Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21) Read online

  Lady Barb would definitely be ideal, she thought. But she wouldn’t come without Sergeant Miles. And what would he do here?

  Her heart twisted as she started to walk down the stairwell, wandering randomly through the corridors. Lady Barb had been desperate. Emily knew her well enough to understand she wouldn’t have gone so far as to ask for help, unless she truly was. And that meant... Emily wondered, suddenly, if she should seek out Sergeant Miles to say goodbye. The sergeant wouldn’t let himself fall into madness. He’d said as much, when they’d discussed spells that drove their casters mad. Necromancers refused to admit they could die, or that there might be something wrong with their thinking, but there were other spells. Anyone who used them risked madness - or worse. They might be offered a blunt choice between killing themselves or being killed.

  She shuddered. The thought of killing Sergeant Miles - of killing any of her friends - was horrifying. And yet, she might not have a choice if someone went crazy. She remembered Void staying with her, after she’d killed Master Grey. He’d admitted he’d been there, at least in part, to deal with her if she went off her head. Emily hated to think that he would have killed her...

  Her fists clenched. She forced herself to calm down as she walked past dark and cold classrooms, abandoned as the school day had come to an end. The teachers were nowhere to be seen, probably relaxing in their quarters or preparing for the following day. She kept walking, reaching out with her senses as she stepped down another flight of stairs. There was no hint that anything was wrong, no hint that anyone was being... influenced. And that meant... what?

  Emily stopped as she heard an angry voice echo down the corridor. Someone was scolding, someone was... bullying. A flash of anger ran through her, driving her on into a large antechamber. She looked around and spotted a girl looming over another girl. The second girl’s hands were jinxed to the stone wall. She couldn’t break free.

  “I told you to take my cleaning slot,” the first girl growled. “And you didn’t report there and I got in trouble. I...”

  She drew back her hand, ready to slap. Emily cleared her throat, loudly. The girl jumped, spinning around and raising her hand into a casting pose. Emily quirked her eyebrow, wondering if the girl would be stupid enough to try to hex a teacher. It was a guaranteed caning at Whitehall, if the teacher didn’t hex the student back. She’d heard it was perfectly legal as long as the student shot first. She wasn’t sure what the rules were at Laughter.

  “And what” - Emily allowed her eyes to wander over the two students - “is going on here?”

  The first girl hesitated, then set her chin. “Hattie said she’d do my chores for the week...”

  “She’s lying,” Hattie said. “Evelyn is...”

  Emily sighed inwardly. She recognized the signs. Evelyn had bullied Hattie into saying she’d do the chores, then... Hattie had refused to do them and landed Evelyn in hot water. And then Evelyn had caught Hattie alone and... Emily winced as she saw the younger girl’s expression. Fear and shame and a bitter, helpless hatred that would gnaw at her mind until she snapped and did something really dangerous. Gennady had been like that, if Void was to be believed. And he’d become Shadye.

  And Hattie will have an even worse time of it if she tattles, Emily thought. Sneaks and tattletales had been ostracized at Whitehall and she had no reason to believe Laughter was any different. She can’t fight or escape or do anything...

  “She got me in trouble,” Evelyn insisted. “I demand satisfaction and...”

  Emily met her eyes, staring her down until her voice trailed off. She was sick of bullies. She was sick of having to deal with people who thought aristocratic blood or magical power or social skills gave them the right to push everyone else around. She wanted to lash out with her magic, to teach Evelyn a lesson she wouldn’t forget. It would be so easy to slam her against the wall, or turn her into a slug, or... she concentrated, controlling her anger. She wasn’t in any state to handle the matter reasonably.

  “Your chores are meant to be done by you,” she said. The handbook had said as much. The girls could trade some chores, but not all of them. “Did you pay Hattie for her services?”

  Evelyn sneered. “Why should I?”

  Emily felt her patience snap. “Report for detention,” she said. “And don’t let me catch you doing this again.”

