“Though God knows I try.” Muirin sighed theatrically.
The good-natured bickering among the others was actually soothing, and when one of the servers placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, Spirit realized she actually had a little appetite. There were bowls of fruit and brown sugar on the table, and pitchers of honey and maple syrup and milk and cream. She put a little brown sugar and milk on her cereal, while Muirin poured so much sugar and syrup onto hers that Spirit wondered if she could even taste the oatmeal.
Burke plucked the pitcher out of Muirin’s hand. “Leave some for the rest of us, greediguts.”
Muirin squealed in outrage. Addie sighed. “Every morning,” she said to Spirit, in an aside.
Spirit tried to smile back, but it was hard. “What do you think’s going to happen today?” she asked Loch in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” he answered. He was stirring his oatmeal around but not eating much of it. “When I checked my e-mail this morning, all it said was to report to the Front Desk after breakfast. You?”
“I forgot to check mine,” Spirit admitted. “My computer woke me up at six this morning with some horrible song.”
“ ‘Oakhurst We Shall Not Forget Thee,’ ” Loch said, his mouth twisting wryly. “It was composed by one of the first students here,” he added, and Spirit made a rude noise. That just figured. “You can actually set your computer to wake you up with any song in the library. Or just a .wav file if you prefer. I can walk you through that later, or I think there’s a tutorial somewhere in the library files,” he added, as if it was an afterthought.
“If I can’t find it, I’ll ping you,” Spirit said. If we’re both still alive later, she thought, and grimaced, reminding herself that, as weird and awful as the interview had been, the worst she had gotten was a scratch. What could be so hard about a few tests? If Dr. Ambrosius didn’t want them here, he wouldn’t have worked so hard to get them here.
Oatmeal was followed by bacon and eggs and toast. Apparently it was okay to ask for seconds, because Burke did. Spirit couldn’t even finish her first helping. She noticed that a lot of kids were leaving as soon as they finished eating, and Camilla said that you didn’t have to stay in the Refectory after you’d finished breakfast if you wanted to get a head start on studying.
“Me, I’d rather put it off as long as possible,” she said, grinning.
There wasn’t any coffee, but there was tea if you wanted it, even if it was herbal, and despite Muirin’s constant complaints about the lack of “junk food,” there was cocoa if you asked for it, and you could even get marshmallows in it. Of course Muirin did, and tried to get Spirit to order some, too, but Spirit refused. Her stomach was already rebelling.
“On Sundays there’s pancakes,” Muirin said longingly, licking marshmallow off her upper lip. “I guess it’s supposed to make up for having to go to church.”
“Church?” Spirit said, alarmed. There hadn’t been anything in the brochure about church.
“Mandatory spiritual education,” Muirin sighed. “It’s kind of Unitarian, I guess. Dr. Ambrosius gives a sermon, and then reads a passage out of the Bible and then out of another holy book so we can see how they’re all actually alike. So it’s more like a class. But there’s a choir.”
From Muirin’s tone, Spirit couldn’t tell whether she thought the choir was a good thing or a bad thing, and she was about to ask if there was any way to get out of it—because her parents hadn’t exactly been religious, at least not in that way—when she was distracted by someone sitting down in the empty seat on the other side of Loch.
“Hi,” the new girl said, leaning forward and making it clear she was talking more to Spirit than to Loch. “I didn’t get to introduce myself last night. I’m Kelly Langley. I’m one of the ‘Young Ladies’ ’ proctors, so if you need anything and you don’t want to ask one of the teachers, I can help you out.”
Kelly looked as if she was maybe three years older than Spirit. She had hazel eyes and dark brown hair cut even shorter than Muirin’s, and she looked frankly amused at the idea of having to refer to them as “Young Ladies.”
“Do you know who the, uh, ‘Young Gentlemen’s’ proctor is?” Loch asked. “We saw him last night, but . . .”
