Graduation Day
(Schooled in Magic XIV)
Christopher G. Nuttall
Twilight Times Books
Kingsport Tennessee
Graduation Day
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Christopher G. Nuttall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
Twilight Times Books
P O Box 3340
Kingsport TN 37664
http://twilighttimesbooks.com/
First Edition, November 2017
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter
Published in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Afterword
Appendix: Trials and Justice in the Nameless World
Prologue
FULVIA WOULD NEVER ADMIT IT, NOT outside the privacy of her own head, but the look on Emily’s face as Fulvia stepped into the grandmaster’s office made all her past aggravation worthwhile.
Emily looked ... stunned. She hadn’t been raised in one of the great families, of course; her father had been negligent in her education. There was no way she knew just how much her gobsmacked expression was giving away. Fulvia could see Emily fighting for self-control, struggling to keep herself calm ... Fulvia relished every moment. The look of shock on the girl’s face was delightful.
She hadn’t changed much, Fulvia observed. Emily was still tall and willowy, her long brown hair framing a face that was striking rather than pretty. Her magic crackled around her, flickering and flaring as if she was unsure what to do with it. And yet, it was clear that the young girl had been pushed to the limit. Emily wasn’t any older than Melissa, Fulvia reminded herself. She might have power - although not as much as everyone thought she had - but she lacked experience. A more experienced magician would know the danger of giving too much away.
And there are so many questions yet to be answered, Fulvia reminded herself. She’s nowhere near as powerful as she’s supposed to be.
The thought made her lips twitch in amusement. Emily had - somehow - projected an anti-magic ward powerful enough to stop a brewing fight in its tracks. No mean feat, Fulvia admitted, yet it would have required a staggering amount of power. Fulvia herself couldn’t have generated so much power, not without a nexus point. And she was easily old enough to be Emily’s great-grandmother. Magic power grew with age, but Emily was young. It had been a trick, somehow. Fulvia’s mouth widened in amusement as she contemplated the possibilities. She looked forward to finding out how it had been done.
Emily’s voice was strangled. “What are you doing here?”
Fulvia met the girl’s eyes and waited, silently counting the seconds. It wouldn’t do to make the little brat think that Fulvia would hop to answer her questions, would it? And besides, it gave time for more reflection. The girl’s accent was odd, odd enough to make Fulvia wonder just where and when she’d learned to speak. It was hardly out of character for Void to raise a daughter in an isolated community - a Lone Power wouldn’t want his enemies knowing he had a daughter until she was old enough to go to school - but there were so many gaps in Emily’s awareness of the world around her that Fulvia had more questions than answers. Her father had been strikingly negligent in her education.
And where would she have been raised, Fulvia asked herself, where she didn’t speak the common tongue?
“I am the Matriarch of House Ashworth,” Fulvia said. It felt good to say that again, after two years of humiliation. But really, had Emily expected her to just ... go away? Fulvia had dedicated her life to gathering power. She wouldn’t give it up just because she’d had a minor setback. “It is my duty to prosecute crimes against my family.”
She looked past Emily, at Gordian. The new grandmaster was staring back at her, his face unreadable. Fulvia silently saluted him, wondering which way Gordian would jump. He wasn’t a bad choice for the post, she admitted, but he wasn’t beholden to her. She would have preferred someone who would take her side, if push came to shove. But Emily - deliberately or not - had crippled her power base. She hadn’t been able to influence the debate over who would be the next grandmaster.
But as long as he stays on the sidelines, it won’t matter, she thought. Gordian had made a mistake. A tiny mistake, but one he would come to regret. I can suborn him later.
“I must request that you turn Frieda of No House over to me,” she said, flatly. Oh, the look of helpless rage on Emily’s face was glorious. “She will answer for her crimes against the family.”
“That will not be possible,” Gordian said. His voice was toneless. “Frieda has not been expelled from Whitehall. An inquest must be held to determine precisely what happened before she can be handled over to anyone.”
Fulvia inclined her head in a slow nod, conceding the point. She hadn’t expected anything else. There had been no way to time events perfectly, not when soul magic and mind manipulation was involved. She’d anticipated having to adjust her plans at a moment’s notice, just to take events into account. It would be a fantastic battle of wits, one where she had age and experience on her side. She was quite looking forward to it.
Emily looked surprised. Fulvia felt a flicker of amusement. She hadn’t expected Gordian to defend Frieda, then. She’d expected ... what? Fulvia smiled as she looked back at the younger girl. From probationary student to Head Girl ... her badge was missing. Former Head Girl, perhaps. It suggested that relations between Gordian and Emily were hardly close. Fulvia made a silent bet with herself that Emily saw Gordian as a potential enemy.
