He forced himself to put the slate aside and walk to the dining room. The cook was a pleasant woman, yet ... he found it hard to like her. She was massively overweight, a sign she was eating more than her fair share of food. He knew, intellectually, that the cook wasn’t stealing from the rest of the household, but it was hard to believe. She ladled out a huge bowl of stew and potatoes, made a comment he barely heard and pointed him at a chair. Gennady ate slowly, trying to think. His headache was growing worse.
It makes no sense, he thought, desperately. His thoughts ran in circles. It just makes no sense.
He caught sight of his own reflection as he finished his meal and stood to pass the tray back to the cook. He looked ... better, he supposed, but still out of place. They’d given him new clothes and trimmed his hair and yet ... his ankle twanged in pain, a dull reminder that they hadn’t bothered to do anything about his clubfoot. It was hard not to resent it, not when he knew he was stronger than any of the other boarders. He’d been comparing himself to Hogarth and his fellows for so long, it had never occurred to him that he might be stronger than a city dweller. It was just a shame that his fellow boarders had magic too.
The thought mocked him as he donned his robe and headed downstairs to the door. The afternoons were put aside for free study, but he’d been told he could walk and clear his head if he wanted. He’d enjoyed exploring the town, once he’d figured out how to move around without getting lost. The town—it was hard to believe there were larger cities out there—was fun, even if one didn’t have money. And yet ... he was alone. He wasn’t part of the city’s population.
And not a student magician, not yet, he mused, as he walked through the muddy street. He’d been cautioned not to walk too close to the buildings. The locals had a habit of throwing the contents of their chamberpots out the windows and anyone unlucky enough to get drenched would be laughed at by everyone else. Where do I belong?
He felt a stab of pain as he spotted a handful of chattering student magicians heading towards the brothel. He wasn’t one of them, not yet. He was careful to give them a wide berth, remembering the horror stories the boarders had shared about pranks played by students on unsuspecting—and defenseless—townsfolk. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Magicians might turn people into frogs rather than beating them up, he thought, but the principle was the same. The strong picked on the weak, who had to grin and bear it. He promised himself, once again, that he’d be one of the strong. The magic pulsed within him, reminding him that he had yet to learn. He needed to understand what he was doing.
I need to find a shortcut, he thought. But how?
The wind changed, blowing an icy gust into his face. Gennady set himself against it and kept walking, even as the streets rapidly cleared. The weather was dangerously unpredictable this close to the magic school, although no one understood why. Gennady suspected the magicians were doing it deliberately, constantly reminding the townsfolk that they could wipe the entire town off the map if they stepped out of line. Bullies always bullied, just to ensure their victims never lost their fear. Weakness invited attack. His fists clenched at the thought. He’d never be weak again.
He turned and made his way back to the boarding house as the temperature continued to fall. He was used to cold, but ... he knew to take winter seriously, even though it was supposed to be early summer. A pair of giggling girls ran past him, one sporting a third eye on her forehead. A prank? Or something she’d done to herself? He didn’t know. Another girl followed, shouting words Primrose would never say. Gennady got out of her way fast. The local women were different and many of them had magic. They had different ideas of how they should behave.
Hogarth wouldn’t last a day here, Gennady thought, as he passed the brothel and walked back into the boarding house. He’d be blasted to smithereens or turned into a snail and crushed within the day.
“Gennady,” Lilly said. The secretary gave him a cold look. “Report to Master Hathaway. He has something for you.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Gennady said. Lilly was at the bottom of the hierarchy, in the boarding house, but he’d always been afraid of her. “Did he say what?”
“No.” Lilly shrugged. “But I’d hurry if I were you.”
Gennady nodded, took off his coat and rushed up the stairs. It wasn’t fair. Master Hathaway hadn’t toldGennady he’d be coming, had he? No, he hadn’t. And yet, Gennady was going to get the blame. He was sure of it. He’d probably been meant to stay in the bedroom or the classroom and wait, even though he’d had no reason to think anyone was coming. It just wasn’t fair.
Master Hathaway looked up as Gennady entered his office, then nodded curtly. He was a tall dark-skinned man, the darkest person Gennady had ever seen. There were quite a few townsfolk who didn’t look anything like Gennady himself, but ... Master Hathaway was the strangest human. The demihumans were even stranger. Gennady had never even heard of a gorgon until he came face to face with a man who had snakes for hair.
“Lady Flower informs me that you are having problems translating your understanding of the words into understanding of complete sentences,” Master Hathaway said. “Is that correct?”
“Yes, My Lord.” Gennady shivered. This was it. He was going to be booted out of the house and sent home in disgrace. “I just can’t put them together.”
“Some people are better at abstract reasoning than practical stuff,” Master Hathaway said. He didn’t sound angry. “Others are more inclined towards practical matters. Your upbringing may lead you to be one of them. I’ve often found your people to be ruthlessly practical.”
“No one is greater than the all,” Gennady quoted, bitterly. It was an old folk saying, one that would have meant more to him if he hadn’t been on the receiving end too many times. It was funny how people had no difficulty suggesting that someone else be selfless, while reserving the right to be selfish themselves. “I don’t want to go home.”
