She hadn’t been sure how many students Alassa would manage to rope into the tryouts, but there were nearly fifty pupils gathered in front of her. Alassa was standing on a small stool so that everyone could see her, waving and smiling at everyone. Emily almost turned and walked away; she disliked large crowds at the best of times, and if there were so many potential players her friend hardly needed her. But it was important to Alassa that Emily at least tried to play.
“Welcome,” Alassa said, in her best regal manner. “How many of you have played before?”
Several hands went up. Emily blinked in surprise, then understood. She had been excused Whitehall’s counterpart to PE because she did Martial Magic, but just about everyone else would have taken part in gym class. Or, as Calvin had put it, studies in state-sponsored terrorism. Emily had never liked the experience. The only people who did were the ones who would have done it anyway.
“Excellent,” Alassa said. She gestured towards a small pile of balls just outside the arena. “We’ll start with a simple exercise. Twelve of us”—she jabbed her hand at eleven students, including Emily—will run through the arena. Everyone else will throw balls into the cage and we’ll try to dodge them. We won’t bother with the advanced settings this time, we’ll just see how we fare when dodging balls.”
Emily looked up at the arena, silently admiring the spellwork that had gone into its construction. From the outside, it seemed to be little more than a faintly translucent cage; inside, it was a network of tunnels, hallways and climbing frames. The local gravity was twisted around too, ensuring that there would be times when the students would be upside down. It wasn’t quite as impressive as Whitehall itself—and she suspected that it would be impossible to duplicate away from a nexus point—but it was striking.
“Here we go,” Alassa said, as she opened the gate. “Come along inside...”
Emily stepped into the arena and felt her foot sink slightly. The interior of the arena was semi-visible, but it didn’t feel quite right, almost like one of the safety wards surrounding the spellwork chambers she’d used when they’d been experimenting with hexes and jinxes. She poked the wall with one finger and felt it pushing back. If she crashed into it, it would protect her from the force of the impact—and throw her back. The few games she’d watched had included several players using it to best advantage.
She felt uneasy as she walked further into the arena, as if she were balancing on top of an unstable boat. The floor kept shifting between her feet, making it harder to concentrate. No doubt she would get used to it eventually—she’d gotten used to quite a few things in Whitehall—but it was still disconcerting. The realization that the outsiders could throw things into the arena was just as worrying.
“They’ve put a labyrinth spell on the arena,” the Gorgon’s voice said. “We might not be able to leave unless we wanted to leave—or were forced out.”
Emily twisted around, wondering why she hadn’t realized that the Gorgon was there. She wore a headscarf that covered her snake hair; without them, her face wasn’t too inhuman, or scaly. Emily couldn’t help thinking of the Death Viper and wondering what would happen if one of the Gorgon’s snakes bit her, before deciding that she was being silly. There were more important things to worry about.
Alassa blew her whistle and the outsiders started throwing balls into the arena. There must have been a spell on them, Emily realized, because the balls simply kept going. Sometimes, they bounced off the walls and something they went right through the walls; there was no reliable cover inside the arena at all. Emily snatched out at a ball that flashed past her, only to miss and land sprawling on her face. The Gorgon landed beside her, helped her back to her feet and winked. It wasn’t very reassuring.
“If you get hit by a ball,” Alassa said, using a spell to magnify her voice, “go stand in the penalty box for a minute. And don’t lie about it.”
Emily rolled her eyes, then concentrated on dodging the next two balls that came in her general direction. She’d never been very good with ball games, even when the games didn’t warp the laws of physics. Catching the balls seemed impossible, despite everything they’d done in Martial Magic. She made a grab for a third ball, only to have it slam into her chest and send her falling over backwards on her ass. Red lights lit up as the outsiders jeered.
“Penalty box,” Alassa said.
Emily felt her face burning red as she pulled herself through the arena and into the penalty box. The sadist who’d crafted the arena had placed it right at the top, where she could be seen by everyone in the stands. Thankfully, the outsiders were too busy throwing balls into the arena to take much notice of Emily, but during real games the spectators would point and laugh—and sometimes throw things, when the referee wasn’t looking.
She scowled at Alassa, who seemed to be having no trouble dodging the balls or catching them and hurling them at the nearest target. Why had her friend suddenly become a sports-mad fanatic? Maybe King Randor had urged her to take on the job of crafting a new team for Whitehall...it would certainly make a change from jousting or rugby. But then, Alassa had never been allowed to do either in Zangaria. Perhaps she’d come up with the idea of founding a new team on her own.
“Hey,” Song called. “I’m in, you’re out.”
