Little Witches (Schooled In Magic Book 21) Read online

  Alassa would have hated that, if she’d had to do it at Whitehall, Emily thought. She still doesn’t know how to wash her own clothes.

  Damia stopped in front of a large wooden door. “Headmistress Duchene is looking forward to meeting you,” she said. “I’ll take you to your room afterwards.”

  Emily hesitated, then knocked on the door. It opened, revealing a cozy sitting room with a roaring fire in the grate. An elderly woman was sitting behind a desk, reading a piece of parchment. She stood as Emily entered, nodding to the door. It banged closed behind Emily.

  “Please, take a seat,” Duchene said. She sounded friendly. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  “Not all of it is true,” Emily said. Duchene might sound friendly, but no one reached the top of their profession - not in magic - without considerable power, skill and a certain amount of ruthlessness. It was hard to tell how strong the older woman was - the wards made it hard to sense her power - but she wouldn’t be weak. “And the parts that aren’t made up are often exaggerated.”

  Duchene smiled, warmly. “Does that include the bit about you rejecting a man who commanded orcs, because he wasn’t strong enough for you?”

  Emily flushed. “That’s not remotely what happened.”

  “Pity.” Duchene’s smile never changed, but her attitude shifted - slightly - as she sat back in her chair. “You understand why you’re here?”

  “Yes,” Emily said.

  “Good,” Duchene said. “You’ll be replacing Scarlett Robyn. I’ve made it clear to the other tutors that you probably won’t remain, once the summer holidays begin. We’ve already started searching for a more permanent replacement, but - given what’s been going on - we probably won’t bring them in anytime sooner. Our assumption was that Lady Barb would be able to see out the year. I was very sorry to hear about Miles. Man though he is, I always liked him.”

  Emily was torn between amusement and irritation. “Being a man is a crime roughly half the population is guilty of,” she said, crossly. “And none of them chose it.”

  “Quite,” Duchene said. “But that doesn’t absolve them for acting on their baser instincts.”

  She paused, looking at her hands. “Your duties, as far as anyone beyond myself and my deputy know, are twofold. First, you’ll be teaching Defensive Magic. Lady Damia and yourself will sort out precisely how this is going to happen, but you’ll be following a syllabus laid down at the start of term. You shouldn’t have any problems demonstrating the spells. We expect some rough patches, particularly as you’ve never taught before, but given time you can smooth them out. Second, you’ll be serving as a supervisor for the fifth-year girls, offering them advice and answering their questions in a manner calculated to make them think for themselves.”

  Emily blinked. “I’m hardly qualified to offer advice.”

  Duchene’s smile never wavered. “You are a heroine to most of the girls, Lady Emily. You defeated the necromancers, saved a kingdom... even founded a” - she stumbled over the unfamiliar word - “university. Your name is feted right across the world. If you cannot answer their questions, you should be able to either direct them to someone who can or find out the answer yourself. I or my deputy will offer guidance, if necessary. To be honest, a lot of student problems are quite small in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of patting a poor girl on the head and telling her that things will get better.”

  “And offering her a lemon drop,” Emily muttered.

  “I’ve always preferred pear drops myself,” Duchene said. “It will also give you a chance to get to know the students and perhaps figure out what is going on with them. You may discover that some of them will confide in you, where they wouldn’t dare risk talking to another student or one of the older teachers.”

  She shrugged. “Traditionally, you’ll also be expected to fill in for teachers who are unable to carry out their nightly duties, which will give you an excuse to prowl the school and search for clues. Make sure you check your schedule carefully, as it’s easy to stay up half the night and then remember, too late, that you have double-classes in the morning.”

  Emily nodded.

  Duchene sat back in her chair with a satisfied smiled. “We’ll make sure you also learn a few things, such as flying,” she said. “Do you have any questions?”

  “I’m ignorant of my own ignorance,” Emily confessed. She studied the older woman for a long moment. “What do you think is causing the problems?”

  “I don’t know.” Duchene’s smile slipped, just for a second. “My staff comprises one of the most remarkable collections of magical knowledge and experience in the world. We checked everything we could think of, then consulted with the Sisterhood, the White Council and the other schools. There’s nothing, as far as we can tell, influencing the school. And yet... something is clearly wrong.”

  Her eyes hardened. “It isn’t uncommon for the girls to go through patches of bad behavior, particularly when the Gentleman arrives. Damia believes this is just another bad patch, no better or worse than the rest, but very awkwardly timed. It is vitally important that the conference goes ahead without a hitch, Emily. That’s why I invited Barb in the first place, over the objections of most of my staff.”

  She stood. “Keep your eyes open,” she said. “And, until you can sort matters out for us, welcome to my staff.”

  Emily shook her hand, sensing a remarkable amount of power hidden behind the old woman’s smile. Void had told her to be wary of people who smiled too much, but it was hard to believe the older woman was any threat. She looked warm and welcoming and stood in stark contrast to her deputy. It was hard to believe that Duchene and Damia actually managed to work together.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Duchene laughed. “Let me know if you still feel that way this time next week,” she said, opening the door with a flick of her wrist. “Teaching is not easy, Emily. It takes a special kind of mind to actually make it work. It’s possible Scarlett Robyn just decided she couldn’t handle it any longer and fled. It has happened before.”