  Evelyn turned and fled. Emily rubbed her forehead, then freed Hattie from the wall. The younger girl stared at her for a moment, then ran in the opposite direction. Emily sighed, feeling a twinge of pity. There was no reasonable way for Evelyn to blame Hattie for her detention, but if Emily was any judge, Evelyn would try to blame Hattie anyway. She knew the type too well. Hattie would never be able to defend herself because Evelyn would keep knocking her down, time after time after time...

  And I can’t protect her, Emily thought, as she walked. It would just make things worse for the younger girl if Emily tried. All I can do is teach her.

  The dinner bell rang. Emily turned and made her way back up to the dining hall, stepping aside to allow a handful of athletic girls to charge past and run screaming up the corridor. She recognized that type too. They were so obsessed with sports that they’d neglect their studies as much as possible. Laughter, thankfully, wouldn’t allow them to get away with it. They had to pass their exams if they wanted to graduate and go into the wider world.

  Lady Damia nodded to Emily as she entered the dining hall. The chamber was packed with students, cramming the tables so much that a handful of girls seemed on the verge of being pushed off the benches and onto the floor. Emily wondered why they didn’t add another table or simply expand the ones they had. It wouldn’t be difficult. Tradition, perhaps. She felt her head start to pound as dinner was served, the chatter blurring together into a dull roar. It was all she could do to eat her food, let alone pay attention to the conversation beside her.

  “You’ll be taking your first class tomorrow morning,” Lady Damia reminded her. “Did you review the class materials?”

  “Yes,” Emily said, feeling her heart sink. Tomorrow was really not going to be fun. She made a mental note to revise over breakfast. She knew the material a little too well. She’d have to be careful not to assume the students knew it too. They didn’t have the experience to spot anything she might have left out. “I’ll be ready.”

  “No one is ever ready,” Mistress Greenstone said. The gym mistress peered narrowly at Emily. “Why did you give Evelyn detention?”

  Emily refused to allow herself to be thrown by the sudden change in subject. “I caught her bullying another student,” she said, bluntly. “And trying to force that student to do her chores.”

  “Hattie needs to learn to toughen up,” Mistress Greenstone said, severely. Emily had the feeling it wasn’t the first time Evelyn had been caught bullying Hattie. She certainly hadn’t mentioned the girl’s name. “If she cannot defend herself here, where can she defend herself?”

  “She needs help and support,” Emily said. “Not...”

  “There’s a limit to how much you can help someone,” Lady Damia said. Her voice was very flat. “And how much protection you can offer them. It’s a tough world out there.”

  “I know,” Emily said. She was sick of that attitude too. “But we don’t have to make it tougher.”

  Chapter Twelve

  YOU WALKED INTO A NECROMANCER’S LAIR and came out alive, Emily thought, as she stood at the front of the classroom and watched the students lining up outside. You can handle a bunch of students.

  She tried to keep her trepidation off her face. She’d heard all the jokes about students who’d dreamed of themselves as teachers, teachers who were trying to teach themselves. The ugly face staring up at them from the lower desks was them... she pushed the thought out of her mind as she beckoned the students, inviting them to enter. It would have been so much easier, she told herself, if Damia had let her start with the firsties. They’d take her seriously, if only because there’d be six years betwe
en her and her charges. The fifth years were old enough to see her as just another student...

  Her eyes wandered over the desks as she took the register and matched names to faces. Dionne, Bernadette and Hannalore sat together, surrounded by Kasha, Stephanie, Karalee, Samantha, and Dahlia. The latter five girls were cronies or groupies or both... Emily wondered, idly, what made Dionne and her friends so fascinating to the rest of the class. A combination of breeding and magical skill, perhaps. The remainder of the girls were scattered around the room, Lillian - as always - keeping her distance from the rest. Emily felt her heart go out to the younger girl, unable to be part of the group and yet unable to separate herself from it. She deserved better. They all deserved better.

