But her dreams, for the second time since she had arrived at Mountaintop, were dark and fearsome. And she knew, by mentioning knowledge that couldn’t have come from the Allied Lands, that she might well have made a deadly mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE NEXT MONTH WENT BY FASTER than Emily would have imagined possible, largely because of her workload. There was no shortage of work from her tutors, then she had private lessons with Aurelius and Robyn and - finally - she had to practice spells and alchemy with Frieda.
Teaching was much more difficult than Emily had ever imagined. She’d never really understood just how difficult it could be to truly understand a subject until she’d started teaching Frieda, but doing so had encouraged her to look back at her first lessons so she could remember how she’d been taught. It was a great deal easier to teach Frieda once she had a thorough understanding of the basics, and why they worked.
She’d asked Aurelius why the basics weren’t covered thoroughly at either Whitehall or Mountaintop, and the older magician had pointed out that the Allied Lands needed practical magicians far more than it needed researchers. What she had been taught would suffice to make her a well-rounded magician when she graduated, but if she wanted to learn more she would have to apprentice herself to a master or hire a private tutor. It was an odd reflection of the somewhat skewed reaction the Allied Lands had to the looming threat of the Necromancers, but it made a certain kind of sense. She couldn’t help finding it more than a little annoying, though. It was quite possible she wouldn’t be able to progress in certain subjects without additional training.
Classes grew no easier, with the possible exception of Alchemy. Zed kept tutoring her in private and rarely said anything to her in class, apart from commenting on her latest disaster and helping her pass through the problematic stage. Some of the other students were actually starting to produce usable mixtures, although Zed cautioned that they weren’t always stable and, as such, couldn’t be trusted by builders and Wardmasters. The students didn’t seem to mind. Two months of hard effort, punctuated with explosions, trips to the infirmary and harsh punishments for carelessness had finally started to pay off. Emily envied them and redoubled her own efforts. It still galled her that she wasn’t doing as well as some of the others.
The real surprise had been Frieda. Their second lesson had been almost perfect; Frieda had mastered a series of charms without using her wand, while Emily had practiced breaking the freeze spell time and time again. She was uneasily aware that Frieda was hardly the strongest or most practiced of magicians–the spell, if cast by a tutor, might hold her anyway–but she was definitely making progress at casting spells without moving her hands. She’d also tried to cast other spells, only to discover it was far harder. Only the dispelling spell worked perfectly without a proper target.
And then Frieda had started teaching other students.
Emily hadn’t realized it was happening until she’d seen several more wands snapped, and then left abandoned in waste bins. There was a standing order that all broken wands were to be handed in to the tutors–presumably to stop students realizing that they were little more than small sticks of wood–but no one seemed to be upset about losing the wands.
“I was teaching a few of my friends,” Frieda confessed. “They can all cast spells without using wands now.”
She swallowed, then went on before Emily could say a word. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said. “I’ll do anything...”
“Just... just be careful,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Whatever you do, be careful.”
She was still mulling over the problem when she entered Mountaintop’s library. It was strange compared to Whitehall’s, but in some ways she found it more useful. Where Whitehall had one large chamber crammed with bookshelves, Mountaintop had hundreds of tiny compartments, each one filled with books divided by subject and year group. It was actually better-organized than Whitehall’s library, Emily had to admit, but the librarians were stricter with the students and she’d had to appeal to Aurelius before she’d been allowed access to all of the compartments. But it was a dream come true in many ways. There were books on the shelves she hadn’t been able to read at Whitehall.
She was sitting in one of the reading rooms, devouring a huge tome on ward-crafting, when she heard a cough and looked up. Nanette was standing there, seemingly torn between amusement and annoyance. Emily flushed in embarrassment. How long had Nanette been waiting for Emily to notice her presence?
“I’m sorry,” she said, closing the tome. She didn’t want Nanette looking over her shoulder as she read, although she was fairly sure the librarians were monitoring her choice of books. “I was miles away.”
“I could tell,” Nanette said, dryly. “Did you not hear the shouting?”
Emily frowned. “What shouting?”
“I’ll take that as an answer,” Nanette said. She folded her arms under her breasts. “Your Shadow is in some trouble, and your presence is requested.”
“In trouble?” Emily repeated. She stood and returned the books to the trolley. The librarians had threatened baleful polymorphs to anyone to dared return a book to the bookshelves without permission. Given how many problems poorly-shelved books caused librarians, it was hard to blame them. “What happened?”
Nanette’s lips twitched. “Apparently, she managed to turn Ten into a rather crabby crab,” she said, darkly. “It was a trick.”
“Oh,” Emily said. It was hard for her to feel too sorry for Ten, who’d been thoroughly unpleasant to Frieda. But then, after Emily had slapped her, Ten hadn’t even looked at Frieda. “And why?”
“I would hardly presume to guess,” Nanette said, archly. “But I would advise you to handle the matter, as you did make your feelings clear on anyone else harming Frieda.”
