“I’ll send out permission slips tonight,” Magister Tallyman added. “If your parents agree, you can start a week from Friday. Can you both work together?”
I exchanged glances with Akin. Our families were enemies. I had already made an enemy of his sister. And yet, if we couldn't work together, one of us might be rejected. Or would get fewer hours ... we stared at each other, then came to a joint decision.
“Yes,” we said.
“Very good,” Magister Tallyman said. “And one other thing ...?”
He leaned forward, looking us right in the eye. “This isn't a class,” he told us. “This isn't something I have to do. If either of you misbehave when working with me, you’re out. I don’t have the obligation to employ you. And I will not listen to protests from either of your parents. Do you understand me?”
I swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” Magister Tallyman said. “There are some of my unpublished research papers in the library. I suggest you ask the librarian to find them for you. They’ll give you the background of what I have been trying to do for the last five years.”
“Unlocking the secret behind the Objects of Power,” Akin said.
“Quite,” Magister Tallyman said. He sighed, heavily. “How did they do it? We don’t know.”
I glanced at Akin. If he figured out how it was done, his family would dominate Magus Court until the secret leaked out. And it would, eventually. Magister Tallyman and his fellows would spare no effort to duplicate it. My father would throw money around like water before the family was crushed by its rivals. But if I figured it out ...
You don’t need magic to forge, I told myself, firmly. It was something to hope for, wasn't it? Anyone can do it.
“I’ll see you on Thursday,” Magister Tallyman said, dismissing us. “If you have any questions about the research papers, see me then.”
He turned and walked back into his office, leaving us alone. I felt Akin looking at me and raised my head, staring back at him. We were rivals, rivals for learning and experience we couldn't get anywhere else ... I wondered if he'd throw a hex at me now, or wait until we were completely alone. Magister Tallyman’s warning - no magic in his classroom without permission - rang in my ears. Surely Akin wouldn't be so foolish as break the rules with a teacher close by ...
Akin turned and strode out of the room. I watched him go, feeling my legs weaken. If he’d hexed me ... I would have been defenceless. I glanced into the nearest bin, trying to see what I could pick out for later use, then hurried out of the room myself. Magister Tallyman probably wouldn't care if I took waste and turned it into something more useful, but there was no point in tempting fate. My mind was buzzing as I walked through the maze of corridors, feeling genuinely optimistic for the first time since I’d been told I was going to Jude’s. Give me a few weeks in the forgery and I’d have quite a few surprises up my sleeve. The tricks I’d mastered to give me a fighting chance against my sisters would be even more of a surprise to Isabella.
I heard a scream up ahead and froze. Someone was screaming, begging and pleading ... it was Rose. I could hear the sound of magic, the snap-crack of stinging spells; I forced myself to listen, despite the urge to flee. Two more people were laughing, perhaps three. They were girls, I thought. And Rose ...
My legs felt leaden. I could turn around and walk away. No one knew I was there. I could claim ignorance, when I saw Rose. And yet ... I forced myself forward with more bravery than common sense. My legs were still unsteady when I walked around the corner and saw them.
Rose was leaning against the wall, her face streaked with tears. Isabella and the McDonalds were throwing stinging spells at her, each one striking with the force of a minor punch. I knew those spells, all too well. Alana had been fond of shooting them at me until she’d learned other, more interesting hexes. A strong man could shrug off the blows and keep coming - Dad’s apprentices used them to practice their ducking and dodging - but Rose wasn't that strong. I felt a stab of pity for her, mingled with rage. Rose was a magician with very real promise. She shouldn't be treated like ...
Like me, I thought.
“Stop that,” I shouted. “Let her go.”
Isabella turned, surprised. “Well, if it isn't the little zero,” she said. Her nose twitched, as if she’d smelled something disgusting. “Go away.”
She snapped a stinging spell at me. I dodged. Alana had given me plenty of practice.
“Let her go,” I said, evenly.
Isabella stared back at me. “Make me.”
“I turned you into a frog,” I bluffed. She knew it was a lie, but her friends didn't. Would she want to reveal the truth in front of them? “I can do it again.”
She shot a second spell at me. I grunted as it slammed into my chest. It stung, but I’d been hurt worse when I fell off a horse. I ran forward instead, hoping to strike her before she switched tactics. But it was too late. She waved a hand at me and I froze. I could neither move nor speak. I wasn't even sure I was still breathing, even though I could see and hear perfectly.
“Little zero,” Isabella said, contemptuously.
I felt a wave of sheer hatred, strong enough to send me tumbling right into the darkness ... if I’d had magic. I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to see her bleed, I wanted to tear her apart ... nothing happened, of course. Isabella snorted, then turned back to Rose. The poor girl hadn't even taken advantage of the distraction to run. She was too scared to think of it, I realised slowly. Isabella hadn't even bothered to fix her feet to the floor.
And she didn't even bother to cast any other spells on me, I thought, numbly. She doesn't have to ...
