“No,” she confessed. She knew she should tell him to leave her, remind him that the witches really didn’t like uninvited men entering their domain, but she needed him. “I really should have stayed in bed.”
“You could have gone to bed with me,” Jan said. “But then we’d probably have been woken by the inn burning down.”
Emily gave him a hug as they reached the edge of the wards. “I’ll try and see you tomorrow,” she said. “If not... I’ll write. Promise.”
Jan kissed her, lightly. “Do you want me to look around the town? Try to get a sense of the mood?”
“Please,” Emily said. “I need...”
Someone cleared her throat. She looked up to see Damia, standing on the far side of the wards. “I’ll take you from here, Emily,” Damia said. She glanced at Jan, her eyes narrowing in recognition. “You are dismissed.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Jan said. “Right away, My Lady.”
Emily would have smiled at Damia’s tart expression if she hadn’t been so tired. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been depending on Jan to hold her up until he let her go. It took her all the determination she could muster to stand - Damia made no attempt to help her - and step through the wards. The older woman looked distracted, as if she was being bothered by something she didn’t want to share. Emily waited, wishing Damia would just get on with it. She wanted a bath and bed, perhaps not in that order.
“You shouldn’t bring your gentleman callers up here,” Damia said, stiffly. “You’d be giving the girls entirely the wrong impression.”
“And I wouldn’t have needed his help if the girls hadn’t decided to start a riot,” Emily said. It was hard to keep a civil tongue in her head. “What are you teaching those brats?”
Damia gave her a sharp look, but said nothing as they made their way back to the school. The gates were closed and locked, powerful wards crackling around them that only parted when Damia pressed her fingers against the side door. The courtyard was completely empty. The building seemed wrapped in silence. She couldn’t even hear girls playing in the rear courtyard, their voices carrying on the wind...
“There’ll be a staff meeting tomorrow morning,” Damia said, as they made their way through empty corridors. “Until then, the girls have been confined to their dorms. The sixth-year students will be charged with taking food from the kitchens to the dorms. As I’m going to be needed elsewhere, I’d like you to supervise my charges.”
“I’m in no state to do anything,” Emily said. It was hard to muster the energy to put one foot in front of the other. “I need to sleep before I fall over.”
“That is an order,” Damia insisted. “And you will carry it out.”
Emily gritted her teeth. “I can’t,” she said. She had no idea what Damia was playing at, but she found it hard to care. The older woman didn’t have to do more than look at her to know she was in bad shape. “I’ll take a shift tomorrow, if you want, but I can’t handle anything more today.”
She stumbled forward, barely aware of Damia’s gaze burning into her back. The stairs felt like a towering skyscraper, an endless set of steps that blurred in and out of her vision as the rest of the world darkened. She kept going, calling on all her discipline until she reached her room, threw open the door and barely had a chance to close it before collapsing onto the bed. Her entire body felt like she’d gone through hell...
Her stomach grumbled, jarring her awake. The room was dark and cold. Emily stared around in confusion, then understood. It was dark outside. She rolled over and sat up, her magic too drained to cast a light spell. The aches and pains were maddening. It felt as if she’d been beaten half to death.
She frowned as she stepped forward and peered out of the window. The stars were bright - familiar now, after seven years - but the mountains were dark... no, she could see faint hints of light in the shadows. The vague shape of the ruined castle was barely visible, yet... there were lights darting amongst the ruined stones. The Other Folk? Or witches who’d sneaked out after Lights Out? There was always someone who felt the rules didn’t apply to them.
Someone rapped on the door. Emily stood and brushed down her dress - it felt filthy, but she hadn’t had time to get undressed - and opened the door. Light rushed in, bright enough to hurt her eyes. Brier stood there, holding a tray. Emily gaped at her, her mind spinning. Brier looked, for a moment, utterly timeless...
Brier smiled. “May I come in?”
