Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “Two girls - one a princess, one a magical - fell in love,” Duchene said. “They were caught in bed together. Nothing wrong that that, legally speaking; there wasn’t a major age gap between them. But by the time the story reached their parents, it had mushroomed into something so absurd no one could believe it... unless they wanted to believe it. Nasty suggestions were made” - she shook her head - “and, as you can imagine, things threatened to get out of hand.”

  “I see,” Emily said. “It doesn’t happen at Whitehall.”

  Duchene looked up. “Magicians are expected to partner up to produce children,” she said, curtly. “It doesn’t matter, as far as their families are concerned, if they actually love each other or not. There’s plenty of arrangements between pairs of homosexual men and lesbians that no one looks at too closely... here, of course, that’s impossible. And the aristocracy has always taken a different view of such matters.”

  “I know,” Emily said.

  “Yes,” Duchene agreed.

  She cleared her throat. “It’s been two weeks,” she said. “Have you found anything?”

  “No,” Emily admitted. “It’s hard to be sure there’s any actual cause. The investigators checked everything obvious and found nothing. I practically duplicated their work and found nothing, too.”

  “And so we might be entering a period of bad luck and ill-discipline, as Damia believes,” Duchene mused. “It would be unfortunate, particularly now. The conference must go ahead.”

  “Perhaps that is the cause of the problem,” Emily said. “You’re not doing anything to clamp down on bullying. You’re allowing the students to develop bad habits, which they then follow when they’re outside the school.”

  Duchene looked irked. “It is important the students learn to defend themselves,” she said, curtly. “If they cannot stand up for themselves, they cannot stand up for their sisters.”

  “The bullies are not standing up for their sisters,” Emily pointed out. “They’re knocking them down.”

  “They’re nowhere near as bad as domineering family or rapists,” Duchene said. “If they cannot defend themselves...”

  “It takes time to build up confidence,” Emily said. “And the more you get knocked down, the harder it can be to get up again.”

  Duchene said nothing for a long moment. “We’ll spend the next week with you assisting the other teachers,” she said. “You’ll also be added to the nightly patrol rota. It should give you more time to study the school. Next week, I’ll want you heading down to Pendle...”

  Emily listened, trying to hide her irritation. Duchene didn’t want to discuss the real problem. Emily was starting to think the problem wasn’t magical at all, but a flat unwillingness to address problems before they got out of hand. If the school had cracked down on Dionne and the others before they got into bad habits, their undoubted talents might have been steered to more productive uses. As it was, Emily couldn’t help feeling they were heading for a nasty fall. They could push their fellow students and mundanes around, but other magicians? Jade or Cat or even Caleb would hand them their heads. It wouldn’t even be a fair contest.

  “Yes, Headmistress,” she said. A thought struck her. “Was there anything missing from the reports on the intruder, the one who took Nadine’s place?”

  Duchene’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Something that you didn’t tell the rest of the world,” Emily said. “Did she take anything? Anything at all?”

  “If she had, we would have put it in the reports,” Duchene said, crossly. “She took nothing. That’s what baffled us about the whole affair. Damia thought it might be an attempt to embarrass us and nothing more, particularly if the intruder managed to pin the blame on Penny. We’d be embarrassed by our poor choice for Young Head Girl and embarrassed again when her innocence was exposed. No, nothing was taken. I even ordered the staff to check their own private collections for anything missing. There was nothing.”

  Nothing that was reported to you, Emily thought. But the whole affair makes no sense.

  “You’ll be on duty tonight,” Duchene told her. “Lady Damia will give you more specific instructions.”

  Emily finished her tea and returned the mug, then headed down to find Lady Damia. The older woman was lecturing a pair of sixth year girls, explaining in precise detail what was wrong with the essays they’d turned in only a day or so ago. Emily waited for the girls to be dismissed, wondering if she’d managed to irritate the headmistress. Duchene had ample reason to want to bury the story, given how badly it had embarrassed the school. The intruder had spent nearly two months in Laughter, utterly unsuspected. And she’d gotten away with it, too.

  “Emily,” Damia said. The bell rang. “Ready to go on night patrol?”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “Do I get to sleep in tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow is Saturday,” Damia said. “Sleep all day, if you want. Just let Nadine know.”

  Because I’m meant to be flying with her, Emily thought. She was looking forward to it, even though she knew she wasn’t going to get much sleep. Perhaps we should fly in the afternoon instead.

  She listened to a long list of instructions, including a stern warning not to try to enter any of the dorms unless the noise was unbearable. Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she left the room, the lights dimming before going out altogether. She muttered a night-vision spell under her breath, then walked down the stairwell. The school felt eerie, paintings and statues seeming to grow teeth and claws as she strode past them. She told herself, firmly, that they were nothing more than tricks of the light.

  More like tricks of the spell, she thought. What you see isn’t always what’s there.

  The air felt warm, yet still as she paced past the dining hall. The door was firmly closed and charmed shut. Emily suspected it was pointless. There was no food in the hall outside mealtimes, nothing to do in the dining hall... nothing for anyone sneaking around after dark, save perhaps for bragging rights. Emily smiled at the thought as she circumvented the kitchen door, noting how the charm had been carefully designed to present a serious - but not insurmountable - problem for any would-be thief. A firstie probably couldn’t break it, not without help; second-years or above probably could.