The spell broke. I stumbled forward, just as Isabella turned back, surprise written all over her face. She certainly hadn't intended to freeze me for just a few seconds. I forced myself forward and slammed a fist into her nose, sending her falling over backwards. Someone screamed, behind me, but I paid it no heed. Magicians are so used to tossing bloodless spells at each other that real violence always comes as a shock. Isabella hit the ground hard and I landed on top of her, drawing back my fist for another punch. Blood was leaking from her nose ...
An invisible force grabbed me and yanked me up. “What is going on?”
I spun in the air. Two sixth-years, both girls, were standing there, staring at me in horror. I gazed back at them defiantly, unwilling to show any fear. Isabella gasped in pain, drawing my attention back to her as she struggled to stand. I didn't think her nose was broken, but it certainly looked bad.
The sixth-year lowered me to the floor. “What is going on?”
I had no answer. I didn't want to be the dorm sneak.
“You, take your friend to see the matron,” the sixth year ordered. She nodded to Zeya. “And you” - she turned her attention back to me - “give me your punishment book.”
I glared at her rebelliously, but there was no point in trying to fight. She took my book and checked the top cover, then opened it to the very first page. “One of Sandy’s, I see,” she said, darkly. “She didn't warn you about fighting in the corridors?”
I thought it was keenly encouraged, I thought. I wasn't fool enough to say it out loud. Sandy was going to kill me - or, worse, she was going to make me clean the washroom. Isabella started it.
“You will write I will not fight with my fists like a common zero one hundred times before Saturday,” the sixth year said. She signed her name with a flourish - I couldn't read her signature - and gave it back to me. “Give the book to Sandy so she can countersign it or you’ll have detention the following day. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said, sullenly. A hundred lines ... I think I would have preferred a grounding. Or being forced to help the cooks or maids. My wrist was going to be aching by the time I finished. “I understand.”
“And no trying to find a spell to do them for you,” the girl added, warningly. “Sandy will be able to tell.”
I scowled at her retreating back as she walked away. Mum had told
me that each year group pretended that the others didn't exist - they certainly wouldn't admit to knowing the names of anyone above or below them - but it looked like she was wrong. Or ... I glanced down at my book, noting Sandy’s name written just below mine. Maybe she - I tried to read the signature again, but failed - had picked it up from there. It didn't really matter.
“Caitlyn,” Rose said. She sounded .. she sounded ashamed. I understood, more than I cared to admit. I’d felt helpless too, when my sisters had practiced their spells on me. “I ... thank you.”
I put the book back into my pocket and glanced around. Ayesha McDonald had fled, probably following her sister to the matron, and there was no one else in sight, but that meant nothing. The upper years could probably turn themselves invisible ... Alana had tried, a year or so ago. I still giggled whenever I remembered just how badly it had gone. She’d been invisible, all right, but the spell had done nothing for her clothes.
“We need to find somewhere more private,” I said. I had blood on my fist and Rose looked a terrible mess. “Come on.”
“Thank you,” Rose said. She bent down and scooped the remains of her Device off the floor, pocketing it. “I ... they caught me ... I ...”
“It’s all right,” I lied. It probably wouldn't have gone any better if I’d been with her. Isabella would have frozen me from the start ... and yet, her spell hadn't lasted. Had she failed to cast it properly? I had caught her by surprise. “Come in here.”
I led her into a small washroom and motioned for her to clean herself. My hands were stained with Isabella’s blood ... I shuddered, helplessly, as I put my hand under the water and washed it clean. Dad had taught the three of us never to leave blood lying around without the proper rituals, although he hadn't gone into details. I’d read enough to know that blood magic was both very dangerous and highly illegal. Even Alana wouldn't mess with it.
Rose washed her face with cold water, then looked at me. Her eyes were shining. “You saved me.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. I’d caught Isabella by surprise, once. She wouldn't make that mistake again. “What did she want?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said. “She hit me with the spell, again and again ... I just couldn't fight back. I ...”
“You have magic,” I said, harshly. She reddened. “Why didn't you use it?”
But I already knew the answer. Rose hadn't been raised to think of magic as the solution to everything. And even if she had, the bombardment would have made it impossible to think ... no doubt Isabella’s aristocratic status had made it harder, too. If she fought back ... Isabella might have done something worse. It was why I’d spent so long trying to fight my sisters, even though I lost more often than I won. I couldn't let them think I was nothing more than a punching bag ...
“I hate this place,” Rose said. She looked as if she wanted to cry. “I want to go home!”
She glared at her reflection in the mirror. “I want to go home!”
“I know how you feel,” I said, stiffly. “I want to go home too.”
I fought down a sudden surge of homesickness. Apart from forging - and the chance to work with Magister Tallyman - there was nothing else for me at Jude’s. Perhaps Rose would have a better life if she partnered with Gayle or Yolanda or even Bella. Bella was too lazy to bully, yet too well-connected to be bullied. Or she could even partner with Akin. Isabella’s brother had status too ...
