“It is better to confront an uncomfortable truth than pretend it doesn’t exist,” Emily said, finally. “One of those truths is that magic doesn’t make us invincible. Nor does it make us the font of all ideas and wisdom. The girls need to understand that now or they’ll be punched in the face by reality, when it finally catches up with them. And it will.”
She pushed on before the headmistress could continue. “Another of those truths is that the world is changing, in ways both visible and not. The necromancers are effectively broken. The kingdoms are struggling to adapt to the brave new world. Knowledge is spreading, like it or not. You cannot isolate yourself completely from the rest of the world and you are not doing the girls any favors by pretending you can.”
Damia cleared her throat, loudly. “You do not talk to the headmistress like that!”
Emily clamped down on her anger before she could say something she’d regret. She couldn’t let herself be fired, not yet. She had to convince the girls that Jens was wrong and... she had to find out what was wrong in the school. If it really was an ideology, if it really was something that couldn’t be fought openly...
Maybe I should duel Jens, she thought. I could put a bullet through her wards and see how she liked it.
She allowed herself to lower her eyes. “The point has to be made, headmistress,” she said, gently. “The girls are not going to spend the rest of their lives in the school. They are not going to live in splendid isolation. They are not...”
Duchene held up a hand. “Point taken,” she said. “What do you suggest I say to the parents?”
“Right now, we have over forty parents demanding that you be ordered to leave the school,” Damia added. “They want us to move ahead with finding a replacement now, rather than let you see out the term.”
Emily glanced at her. That many? Had Jens faked the letters? It was possible...
She shook her head. “I thought you were searching for a replacement for Scarlett Robyn.”
“We are,” Damia said, crossly. “But the list of candidates is very short.”
You want someone with experience, yet someone who can also be dominated, Emily thought, nastily. Someone who knows their own worth, yet will let you take the lead at all times. A very rare combination indeed.
She banished the thought with an effort. “You know I will not be here indefinitely,” she said, coolly. Void wouldn’t let her stay away much longer, even if she didn’t solve the mystery. “You may need to find someone capable of seeing out the year.”
“We are looking,” Damia said. Her voice was tinged with exasperation. “And, like I said, the list is very short.”
“I’m sure you can find a combat sorcerer or two who’d be happy to teach, at least for a few months,” Emily said. She wondered, suddenly, why Damia had been happy to accept Lady Barb. She was no shrinking violet. “You might even choose a man.”
Damia’s eyes flashed. “Out of the question!”
“We’re getting sidetracked,” Duchene said, firmly. “Lady Emily, what do you suggest I say to the parents?”
A handful of answers ran through Emily’s mind, none of which would be very productive. “I think you should ask them for specific complaints,” she said, finally. It was easy to bitch and moan for hours without outlining the actual problem, let alone solutions. “And then we can try to answer them.”
She took a breath. “And a more general answer,” she added, “would be that the girls need to keep abreast of changes in the world. One doesn’t need to understand how a steam engine works in great detail to understand that it can, and it will, change the world. The girls have to be aware of them, and everything else. Firearms, for example.”
“Firearms, which allow mundanes to pose a threat to us,” Damia said. Her voice was cold and hard. “You were a fool to invent them.”
“From a certain point of view” - Emily smiled - “you might just be right.”
Damia glared. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about the orcish hordes,” Emily said. “I was thinking about how hard it is to stop a charge, even with magic... even with the necromancer being hundreds of miles away. I was thinking...”
“Enough,” Duchene said. “There are parents who feel their daughters shouldn’t be learning about such things.”
Emily felt her temper flare. “It has been my experience,” she said, biting off every word, “that trying to conceal something obvious breeds resentment... and trouble.”
“Indeed?” Damia said. “And who are you to make such judgements?”
“There are parents who do not discuss certain things with their children,” Emily said. She winced at a memory she would have preferred to forget. “My mother never told me that I would bleed once a month, when I entered adolescence. I thought I was dying! And there are books that pretend things don’t exist, even when they do. I read a medical textbook that insisted there was no such thing as a vagina!”
She took a breath. “Who in their right mind would believe anything written inside such a book?”
“That may be true,” Damia said. “But it isn’t an answer.”
“No,” Emily agreed. She took a moment to compose herself. “You asked me to teach defense, as well as everything else. And an important part of defense is knowing how to recognize a threat when you see it. Swords and spears and suchlike are obviously dangerous. A gun might seem less so. A witch might look at a gun being pointed at her and laugh, because she doesn’t realize the danger. It doesn’t even look like something that might be thrown at her. If I don’t teach the girls about dangers, they might not recognize a real danger.”
“And you do that by shaking their confidence in their magic?” Damia leaned forward. “Or their ability to defend themselves?”
“They can only defend themselves against bullets if they recognize the threat,” Emily countered. “And unjustified confidence is asking for trouble.”
She looked back at the headmistress. “A school is a very artificial environment,” she said. “At Whitehall...”
“You’re not at Whitehall now,” Damia muttered.
