Schooled in Magic (7 page)

“Thank you,” Emily said, falling back on politeness. The towering castle was awe-inspiring, taking her breath away. “It’s good to be here.”

The Grandmaster snorted. “They all say that,” he said. “If you’ll follow me?”

He turned and started to walk towards the castle, his staff tapping against the ground.

After a moment, Emily followed him, sensing other students looking at her as she entered Whitehall. How many others, she asked herself, had arrived on a
dragon
? Somehow, she doubted that many others had made such a spectacular entrance.

O
NCE SHE STEPPED THROUGH THE LARGE
stone doors that led into Whitehall, she felt a rushing, tingling sensation in the air, followed by a faint shimmer that seemed to dance over her body before fading away into nothingness. Her mind felt oddly muffled, as if her ears had been blocked by some outside force, as she walked past a long line of statues wearing armor. The effect felt like the sensation she’d experienced at Void’s tower, but it was much more pronounced. She knew that this must be what magic felt like.

The Grandmaster looked up at her and smiled. “There are powerful wards in Whitehall,” he said, by way of explanation. “Some to keep outsiders from breaking in, others to stop you and your fellow students from harming yourselves.”

Emily nodded.

The rows of immobile armor gave way to a series of paintings of wizards, almost all of them men. There were only a handful of pictures of women, including one of a blonde girl who seemed to be staring at the painter, daring him to do his worst. She couldn’t read the names under the paintings. None of the pictures were moving openly, but every time she looked away and then looked back the pose in each picture was different.

They passed a handful of students waiting in the corridor, who stepped to one side to allow the Grandmaster to pass, as they reached a flight of stairs and walked up to a higher floor. The sense of magic in the air was only growing stronger. Like Void’s tower, Emily realized, Whitehall was far larger on the inside than the outside. It made her wonder what else might be hidden inside the building: secret passageways, hidden bases, perhaps even a place for the tutors to hide and rest away from their pupils. It made sense; human nature probably didn’t change even if magic was involved.

She followed the Grandmaster into a long corridor and blinked in surprise as she saw a line of students standing with their backs to the wall and their hands on their heads. None of them looked her in the eye as she walked past, which made her realize that they must be in trouble. It didn’t surprise her. The students she had known back home had been quite capable of getting into trouble without magic, so who knew what mischief someone with magic could do?

At the head of the corridor a harassed-looking man wearing a black robe was talking to one of the students, a young girl with a faintly ill expression.

“But he
hexed
me, Master,” she said as they passed. “I didn’t actually
mean
to turn his skin blue!”

“And how many times,” the tutor inquired sarcastically, “have you been warned
never
to feed anyone a potion without testing it first?”

Before Emily could reflect on this, the Grandmaster led her onwards again, past a pair of statues of wizards carrying wands and a strange creature with a human head and goat’s body. After that odd display, they stepped though a wooden door into a large room dominated by a massive wooden desk and a throne-like chair. It was decorated sparsely, with only a pair of pictures and a couple of parchments Emily guessed to be certificates. They certainly looked like the certificates on the principal’s walls back on Earth. The desk itself appeared hand-carved, covered in little sigils that had been cut into the wood, but it was barren, without the computer or telephone that she would have seen back home.

“Stand there,” the Grandmaster ordered, as he walked around the table and took his seat, facing her. Emily somehow forced herself to stand still, despite the oddities of the day. “Void wishes for you to learn magic.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said nervously. She had the feeling that she needed to be very polite to the Grandmaster. He might be small and slight, but he could probably turn her into a toad with a snap of his fingers. Back home, there were laws against mistreating students, even if they were the sort of kids who deserved a sound spanking rather than love and understanding. Those laws might not exist here.

“You have the potential to be a proper sorceress, he says.” The Grandmaster looked down at the table, as if he couldn’t be bothered looking at her. “We will have to verify that, of course, and in doing so we must ensure that you receive a proper grounding in all forms of magic. There will be several days of testing before we start assigning you to classes, as well as exercises and other tricks to hone your powers in the proper direction.”

Emily nodded, feeling her head spinning. There were more forms of magic than just two?

The Grandmaster looked up at her, sharply. “Have you worked magic already?”

Emily hesitated. “I ... I don’t think so,” she said, finally. “I sensed magic, but...”

He shook his head. “We’ll have to show you how to unlock your powers. I’ll have Mistress Irene work with you, at least at first.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Void wasn’t entirely clear on where you came from,” he said. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

It wasn’t a request, Emily realized. Quickly, she ran through the entire story, from when she’d been kidnapped by Shadye to the moment Void had put her on the dragon and sent her to Whitehall. Uniquely, at least in the adults she had met, he had the ability to listen without interrupting. The Grandmaster listened until she had finished, and then asked her a couple of questions for clarification. Emily answered the first one easily, but the second was impossible. There was no magic in her world, as far as she knew.

“Interesting,” the Grandmaster said. He looked down at the table again. “First things first; Void or Shadye gave you a translation spell, probably Shadye. There is something about it that suggests that it was designed for use on someone who might not want it. You can understand us, but I suspect you won’t be able to read our writing.”

Emily shook her head, remembering the painting. She’d wondered how she could talk to the locals; neither Shadye nor Void would know English. Of course they’d used magic to translate their words into something she could understand! Under the circumstances, it bothered her; one of them had cast a spell on her and she hadn’t even realized it until the Grandmaster had pointed it out. What else might they have done to her?