  Sure, Emily thought, as she stepped through the door. And maybe she was up to something really nasty.

  “Emily.” Damia looked slightly more relaxed as she beckoned to her. “Come with me.”

  Emily followed, noting how the wards grew tighter as they walked up a final set of stairs and down a long corridor. The doors were unmarked and seemingly unlocked, but she doubted anyone would be able to enter without permission. Whitehall’s students had made a game of trying to break into the staff bedrooms... Laughter, she suspected, did the same. Damia walked down the corridor, stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. The room was smaller than her chambers in Void’s tower, with a simple wooden bed and mattress, a desk, a pair of chairs and a door that - she assumed - led to the bathroom. She peeked inside and frowned. There was a toilet, a shower and little else.

  “You’ll find clothes in the wardrobe and lesson plans in the desk drawers,” Damia said, as Emily put her bag on the bed. “The dresses are charmed to fit you automatically. You shouldn’t have any problems with them. The lesson plans are a little more complicated, so read them carefully before you follow me into class tomorrow. You’ll be demonstrating spells, so if you need to brush up on any of them there’s a spellchamber just next door. I don’t think you’ll have any problems giving the lecture - you can just drone from the notes if you like - but make sure you understand it before you go into class. There’re a bunch of girls who keep trying to trip me up.”

  Emily swallowed. She fought necromancers, yet...

  Damia sat on one of the chairs and met Emily’s eyes. “Three things to bear in mind at all times,” she said. “First, the girls will challenge you. They’ll push to see how much you’ll let them get away with, which can be maddening at times. Don’t show fear, and remember --you’re not allowed to actually kill them. You’re authorized to dispense detentions and limited
amounts of corporal punishment - the guidelines are in the handbooks - but serious offenders are to be sent to the gym mistress. And don’t let them fool around with dangerous spells. That’s the prime cause of accidents.”

  No shit, Emily thought, hiding her irritation. She’d come to do Lady Barb a favor, not... You’re talking to me as though I was a naughty schoolgirl.

  “Second, remember you are a teacher,” Damia continued, in the same tone. “There is a line between you and your charges. Do not cross that line. You are not personally involved in their affairs and you are not to become personally involved. You’re the same age as some of the oldest students, but you are not on their level. Some of them will want to be your friend, or more than your friend. Don’t let them. If you feel the line blurring, talk to me or the headmistress. We’ll provide advice and assistance if you need it.”

  “Void said the same thing,” Emily said.

  Damia’s lips thinned. “Third, men are rarely permitted within the school. They are explicitly not permitted between sundown and sunrise. There are currently no male tutors and, if there were, they would be banished to the Guesthouse every night. You are not to bring any male friends of yours back here. If you feel the need for male company” - she grimaced - “you can satisfy it in the town. A student who brings a male into the school will be suspended, if not expelled. A teacher would be immediately fired, without recourse. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” Emily said, coldly. “I understand.”

  “Good,” Damia said. “If you want female company, be discreet. The students are not to see their teachers as sexual beings. We are on different levels and it is to stay that way.”

  “I understand.” Emily felt a flash of irritation. She’d gotten the message already. “Am I required to use different washrooms too?”

  “Yes,” Damia said, flatly. “There are washrooms set aside for tutors. Students are not allowed to enter unless they’re desperate. Tutors are not permitted to use the student washrooms, but they can enter if someone is crying for help. Expect a bunch of sharp questions if you enter.”

  She stood and walked over to the window. “The charms can be adjusted to let the air in or out, as you wish. Once you learn how to fly, you’ll be able to glide out of your room and take to the air. Until then, be careful. You do not want to plunge to your death.”

  “No.” Emily stood beside her. “That would be embarrassing.”

  She smiled as she stared into the open air. The rear courtyard was larger than the maps had suggested, opening onto a giant pool. Beyond the pool - and the walls - she could see a valley hidden within the mountains, caught between the two castles. It was hard to be sure, but it looked as if the valley couldn’t be entered without going through one of the two castles first. Unless one flew...

  “That’s the Silent Woods,” Damia said. “You are welcome to spend some time there, if you wish to meditate. The girls harvest it for potion ingredients, when they’re not trying to live off the land for a day or two. Or you could climb to the Redoubt when you have a few hours to yourself. The view is quite spectacular.”

  Emily looked at her. “What happened to the castle?”

  “We don’t know,” Damia said. She smiled, for the first time. “There are lots of theories, Emily. Some people say it was destroyed during the wars. Others say there was once a men-only school in the castle and they blew it up. And still others say the castle was built there to keep something down and one day it just got up. The truth? We just don’t know.”

  She turned and headed for the door. “I’ll have one of the girls bring you some lunch,” she said. “Study the paperwork carefully and make a note of any questions you might want to ask. I’ll come back for you at dinnertime, when I’ll introduce you to the rest of the staff and help you prepare for your first lesson. Until then...”

  Emily grinned and sat back on the bed. “Until then.”

