Later, May would wonder if the tea was drugged as she found herself telling him everything, her wishes, her dreams, the things she had done to move toward them from destroying a kid’s life at college to gain a scholarship to cheating on exams to stealing from her employer. He said little but asked a question or two. Finally, he asked, “So what will you do to gain power?”
For once in her life she answered truthfully. “Anything.”
He suggested some specifics, each fouler than the previous. She agreed to each. She would really do anything to get the power and wealth she wanted. He nodded.
“The course of study is this. For three years, you are a supplicant. We will teach you the small magics, and there will be tests and tasks. Fail in them and you are out. After three years, you will make an offering to the King of the World, and if accepted, you will enter the inner door. There for seven years you will learn the dark sciences and deep magics. At the end, of those that survive, the King takes one of every six as his due. The rest of you are then free to go where you will.”
It seemed damned cult-like, and she was about to say something, when he smiled, and said, “Of course, right now you see no reason to believe we are, as you Americans say, for real.”
He paused for a minute and said, “In your purse, you have a bar of Godiva chocolate you’ve eaten some off.” He gestured and said a word under his breath. “Take it out.”
May reached in her purse and found the bar. It seemed strangely heavy. She took it out and at his nod, unwrapped it. It appeared to be gold metal.
“Take that to a jeweler and you will find it is twenty-four carat gold. Ask your dentist to check the bite, and he will tell you it matches your teeth.”
He gestured again, and she felt a wave of lust rush over her for the girl who'd walked her in. Another, and she was filled with hatred for her. Then a third, and she was back to normal, not caring about the servant at all.
“Things of this world are the King’s to command. Materials, emotions, what fools called luck. Go now. Your classes start next week and will require several nights a week. It will be hard, and if you are strong enough, you will be accepted into the School.
“One man sold his co-religionists and his family to a government the King favored, and he is now one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. A young woman betrayed her father and her first husband and then married a man from an important family who she secretly despised, leading him to betray his family, his country, and his duties. She has been given fame and wealth.”
He stared directly into her eyes and asked, “Questions?”
“You said the King?”
“Humans anthropomorphize everything. It works better using words like that, but it’s all just energy. Another educated knows there is no God or devil, anymore than there is a Santa.”
He paused and looked at her carefully. “Our path is only for the strong and ruthless, for the weak are trampled. Go. My sla… my secretary will give you the address.”
May left. As she did, the girl handed her a black envelope. Inside was an address, a date, and a time.
May didn’t even think about the tasks when the jeweler finished looking at the bar. He told her what seven ounces of gold was worth, but the artwork, the craftsmanship in making the chocolate bar, complete with a bite mark made it worth ten times as much. The next three jewelers gave similar numbers. The last, an old Jewish man wearing the funny cap, looked at the bar and refused to handle it. He also asked her to leave immediately.
Superstitious old fool. He’d get paid for treating her like that.
She went to the first class, held in an underground room in the Short North. The room was dark. Deep School was taught in total darkness, even the supplicant classes. The table was heavy wood and scarred, and the seven members of her class sat around it. The chair was rough and uncomfortable. A single candle burned at the table. The first order of business was signing the initial contract.
She read it quickly. She was promising to faithfully attend classes, to do all the tasks given her, and to attend all special ceremonies. May laughed to herself. It’s like those silly student agreements with private religious schools. What crap.
Signing it in blood was different, through.
Lessons were written on a wall or a board or the wall in a glowing ink that faded with time. She was expected to copy everything perfectly. The papers they used were burned after each class. Lessons had to be learned by heart. Not being letter perfect got one punished. Mockery at first; later, pain would be inflicted.
Words were taught in languages long dead or unknown to her. Many were strange, throat-mauling sounds that did not sound like any human language.
When she asked the instructor about why, she was told this was like kindergarten, where she would be prepared so she could learn. She would create her grimoire if she passed through initiation. Until then, all was rote.
They were taught small spells to practice, little glamors to make her more likable: hexes to make others have bad luck, incantations to summon small imps to give her knowledge of things she couldn’t see. She used all at work, and her success in her career continued. People who were in her way got sick at unfortunate times, and bad luck haunted rivals. Favors were easier to get.
May walked past the conference room and waved at John through the window. He nodded back, but she noticed the room went silent. She headed back to her office, a simple room with one window near the outer wall. It was sparsely decorated and mostly utilitarian. The chair and desk were standard office furniture, the bookcase of gray metal contained some work books, a few binders, a small plush panda, and one or two trinkets to give it the appearance she was invested in working here, She'd got them at a flea market when someone had commented her office was sterile-looking. She also got a picture frame and cut a photo of a smiling man out of a magazine. “The boyfriend.”
Closing and locking the door, she took her cup of black coffee from the desk and put it on a piece of paper. She drew a double circle and a pentagram around it and chanting the spell, added the names between the circles. She then pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall into the coffee.