But the Grandmaster pressed onwards before she had enough time to ponder that thought.

“I will have Mistress Irene teach you a basic translation spell for written words,” he said. “Beyond that, you may be well advised to study the language and learn it as quickly as possible. A proper understanding will make it easier to take your studies forward to the highest levels.”

It wasn’t a request, Emily realized. Part of her wanted to chaff at the requirement–no one had ever forced her to learn another language–but the practical part of her mind told her that she had no choice. Besides, she had never studied outside the country before. The rules were probably different for exchange students. They
had
to be able to communicate with their hosts.

He smiled, thinly. “You’re not from this world, but I’ll give you the standard lecture anyway. The Allied Lands may have countless disputes, ancient and modern, but they are not tolerated in this school. Students who pick fights with other students over such divisive issues are punished; those who remain here long enough to enter the advanced classes are expected to swear an oath to the White Council and abandon their nationalist beliefs. There are too many necromancers out there for us to be distracted by infighting.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said. Questions filled her mind, demanding answers. What was the White Council? And what were the advanced classes? She pushed them aside, knowing that there would be time to find out later. She needed to get her bearings first.

The Grandmaster shrugged. “You should be able to rise above it, as whatever disputes there were on your world are unlikely to matter here. However, in the event that you
don’t
rise above it, you
will
be punished. It’s astonishing how many students refuse to believe the warning until it is too late.”

His unseen eyes, hidden behind the cloth, seemed to fix on her face. “There is a great temptation to misuse magic in this school. We allow a certain degree of latitude for youngsters, because it helps them to learn to control their powers, but there are limits. You’ll hear more specific warnings later, but–in particular–anything that risks a fellow student’s life is grounds for immediate expulsion from the school. Those who actually manage to
kill
a fellow student will have to face that student’s family.”

Emily gulped. What had she gotten herself into? “Does ... does that happen very often?”

“Too often,” the Grandmaster said. His voice was grim, suggesting that he was recalling dark days when students under his care had been hurt–or worse. “If there is
any
doubt at all over what happened, everyone involved will be interrogated under truth spells until the truth comes out into the light, after which punishments will be assigned.”

He stood up, suddenly. “We hope that you will enjoy your years here, and that you will live up to the potential Void sensed in you, but there are limits to what we can tolerate,” he concluded. “But you’re not from here. You should be able to ignore the political scrabbling and infighting between different factions.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Emily promised.

The Grandmaster’s lips twitched. “The proper title is
Grandmaster
, young lady,” he said, drolly. “I suggest that you listen to how tutors introduce themselves and remember it. They take it
so
personally when someone gives them the wrong title.”

He smiled, more naturally. “If you will come with me...?”

The line of students standing against the wall had grown longer in the few minutes they’d been in the Grandmaster’s office. A pair of them glanced at Emily as she passed; the remainder ignored her, seemingly reluctant to risk catching the Grandmaster’s attention. Absently, she wondered what sorts of punishments were assigned in a magical school. Did they have to write lines, or do detentions? Or were they simply turned into frogs for a few hours? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. No doubt she would find out soon enough.

They stopped in front of a blank wall that the Grandmaster tapped it with his staff. It opened, revealing another corridor leading away into the distance. The stone walls were interrupted, every few meters, by wooden doors. A short fat woman waddled out of a side door and looked up at the Grandmaster, before taking a long and thoughtful look at Emily.

“This is Madame Razz,” the Grandmaster said. “She is your housemother for your first two years at the school. I suggest that you listen to her very carefully.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” Madame Razz said. She had a tart voice that suggested that she wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. “What time is her first class?”

“Mistress Irene will arrange that,” the Grandmaster informed her. “Until then, she is free to be outfitted with everything she needs for her first term.”

He nodded to Emily, then turned and strode out of the concealed door.

Emily turned back in time to see Madame Razz study her with a faintly disapproving expression. But before Emily could start to worry about it, she beckoned Emily to follow her down the corridor into a large storeroom, which was crammed with everything from clothes to bedding and toilet supplies. Madame Razz studied her for another long moment before producing a white robe from a pile of clothing and thrusting it at her. Emily held it up against her body and realized that it would fit, although it would also conceal the shape of her body from prying eyes.

“The white robes are assigned to newcomers to Whitehall,” Madame Razz informed her, coldly. She plucked what looked like an oversized pair of panties off a railing, followed by an undershirt and a pair of socks, passing them all to Emily. “You are not permitted to wear anything else outside your room, particularly anything that may cause divisiveness among the students. You will be assigned five pairs of everything, which you will be responsible for. You will make sure that it is put out for wash, and then collected from the laundry room. If you lose anything, you will be charged for it.”

I love you too
, Emily thought. The Grandmaster had seemed a decent guy, even if he had issued heavy-handed warnings. Madame Razz, on the other hand, appeared to be inclined to assume the worst of any of the girls. She had to have stepped right out of a boarding school from hell.

“You will change your bedding once every week,” Madame Razz continued, thrusting more packets of cloth at her. “Once changed, you will place the bedding to be washed along with your clothes. Luckily, the beds are standard, so we can interchange bedding if necessary. However, you are also responsible for removing any protective charms that you might have placed on the sheets. Accidentally leaving one in place to attack the laundry room staff will result in you being assigned to help them for at least a week.”