“Actually, there are five of them right now,” Kelly said briskly. “And we’re hoping to get a waiver to grab Burke next year when he’s seventeen because Gareth graduates then, damn him. What a slacker. But there’s one proctor for each ten students, so right now there are ten of us. I’ll tell Gareth to find you after you’ve finished your tests and make sure you know who the proctors are for your side.”
“Thanks,” Loch said.
“I know the first few months here can be rough,” Kelly said, and now she was talking to both of them, “but there isn’t anybody here who hasn’t been through at least some of what you have. If you don’t want to talk to the teachers, talk to somebody, m’m kay? Okay, end of lecture.” She got to her feet.
“Wait,” Spirit said. “Are you—? I mean—”
Kelly smiled at her. “One of those wizard guys?” She snapped her fingers, and suddenly a flame was burning on the end of her thumb. She folded her thumb into her fist, and the flame was gone. “Fire Witch. It’s the commonest Gift; nobody really knows why. Gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
Spirit watched her as she strode—she already had the idea that Kelly strode everywhere—from the Refectory. Loch’s touch on her arm made her jump.
“I think we’d better go,” he said when she looked at him.
It was strange how the Entry Room already seemed like a familiar place. There was still a fire burning in the fireplace—or maybe that was “again”—and Spirit wondered if they kept a fire burning there 24/7. Then another thought struck her. Maybe there isn’t any fire there at all. Maybe it’s just an illusion. The thought was so sudden and so disturbing—this time yesterday she hadn’t even known that real magic existed—that she tripped on the perfectly smooth tile floor.
“Steady,” Loch said. “How bad can it be?”
“I don’t know,” Spirit said, keeping her voice level with an effort. “What if we flunk?”
From the look on Loch’s face, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.
There was a different blonde woman behind the Front Desk this morning. She was just as glossy and groomed as Ms. Corby had been, and wearing a Bluetooth headset; when Spirit peered over the edge of the vintage-looking counter, everything behind it was twenty-first-century modern, with enough keyboards, touchpads, and display screens that she ought to be able to launch the whole school into space.
“Ms. Smith will be with you in just a few moments,” the blonde woman said. She regarded them with the same distant haughtiness that Ms. Corby had yesterday, as if she couldn’t imagine why they were here at Oakhurst at all. Spirit was tempted to offer to leave, but fortunately Ms. Smith arrived before she could.
“Hi. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’m Jane Smith. Come on, I’ll take you to the testing rooms.”
In contrast to the blonde receptionist, Ms. Smith looked friendly and like an actual human being. She was wearing the school uniform, but with pants, not a skirt, and her long brown hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail. She was holding a clipboard cradled in one arm, and she had a pen tucked behind her ear.
Spirit and Loch followed her through a doorway and along a corridor. The corridor was carpeted, and the framed pictures on the walls were all old-time photographs of railroad things that had probably belonged to the house’s original owner. Spirit hadn’t been here long enough to get a real sense of the layout of the main house, so she was lost very quickly. Ms. Smith stopped in front of a door and opened it.
“Go right in and take a seat, Mr. Spears. Doctor Ambrosius will be right with you,” Ms. Smith said with an encouraging smile. “Relax. This isn’t the kind of test anybody flunks.”
Loch gave her an unconvinced smile in return and wa
lked into the room. Spirit wanted to see what was in there, but Ms. Smith was already moving down the corridor. They passed a few more closed doors, then she stopped and opened another one. “And here we are,” she said brightly.
Spirit walked in hesitantly. The room was surprisingly small—a little smaller than Spirit’s new bedroom—and gave her the feeling of an old-time schoolroom. The ceiling was high for the room’s size, at least twenty feet. There were windows, but they were completely covered by blackout shades made of black fabric, and the light came from lights in the ceiling.
