zangaria. It had been warmer there. A handful of students were tossing snowballs around, despite warning glances from the staff and servants who were assisting the coachmen to unload the carriages. Emily shook her head, remembering just how much she’d hated school on Earth, even if it did get her away from her stepfather. The students at Whitehall seemed to love coming back to school.
Inside, it was mercifully warm. She allowed one of the servants to take her cloak, then walked towards the Main Hall, where the other students were gathering. Most of them looked familiar—they’d been told that the different years would return on different days—but a handful were strangers. Quite a few pupils had been withdrawn from the school after Shadye had attacked it, bringing Whitehall’s invulnerability into question. She was surprised to see that others had been transferred to Whitehall.
“Lady Emily,” Mistress Irene said, as they stepped into the Main Hall. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She liked Mistress Irene, even though she was strict. “It’s good to be back.”
“They all say that,” Mistress Irene said, but she was smiling as she said it. “Take a seat, anywhere you like. There will be some speeches and then there will be food.”
Emily nodded and found a seat next to Alassa, gritting her teeth when she saw other students throwing nervous glances at her. No one quite knew what to make of
a girl who had bested a necromancer in single combat—and, because they didn’t know precisely what she had done, they thought that she might be a necromancer herself. It was frustrating, sometimes, to look into a classmate’s eyes and see fear looking back at her. In some ways, she was almost as alone in Whitehall as she had been on Earth.
But I have some friends here, she reminded herself, firmly. I didn’t really have friends on Earth.
Mistress Irene had been right, she realized; most of the students did seem delighted to be back at Whitehall. But perhaps that wasn’t too surprising. Whitehall was staggeringly luxurious by the standards of most in this world, even if they weren’t allowed any individual servants or fancy clothes. Hot and cold running water alone was a vast improvement over what they would find elsewhere, enough to weaken their ties outside Whitehall. By the time they graduated, they would be used to a life of luxury they might have considered unimaginable. It would keep them loyal to Whitehall even after they completed their sixth year.
She looked up towards the high table as a ripple of silence ran through the air, calling their attention to the Grandmaster. He stood just in front of his table, flanked by Mistress Irene and a dour-faced man Emily didn’t recognize. She couldn’t help thinking, as she took in his bald head and dignified features, that he looked a little like Captain Picard. The thought made her smile inwardly as silence settled over the vast room.
“Welcome back to Whitehall,” the Grandmaster said. He was a short, wizened man, who wore a cloth wrapped around his eyes, but there was no mistaking the power in his voice. “Let us hope that we have a less exciting year this time.”
Emily felt her cheeks burning as several pairs of eyes glanced in her direction.
“The Allied Lands have decided to station several additional regiments of troops in the nearby lands, even pushing forward into the territory formerly occupied by Shadye,” the Grandmaster continued. “Most of the orcs and goblins have been rousted out of the mountains, but there remains a danger that they may attack unwary travellers—or students—as they grow desperate. If you go outside the wards, go in a group and make sure you inform the staff before you leave.”
His sightless eyes swept the room. “You should all understand the realities of the threat we face. I urge you all to be very careful. There are forces out there that would love to reduce our graduating classes—and not all of them are as unsubtle as a necromancer.
“On a different note,” he added, “I would like to welcome a handful of students who have transferred to Whitehall from Mountaintop Academy.” He nodded towards a handful of strangers, sitting at the rear of the room. “I hope you will make them all very welcome.”
There was a long pause, then he nodded towards the Captain Picard lookalike. “This is Master Tor, Master of Law and Head of Second Year,” he said. “I will leave you now in his capable hands.”
Master Tor stepped forward, his eyes moving from student to student. They seemed to linger on Emily longer than she would have expected, although perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Master Tor had presumably heard all about her, even if he hadn’t seen her in class or in the library.
“Your first year at Whitehall was somewhat chaotic,” Master Tor said, bluntly. “That is inevitable, simply because we need to start training newly-discovered magicians as soon as possible. Students come into schooling at all times and have to run through a series of classes to teach them basic skills. It is very disorderly.
“That is not true of second year,” he added. “Your second year serves as the basis for your third and fourth years, where you will complete the first level of training and either go on to fifth and sixth year or leave to find employment outside the school. We attempt to keep second year as orderly as possible, while giving you a chance to experience as much as possible. You will need that experience in order to determine which subjects suit your particular talents.”
Mistress Irene didn’t look too pleased, Emily realized, as Master Tor paused long enough for them to take it all in. But he was right; her first year at Whitehall had been rather chaotic, even without Shadye’s attack. With new students arriving at unpredictable intervals, it would be impossible for the staff to follow a regular syllabus. Students had to gain the basic skills before they could advance into second year.