  She glanced at Lady Damia, sitting at the rear. The older woman had made it clear she wouldn’t intervene, unless matters got really out of hand. She’d even woven a complicated charm around herself to ensure the girls wouldn’t know she was there. Emily silently kicked herself, again, forever considering teaching as a career. She was good at teaching one-on-one, she knew, but teaching an entire class was a whole different kettle of fish. It was hard not to feel dangerously exposed, almost naked, as challenging eyes looked back at her. They weren’t overly impressed with her reputation. They knew she’d couldn’t kill them. The worst she could do was send them to be caned.

  Emily braced herself, gathered her nerve, and stepped forward. “You know who I am,” she said, “but for the record, I’ll introduce myself again. I am Lady Emily. It would take too long to list everything I’ve done, since starting magical education, but suffice it to say that I studied at Whitehall and, since then, undertook an apprenticeship with a Lone Power. I have sufficient experience in defense and related topics to teach.”

  She felt as if she’d already made a mistake, when she’d outlined her speech, but she pressed on regardless. “We’ll be drawing from the standard teaching syllabus, following the prepared and approved outline, but I’ll also be showing you how the charms work, and don’t work, outside the classroom. Some of you may already have covered the material, in which case I expect you to take advantage of this opportunity to revise. You need to have a firm understanding of the material before we proceed onwards.”

  Her words hung in the air. Emily wished, again, that she had a prepared text she could use as a guide. It would be so much easier if she could just read the words off a paper. Lady Damia had told her not to even think about it, pointing out that it would be seen as a sign of weakness. Emily had scribbled a handful of hints on the blackboard, to remind her of points she needed to cover, but it was easy to feel the lecture might go off course. She’d never liked tutors who’d rambled back and forth, zigzagging around the topic without ever quite reaching the point, yet she thought she understood now. They hadn’t been allowed to refer to a set plan either, not in front of the class. They’d probably been trying their best to cover all the salient points. It was just that they’d been unable to keep them in line.

  “Basic protective wards suffer from two major weaknesses,” Emily continued. “First, they are rarely capable of handling more than one hit. A magician hexes you once and knocks away the ward, then hexes you again. Second, they can be broken or simply overpowered by more advanced offensive spells. A first-year student might be able to stand up to a hex hurled by one of her fellows, but be utterly unable to stop a hex aimed by a sixth-year student. It is...”

  She broke off. Dionne was playing with something under the table. Emily’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the younger girl. She didn’t seem to be paying any attention at all.

  “Dionne,” Emily said. “Perhaps you can explain how a more advanced defensive charm can win time for its caster?”

  Dionne lifted her head, a look of pure insolence on her face. “It can and it will break down the spellwork,” she said. “The raw magic is therefore rendered harmless.”

  “Good,” Emily said. “Pay attention.”

  She frowned as her eyes wandered over the class. Dionne wasn’t the only one who looked as if she wasn’t paying attention. Emily sighed, inwardly. The social queens and their friends were testing her, trying to find out the limits of her patience. Emily understood, suddenly, why so many teachers on Earth had gone off the rails. They were tested sorely by their charges, yet forbidden to offer actual discipline. No wonder they’d spent half their careers trying to get out.

  “The more advanced charms are not just designed to block hexes, but deflect and break down the spellware,” she continued. “As Dionne said, it is relatively easy to break down a complex spell and render it harmless... to a point. The raw magic can be dangerous in its own right. That is why so few duels involve the duelists trying to turn each other into animals or objects. The spells are so complex that they can be broken down easily.”

  “That’s what I said,” Dionne stage-whispered.

  “Yes,” Emily said, feeling a flash of irritation. “And that’s why I told everyone you said it.”

  She took a breath, trying to regain her train of thought. “We’ll be covering the limitations of more advanced charms later,” she said. “For the moment, we’re going to be focusing on actually designing the charms. If you’ll look at the blackboard” - she picked up a ruler and used it to trace the spell notation - “you can see a very basic defense charm. What is wrong with it?”

  The class stilled as they considered the diagram. Emily waited, wondering who - if anyone - would spot the problem. There was nothing wrong with the charm per se - it would work - but it had a very dangerous limitation. Emily had copied the notation out of a book, just to make sure the flaw was there for everyone to see. If, of course, they had the imagination to see it.