Emily stepped to one side, a silent invitation that wasn’t quite an invitation. Void had taught her the importance of not issuing blanket invitations, particularly in areas where humans were scarce or completely absent. Who knew what might be out there, just waiting for a single careless human to invite him in? Brier showed no sign of problems as she stepped into the room and placed the tray on the desk. If anything, she seemed rather too amused.
“You’d better eat,” Brier said. “Did you manage to sleep?”
“A little,” Emily said. “It was mid-afternoon a moment ago.”
“You must have been tired,” Brier said. “Damia was unhappy your boyfriend helped you walk home. She thinks it sends quite the wrong message.”
Emily scowled as she sat at the desk and opened the tray. “And what business is it of hers?”
Brier laughed. “There’s a kind of mindset that insists it has the right to pass judgement on everything,” Brier said. “And I’m afraid Lady Damia has that in spades.”
That’s her problem, Emily thought, crossly. It isn’t as if the girls saw us making love.
She shook her head and dug into the food. “What happening outside?”
“The girls are still in their dorms,” Brier said. “A couple tried to sneak out and got in hot water; the rest decided to be sensible. A whole bunch of rumors are flying around...”
Emily froze as a thought occurred to her. “The injured girls,” she said. “What happened to them?”
“Mistress Allworth says Clarissa will be fine,” Brier said. “Phyllis...? They healed her head wound, but they don’t know what she’ll be like when she wakes up. The damage could have been extensive...”
“I know,” Emily said. “What happened?”
Brier shrugged. “The meeting is tomorrow,” she said, as if she was trying to convey something beyond the obvious. “We’ll find out then.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
EMILY COULDN’T HELP NOTICING, AS SHE walked into the staffroom, that she was the only junior tutor who’d been invited to the meeting. Jens, Brier and Mistress Allworth sat on a comfortable sofa; Damia sat on an armchair as through it were a throne. Emily shrugged and chose a smaller seat for herself, trying to ignore the tension. There was no offer of a drink, nothing to make the scene remotely welcoming. She hadn’t felt so concerned since she’d first been sent to the warden in her first year at Whitehall.
She forced herself to wait, studying the older women as best as she could without making it obvious. Brier looked as if she were trapped between two warring kingdoms, certain to lose whoever won the coming war. Neither Jens nor Mistress Allworth looked remotely ready to hash things out reasonably... Emily shivered, inwardly, as she realized Laughter’s problems were about to bubble over. The struggle to determine who would succeed Duchene as headmistress was not going to remain genteel, not for much longer. And if the wrong person won, it would be disastrous. None of them, even Mistress Allworth, were particularly good for the role.
Duchene entered, closing the door with an audible thud. The Old Woman looked thoroughly displeased as she strode to her armchair and sat down, wards slamming into place to keep prying eyes out. Emily wondered if any of the students would have the nerve to spy on the meeting, then told herself not to be silly. Of course they’d have the nerve! Spying on the staff was another old tradition. The person who gained advance knowledge of what was coming could use it to make a killing. And if they got caught...
She shivered, again, as the wards grew stronger. No one was going to be spyin
g on this meeting. Duchene’s eyes roamed the chamber as the last of the wards took shape and form, silently daring the staff to speak first. Emily reminded herself, sharply, that for all her affability Duchene was a very powerful magician. The Grandmaster - the old Grandmaster - had been the same. Very few people had messed with him and no one had done it twice. She felt a pang of loss as she waited. Grandmaster Gordian just wasn’t the same.
Duchene spoke, her voice flat. “Jens. What happened?”
Jens leaned forward. “I’ve spoken to the girls,” she said. “They all agree that they were insulted and shoved by the townspeople. They retaliated and were on the brink of teaching their attackers a lesson when Emily arrived and put a stop to it.”
Emily glared. “That’s not what the townspeople say...”
“Their opinions are immaterial,” Jens said. “I checked with the girls themselves.”
“And of course they would have no reason to lie,” Emily snapped. “At best, they massively overreacted.”