“You belong here,” Rose said. “I don’t.”
She waved a hand at the stone walls. “I miss the fields,” she said. “I miss the woods ... I even miss the work, hard though it was. I had friends, I had family ... and then they gave me the scholarship and told me to go. I miss ... I want to go home.”
I groaned, inwardly. Rose’s family didn't have a hope of repaying her scholarship, not if she dropped out or somehow ran away. She only got to keep the money if she graduated. My father would consider it pocket change, but a commoner family would have a different idea. They’d be in debt for the next five generations, just paying off a loan they’d probably been bullied into taking. Rose had potential. Even I could see that. But she hadn't wanted to leave her village for Shallot.
“You can go home during half-term,” I said, although I wasn't sure if it was true. Merely travelling to Erehwon - some tiny village in the middle of nowhere - would cost money, real money. “And you will get to go home during the summer holiday ...”
Rose looked at me. “I won’t fit in,” she said. “Will I?”
She sighed. “There was a girl who went away to be educated,” she said. “Not in magic, I think. She came back with fancy clothes and high ideals and looked down on all of us, grubbing in the mud. I’m going to be just like her, aren't I?”
Probably, I thought.
“Not if you don’t want to,” I said, instead. “You can help them, instead. There are spells you can use to help with farming, you know. And Devices of Power to help plough the fields.”
“If I can afford to make them,” Rose pointed out. “Do you know what that gold thread costs?”
“No,” I said. I had never worried about it. “And if we don’t get to lunch, we’ll be hungry all through potions. And trust me ... you don’t want that.”
Chapter Thirteen
I should have been good at potions.
Mum had drilled potions-brewing into me from the moment I was old enough to take an interest. She’d stepped up the lessons as my lack of magic became apparent, hoping that brewing time and time again would unlock my hidden potential. I knew all the tips and tricks, all the little shortcuts the best potion masters used to make their work easier ... I could recite, on demand, everything that a underclassman might need to know about potions and their ingredients. But none of my potions worked.
I followed the instructions to the letter. I prepared the ingredients perfectly, getting everything ready before I set to work. I washed the caldrons and tools; I boiled the water and inserted the ingredients in the right order, stirring precisely as laid down in the recipe. And nothing happened, because I lacked magic. I should have been able to brew potions, just as I could create Devices of Power, but I couldn't. They never worked for me.
The classroom was larger than Mum’s brewing chamber, but it followed the same basic pattern. I couldn’t help feeling a little homesick as I walked through the door, Rose following me like a lost puppy. Large storage cupboards and storerooms at the rear, a dozen wooden desks, bare stone walls scarred and pitted by explosions within the classroom ... even a skilled potioneer had explosions from time to time. A couple of my classmates were looking around uncomfortably, sensing the wards that provided a minimal level of safety for inexperienced brewers. Mum never used them. She said the wards interfered with her brewing. I took a seat near the front and motioned for Rose to join me. There were just too many ways someone could mess with our potion for me to be comfortable at the rear.
“Be seated,” Magistra Loanda ordered. She marched to the front of the room and turned to look at us. “When I say your name, respond. Otherwise, stay quiet. We have a lot to get done over the next few hours.”
I studied her, warily. Magistra Loanda reminded me of Mum, except she looked about a decade or two older. There was no kindness in her, no warmth ... I thought she looked like a statue that had been brought to life by a passing magician. Her skin looked faintly unhealthy, as if she’d been breathing in her own fumes. Potioneers needed to regularly purge their bodies of toxins before they became dangerous - Mum did it every week - but Magistra Loanda might not have had the time. Mum normally locked herself in her room after breakfast and wasn't seen again until dinner.
She shot Alana, Bella and me sharp looks, then carried on calling out names. I thought she probably knew Mum - there weren't that many Master Potioneers in Shallot - although I had no way to know how Magistra Loanda felt about her. They might be friends or they might be rivals ... I made a mental note to write to Mum and ask her, then sat up as Magistra Loanda finished the r
egister. Her cold eyes swept the classroom, daring us to make trouble. I had a feeling that none of us would dare.
“Welcome to Potions,” she said. Her voice was cold, but there was a hint of ... something ... beneath it. “How many of you have studied potions before?”
I held up my hand. So did two-thirds of the class.
“The first week will seem boring to most of you, I am sure,” Magistra Loanda said. Her lips twitched, unpleasantly. “I expect you to pay attention, regardless. There is a difference between brewing at home and brewing in a class, which you will come to understand over the next few days. I want you all to be fully conversant with the rules before the end of the week.”
She paused. “Most of the classes you have already taken, I believe, cover ways to use the spark of magic within you, within everyone,” she said. Her voice grew slightly warmer, although I suppose I could have been imagining it. “Those classes are designed to take that spark and fan it into a fire, teaching you both power and control. This class is not about developing your own powers, but unlocking the power within the natural world and using it to best advantage. Some of you will be tempted to compare this to left-hand magic. Rest assured that it is nothing of the sort.”
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