“Very well,” Fulvia said. “The papers will be filed by the end of the week. My choice of jurists will be selected shortly. The inquest can take place at your command.”
“Thank you.” Gordian’s voice was still toneless. It was hard to read his emotions. “I will make the arrangements for a secure chamber.”
Fulvia nodded. Gordian wasn’t being very subtle. His words were a grim reminder that he would uphold his oath, even
if it meant making an enemy of some very politically powerful and influential people. But then, he didn’t have much choice. Even now, Emily was powerful ... perhaps more powerful than she realized. Who knew what she’d be in the future?
Better to stop her now than find out, Fulvia thought. The little brat had already been staggeringly disruptive, as if her mere touch was enough to throw orderly systems into utter chaos. Fulvia knew she’d been lucky to preserve enough of her power base to regain her position and even that was unsteady. She had to win if she wanted to remain in charge for the rest of her life. Or even just to stay alive.
“That would be satisfactory,” Fulvia informed him. “I trust you will also arrange living quarters for myself and my jurists?”
“Of course,” Gordian said.
Fulvia switched her gaze back to Emily. The younger girl appeared calm, but Fulvia could tell she was angry. Her body was quivering slightly, as if she was barely restraining herself from going for Fulvia’s throat; her hands were clasped behind her back, keeping them out of Fulvia’s view. She really was inexperienced. Did she realize, Fulvia asked herself, that she was the true target? That her little friend’s life was nothing in the grand scheme of things? That Fulvia had been happy to put her own family at risk just to lure Emily onto a battlefield she didn’t understand, let alone control?
And I can prolong things as long as necessary, Fulvia thought.
“Justice will be done,” she said. “The assault on Celadon will be avenged.”
Emily’s eyes twitched, but she said nothing. Fulvia was almost impressed. She had no doubt that the younger girl wanted to blast her, verbally or magically. Emily’s hatred was almost a physical force in its own right. She clearly knew Fulvia had hired Daze. And yet ... Daze would have taken that secret to his grave, even if he’d been interrogated by a Lone Power. How had Emily figured out the truth?
It doesn’t matter, Fulvia told herself, firmly. She has no proof.
She took a step back. “We will meet in the courtroom,” she said. “And justice will be done.”
And then she turned and walked out of the room.
Chapter One
EMILY FELT LIKE SHE’D BEEN PUNCHED in the stomach.
It was hard, so hard, to think. Her heart pounded in her ears; her magic crackled as she fought for control. She wanted to lash out, to blast Fulvia with all the power she could muster ... only the grim awareness it would mean certain death for both Frieda and herself kept her from striking first. The ancient crone had baited a trap and she’d walked right into it. She had no idea what to do.
Fulvia hadn’t changed a bit. She looked old, her grey hair tied into a solid bun; her face was wrinkled, as if she couldn’t be bothered using a glamour to soften her looks. But her back was ramrod straight and her eyes - her hard eyes - utterly unrelenting. Her looks were a choice, Emily thought dully. Fulvia was showing off her age, rather than trying to hide behind cosmetic spells. It was an unsubtle warning that she was far more formidable than she looked. Magic power grew with age, and Fulvia was very old indeed.
Emily fought for control as Fulvia turned and walked out of Gordian’s office. Fulvia had manipulated Frieda, and Emily knew it. Daze had warped Frieda’s mind, using soul magic to push her until she crossed a line. And yet ... Fulvia had walked in, as calmly as she pleased, and announced herself as the Ashworth Matriarch. How the hell had she regained her power? Emily couldn’t begin to imagine how Fulvia had convinced her family to let her reclaim the title. She’d been disgraced ...
She gathered herself, slowly. It had been a long day, too long. Too much had happened in too short a space of time for her to process. Frieda had assaulted Celadon, then fled; Emily had been captured by Daze, only to escape ... her thoughts were a jumbled mess. She’d used soul magic on Frieda to save her friend’s life. She needed to sit down and meditate, then sleep for a week. But she doubted she’d have the time.
Gordian cleared his throat. Emily jumped. She’d forgotten he was there.
“I can provide a secure chamber for the inquest,” he said, as Emily turned to face him. “But I cannot defend Frieda.”
Emily glared at him. “You know she was manipulated.”
“We don’t have proof,” Gordian reminded her. He pointed to the remains of the bracelet resting on his desk. “There are no traces of magic on the bracelet, not now. Even if there were, the magical signature would belong to Frieda. And Daze cannot testify to anything.”
“Because he’s dead,” Emily snarled.
“Quite,” Gordian agreed.