  It would present a learning experience they actually want, Emily thought. She could see the logic. Students would often invest more ingenuity into pranks and plots to outwit their tutors than their actual studies. I wonder how many people it actually catches?

  She wandered back towards the dorms and frowned as she saw a pair of firsties standing outside the door, hands on their heads. Damia had warned her that the penalty for not getting into bed quickly, when the lights started to dim, was to be ordered to wait outside the dorm, but it struck Emily as pointless. They were punishing students for being out of bed by keeping them out of bed? She nodded to the girls, both of whom seemed utterly terrified of her. She wondered, sourly, what they’d heard. Lillian had told her that the rumors were utterly insane.

  Emily stepped past them and hurried past two more dorms. One was quiet, so quiet she couldn’t hear a thing; she heard faint whispers coming from the other. It had to be far louder on the inside, she knew. Anything loud enough to be heard through the walls - and noise-prevention charms - had to be deafening inside the room. She rapped on the door once, then walked off as the noise started to dim. Damia had told her to give the students a chance to quiet down. If they were still loud, when she returned, she’d have to do something more serious.

  She frowned as she walked down the corridor. She heard something... she stood still, listening carefully. Slurping? Or... she started to move again, wishing she’d thought to wear slippers instead of shoes. She knew how to walk quietly, but anyone with sharp ears could probably hear her coming. If they weren’t distracted... she rounded a corner and peered into a semi-concealed alcove. Two girls were inside, kissing frantically. They jumped apart as Emily cleared her throat.

  “You ne
ed to be in bed,” Emily said. She didn’t look too closely at their faces. She didn’t want to know who they were. “Get back now and we won’t say anything more about this.”

  The girls nodded and fled in different directions. Emily shook her head. They looked to be around nineteen or so, although it was hard to be certain. She wondered why they hadn’t been able to sneak down to the woods and find some privacy there... maybe they hadn’t felt safe. Dionne and her friends would have embarrassed them, if they’d been caught... who knew? The rumors would have been terrible, even if they weren’t actually true.

  Poor girls, Emily thought.

  She remembered what Duchene had said, back in the office. The girls might not have been born to magical families. There was no guarantee their families would accept them, not if they were open about their relationship. Emily had heard more than enough horror stories about people being forced into marriage, regardless of their wishes. She hoped the girls had the sense to change their names and head to one of the free cities, when they graduated. They could write to their families from a safe distance, if they didn’t want to return home.

  And that might upset a bunch of apple carts, Emily reminded herself. An entire power structure might come tumbling down if the girls refuse to go home and get married.

  She shook her head, then wandered back downstairs. Damia had told her to walk around randomly, instead of sitting at the bottom of the stairs to see who was going to sneak down to the kitchens. Emily supposed that added to the fun, although she found it hard to believe that anyone would willingly enter the classrooms outside classes. Students spent enough time in the classrooms during the day. And yet... she frowned. Stealing potions ingredients was also a time-honored tradition, although one that was considerably more dangerous.

  The hours started to wear on as she made her way back towards the dorms. There was no sign of the lovers - she breathed a sigh of relief - and the rowdy dorm was quiet. She kept moving, wondering when she could go to bed. Damia had said she could end her patrol at midnight, unless she wanted to spend longer on duty. Emily checked her watch and sighed. Two hours to go. Two hours...

  She heard... something... at the end of the corridor and slipped forward, as stealthily as she could. A particularly clever student might have used a charm to muffle any sound she made, although whoever had cast the spell hadn’t done a very good job. Or... she inched forward and blinked in surprise as she saw a small girl - a firstie - painting on the wall. PENDLE WILL RISE A...

  “What are...?” Emily was shocked. Stealing food from the kitchens was traditional, but this was mindless vandalism. “What are you doing?”

  The girl showed no reaction to being caught. She just kept painting out the letter. Emily moved forward, realizing to her shock the girl was under a spell. Someone had enchanted her, commanding her to paint the walls... Emily felt a hot flash of anger as she raised her hand and slapped the girl’s bottom. She yelped, then dropped the brush as the charm broke. Paint spattered on the floor. Emily cursed under her breath as the girl swung around. The paint would have to be cleared up, carefully. It was charmed to be difficult to remove.

  “I …” The girl swallowed, then started to cry. The charm hadn’t been a very strong one - it was more of a prank spell than anything deadly serious - but a firstie would have found it difficult to throw off. If she’d been asleep when she’d been charmed, she might have thought it was all a dream. “I...”

  “It’s alright,” Emily said. She wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and let her cry into her dress. “What happened to you?”

  The girl shook her head. Either she didn’t know, which was possible if she’d been asleep, or she was reluctant to name names. Emily was tempted to use a spell to force the girl to talk - she could hardly be blamed for that - but she refrained. No one would believe her if she told them the truth. The girl shook in her arms, tears soaking Emily’s shirt. She had to have been asleep, Emily decided. She wouldn’t have been so badly disoriented if she’d known what had been happening to her. Emily knew that from experience.