The surface changed to cloudy, and she said the last part of the spell. Suddenly, it was as if he was on the ceiling of the conference room looking down. John, Greg, Josh and Carol sat around the table.
“She’s not that bad. May’s just driven and a bit weak in people skills,” John said.
“Whatever you call it,” Josh replied, “she’s very set in always getting her way and tends to run over people. Makes her hard to deal with.”
“And if she were a guy, that would be fine,” Carol said. “My concern is: does she get her work done? Greg, you haven’t said anything.”
“I don’t like to judge,” Greg said.
May snarled to herself. She hated Greg, that damned Goodie-Two-Shoes. His desk was covered with religious crap, and she heard he went to Mass most days. He was supposed to be activity in charities and pro-life stuff, too. Just being near him made her skin crawl. Just another old man hiding behind a facade of niceness when she knew what he really wanted.
Carol spoke and pulled May back from her thoughts. “Greg, I need to know what you think. We’re thinking of promoting her.”
Greg nodded and fiddled around under the table. He was probably messing with that rosary he carried.
“Josh is right, and it has nothing to do with her sex,” Greg finally said. “She just treats people poorly. She also makes a big deal of working hard, but there isn’t that much to show for it if you look for an ROI. I dunno.”
May clapped her hands and releases the spell. She was livid. How dare that fucking fossil from another age question her? She took deep breaths and broke the circle. Grabbing another piece of paper, she cut her finger and started drawing another pattern. This one in blood.
The next day, she heard the news and acted as shocked as the rest. There was a horrible accident near the office yesterday nigh
t. John, Josh, and Carol had been killed in a car crash as they went to dinner after work. Greg, in the same car, had been bruised up but miraculously survived mostly unharmed. She pretended she was glad of that at least.
At least until she got to her office. Then the door closes, she raged about the hex misfiring. Yeah, it killed Josh, the asshole, but it also caught her mentor, Carol, and missed that damned bastard, Greg. She didn’t know what she did wrong, but she’d find out.
When she got a chance at her next class, she asked about people who the spells didn’t take on. Not only did the hex spare Greg, but her attempt to enchant him and get him either on her side or in her bed failed, too. He was polite, not friendly but not rude, and she ended up with quite a headache.
“Interesting question,” the instructor said, turning his white-eyed gaze on her. “There are a couple of possibilities: one, he is stronger in the craft than you, or two, he has a patron who shields him.”
“So there is nothing I can do?” May asked.
“Not at your level. Once you enter the Deep School, there are greater spells and curses that can open him up to your attacks. For now, you would do best to avoid him.”
“What about mundane methods like accusations of harassment or something?” May didn’t want to give up.
“Risky. Depending on how strong his protections, they might backfire. Your attempt, and the fact it got three other people says it worked, will have activated them.”
May wasn’t happy, but she figured sooner or later Greg would slip up. Until then, or until she learned the greater spells, she’d avoid him.
As they were told that first night, there were tasks, which started small like stealing a little something from work. They got bigger as time went on. Some weren’t bad; some, like the orgy she participated in, were kind of fun although some of it was degrading, and one of her classmates wept openly afterwards. Others were disgusting or sickening. One time, they were told to get an animal from a shelter and kill it. One of her classmates balked.
“Why?” he asked. “The dog hasn’t done anything to me, and, well, it’s a dog.”
“Because you need to learn to be detached from emotions and caring. To succeed on this path requires ruthlessness and strength.
“But you want me to vivisect it! To make it suffer for no reason!”
“Yes. We do,” the instructor said. “Are you refusing?”
“Damn right. This is fucking nuts,” the man said, rising.
Two other instructors grabbed his arms and dragged him off. May wasn’t sure what happened, but she heard him screaming and then crying through the rest of the class. Served him right. If the pussy wasn’t strong enough, he shouldn’t be here.
Later, she thought she saw him in a homeless camp near the outside of town, looking like he was drugged out of his mind. She did the assignment. Hers was a kitten, and while she threw up afterwards, she completed it. Somehow, she knew the instructors could tell if she didn’t.
Several months later, when there were only four of them remaining in her class, she was told to find someone and betray them. One of her classmates set her father up for child abuse. Another framed his coworker for child porn, while the third set up his boss for embezzlement. She decided to use this to get rid of Angie, the HR supervisor she was having an affair with. It was getting tiring, pretending to care for the old cow. She must have been thirty-five by now, and the kids she’d had took their toll on her body.
May suggested they find a way to sneak away for a long weekend in Cabo or someplace warm. Anyplace that wasn’t boring old Columbus. Angie was excited and suggested they could attend a conference in San Antonio on diversity training. While not May’s department, Angie could request that someone from management come too.
They spent three days drinking and partying in San Antonio while pretending to be at the Conference. Like many of these, the Conference posted everything online, and your attendance and continuing ed certificates were issued the first day. After the conference ended, May was seriously tired of Angie.
As they drove down to Nuevo Laredo, Angie was getting a bit of the jitters.