Emily nodded and followed Nanette through the twisting maze of corridors and book compartments, then down the stairs towards the dorms. Mountaintop didn’t seem to alter its interior, unlike Whitehall, which was a blessed relief. The darkness alone made it hard to navigate, particularly when there were only one or two light globes in the corridor. Whatever spells they used to create the darkness, Emily had to admit, they were very effective. She frowned as she saw the proctor standing at the edge of Raven Hall. Had Frieda run afoul of one of them?
“Emily,” Helen said, as soon as Nanette led Emily into the hall. “Your Shadow turned mine into a crab!”
“I know,” Emily said. She hesitated, then asked the next question as delicately as she could. “Did you manage to turn her back?”
“Yes,” Helen said. “But... you have to do something about this!”
Emily eyed her, blankly. “About what?”
“Some of the Shadows are revolting,” Nanette said. There was a faint hint of amusement in her voice. “Or more revolting than usual. I’ve had several referred to me over the past week for fighting and hexing in the corridors.”
“I thought that was an old school tradition,” Emily said. She allowed her voice to harden. “Or does that only apply when the victims are unable to defend themselves?”
Nanette didn’t bother to argue. “I would suggest that you... deal with Frieda,” she said, sharply. “This isn’t the time for the Shadows to find their wings.”
“And Ten was badly shocked,” Helen added. “She was just putting on her shoes, and poof!”
“I’ll speak to Frieda,” Emily said, tiredly. “But shouldn’t you speak to Ten?”
“I will,” Helen promised.
“And shouldn’t the other Patrons,” Emily asked Nanette, “have a word with their Shadows, too?”
“It will be done,” Nanette said. “You speak to Frieda. I will speak to the rest of Raven Hall later tonight. This situation is growing beyond a mere joke.”
Emily swallowed several responses that came to mind–starting with the suggestion that encouraging teenagers to play practical jokes on one another with magic wasn’t always a bright i
dea, particularly when half of them had an overburdened sense of entitlement–and walked through the door into the sleeping chamber. Several beds were surrounded by privacy wards, but others were almost gleefully unshielded, as if the occupants were looking forward to listening to whatever Emily had to say. Emily glowered as she walked up to her bed and looked down at Frieda. The girl looked nervous, but defiant.
At least she didn’t kill Ten, Emily thought, remembering just how close she’d come to killing Alassa. There’s that to be grateful for, at least.
She stepped up and cast a series of privacy wards. The air thickened, just enough to keep peeking eyes from seeing anything. Emily sighed to herself–schoolchildren everywhere seemed to take unholy glee in hearing about their fellows being punished–then sat down beside Frieda. The younger girl didn’t look at her.
“All right,” Emily said, placing an arm around Frieda’s shoulder. “What happened?”
Frieda looked at her and smiled, suddenly. “I did a few jobs for Angel,” she said. “She taught me how to affix a spell to a person’s shoe. Ten took hers off for the practical torture class”–PE, Emily translated mentally–“and I managed to sneak in and attach the spell before we were sent to change again. And then...”
She giggled. “It worked!”
“You turned her into a crab,” Emily said, slowly. “Why?”
“She was being unpleasant again,” Frieda said. “Just... whispering and muttering and insulting and... unpleasant.”
“I’m sure she was unpleasant,” Emily said. She rolled her eyes when she thought of Helen’s outrage. Ten had cast such spells on Frieda herself. Clearly, bullying was only acceptable if done by Ten to Frieda, rather than the other way round. “But did you do the right thing?”
“She used to stick my pigtails to the chair,” Frieda muttered. She looked down at the floor for a long moment. “Are you mad at me?”
Emily wasn’t sure. On one hand, she didn’t want to encourage Frieda to play nasty tricks on other students, no matter how much they deserved it. But on the other hand, they did deserve it. Ten had shown Frieda no respect whatsoever, which made it all the more likely that Frieda would want revenge, sooner rather than later. It wasn’t enough to merely develop the ability to defeat open attacks. Frieda wanted to strike back at her tormentor.
A vision of Alassa’s face, warped into eerie yellow stone, flashed through her mind. The prospect of something dangerous, perhaps even life-threatening, grew stronger the more students experimented with spells. Ten would want revenge, of course, and then Frieda would want revenge again and... Emily sighed, bitterly. The feud could easily get way out of hand.
“I think you should challenge her openly if you want to fight,” Emily said. “How would you feel if you were putting your shoe on one moment and you were a crab the next?”
“I felt awful when I was walking down the corridor one moment and I was a frog the next,” Frieda pointed out. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Where was anyone’s compassion then? Or do you just want me to take it?”
Emily nodded in bitter understanding. Frieda was right. There was no point in talking about how wrong it was to hit back when the original hitter was still hitting.
“No,” she said. “Just... just be careful.”
Frieda nodded. “The Head Girl said you would deal with me,” she said. “Why... because you defended me?”
“I think so,” Emily said. “Stand up, please.”
She took a breath as Frieda stood upright. The girl was still too thin, despite the potions and extra portions of food at mealtimes. There was no prospect of becoming fat anytime soon, Emily decided, as she was still painfully thin. Magic would burn up what calories didn’t go towards repairing her body. She paused, unsure if she should do anything, then smacked Frieda’s bottom lightly, several times. Frieda made no sound. Judging from the scans Emily had performed of her body, Frieda had almost certainly endured much worse long before she discovered she had magic.