  “It’s alright,” Emily repeated. She muttered a spell to clear up the mess. The paint vibrated, then splattered everywhere. “Fuck!”

  The girl jerked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry...”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Emily said. When she found the person who’d enchanted a firstie, as a prank, she was going to forget her qualms and send her to the gym mistress. Or do something worse. This wasn’t a joke. And she sure as hell wasn’t laughing. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I was in bed,” the girl said. “I...”

  She started to shake again. Emily ground her teeth as she cast a second set of spells, carefully cleaning up the mess. The paint had been charmed to make it hard to remove, just like the paint she’d seen in Pendle. Whoever had made the paint - and inserted potion into the mixture - had clearly managed to improve the brew. She promised herself she’d congratulate the brewer, right after she had her thrashed to within an inch of her life.

  “It’s alright,” she said, again. “What’s your name?”

  “Polly,” the girl managed. “I... I’m in the Green Dorm.”

  “I’ll walk you back there,” Emily said. “Come on.”

  Her mind raced as they made their way to the dorm. Who’d cast the spell? Someone in the dorm? It was easy to imagine a student who’d had some private lessons, perhaps someone born to a magic family, arriving at the school already knowing how to cast the charm. It wasn’t that complex, not compared to some of the nastier mind control spells she’d learnt over the years. Once someone was in a trance, they could be given orders and left to get on with it. They might not even remember what they’d done, when the spell finally lifted.

  Emily felt sick. She’d been the victim of a handful of such pranks herself, although she’d rapidly learnt to overcome them. It had helped, she supposed, that she’d bested Shadye... somehow. The students had been wary of her for the rest of her first year, giving her time to learn how to defend herself. And Whitehall, for all its flaws, had severely punished older students who’d picked on younger ones.

  Whitehall is a bigger school, Emily thought. Laughter has only a couple of hundred students.

  “I’m going to start review classes,” she said. Lillian wasn’t the only student who’d asked her for extra tutoring. “If you come, you can learn how to defend yourself.”

  She opened the door and peered into the dorm. It was as dark and silent as the grave. The sleeping girls didn’t move. If one of them was awake, gleefully waiting for Polly to return, Emily couldn’t tell. She sighed inwardly and pointed Polly to her bed, quietly aiming a protective charm at the girl’s back. It wouldn’t save her from everything - and an older student would have no trouble pushing it aside - but it would give her a chance to realize she was under attack and defend herself.

  Hopefully, Emily thought. It’ll give her a chance to fight back.

  She yawned as she closed the door and headed back upstairs. It was close enough to midnight for her to feel no guilt about going to bed. She’d have a word with Damia in the morning. The prankster needed to be caught. And if Damia refused... Emily made a face. She could get Lillian teaching Polly a few tricks, just as Emily had taught Frieda. Who knew? If nothing else, they could learn from each other.

  And it’ll give me more time to figure out what’s going on, she thought. Before things really get out of hand.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE NEXT WEEK, EMILY WAS SURPRISED to discover, went quicker than she’d expected. She’d moved from class to class, assisting the teachers as they demonstrated their skills to the girls; she’d spent the evenings setting up review classes and encouraging the older girls to teach their skills to their juniors. It would have been more interesting if she’d been able to find the source of the trouble - or confirm, to her satisfaction, that it simply didn’t exist. She wanted to believe the latter, but... she couldn’t. She was sure, as t
he weekend rolled around, that she was missing something.

  It still bothered her as she joined Brier and Nadine for the flight down to Pendle. The younger students, the ones more used to walking than flying, were taking the road, while the older students flew through the air like a flock of dark crows. Emily wasn’t sure what to make of it, as they darted towards the town. She’d never seen anything like the flying display at Whitehall. Flying might have its dangers, but it was also a very useful skill.

  Assuming you have the magic to make it work, she thought. She had more magical reserves than Nadine, she was sure, but she was still winded by the time she landed on the edge of town. Nadine simply had much more experience controlling the flow of magic into the spellwork. Pendle is much closer to Laughter than Dragon’s Den is to Whitehall.

  She tried not to sag as another flight of witches hurtled overhead. Dionne and her friends, for all their open disdain for mundanes, weren’t going to stay in the castle when they could spend a day or two in Pendle. Emily looked down the streets and saw witches flocking into shops or diners, looking for everything from better food to dresses and books. Brier winked at her as a trio of older girls hurried into the inn, probably to meet boys. Emily hoped they weren’t planning to drink, instead. Drunken magicians were dangerous.

  “I’m going to have a sit,” Brier said, waving at the nearest cafe. It was surprisingly empty, despite the sudden influx of witches. “You two want to join me?”

  Emily frowned. Damia had made it clear she was supposed to patrol the town and keep an eye on the students. The Deputy Headmistress might pooh-pooh the idea that anything was really wrong, but she was smart enough to at least try to nip trouble in the bud. Emily was surprised that neither of the younger tutors were inclined to actually follow orders. But then, she supposed it hadn’t been that long since they’d been students. There were students who still remembered their tutors as students.

  “I want to explore the town,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll see you both later.”