Emily had a feeling that there was no guarantee that anyone would make it into Fourth Year, but she held her tongue. Alassa and Imaiqah had been working together from the start, while she’d been at Mountaintop, yet they’d had great problems putting their project proposal together. She...hadn’t had the time to do one for herself.
“This problem caused us some concern,” the Grandmaster added. “The purpose of this project is to teach you how to work with another magician. Allowing you to submit a project of your own, without a partner, would defeat the object of the exercise. Several of my staff felt it would be better for you to repeat Third Year, which would allow you to work with another student. However, as you passed the exams, you could not be held back academically.”
“I could submit a proposal in Fourth Year,” Emily offered.
The Grandmaster smiled. “And would you then actually do the project itself in Fifth Year?”
Emily cursed under her breath. She saw his point; if she had to do both the proposal and the project itself, she would need a full two years. Hell, she couldn’t pass Fourth Year without a completed project — or, at least, a determined attempt at one. The books Lady Barb had given her to read had made it clear that working together was the desired outcome, not a magical breakthrough. None of the tutors seemed to expect any of their students to come up with something totally new.
Aloha did, Emily thought. But she had a concept from Earth.
“Luckily, we have an alternative,” the Grandmaster said. “Have you heard of a student called Caleb, of House Waterfall?”
Emily shook her head. She didn’t pay much attention to students from outside her small circle of friends. House Waterfall was one of the smaller magical families, she recalled, from some of the books she’d been forced to study at Mountaintop, but she didn’t know much else about them.
“He is — was — a Fourth Year student,” the Grandmaster said. “His proposal involved working with complex spell-structures. Unfortunately, there was an explosion in the spellchamber during the early weeks of Fourth Year and he took the brunt of the blast, after shoving his partner out of the way. He had to spend the rest of the year recuperating at home.”
“Ouch,” Emily said. Magic could cure most physical injuries, she knew from experience, unless they were immediately fatal. It was odd to have someone recuperating for longer than a couple of weeks. “Why didn’t he recuperate here?”
“His...experiment accidentally tainted his body with magic,” the Grandmaster said. “It took longer for him to recover than it would have done if he’d merely broken a few bones.”
He shrugged. “Be that as it may, Caleb has expressed an interest in resuming his project,” he continued. “It holds great promise, I feel, so I have conditionally given my consent.”
Emily looked down at her pale hands. “Conditionally?”
“He needs another partner, as the last one moved to assist another project team and barely scraped through the exams,” the Grandmaster said. “I would like you to be his partner.”
“I see,” Emily said.
The Grandmaster held up a hand before she could say anything else. “You would have to meet him over the summer and go through his proposal with him,” he warned. “If you rejected the proposal, your only real option would be to redo Third Year from the start, with a partner in the year below you. I have made it clear to him that the final decision will be yours.”
Emily groaned, inwardly. She wasn’t good at working with anyone, even her closest friends. Teamwork defeated her because it meant relying on somebody else — and her childhood had taught her, time and time again, that no one was truly reliable. But she knew the Grandmaster had gone out on a limb for both of them. The rules, stated at the start of Third Year, were being bent into a pretzel. Working with a stranger would be bad, but repeating Third Year would be worse.
If only we could avoid doing some of the classes, the ones we already passed, she thought, sourly. But that isn’t allowed.
“I will be at Cockatrice,” she said, slowly. “He will meet me there?”
“His family lives in Beneficence,” the Grandmaster assured her. “He will have no trouble crossing the bridge into Zangaria and reaching your lands.”
Emily braced herself. “I’ll try,” she said. “What happens if we fail? Or if we don’t get along?”
“You get to redo Third Year,” the Grandmaster said. He gave her a rather sardonic smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time a project team managed to fall out, even when the project was working perfectly. Learning to work with someone else is part of the whole idea.”
“You said,” Emily muttered.
The Grandmaster reached into one of his drawers and produced a large sheaf of papers, which he passed to Emily. “This is the proposal he put before the tutors, last year,” he said. “I advise you to take it with you and read it thoroughly once you are in Cockatrice, then get in touch with him to arrange meeting times. Lady Barb will assist with that, if you ask, although she is forbidden from offering any direct help with the proposal or the project itself.”
“I will,” Emily said.
“I would add,” the Grandmaster said, “that these proposals are considered confidential. You could get in a great deal of trouble if you showed it to anyone without his permission.”
Emily swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“And another issue,” the Grandmaster added. “Do you still want to visit the Blighted Lands?”
“No,” Emily said. The idea of returning to Shadye’s fortress was terrifying. “But it has to be done.”
“Then I will have you return to Whitehall a week before the remainder of the students are due to return,” the Grandmaster said. He looked down at his desk. “You will be attending the dance, I take it?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said. She would have preferred to avoid it, but Alassa wouldn’t let her hide in her room. “I have to try on dresses later.”
“There won’t be time for us to have another chat,” the Grandmaster said. “I would have...preferred...to speak with you just prior to your departure, but circumstances have developed that have rendered that impossible. You will be the official host for the Faire, will you not?”