“If anyone asks, tell them I beat you to within an inch of your life,” Emily said, darkly. She knew a couple of spells that could produce bruises, without causing any actual pain. “Pretend it hurts to sit down.”
Frieda giggled.
“And don’t try to show off your wounds to anyone,” Emily added.
“I’m not a boy,” Frieda protested. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Glad to hear it,” Emily said. She motioned Frieda to her bed, then sighed. “And I would prefer not to have to do this again.”
She looked up as the wards shook, suggesting that someone wanted to talk to her. Bracing herself, she stood and stepped through the wards, rather than taking them down. Nanette lifted an eyebrow when she saw Emily appear–she had probably not expected Emily to waste energy by leaving the wards in place–and waited.
Emily sighed. “Frieda deserves some privacy right now,” she said. God knew she’d never wanted company after the first time she’d been punished. “And the matter has been dealt with, I think.”
“Good,” Nanette said. “There’s a gathering in my office. Go now.”
Emily sighed again, but did as she was told. Inside the office, all of the Third Year girls from Raven Hall and half of their Shadows had gathered, looking around nervously. None of them quite seemed to know what was happening, although one of the Shadows was rubbing her cheek where there was a nasty bruise. Emily looked past her to Rook and scowled, inwardly. Slapping someone’s face could be dangerous even with healing magic.
Hypocrite, she told herself. Hadn’t she slapped Ten?
Nanette slipped into her office and closed the door behind her. “I have heard from the Administrator,” she said, bluntly. “The School Administration is quite upset about the recent outbreak of violence in the halls.”
That was quick, Emily thought.
Or had there been more incidents she hadn’t noticed? It was quite likely; she rarely paid any attention to anyone outside her year, apart from Frieda. The older students weren’t encouraged to take any interest in younger students, apart from Shadows. They had reputations to maintain.
“They have... requested that we all keep a sharp eye on our Shadows,” Nanette continued, carefully. She was treading on toes, Emily knew, even though she was the Head Girl. “Furthermore, in order to ensure that the students continue to learn the standard curriculum, First Years are now forbidden to use the spellchambers without supervision. There will also be dire penalties for any First Years who use magic in the corridors, with the single exception of light globes.”
Emily bit her lip to keep herself from commenting. Claudia, surprisingly, was less restrained.
“Do these laws apply to all First Years,” she asked, “or merely to the ones without family connections? Because, if it’s the former, I can imagine a great many people being thoroughly upset at the decision. Their children have been taught to use magic properly from a very early age.”
Nanette gave her a sharp look. “I would urge you to take that up with the Administrator,” she said. Her voice dripped sarcasm. “I am absolutely certain that he will be interested in hearing your advice on how to run his school. It has been years since a student was publically flogged in the Great Hall.”
Claudia scowled, but said nothing.
“To answer your question,” Nanette continued, “the decree applies to all First Year students, without exception. Yes, I know the Great Houses will be upset. Their children”–her voice hardened–“gain an important part of their education by practicing spells in the corridors on unsuspecting or helpless victims. But this problem has gotten out of hand.”
Emily remembered Shadye’s attack on Whitehall, or the Mimic’s steady consumption of staff and students, and wondered if Nanette knew what it was like to have a problem really get out of hand.
“You are to impress on your Shadows the importance of following these rules,” Nanette cautioned. “There’s a good chance that you may be blamed for any misbehavior on their part. I...”
“Then you have authority to make her listen,” Nanette snapped. “Or do you think they merely assigned you a servant and nothing else?”
She fixed Olive with a look that made the younger girl take a step backwards. “I know Emily is new to our ways,” she added. “But you were raised by a Great House. You should know your obligations as well as your rights. Take the girl in hand, teach her how to behave and take whatever steps that are necessary if she refuses to listen to you.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “This is a serious situation,” she concluded, addressing everyone. “The tutors are out for blood. Don’t give them the opportunity to take it from you. Go.”
Emily turned and hurried out of the office, along with the other girls. It didn’t bode well for the future, she knew, if what she suspected was true. The powers-that-be were responding to Frieda teaching spells and other forms of magical knowledge to the other Shadows. Emily wondered, suddenly, just how quickly the spells were spreading. If Frieda taught two people, then the three of them taught two more people each, and then the five of them... the spells might spread very rapidly. Hell, Frieda could concentrate on learning from Emily while her friends taught their other friends...
But they can’t if they aren’t allowed in the spellchambers, she thought, grimly. The ban on magic in the corridors was bad enough–at least they were allowed to make light globes–but the spellchambers were the only places they could practice. They’d learn the theory; they wouldn’t be able to practice.
She pushed back the privacy wards and stepped through. Frieda was lying on her bed, reading a book with the aid of a spell. Emily smiled at her, then sat down on her bed and started to explain.
Schooled in Magic 5 - The School of Hard Knocks Page 22