“You sure this is safe? There is horrible stuff on the news about Northern Mexico.”
“Angie, I’m shocked.” May pretended to be upset. “You sound like one of those redneck Republican trumpkins we have in the office.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that. You just read things…”
Angie spent the rest of the ride trying to convince May that she wasn’t a bigot. By the time they got to the bridge, she was nearly in tears. May relented enough that she calmed down by the time they cleared customs and drove over the border.
The place they, well Angie, was checked into was a bit rundown, but May pushed the idea of the authentic experience. Internally she was screaming at what a clueless and dip this woman was. They dumped their bags in the room, and May dragged Angie out for drinks and dinner.
Mostly drinks. And by the time they headed back to the hotel, she barely needed to add the roofie to one of Angie’s drinks. As they staggered inside, she saw the gang member she had made contact with waiting in the lobby. She hustled Angie into their room and left her lying on the bed. Hustling back downstairs, she slipped the bellman one hundred bucks to tell the gangster the room number and that she would meet him there. She then hurried outside and grabbed the car.
By midnight, she was back at the conference hotel, where she’d never checked out from. She amused herself by using a charm and a bit of Angie’s hair to watch what was being done to her by the gang members. Then, smiling, she went to bed. Served the bitch right.
A week after May returned to the office, the police called to talk to her about Angie’s disappearance. Two detectives turned up, a man and a woman. She told them the prearranged story, that they had gone to the conference and then run over the border for a day. Angie had decided to stay longer; maybe she was meeting her husband?
While she was talking to them, she drew the figure and cast the charm for belief. By the time the conversation was over, she could tell the police officers believed Angie was involved in an affair. There were apparently indications in her personal effects. May told him how they had been friends; and she hinted at a boyfriend, but she really didn’t know. As she did this, she traced the glyphs of the charm again on her leg. When the officers finally left, they were comforting her over the loss of her friend.
That night was not a class night, so May hit the clubs to relax. She planned to drink a lot more than she should, dance, and enjoy herself. Not that she wanted to take some guy home like she used to; the sex at the school had kinda killed her interest in that. She needed to blow off some steam and make a decision. She was about to have to decide if she wanted to really study in the deep school or were the small magics enough?
The true Deep School would mean leaving her career and her life for seven years. That was scary, since she'd started this to improve her career. It would also require mutilation, specifically removing her left nipple with her own hand and offering it to the flames. And then there was the risk that one student would be enslaved by the Devil at the end. But all those that survived and graduated became wealthy and powerful.
She was lost in these thoughts when she stepped off the curve in front of the bus.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise and a burst of pain, and she was standing looking at her body under the tire of the bus. She noticed it was hot, and when she lifted her hands, they were shackled with chains of iron. She heard a noise behind her, and Dr. Faustus was there, standing in front of a shapeless shadow.
“What…” May stared around and everything seemed to be on fire. It hurt.
“Welcome to hell,” Faustus said. “You belong to us now.”
“But I didn’t take the oath,” May whimpered. “And why does everything hurt.”
“You didn’t need to. Your actions damned you. Your soul was the tuition. The rest was just window dressing.” Faustus laughed, but it was a grim and p
ainful laugh. “This pain is the presence of that accused God. Without the flesh to mask us, we can always feel His presence as a burning flame.”
“But, but…you said there was no God. There was just energy”
“I lied. Just like your modern world does.”
May started to cry. Dr. Faustus gestured and two demonic creatures grabbed her.
“Oh, shut up,” he said. “Like me, you chose this, except your soul grants me ten more years in the flesh.”
Denton Salle travels a lot and spends many hours on planes and in airports to stay in strange and lonely places. Since they won’t allow his fun hobbies, he writes. It’s really just an extension of his tendency to tell lies and tall tales. While his interests run from the gamut from outdoor sports to crafts to cooking, his day job involves hard science. Previous fiction works include Daemonic Mechanical Artifacts and Thawing Hearts as well as short stories in Impossible Hope and Sol.
Gennady’s Tale
Christopher G. Nuttall
In the world of Schooled in Magic, common-born magicians leave their homes when they come into their powers and travel to one of the magical schools to learn magic. By the time Emily entered Whitehall, the process of transforming a commoner into a magician was well-understood and their stories generally ended happily.
This story, set roughly fifteen years before Schooled in Magic, is not one of them.
Gennady’s Tale
A Schooled in Magic novella
Chapter 1
“Clubfoot! Clubfoot!”
Gennady stayed low as he ran into the undergrowth, trying to put as much distance between him and his father as possible. The man had come home blind drunk, as always, and would beat Gennady to a pulp if his father caught him before the drink finally sent his father into a drunken stupor. He’d been drinking more than usual lately, ever since Huckeba—Gennady’s elder brother—had married some poor girl from the neighbouring village and moved into her shack with his in-laws. Someone had probably reminded him that his son was a cripple, a disabled boy in a world that cared nothing for disabled boys, and he’d gone home to take out his frustrations on his son.
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 33