“Yes,” Emily said, flatly.
“Be careful,” the Grandmaster said. “There will be many powerful people visiting, some of whom will want to get a look at you personally. Be on your best behavior and don’t hesitate to ask Lady Barb for advice. You could make enemies for life by doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.”
“I already have too many enemies,” Emily said.
“Quite,” the Grandmaster agreed. “Good luck, Lady Emily.”
Emily rose, curtseyed to him and turned to walk towards the door. The portrait had changed yet again; this time, the man was snarling at her as she walked past him. Emily wouldn’t have cared to hang such a painting in her bedroom, even if it hadn’t been shadowed by dark rumors. Outside, she couldn’t resist looking at the painting of her, but it didn’t seem to have changed since she’d last looked at it. Shaking her head in amusement, she walked down four flights of stairs and back into the dorms.
“Emily,” Alassa said, as she stepped into the bedroom. “You’re just in time.”
“I can come back later,” Emily said, as Alassa held up a long green dress. “I don’t think that would suit me.”
“That’s for me,” Alassa said. “I brought this for you.”
She held up two strips of cloth. Emily stared at them, then realized that Alassa was pulling her leg. The Princess smirked, then picked up a long blue dress from the bed and held it out to Emily. It looked plain, save for the decoration embroidered over her chest. And, unlike some of the dresses Alassa had to wear, it could be donned by one person without help.
“Fine,” she muttered.
She looked back as the door opened, revealing Imaiqah and the Gorgon. Imaiqah wore her dress robes, but the Gorgon wore a long brown snakeskin dress that set off her green skin nicely. Emily rubbed th
e bracelet at her wrist before pulling her robes over her head. There was no point in trying to stall when Alassa was determined to make sure they were all dressed for the dance.
“So,” Alassa said. “Did anything interesting happen?”
“I think I have a project proposal, and a partner,” Emily said. “But I will have to wait and see.”
Chapter Three
ALASSA WAS MERCILESS, AS ALWAYS; BY the time Emily finally convinced Alassa to allow her to stick with the blue dress, it was dinner time. They changed back into their regular robes, then walked down to the dining hall and joined the other students. Emily kept a watchful eye on Frieda as she ate and drank her fill — and took several potions in quick succession — then relaxed, slightly. Frieda seemed to have fitted into Whitehall far quicker than Emily herself, even though she had started late. But then, new students arrived for First Year all the time.
“I need to go to the library,” she said, once dinner was done. “I’ll see you all later?”
“We have to go play Ken,” Alassa said. She was looking up at the High Table, where the teachers — and Jade — were chatting amongst themselves. “We’ll see you when we see you?”
“Of course,” Emily said.
She nodded to Frieda — the younger girl always seemed to be surrounded by friends — and then walked up to the library. The giant chamber seemed empty now that exams were over; there were only a handful of students sitting at the various tables, reading textbooks and making requests for copies they could take home. Emily smiled to herself — the printing press was one of her innovations — and walked over to the biographical section. If there was one thing the magical families had in common with aristocrats, both on Earth and the Nameless World, it was a tendency to brag about their accomplishments. She was sure there would be at least a dozen books devoted to House Waterfall. And they would definitely have an entry in Magical Life.
The first entry was shorter than she’d expected. House Waterfall had one main family and five cadet branches. Caleb was listed as belonging to a cadet branch; his mother, according to the entry, had married outside the magical families. She’d been a Mediator like Lady Barb, Emily noted, which was probably why no one had objected. Mediators were skilled fighters, using both magical and mundane methods. Caleb was the second child, of five, but there were few other details. The only really useful piece of information was that Caleb was twenty years old, two years older than Emily herself.
He must not have done anything important, she thought, although that wasn’t really a surprise. Caleb was younger than Jade and Jade didn’t even merit an entry. They don’t have room to give anything beyond the bare essentials.
She glanced through a handful of other volumes, but found little beyond an assertion that Caleb’s father had been a general, commanding a unified army in battle against the Necromancers. Emily wondered just what sort of son he would have produced, then put the matter out of her mind. There was no point in guessing, not now. She would meet him at Cockatrice and find out for herself. Carefully, she returned the volumes to the shelves and then strode back down to the bedroom. Inside, Frieda was sitting on her bed, reading a sheet of paper.
“They say I have to move to a different room next year,” she said. “You can’t talk them out of it?”
“They wouldn’t let me room with my friends in Second Year,” Emily said. Master Tor had been trying to help her, she knew now, but at the time she had regarded it as little more than unwanted meddling. “But you have so many friends you’re bound to be with someone you like.”
“Yeah,” Frieda said. “But they’re not you.”
“True,” Emily agreed. “On the other hand, you could wander around without me feeling as though I had to object. And you could host your friends in your room without worrying about me.”
Frieda brightened. “There is that, I suppose,” she said. One hand tugged at her pigtail, nervously. “Will they like me in Cockatrice?”
“They will,” Emily assured her.