  Lillian raised a hand. “It’s too common,” she said. “The weaknesses are too well known.”

  Dionne scoffed. “What sort of answer is that?”

  “A correct one,” Emily said, sharply. She traced the notation, again. “As Lillian pointed out, the charm is very common. A person who knows the charm as well as you, perhaps better than you, will have no trouble breaking it with a single hex. A more advanced magician might be able to slip a hex though the charm, leaving you wrapped in your magic even as their spell takes effect. You...”

  “Impossible,” Dionne said.

  “Detention, after lessons,” Emily said, feeling her patience come to an end. “Report to the detention room this afternoon and...”

  “I’ve got games and chores,” Dionne objected. “I’m meant to be there and...”

  “How unfortunate.” Emily held her eyes for a long moment. “It is not impossible to put a charm through a defensive ward, if the spellwork is well-understood. How do you think they work so many spells into the school’s wards? They know the wards perfectly and then therefore nestle their spells into the wards.”

  She ignored the nasty looks from the groupies as she indicated the blackboard. “I want you to copy down this notation, then modify it to suit yourself. The more unique your modifications, the less likely it is that someone will be able to punch a charm through your defenses. Put yourself in the place of the attacker, think about what you’d do, and then rewrite the spell to compensate. We’ll be testing the charms later in the lesson.”

  The class got to work. Emily stepped back to the desk, picked up a glass of water and took a sip. The clock insisted it had only been half an hour since she’d started. It felt as if she’d been in the classroom for months. She forced herself to watch the students, noting how a couple - Quinn and Lillian - were alternately doing their work and watching her with admiring eyes. She felt almost proud, yet... she shook her head. It was important to keep a distance between herself and the students.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad after all, she thought. She wondered, idly, just how long she could stay. She’d told Void she’d stay until the conference, but... she had no idea when - if - the conference was going to take place. Maybe I can see out the rest of the term before going back to my apprenticeship.

&nb
sp; Lillian yelped, jumping up so hard she almost knocked over her table. The class started to giggle as Lillian rubbed her behind. Emily gritted her teeth as she stepped forward, probing the classroom wards gently. A glowing line appeared in the air, leading from Lillian to Bernadette. The room fell silent.

  “Tell me,” Emily said, coldly. It was hard not to scream and shout. Pinching hexes were painful. “Do you have any excuse at all?”

  “I...” Bernadette was a red-haired girl with a pretty, heart-shaped face. She reminded Emily of Melissa, right down to the haughty accent and willingness to hex first and think of an excuse later. Melissa, at least, had grown out of it. “I... I thought she needed to be more aware of her surroundings.”

  “Really.” Emily knew precisely what Lady Barb - or Lady Damia - would do to anyone who interrupted the class like that. “After lessons, report for detention. And if you do that again, you can report to the gym mistress instead.”

  Bernadette looked as if she wanted to argue, but didn’t dare. Emily turned away to check that Lillian was alright, silently wondering if she should have sent Bernadette directly to the gym mistress instead. She didn’t like the idea of sending anyone for corporal punishment, but... she shook her head as she walked back to the front of the class. She’d do it, if she had to do it. But if she could avoid it, she would.

  She watched the class finish, one by one. “We’ll test the charms now,” she said, once they were all finished. She glanced at a couple of them, noting how the students had tried to solve the problem. “Partner up, use level four spells only. And see how well your charms stand up to attack.”

  Dionne hurried to the rear of the room, partnering with Bernadette. Emily watched as they snapped spells at each other, silently noting the weaknesses in their defensive charms. They weren’t bad, but... they hadn’t patched all the holes in the original spell. Some of the other girls had been more inventive. Lenore had crafted something a little more complex, bordering on a level five spell. Lillian’s charm wasn’t so advanced, but it had a certain flair. Emily made a mental note to suggest she spend more time studying charms. The discipline provided all the background one needed to improve the defensive charm into something that could stand against a powerful sorcerer.