“I quite understand.” Master Hathaway pointed to a chair. “Bring that over here, then sit down.”
Gennady obeyed, watching numbly as Master Hathaway produced a set of tiles and placed them on the desk. “Your problem is that you don’t see a connection between what you read and what it means. Don’t take it too personally. I had the same problem myself. You don’t see meaning and thus you don’t see the pattern behind it.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Gennady hesitated, unsure what he was being told. “How did you overcome it?”
“I learnt the meaning,” Master Hathaway said. He shuffled the tiles, then smiled. “Let’s see how well you do now.”
The exercise seemed foolish at first, Gennady discovered. It was hard to pretend, in many ways, that the tiles really were what they represented. His upbringing didn’t leave much room for flights of fancy, let alone imagination. And yet, as it clicked, he found himself finally seeing the pattern behind the letters and words. The sentences might be cumbersome—Master Hathaway pointed out that sorcerers rarely used one word where ten would do—but they made sense. And the more he worked on it, the more sense they made.
He found himself smiling as the dinner bell rang, again. He’d been so occupied with his work that he hadn’t realised how quickly time was passing. Normally, it dragged. Now ... his smile grew wider as he contemplated the books on the shelves. Their secrets were within his grasp, now and forever. He could unlock them at will.
“You did well,” Master Hathaway said. “Would you like a reward?”
Gennady blinked. A reward? He’d never had a reward before, not even when he’d picked more mushrooms than anyone else. Punishments, sure. Rewards ... a flicker of suspicion shot through his mind. A reward might be a punishment in disguise or ... or simply snatched away, the moment the giver regretted giving. He was scared to clutch at the promise, fearing that it might be a trap ...
“Yes, My Lord,” he said, carefully.
Master Hathaway smiled. “I’m going to teach you a very basic spell,” he said. “Watch and learn.�
��
He held up a hand and muttered a handful of words under his breath. Gennady sensed a flicker of magic—and his own magic, responding to it—as a surge of ... something flashed past him. The walls lit up with an eerie shimmering light, which faded into the background, leaving only a handful of ... he swallowed as he turned to see glowing light pulsing around the doorknobs. The magic called to him, but—at the same time—it pushed him away. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed. “What is it?”
“It’s a spell to detect magic,” Master Hathaway said. The remaining glows faded into nothingness. “You will learn to sense magic, as time goes on, but ... you may find it useful to be able to spot magic without walking into the field and getting stung. It’s quite easy to hide a transfiguration hex on a floor, keyed to trigger when someone puts their foot on it. By the time they sense the magic, it’s too late.”
Gennady swallowed, hard. “That happens?”
“Students practice their magic on each other,” Master Hathaway said, dryly. “You know what they do here? People enchanted? People humiliated? It’s worse in school. Believe me, students are jockeying for position all the time. You’ll have to fight to maintain your boundaries if you want to get anywhere in life. Believe me ...”
“I believe you,” Gennady said. “Teach me the spell.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Master Hathaway said, with heavy sarcasm. “Right away, My Lord.”
Gennady flushed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that to the tutors at school or you won’t be sitting comfortably for years,” Master Hathaway said, dryly. “Listen carefully.”
Gennady listened, mouthing the words as he sensed the magic building and shaping itself around them. The glow flared up, then faded away before he could make out the spells surrounding the room. He knew where they were, but he couldn’t tell what they were. One of them was probably designed to keep intruders out. The others ... he couldn’t tell. They were just ... there.
“We’ll be covering how to take spells apart to study later,” Master Hathaway said. He was watching Gennady’s spellcasting with some amusement. “It’s a rare magician who can untangle and rewrite spells on the fly.”
Gennady cast the spell again and again, grinning to himself as the walls glowed with light. It was a pointless light show, yet ... it was his. He was casting the spell. It was his spell, his magic, his ... his everything. Power bubbled around him, through him. It was all his.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” Master Hathaway advised. The bell rang again, louder this time. “Go eat. Stuff yourself. Tell the cook to give you an extra portion if you need it. And then go straight to bed. I want you here bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Gennady stood and bowed. He’d done it. He’d learnt how to read! He knew ... he knew it wouldn’t be easy, even now, but he’d taken a first step towards becoming a powerful magician. He smiled as he headed out the door, his power crackling around him. His head started to hurt, again, but he ignored it. He had power. For the first time in his life, he had power. Real power. No one would ever be able to humiliate him again. He’d be a man of significance when he returned home. He had power ...
And he loved it.
Chapter 4
“Welcome to Whitehall,” a grim-faced woman said, as Gennady and two of his fellow boarders scrambled out of the carriage. “Make your way through the door and into the Grand Hall, if you please.”
Gennady barely heard her. He was too busy staring. He’d heard so much about Whitehall, over the past few months, that he’d thought he’d known what to expect. He was wrong. Whitehall was massive, a structure that seemed to change every time he blinked ... white walls, topped with glowing towers that seemed to shift in and out of his view ... his head swam as the crowd of students pushed him into the building, down a long corridor and into the Grand Hall. He’d never seen so many people in all his life. Magic hung in the air, crackling with power. His hair tried to stand on end as he clasped his hands behind his back, bracing himself for ... he wasn’t sure. It felt as if everything was going to change.