Emily took a deep breath as she studied the bracelet. Frieda had made it, but Daze had shaped the spell, twisting Frieda’s magic until it had started to drive her insane. It had been clever, Emily admitted sourly. If someone had cast a compulsion spell on Frieda, Whitehall’s wards would have sounded the alert the moment she crossed the threshold. But there had been no way to tell the difference between Frieda’s protections and the tiny little spell that had pushed her over the edge. She gritted her teeth in frustration. There was no way to prove that Frieda hadn’t been in her right mind.
“Fulvia was behind Daze,” she said. “She planned all this!”
“Perhaps,” Gordian said. “But do you have proof?”
Emily forced herself to think. “I ...”
She looked down at her hands, feeling helpless. Melissa could testify that Daze had worked for Fulvia, perhaps. And Melissa had ample reason to want to weaken Fulvia. But ... but it wasn’t proof that Daze had been working for Fulvia when he died. Fulvia could simply claim that Daze had left her service years ago. There would be no way to disprove her words, unless ...
Emily looked up. “We could challenge her to swear an oath.”
Gordian’s lips twitched. “Trying to force someone to swear an oath is illegal,” he said. “And with good reason. Do you want to set a precedent?”
“You forced me to swear an oath,” Emily said. “Remember?”
“You were guilty,” Gordian pointed out. He smiled, suddenly. “Technically.”
“Technically,” Emily echoed, wryly. Thinking about time travel and time loops made her head hurt. “I wasn’t guilty then.”
“No,” Gordian agreed. “And I wouldn’t have pushed you to swear if there hadn’t been a clear and present danger.”
“Frieda could swear,” Emily said, after a moment. “She wasn’t responsible for her own actions.”
“In her current state, I’m not sure she could swear an oath,” Gordian told her. “And even if she could, it would be meaningless.”
He looked down at his desk. “The Ashworths have every right to demand an inquest. After everything that happened over the last few months ... they have every right to want answers. They must determine her guilt - or the lack of it.”
Emily’s mouth felt dry. “And if she’s found guilty?”
“She’ll be handed over to them,” Gordian said. “After that ...”
They’ll kill her, Emily thought. Fulvia will murder Frieda to cover her tracks.
She shuddered. There were worse fates than death. Frieda might be enslaved, or transfigured, or ... she’d read too many horror stories, each one worse than the last. Or ... she might be used as leverage. Emily had risked her life, several times, for Frieda. And Frieda had risked her life for Emily. Fulvia would have Emily at her mercy if she had Frieda as a hostage. Who knew what she’d demand in exchange for Frieda’s life?
That might be the point, Emily thought. Frieda was nothing to Fulvia - just another common-born magician - but Emily wasn’t. Emily had shamed Fulvia and made her a laughing stock in front of her family and her family’s historic rivals. Fulvia had ample reason to want a little revenge. I might be the target, not Frieda.
“I suggest you prepare yourself for the inquest,” Gordian said. “As a neutral party, I cannot offer you advice ...”
Emily met his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”
She saw a hot flash of anger in his eyes. “I’m on
Whitehall’s side,” Gordian snapped. “Does that answer your question?”
“No,” Emily said. It wasn’t enough. How could it be?
Gordian looked back at her for a long moment. “My responsibility is to the school, not to you or Fulvia or anyone else. My job is to ensure that my pupils learn magic in a reasonably safe environment, which includes punishing or expelling students who cross the line. And sometimes, that means removing a student who is disruptive ...”
“Like you wanted to remove me,” Emily said, flatly.
“Quite,” Gordian agreed. “Right now, we must determine if Frieda was truly influenced by an outside force, in which case she cannot be held accountable for her actions, or if she acted of her own accord. And matters are complicated by the demand that Frieda be handed over to the Ashworths for punishment. This is not something that can be handled quickly. I suggest you find a way to prove Frieda’s innocence or come up with something you can offer them, in exchange for a formal renunciation of any demands for punishment.”
He rubbed his nose, tiredly. “The basic facts are not in dispute,” he added. “Frieda did assault Celadon, after a series of other assaults on students ... including younger students. I simply do not have the influence to keep outsiders from trying to poke their nose into the school, if we do not give them an inquest. It was sheer luck that Frieda was not formally expelled before you brought her back to the school.”
And the timing worked out in Fulvia’s favor, Emily thought, darkly. Was that sheer luck ... or was someone pulling the strings behind the scenes?
It was hard, so hard, not to second-guess herself. Had Daze been meant to let her go? Or had Fulvia calculated that Emily would find a way to beat him? Or had she devised a whole series of plans, each one designed for a different contingency? She might just have hoped for the best and planned for the worst. Fulvia was dangerously smart. Emily had no way to be sure she wasn’t playing into Fulvia’s hands. And yet, doing nothing wasn’t an option either.
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