There was nothing in the room but a large heavy wooden table and two heavy wooden chairs. Spirit walked over to the table and looked down at it. Arranged on the surface were a stone, some kind of plant in an ordinary red clay pot full of dirt, a clear glass bowl filled with water, a copper bowl filled with charcoal briquettes, a tall white pillar candle, and several feathers. The surface of the table had several burn scars on it.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Ms. Smith said. “I’ll explain what you’re going to do here today.” She settled herself into one of the chairs and set her clipboard on the table. Spirit sat warily in the seat on the other side.
“I know that all of this has to seem very strange to you,” Ms. Smith said. “But we won’t ask you to take any of it on faith. What today’s test is for is to determine which elements you have a particular affinity for, in order for us to determine what your Mage Gift is.”
“Kelly said Fire was the most common one,” Spirit said hesitantly.
“Right,” Ms. Smith said, nodding. “Now, scientifically, there are one hundred seventeen elements, but the ancient world believed there were only four: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, which aren’t really elements at all. But for the purposes of magic, we treat them as if they are, and your Mage Gift will probably fall into one of what we call these ‘Elemental Schools.’ ”
“Probably?” Spirit asked.
“It’s possible that you might have Gifts from two different Schools,” Ms. Smith said, “though in that case, they’re less likely to be strong Gifts. While a Mage can have an entirely elemental Gift—such as being a Fire Witch—they can also have a power that belongs to an Elemental School without controlling its underlying element. For example, I know you’ve met Burke Hallows. His Mage Gift is Combat Magic, which has an affinity with the School of Earth. Knowing the supporting School to which your Mage Gift belongs will be important when you go on to study magical theory. And you’re wishing I’d stop nattering on at you and get to the testing part of things, aren’t you?”
Spirit glanced up, guilty and a little alarmed.
“Oh, I’m no mind reader,” Ms. Smith said gently. “But I’ve administered a great number of these tests. This is how it works: the items here on the table symbolize the Four Elements. You should feel a resonance—an affinity—with one more than another. Take your time. And remember, there aren’t any wrong answers here. This isn’t a test you can fail. We already know you’re a magician, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Two hours later, Spirit wanted to be anywhere but there. She didn’t have the least “affinity” for any of the objects on the table: not the stone or the potted plant that symbolized Earth, nor the bowl of water that symbolized (of course) Water, nor the candle and the bowl of charcoal that symbolized Fire, nor the feathers that were the symbol for Air. Despite the fact that Ms. Smith said Spirit had magic, nothing she could do seemed to be able to get its attention. While Ms. Smith hadn’t stopped being kind and supportive—something Spirit instinctively mistrusted after all those weeks of social workers and nurses at the hospital and in rehab—Spirit could tell she’d been getting more and more frustrated.
But as far as Spirit could tell, the stuff on the table was just a bunch of tacky New Age decorations. She couldn’t set the candle on fire with the power of her mind. She didn’t even want to. Ditto for making the water swirl around in the bowl, or suddenly wanting to cuddle up to the rock, and she wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to do with the feathers.
“What’s the problem here?”
Spirit was sitting with her back to the door; she jumped as it flew open and hit the wall with a bang. Doctor Ambrosius came storming into the room.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Ambrosius,” Ms. Smith said, getting to her feet. “Miss White hasn’t been able to manifest an Affinity yet.”
“Not able? Not willing, you mean,” Doctor Ambrosius said contemptuously. “The child is a natural magician! This is no time for tantrums or games, my young woman,” he added, glaring at Spirit sternly. “Hiding what you are will gain you nothing.”
Up until that moment, Spirit had been frustrated and even a little intimidated by what was happening, but now she was just angry.
“In the first place, how am I supposed to hide something I barely believe in?” she demanded hotly. “In the second place, why would I do something like that?”
Doctor Ambrosius’s frown became even more thunderous, if that was possible. “Ms. Smith, go and finish up with young Master Spears. I shall get to the bottom of the situation here.”
Ms. Smith didn’t glance at Spirit as she walked quickly from the room. When the door closed behind her, Spirit swallowed hard, trying not to feel as if she’d just been trapped.