An aura of power flowed through the chamber as a small man took his place at the podium. Gennady stared. The man was short, with a cloth wrapped around his eyes, but there was an aura of power around him that suggested he was someone to respect. Gennady felt a flash of envy, mingled with a grim determination to equal or match the man’s power himself. He wanted—he needed—to be respected. It was the only thing that would make his life worth living.
“Welcome to Whitehall.” The man spoke in a soft voice that somehow echoed throughout the hall. “For those of you who don’t know me” —there was a hint of amusement in his voice— “I am the Grandmaster.”
He paused. “Whitehall has a long history of teaching magic to students, dating all the way back to the days of Lord Whitehall himself. By entering the building, you join some of the greatest sorcerers and wizards in recorded history. You become heirs to traditions that put us above the common herd, charged with maintaining those traditions and passing them on to the next generation. The school can and will offer you everything. You just need to reach out and take it.”
Gennady felt a thrill of excitement as the speech continued. It was hard to follow some of the Grandmaster’s words, but it didn’t matter. He still felt as if he’d been singled out for something special. Waves of magic drifted through the air, brushing against his newborn senses. Master Hathaway had taught him well. The handful of spells he’d mastered were tiny, he’d been warned, but they were a beginning. He’d do well, he promised himself. He’d make everyone—particularly Primrose—fond of him. His heart ached as he told himself, once again, that he’d be able to go home in the summer. He’d be a sorcerer. They’d all bend the knee to him.
The Grandmaster's speech finally came to an end. He nodded as the new students raised their hands in salute, then stepped through a door and vanished. A taller man stepped up to the podium and peered at them, his eyes cold and hard. Gennady knew, instinctively, that the newcomer wasn’t someone to mess with either. The man looked as if he was permanently on the verge of administering extreme violence to anyone who got in his way. Gennady knew the type. He’d met too many people like that already.
“I am Housemaster Fredrick,” the man said, gruffly. “Tonight, we get you settled into your rooms. Tomorrow, you attend your classes. Try and make this easier for all of us by keeping your questions to yourself. We’ll sort through such matters later.”
He paused, then continued. “Girls, accompany Housemistress Ethel,” Fredrick said. He pointed to an older woman with a nice smile, standing by a large door. “Boys, accompany me.”
Gennady joined the throng as Fredrick stepped off the podium and marched through a separate door without looking back. His fellow students looked either nervous, utterly unsure of themselves, or strikingly confident even though most of them would never have visited the school before. They all wore the same drab robes, covering themselves from head to toe. Gennady wasn’t sure quite what to make of the outfits—they reminded him too much of dresses for his peace of mind—but no one was going to mock him in Whitehall. They all wore the same clothes. The sense of magic grew stronger as they walked up a long flight of stairs, climbing higher and higher until it seemed as if they were on the verge of walking onto the roof. Whitehall was the largest building he’d ever seen. His tutors had told him it was bigger on the inside too.
They passed through a locked door and into another corridor, lined with smaller doors. Orbs of glowing light hung in the air, casting an eerie radiance over the scene. Gennady shivered, despite himself, as he walked under one of the light globes. The magic felt odd, as if it was reaching for him. He thought he felt something hot splattering down his backside, although there was nothing there. It felt as if it would take far too long to get used to the new environment. Dragon’s Den had been reassuringly normal compared to this.
Fredrick came to a halt. �
��Line up,” he ordered. His eyes flashed over the boys, narrowing in disapproval of something. Gennady cringed inwardly, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d done ... if he’d done anything. “I’m only going to say this once. Anyone who doesn’t pay attention will regret it.”
Gennady shivered, helplessly.
“These are the First Year dorms,” Fredrick informed them. “Boys—men—only. Girls have their own dorms, on the other side of the school. They’re not allowed to enter your dorms” —he glared at a pair of boys who moaned in disappointment—“and you’re not allowed to enter theirs. You’re also not allowed to enter any of the other rooms without permission from the occupants—all of the occupants. Your bedroom is your haven. I expect you all to remember that.”
He went on, outlining rule after rule until Gennady started to fear he would never remember them all. Rules for navigating the school, rules for using the libraries, spellchambers and other resources, rules for entering and leaving the dining halls ... there seemed to be a rule for every occasion. Fredrick even added a warning about contraceptive potion, making it clear that the infirmary would supply doses without asking any awkward questions. Gennady snorted inwardly at the very thought. He was saving himself for Primrose. And, even if he wasn’t, it was a point of honour to get one’s wife pregnant as quickly as possible. People would start making pointed remarks if a couple didn’t announce a pregnancy in their first year of marriage.
“Allan, Barr, Bertram,” Fredrick said. “You’ll have the first room.”
Gennady felt another thrill as Fredrick pointed to a room, dispatching the first trio of boys to their lair. It was a shared room, but ... it would be better than the dorms in the boarding house, let alone the shack his family had shared. There would be room to grow, room to ... there would be actual privacy.He wanted it, more than he could say. There had been no privacy back home. There had certainly been nowhere to hide.
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 36