Duchene held up a hand. “Emily, please let Jens finish.”
“Thank you, headmistress.” Jens smiled, in a way that made Emily’s blood boil. “Further investigation revealed that the townspeople were ready to take advantage of the incident by mobbing witches. They had planned to gather angry mobs and lash out at us. Several isolated girls were attacked. Fortunately, their magic protected them from their inferiors. I believe the whole affair was planned, with the intention of making us look bad.”
“And if that was the case,” Damia commented, “it succeeded.”
Duchene nodded, curtly. “Emily, you were there. What happened?”
Emily took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I was in the inn, eating dinner, when...”
“She was with a man,” Jens interrupted. “I hardly feel she was paying attention to her duties.”
“She was not on duty,” Damia snapped. “Where were you?”
“I was sorting out another problem,” Jens said. “I didn’t know there was going to be a riot!”
“Enough,” Duchene said. Her power thrummed on the air. “Emily. Continue.”
Emily nodded. “The wards started to vibrate. I looked outside and saw the riot. It wasn’t clear who’d started it, but I could tell that matters had really gotten out of hand. A number of shops had been ruined, even before they’d been set on fire. I intervened, in hopes of shutting everything down before it was too late. Jens arrived and escorted the girls back to the school while I spoke with the shopkeepers. They blamed it on the girls.”
“And of course they’d have no reason to lie,” Jens said, echoing Emily’s own words. “I think we need to teach them a lesson.”
“Whatever the spark, the blunt truth is that matters really got out of hand,” Emily said. “It wasn’t a normal riot. It just exploded out of nowhere.”
“As far as you know,” Jens pointed out. “You were in the inn. With a man.”
Emily placed rigid controls on her temper. “And where were you?”
Duchene cleared her throat before Jens could answer. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a normal riot?”
“Things exploded too quickly,” Emily said. “I know there’s been a lot of tension and resentment and all the other things that lead to riots, and riots are often triggered by seemingly minor incidents, but things just got out of control too fast.”
“I told you,” Jens said. “The townspeople were planning for a riot. They intended to kill us!”
“They didn’t succeed,” Brier put in. “Both girls are recovering.”
Hopefully, Emily thought. She still wasn’t sanguine about the head injury. She might never recover completely.
“We need to teach them a lesson,” Jens said. “The rioters have to be caught and punished.”
“A splendid idea,” Damia said, sardonically. “And how do you intend to find them?”
“And how do you intend to separate the ones who started the riot from the ones who found themselves caught up in it?” Mistress Allworth asked. “If the girls started turning passersby into frogs at random, who can blame their victims for fighting back?”
“I can,” Jens said. “A mundane should never lift his hand to a witch. They condemned themselves by attacking us.”
“By defending themselves,” Emily said, sharply. “Or do you believe they should just have stood there and took it?”
Jens glared. “They are our servants,” she said. “If they don’t like it, they can just move away.”
“It isn’t that easy,” Emily said. “Not for them.”
“A clear sign of their inferiority,” Jens said, dismissively. She looked at the headmistress. “I propose that we demand the rioters be turned over to us for punishment. If they are not handed over, we punish a handful of townspeople at random. That’ll teach them not to raise their hands to their betters!”
“The Noblest did that during the civil war in Zangaria,” Emily said, quietly. “They burned towns and villages they thought supported the king. And it created more bandits who waged a ruthless war against the aristocrats.”
“It isn’t the same,” Jens said. “Wars between mundanes are of no concern to us.”
She looked at Duchene. “Headmistress, we have got to deal with this before the conference or they’ll decide to hold it somewhere else. We simply don’t have time to waste.”
“No,” Duchene agreed. “But, at the same time, we do have responsibilities to the townspeople...”
“They attacked us,” Jens said. “I’d say we no longer have to worry about our responsibilities.”