Doctor Ambrosius began to pace. “I am certain Ms. Smith explained to you that magicians’ powers are linked to the elements. It is from these we draw our power. It is these that shape our essential natures. Denying what you are will accomplish nothing. It will only leave you defenseless—helpless—in the battles to come. Dark times are coming, Spirit White. Do not doubt that for an instant. Do not allow fear—or anger—or weakness to stand in the way of embracing what you were meant to be.”
Listening to him talk was like listening to a Shakespeare play. Only creepier. She wished he’d stop pacing around. It was making her nervous.
Suddenly he turned back to the table and slapped both hands down on it. “Here are your choices! One of them is your chosen path!” he all-but-shouted at her. “You must try again! Now!”
Spirit reached out and grabbed the first thing her hands touched, mostly because she was afraid not to. She was trying, but this wasn’t like her math homework or learning to sew or climbing trees or anything else she’d ever done in her life. It wasn’t even like choosing which flavor of ice cream you wanted. What was she supposed to do with a candle? Maybe it was the wrong candle.
Her hands shook as she set it back on the table and reached for the stone. She’d done this over and over in the last two hours. Ms. Smith had said she’d know when she reached the right one, that these were just symbols but that was okay, that magic worked in symbols and this was just the first step to discovering what her Gift was.
But the stone was just an ordinary stone in her hands, and now her head was starting to hurt, and the room seemed hot and airless. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest; she had the panicky throat-closed feeling of being about to cry, and the thought of crying in front of Doctor Ambrosius simply made her angrier.
“Try harder,” he barked at her.
Spirit’s hands curled into fists, and she glared at the objects on the table, feeling a combination of anger and frustration and panic. The lights in the room seemed too bright. What should she try next? What would make him stop glaring at her? All she really wanted to do was pick up the little potted plant and hurl it to the floor. The glass bowl of water, too. She wrapped her arms around herself and gritted her teeth, squinting her eyes against the glare. There was no point in handling any of the things again—nothing would be any different than it had been the last dozen times—
“How dare you defy me?” Doctor Ambrosius shouted.
The sudden sound of his voice made Spirit jump, but it also cleared her head a little. Enough to let her know how horribly sick she felt. Enough is enough. This place had to have a school nurse somewhere.
Anything to get out of this room.
She p
ushed herself to her feet. The room seemed to spin crazily around her, and she felt a drop of moisture spatter onto the back of her hand. Her first thought was that—somehow—she’d started crying without having noticed, but when she looked down—forcing her eyes open, because they were almost completely closed now—it wasn’t water on the back of her hand.
It was blood.
What a strange dream. Spirit was so convinced that she was still in the hospital back in Indiana—the drugs they gave her made her have really weird vivid dreams sometimes—that it was a horrible wrenching shock to open her eyes and see Loch sitting beside her bed.
“Oh, you’re awake!” he said, sounding relieved. “Are you okay?”
Spirit stared at him, breathless, knowing she must look more than a little wild-eyed, still trying to get over the shock of all this being real. As she did, a woman in a white nurse uniform with a cardigan over it folded back the privacy screen around her bed. Once it was gone, Spirit could see she was in a large, airy, open room. There were two beds along one wall and three on the other, with a desk in the corner.
“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. Of course the next thing she did was stick a thermometer into Spirit’s mouth so she couldn’t answer the question. That was strangely reassuring—at least some things were normal here! She took Spirit’s wrist in her hand, counting her pulse, and then took her blood pressure before removing the thermometer. “Well, everything seems to be in order,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Ms. Bradford, the school nurse. You’re in the Infirmary. Apparently you fainted during Testing.”
Spirit could hear the capital letter in Ms. Bradford’s voice when she said “Testing.” Ms. Smith had said it wasn’t possible to flunk. Apparently she had.
“I want you to stay here and rest for another half hour, then you can dress and get up. You’ve missed lunch, but I can call the kitchen and get a sandwich sent over,” Ms. Bradford said.
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