She felt her heart go out to the younger girl as she showered, then readied herself for bed. Frieda had nowhere to go, not really; her family had no interest in taking her back for the summer, even if she’d wanted to go home. Emily, still feeling responsible for Frieda, had invited her to stay at Cockatrice. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the room for a single small girl.
“And there’s the dance,” Frieda said. “Will anyone want to dance with me?”
“I’m sure they will,” Emily said. Mountaintop hadn’t held dances, which — in hindsight — surprised her. “Just relax and try to enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t know how to dance,” Frieda admitted.
“Just follow your partner,” Emily said. “Most dances are simple, once you start moving. It’s only the really complex ones you have to learn ahead of time.”
She smiled at herself as she climbed into bed and lay down, pulling the sheets over her head. Once, she’d hated the thought of stepping onto the dance floor; she’d been nothing more than a wallflower, even at the best of times. Now...she found it easier to dance, if someone asked her to join him on the floor. But she didn’t have the nerve to ask someone herself...
I can ask Jade to partner Frieda first, she thought, as she closed her eyes. He can help break the ice.
“Wake up,” Frieda said, what felt like moments later. “It’s time to get up.”
Emily groaned, reaching for her watch. It was nearly ten bells. She was tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep, but she knew her friends wouldn’t let her lie in bed for much longer. Reluctantly, she stood, walked into the shower and washed herself in cold water. It helped to push some of the tiredness out of her system.
“Just you wait until you’re in Third Year,” she muttered to Frieda. “You’ll want more sleep too.”
“I never had time to sleep since the day I was born,” Frieda said. “There was always something to do.”
“I suppose,” Emily said. She pulled her robe on, then led the way down to breakfast. Half of the students seemed to be missing, she couldn’t help noticing, but Alassa and Imaiqah were both sitting at their table. “Did you sleep well?”
“It could have been worse,” Imaiqah said. “Did you have a good time at the library?”
“You should play with us instead,” Alassa added, as Emily sat down. “Joliette is graduating and we’re going to be a player down next year.”
“I keep dropping the ball,” Emily reminded her. “There’s an entire school of people who would make better players than me.”
“Yes, but they’re not you,” Alassa said. “And besides, you need the exercise.”
Emily rolled her eyes as a servant placed a plate of bacon, eggs and bread in front of her. “I get enough exercise in Martial Magic,” she said. “We do forced marches up and down the hills, then scramble up the rocks and down the mountainsides.”
“It’s not the same,” Alassa said, dryly.
“Better for me,” Emily said. She knew Alassa was trying to do her a favor, but she loathed team sports with a passion. “Besides, everyone knows I can’t play Ken to save my life. It will stink like month-old potion for you to give me the slot.”
“I suppose,” Alassa said, reluctantly.
Emily eyed her breakfast, then dug in. It never seemed quite right to eat so much for breakfast, but magicians burned calories with frightening speed. The few times she had skipped breakfast, she’d regretted it by the first class. Beside her, Frieda ate with astonishing speed, then went back for seconds. It was a mystery how she remained so thin, despite both regular meals and potions. Emily had a private suspicion Frieda was practicing her magic far more than the average First Year.
And who, she asked herself, could blame her for practicing?
“The dance starts at four bells, in the afternoon,” Alassa said. “That gives us just enough time to get ready.”
Emily glanced at her watch. It was barely eleven bells in the morning. “We can start later,
surely,” she said. “I don’t need five hours to get dressed.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Alassa said. “Do you know how long it will take me to get dressed when I marry?”
“Hours,” Imaiqah said.
“If I’m lucky,” Alassa agreed. “My mother was depressingly frank about her wedding day.”
Emily groaned inwardly. “Why don’t you just run off and get married at the nearest temple?”
“Because everyone who thinks they’re someone would think they’d been slighted,” Alassa said, after a moment. “They all have to be invited to the wedding.”
“Then get dressed quickly today,” Emily said. “It might be your last chance.”
Alassa laughed. “But dresses are practically my armor,” she said. “I need to be careful what I wear.”
It was futile to argue, Emily discovered, as they finished their breakfast. Alassa practically dragged them upstairs, then started trying out more dresses herself while Imaiqah made mischievous remarks and Emily fought to stave off boredom. She knew, from bitter experience, that Alassa was right; the right dress, worn at the right time, would give precisely the right impression to any watching eyes. It wasn’t enough for Alassa to be a princess, she had to look like a princess. But Emily, who had grown up buying her clothes at charity shops, had never had the chance to become a clotheshorse. Her trunk was full of dresses Queen Marlena had sent her, dresses Emily had never actually worn.
I think I’m trapped in a time loop, she thought, as Alassa tried on the same dress for the third time. Or caught in a groundhog day. Or something.
But Alassa was relentless. By the time four bells slowly rolled around, she’d not only donned the green dress for herself; she’d also outfitted Emily in the blue dress, Imaiqah in a white dress that clung to her figure and showed off her curves and, finally, Frieda in a dark dress that showed off her face and hair. Emily left her hair draping down her back — Alassa and the others did up their hair — and then followed them down to the Great Hall. As before, there were hundreds of students and tutors, some already dancing on the floor.
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