“We still don’t know what really happened,” Mistress Allworth pointed out. “As you and Emily have both pointed out, everyone involved has an excellent reason to lie.”
“So we use truth spells,” Jens insisted. “They can’t keep secrets from us!”
“Perhaps we should start using truth spells on the girls,” Emily said. A thought crossed her mind and she frowned. It wasn’t something she wanted to raise in front of everyone. “And see what they have to say.”
“You are not allowed to question the integrity of the girls,” Jens snapped. “Headmistress, this is beyond the pale!”
Duchene looked tired. “Enough,” she said. “For the moment, between now and the conference, there will be no further visits to Pendle. The girls will continue their studies here. If they feel the urge for fresh air after their classes, they can visit the Silent Woods or fly to the Redoubt. They are not to visit the town and they are not to have any contact with the townspeople. Do I make myself clear?”
“The entire school should not be penalized because of a handful of idiots,” Mistress Allworth said. “And we are meant to work on outreach to support the local community...”
“That local community just turned on us,” Jens snapped. “Are we still meant to reach out to them?”
“The conference is all-important,” Duchene said. “It has to be held here, for the good of the school as well as the Allied Lands themselves. I believe that half - at least half - of the representatives will be mundanes. The last thing we need, right now, is for them to think they’re going to be persecuted by teenage witches. It will not do wonders for anything, particularly us, if the Lord High Chancellor of Lower Filthmuck is turned into a slug by a girl half his age!”
“I suppose it would depend on what the Lord High Chancellor did,” Jens said. “Would it not?”
“The conference is all-important,” Duchene repeated. “I want you to make it clear to your students, and to the junior tutors, that I will not tolerate disobedience. Not now. Traditions be damned. Any girl caught in the town will be suspended for the remainder of the term and placed under permanent restriction if she decides to return. I want you to make that clear to them, too.”
Brier looked shocked. “With all due respect...”
Duchene cut her off. “There have always been... tensions... between us and the town, even though we own the town. Normally, we could smooth everything over or si
mply give everyone involved a few weeks to calm down. Now... it is vitally important we host the conference. Our reputation has already taken a dent. Outsiders” - her eyes lingered on Emily for a long moment - “are already starting to question us. We will not give them any excuse to move elsewhere.”
Because you’re going to retire and you want to go out on a high note, Emily thought. She knew, from Alassa, that hosting diplomatic meetings was something of a poisoned chalice. If they went well, the host would be richly rewarded; if they failed, the host would bear some of the blame. And if the conference gets moved elsewhere because of your students, you’ll probably be discredited even if you don’t get sacked.
She felt a flicker of pity, mingled with irritation. The headmistress was cracking down, too little too late. The witches would be furious. The ones who’d hadn’t been involved would insist they were being unjustly punished, and they’d be right. The ones who had would probably try to argue that they were being excessively punished. Being suspended would look very bad on their records, even if they went straight to a different school. And if Emily knew schoolgirls - and she’d been one herself, only a couple of years ago - it wouldn’t be long before someone started testing the limits.
“The delegates may move elsewhere if they feel they might be attacked by rowdy townspeople,” Jens pointed out. “We have to crack down on the rioters quickly, too.”
“That’s something we’ll consider later,” Duchene said. “I expect all of you - and I mean all of you - to make the new rules clear. If any of you wish to dissent from this, and that is your right, say so and I will make a note in the school’s records. The board will, no doubt, recognize your insight if the situation gets any further out of hand.”
Her eyes were very cold. “If not, go back to the dorms,” she added. “Classes will resume as normal on Monday.”
Jens stood and strode out the room. Emily watched her go, feeling a hint of cold amusement. Jens hadn’t tried to put her objections on the record. If she was wrong, the board would hold it against her if she tried to jump into the headmistress’s post. Even if she was right, it still might be held against her. Mistress Allworth and the others followed, Brier hesitating before she headed out herself. Emily stayed sitting, waiting. Duchene looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.
Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21) Page 28