Emily ignored her. “At Whitehall, older students are not permitted to bully their juniors,” she said. “The younger students therefore have time to develop without being knocked down by students who have had much more time to develop their magic. The outside world is much less kind. It’s quite easy for someone to walk out of school, or aristocratic education, and get hammered by someone who doesn’t follow the same rules. And why should they? The rules outside the school are rarely enforced. If the girls believe their magic makes them invincible, they’ll find out they’re wrong at the worst possible time.”
“I see.” Duchene smiled. “And you’d have me tell that to the parents?”
“Yes,” Emily said.
“And what would you have me say,” Duchene said, “when they press for you to be fired?”
Emily considered it. “You could always ask for a volunteer to do my job.”
Damia made a sound that was almost, but not quite, a snort. Emily hid her amusement. The idea of a parent from the magical aristocracy volunteering to be a junior tutor was about as likely as an aristocratic lout deciding to sell flowers in the market for a living. It wasn’t going to happen. The parents would probably be mollified if they were told Emily would be leaving at the end of the year, if not before. Her successor would be seen as an improvement just for not being her.
“I’ll inform them of your arguments,” Duchene said, tiredly. She suddenly looked a great deal older. “And I suggest you go prepare for your lessons.”
“I will,” Emily said. She would have liked to spend more time talking about the promise of technology, but she couldn’t. “I’ll see you this evening.”
She dropped a curtsey and headed back to her room, pausing long enough to check in the mailbox. There were a handful of letters for her, including one from Jan. Emily picked it up and opened it, undoing the charm with a flick of her finge
r. She couldn’t help a thrill of excitement as she read the short message. Jan was coming to Pendle to see her. He’d already booked a room at the inn.
Master Lucknow must be busy, Emily thought. She had to smile. And it’s easier to set up a date when I get the weekend off.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH the wringer,” Jan said, as he stood to greet her. “Are the witches really that bad?”
Emily sighed as she hugged him, then sat down. She’d honestly thought she wasn’t going to make it for lunch, even though she had Saturday free. Damia had kept piling more and more tasks on her, on the grounds it made it easier for Emily to walk around the school without her presence causing comment. She’d even had to patrol the corridors after Lights Out, which meant she’d only had a few hours of sleep before breakfast. The only upside was that she’d quietly turned a blind eye to a handful of younger girls raiding the kitchens for a midnight feast.
“They’re... different,” Emily said, finally. “They’re so much like the students I remember that the differences, when I see them, are disconcerting even when they don’t catch me by surprise.”
“It’s an all-girls school,” Jan pointed out. “I’m sure there’d be quite a few differences.”
“It isn’t just that,” Emily said. “I’m a teacher. I’m only a year or so older than the oldest students in the school, but there’s a huge gulf between us. They see me as an adult.”
Jan gave her an odd look. “You are an adult.”
“Yes, but... they see me as something different,” Emily said. “It’s just... odd.”
“It could be worse,” Jan said. “We had a tutor who thought he was one of the boys. Shared our jokes, laughed at the other teachers, flirted with the girls... no one really liked him, because he was trapped midway between being a child and an adult. He was completely useless.”
“I suppose,” Emily said. Void had talked about someone similar. She wondered idly if it was the same person. “It just feels odd.”
“That’s probably why most teachers are older,” Jan said, after a moment. “They’re not so inclined to think of themselves as young.”
“Sounds about right,” Emily said. She signaled the waiter and ordered Kava. Strong Kava. “What happened to him?”
“I think he was encouraged to transfer to another school,” Jan said. “Or possibly transfer himself a very long way away.”
Emily had to smile as she rubbed her forehead. She’d never really liked socializing in large groups and yet it felt wrong to be excluded. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that she was no longer one of the girls. She couldn’t slap Dionne down, no matter how much the little brat and her cronies deserved it. She certainly couldn’t expect an invitation to the midnight feast. They were for students, not teachers. She had the feeling it would be a great deal harder if she’d stayed at Whitehall and taught there.
Maybe later, she thought. It would have to wait until Gordian died or moved on. Maybe a lot later.
The waiter returned, eying Emily worriedly as he placed a large pot of Kava in front of her. Emily didn’t blame him. There hadn’t been any incidents since Penelope had been marched back to the school and grounded - a slap on the wrist, as far as everyone else was concerned - but the fear was palpable. Emily suspected it was just a matter of time before the local population started to move out, if they could find somewhere to go. Most of their wealth was tied up in shops and houses, both tied permanently to Pendle. The emigrants wouldn’t have much more than the clothes on their backs, unless they found a new way to earn money. Heart’s Eye was about the only place that would take them without question...
That might not be true any longer, Emily reflected. Cat’s looking for settlers, and he’s not the only one.
She sipped her Kava, allowing Jan to carry the conversation. There weren’t many people in the dining room, no guests or student witches or anyone. Emily had a nagging feeling that boded ill. Pendle was famous for more than just witches. The roads leading through the mountains were largely clear of bandits, unlike the other roads. If caravans had stopped coming through...
“And so I think I cracked the spell,” Jan said, finally. “It worked very well.”