“During the next week, you will have the opportunity to attend a sample class from each of the elective subjects,” Master Tor said, breaking into her thoughts. “Attendance in these classes, if you wish to take up the subject, is mandatory. The tutors will give you a brief introduction, demonstrate the value of the class and discuss what they hope to accomplish over the coming year. At the end of the week you will be able to decide what classes you wish to take over the year. I would advise you to consider what kind of career you intend to follow, once you leave Whitehall. Certain positions require high qualifications from Whitehall or another magical academy.
“Once term starts next week, you will have the opportunity to change classes for up to one month before becoming locked into them. If you realize that you have made a mistake after that, you may find yourself marked down or being forced to repeat the year. In any case, you will be listed as having failed the original class. I advise you all to be very careful in choosing your electives. A single bad choice can blight the rest of your term.
“In addition, you will be expected to choose an advisor,” he continued. “You’ll find a complete outline of the role that advisor is expected to play in your welcoming packet, but in general the advisor is supposed to act as a mentor. Should you fail to choose one, you will either be assigned an advisor or allowed to operate without one. This would mean, among other problems, that you would have no one to assist you if you got into trouble.”
He smiled, rather bleakly. “I strongly advise you to find one as soon as possible,” he warned. “The good advisors are often overwhelmed by requests.”
Pity I can’t ask Void, Emily thought. But after what she’d discovered about Void from Lady Barb, she was no longer sure that she trusted him completely. She looked up at the other tutors, wondering which one of them she should ask. Professor Thande was fun, but also slightly insane; right now, he looked as if he had died and had then been dug up and put back to work. What had he been doing over the holidays?
“On a slightly different note,” Master Tor informed them, “Ken tryouts will be held in the latter half of the week and next week, should there be enough interest. Team Captains will post the schedules in the common rooms; if you’re interested in trying out, you may attend their sessions and see if you manage to impress them. Alternatively, if you wish to form your own team, you may do so. A copy of the rules and regulations for new teams can be found in your common rooms.”
There was a sudden surge of interest—mainly from the boys, Emily noted. Ken was a sport that seemed to combine football, basketball and dodge ball, not something her life had encouraged her to enjoy. Most of the students, however, loved it and attended every match religiously. Emily just found it tedious.
Alassa elbowed her. “We should found a team,” she said, mischievously. “And then we could just sit around in the arena devising new ways to cheat.”
“No, thank you,” Emily said, quickly. Anyone could found a team, if they could find enough players. There had been nineteen different teams last year, most of them composed of players from second to sixth year. Every year, the teams would have to look for new blood or risk being disqualified. “I don’t have the time anyway.”
“How true,” Alassa agreed.
Emily wondered, absently, what King Randor would make of his daughter playing in the arena. Would he approve or would he fear that she was placing her life in danger? Ken could and did turn nasty, particularly when the referee was looking the other way. Magic offered thousands of ways to cheat and many of the players were inventive enough to think of new ones on the fly. But it might be good for Alassa to learn to take orders before she gave them.
“But I cou
ld found a team,” Alassa added. “It wouldn’t be that hard to round up a handful of other players.”
“Oh,” Emily said. Of course Alassa wouldn’t want to enter a team at the bottom. And she might well be able to round up enough players to enter a new team. “Maybe you should start recruiting from first years.”
Alassa gave her a questioning look. “But they wouldn’t know what they were doing,” she pointed out. “Students in later years would know more spells and...”
“They can’t form a team on their own,” Emily pointed out. “If you were to invite them, however, they would be able to join—and then you would have a steady team for the next four years. Think of how many pupils leave each year.”
She left Alassa to think about it as Master Tor started to speak again.
“There will be a visit to Dragon’s Den this coming weekend,” he said. “If you are interested in traveling to the city, I suggest that you add your name to the lists in the common rooms. We may not be able to provide enough security to take everyone.”
Emily nodded, making a mental note to add her name to the list. Her trunk had disgorged the Cockatrice she’d captured, but it was now effectively useless. She’d been lucky to be able to recover most of her property before trapping the beast for the second time. The trunk would have to be taken back to Dragon’s Den, where she’d bought it, in hopes that the enchanter who’d constructed it would be able to make repairs. If not, she would have to buy a second trunk.
“Finally, there has been a change in policy. As you are all second years, you may wear something apart from robes outside classes,” Master Tor concluded. “Bear in mind, please, that the standard rules are still in existence. Those who break the rules will have the right to wear something apart from robes revoked.”
Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) Page 2