  Chapter Eight

  EMILY WAITED UNTIL LADY DAMIA WAS gone, then lay back on the bed, closed her eyes and meditated until her temper was firmly under control. Damia’s attitude grated on her more than she cared to admit. Emily was a grown woman, even if she hadn’t completed her apprenticeship yet. She grimaced. Legally, she was a child and would be one until she gained her mastery or abandoned the apprenticeship... and yet, physically she was an adult. Duchene had noted that Damia didn’t believe there was a real problem, but... it was strikingly rude. And yet... Emily sighed to herself. Damia was old enough to be her mother, if not her grandmother, but she hadn’t achieved anywhere near as much as Emily herself.

  I founded Heart’s Eye University, Emily thought. Does that make me Duchene’s social equal or her superior?

  She put the thought aside as she opened her mind and reached out with her senses. The castle was thrumming with magic, wards pervading the walls. She concentrated, tracing the spells as they monitored the students and their use of magic. They seemed less extensive than Whitehall’s wards, although there were little improvements and spell nexuses that didn’t appear to have any discernible purpose. But there was nothing that might be influencing the students. No hint of subtle magic, no taint of demonic influence... nothing.

  You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, Emily thought, as she tested the wards. It didn’t feel as though she was being spied on, although that was meaningless. A skilled wardcrafter could hide a scrying spell within the wards protecting the dorms and it would be very hard to find. If the answer was simple, someone else would have figured it out by now.

  She focused her mind, adapting the wards to suit herself. The charm holding the door closed was very basic. It wouldn’t stand up to a junior student, let alone a senior. Emily tightened the charm, then added a couple of privacy wards and a handful of trap spells. She had no intention of setting a lethal booby trap, but she didn’t want students poking through her room either. If they were going to sneak into her room, they’d have to work for it. The charms on the window were much stronger, she noted. Clearly, someone had already thought of flying up to the window and climbing inside.

  Someone knocked on the door. Emily opened her eyes, stood and walked to the door. A young girl - she couldn’t be older than sixteen, almost certainly a new magician - stood there, holding a plate of sandwiches, a pot of something hot and steamy and an empty mug. Emily took it, thanked her gravely and watched as the student hurried away without even waiting for a tip. She supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her. The prospectus made it clear the students were expected to do their own chores, even wash their own clothes. There was probably a rota of students who worked on weekends.

  She carried the tray to the table and put it down, then picked up the books and documents and started to read as she munched the sandwiches. Lady Damia had snapped out details, as if she’d wanted to get through the basics as quickly as possible; the books detailed the school protocols and operations in much more detail. The teacher’s handbook was particularly detailed, promising an induction weekend for any new victims... sorry, teachers. Emily scowled at the weak joke. Her predecessor had probably had more than enough time to prepare for the job. No wonder Lady Damia was annoyed. A great deal of time had been wasted. And she’d have to waste even more preparing Emily for the job.

  Emily finished her sandwiches, but kept reading. The handbooks went into great detail about how the school actually functioned, yet... she couldn’t help thinking that some details were lacking. The school would have evolved over the years, she was sure. She was mildly surprised someone hadn’t bothered to produce a new handbook, if that were true. The cost of printing had fallen rapidly as new and improved printing presses came into use, only to be improved upon and replaced in their turn.

  The wards quivered. Emily looked up, just as someone knocked on the door. She stood and opened it, then moved aside to let Lady Damia step inside. The older woman looked around and nodded in approval, then glanced at the pile of documents and the bag, still resting on the bed. Emily couldn’t tell if she wanted to m
ake a pointed remark or not. She wasn’t a student, with a duty to keep her room clean. She was a grown adult in her own right.

  “The tutors are about to meet for dinner,” Lady Damia said, stiffly. “It would be a nice opportunity for you to meet your new workmates.”

  And that means attendance is compulsory, Emily thought. She hated socializing with strangers, not least because she didn’t know what to say, but she doubted she had a choice. Besides, it would be better to meet the staff without the students around. They might be more human if they’re not dealing with misbehaving kids.

  “I’ll come,” she said. “Should I change?”

  “Not tonight, as you are new,” Lady Damia said. “We expect you to wear formal dresses starting from tomorrow.”

  Emily nodded and allowed the older woman to lead her out of the room and through a maze of corridors. The wards hummed around her, creating the impression there were sections of the building she’d be denied. Lady Damia paused long enough to point out the room assigned to Scarlett Robyn, sealed with a pair of high-grade charms, and remark that Emily would have to search it sooner rather than later. Emily doubted she’d find anything - the staff would have gone over it in clinical detail - but she knew she’d have to try. It would be careless in the extreme to leave the room untouched. Besides, it might also tell her why her predecessor had rushed off.

  She sucked in her breath as Lady Damia opened a door and led her into the staffroom. It was surprisingly cozy, the combination of old armchairs and warm lights giving the impression the room was a great deal smaller than it actually was. Emily couldn’t help finding it charming. She’d sneaked into the staffroom at Whitehall when she’d been in fourth year and she’d thought it was excessively formal, to the point she’d wondered if the students had been tricked. They might have a tradition of breaking into the staff quarters, but the staff had no obligation to make it easy for them. If they’d concealed the real staffroom...