Emily allowed herself a smile. “Well done,” she said. “What did Master Lucknow say?”
Jan looked pained. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “He’s been busy with... something. I’m starting to wonder if I should seek out another master.”
“He’ll throw a fit,” Emily predicted. “You’d be better off waiting...”
“I can’t wait,” Jan said. “I need a mastery to proceed and I can’t get a mastery without a master.”
“Then tell him to honor his obligations to you,” Emily said. “Didn’t he swear the oaths?”
“Your master let you come here and play teacher,” Jan pointed out. “Master Lucknow is not - technically - breaking any oaths.”
Void didn’t swear any oaths, Emily thought. Why not?
“And all he says, every time I ask, is that he has to solve a hundred other problems,” Jan said, crossly. “My apprenticeship has slowed down at the worst possible time.”
“Yeah,” Emily agreed. She took a sip of her drink, ignoring the sour taste. “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know,” Jan said. “He’s been holding all sorts of meetings. He hosted Grandmaster Gordian last week, had me bowing and scraping throughout the entire dinner and then dismissed before they got down to the real conversation. And the night before that he spoke to Lady Linnet. Her daughter is old enough to marry, apparently. She was at pains to suggest I consider her as a possible bride.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Dionne?”
“Yes.” Jan looked uncomfortable. “I said I was in a relationship...”
“I know Dionne,” Emily said. “She’s a brat.”
Jan flushed. “I said I was in a relationship,” he said. “And she wasn’t impressed.”
“I imagine so,” Emily agreed. She wondered, idly, what Dionne would say if she were ordered to marry Jan. It would teach her a lesson, Emily supposed. There was no way Dionne would consider Jan an acceptable partner, even though he had strong magic and powerful connections. And Dionne... would she have the courage to say no? Emily had no idea. Melissa had, and it had cost her far too much. “Poor you. Poor her.”
“I’m not that ugly,” Jan said, in mock anger. “Am I?”
“No.” Emily hesitated, then asked a question that had been bothering her for the last week. “Jan... do you believe in magical supremacy?”
Jan hesitated. “What’s the right answer?”
Emily made a rude gesture. “The truth, whatever it happens to be.”
“It is inarguable that we have power,” Jan said, finally. “But... I don’t believe it makes us superior. I’ve known too many mundanes to believe they’re inferior. The idea they’re nothing more than animals is absurd.”
His lips twitched. “And if they are, it puts the young magicians who spent their weekends whoring in a very different light.”
Emily grimaced. “Thank you for that pleasant thought.”
“You’re welcome.” Jan tipped a nonexistent hat. “More seriously, Master Lucknow firmly believes we have the right to rule. No, that we should rule, that we must rule. He’s very insistent that mundanes cannot be trusted to rule themselves. He’s not a bad person, Emily; he thinks he’s doing the right thing.”
“The road to the seven hells is paved with good intentions,” Emily misquoted. She was disappointed in Master Lucknow. He’d fought beside soldiers with muskets and cannons and watched as they broke an orcish charge. “Why does he feel that way?”
“I don’t know,” Jan said. “We’ve never really talked politics.”
Emily frowned. Apprentices were supposed to support their masters in all things, even after they became masters themselves. Void was a law unto himself in such matters, but Master Lucknow... she was surprised he hadn’t made
more of an effort to get Jan on his side. Had he been blindsided by the sudden end of the Necromantic War? Or had he realized that Jan and Emily were growing closer and pulled back? Or... did he simply not care? Jan was an apprentice. Jan’s opinions were effectively meaningless, at least until he became a master in his own right. There were limits to how much he could disobey his master.
“I’m sure he’ll tell you, sooner or later,” Emily said. She yawned. “I’m sorry.”
Jan smiled. “I did book a room for us to sleep, but I’m starting to think you really need to sleep.”
“I must be tired,” Emily said. “That almost sounds funny.”
She signaled the waiter and asked for the menu, then ran her eye down the long list of dishes. Most of them were variations on a theme - chicken in white sauce, chicken in red sauce, chicken in garlic or mushroom or chili sauce - but there were more unique dishes than she’d expected. She guessed the innkeeper or his cook was a magician, capable of cooking a meal and putting it in stasis until it was actually needed. There were no burgers or pizzas or anything new on the list, she noted. The trend for newer meals probably hadn’t reached the inn yet.
And most of the people who stay here will be very traditionalist, Emily thought, as she picked a simple chicken stew and handed back the menu. Jan chose a beef pie. They won’t want something newfangled like burgers and fries.
“I’ll go straight back to the school afterwards,” she said. “I’m not on duty. Not until Monday.”
“You could always stay a day,” Jan pointed out. “Or teleport further away.”
Emily found herself considering it. She wasn’t on duty. Pendle had very little to attract her, save perhaps for the bookshops. She could teleport to Zangaria or Heart’s Eye or anywhere... she owed it to herself to visit Sergeant Miles. Lady Barb hadn’t written back to her. That bothered Emily, more than she wanted to admit to anyone else. Lady Barb was rarely so quiet.
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