Emily nodded and allowed Song to take her place in the penalty box. Alassa’s roommate looked to be enjoying herself; Emily almost offered to stay there and let her go free, before she decided that it was probably against the rules. She wasn’t clear on the precise details, but ideally the better players should be trapped in the penalty box as long as possible. Or hexed, when the referee was looking in the other direction. Teamwork was more important to Ken than she’d realized.
And we haven’t even started including traitors yet, she thought, ruefully. When that happens, things are going to get worse.
Alassa finally blew the whistle to end the game after what felt like hours. A quick check of her watch revealed that it had barely been fifteen minutes. Emily left the arena gratefully, feeling sweat trickling down her back again. She sat down on the bench and watched tiredly as Alassa organized the next set of players to go into the arena. It was hard to see how Alassa would make the final decision on who would play and who wouldn’t.
As long as she doesn’t want me, Emily thought. She must have noticed that I didn’t play well.
Watching the second match was slightly more interesting than actually taking part, she decided, even though it looked thoroughly odd. The arena’s walls seemed to shimmer in and out of visibility, then reshape themselves at will. Emily wondered, as one of the other players started to run upside down, if she’d done that without even noticing. The constant shifts had rapidly made it impossible for her to keep track of her own orientation.
Imaiqah sat down beside her. “I think I did all right,” she said, reluctantly. “But I never liked playing it before.”
“I guess it’s better if you’re playing with friends,” Emily said. Perhaps she would have enjoyed herself more if Alassa hadn’t been so determined to found her own team. But then, she’d always been happier by herself—or with one or two friends. “How do you decide who’s better?”
“Alassa was saying that it was the ones who stayed in the game the longest who won,” Imaiqah explained. “But someone could just hide...”
Emily nodded, watching as the second game came to an end. A handful of students stumbled off, looking tired and dispirited, but there were still enough players to form three whole teams. It struck her that some of them might form their own teams too, following in Alassa’s footsteps—there was certainly no rule against it. But would the older, more established teams try something to deter them?
She rolled her eyes. Life was definitely much simpler when she hadn’t even thought about team games.
“Good work, all of you,” Alassa said. “Third match, now; sudden death. If you get hit with a ball thrown by another player, you’re out. The remaining players when we get down to
twelve will be the first team. And then we start practicing in earnest.”
Emily sighed and climbed to her feet, looking over at the Gorgon. “Didn’t Lin want to come?”
“She was studying in our room,” the Gorgon explained. “She didn’t even want to go down for dinner.”
The arena opened up in front of them, even though there were nearly three times as many players this time. Alassa tossed balls upwards, where the magic fields caught them and started to project them into the arena at random. Emily wasn’t sure what happened if a player was hit by a ball thrown by the arena itself, but she didn’t want to find out. It was probably something that fans like Alassa considered obvious.
She picked up a ball that rolled past her and looked around. The arena seemed determined to make it harder for her to see the other players this time; she caught sight of the Gorgon, briefly, but when she hurled the ball it ricocheted off an invisible wall. A loud chime rang through the arena as the first player was knocked out, followed rapidly by a second. Emily saw something moving out of the corner of her eye and ducked, sharply, as a ball flew over her head. She grabbed the ball as it bounced back at her and threw it at a young male student she vaguely recognized from Advanced Charms. He caught it neatly, grinned at her, and then launched the ball towards her with all of his might. Emily started to dodge, but it caught her in the side before she could escape. Another chime rang through the arena as the magic reconfigured itself, creating an invisible slide that evicted her from the playing field.
“Hard luck,” a voice said. “Happens to us all.
Emily looked up to see Cat. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking out the competition,” Cat explained, without a hint of shame. “You never know; your royal friend might just be the ideal player for my team.”
Emily looked over at Alassa, who was doing an impression of Sergeant Harkin while preparing to throw a ball at the next target, and then looked back at Cat. “You’re talent-spotting?”
“Of course,” Cat said. “I’m a sixth year now, don’t you know? I won’t even be here next year. If I can find the teammates who will take the team further—after I’m gone, of course—it will look very good on my resumé.”
He gave her a smug smile that made Emily want to hit him. “Some people here with talent,” he noted happily. “What will your friend say if we lure them away?”
Emily shrugged. “Is that even legal?”
“There’s no rule against it,” Cat said. “Of course, the original rulebook was lost years ago, so it is possible that there was such a rule...”
“And someone junked the book so they could break it,” Emily said. She had a private suspicion that Ken, the wizard who had created the game and then named it after himself, had actually pulled several different games together, but there was no way to know. “What can you actually offer the players?”
Cat shrugged. “Fame and glory?”
Emily laughed. She had fame and glory—and they weren’t really what she’d wanted. Alassa was a Royal Princess. Neither of them could really be boosted by playing Ken. And if someone else decided to leave Alassa’s team to join an older one...well, it wasn’t as if she were short of volunteers to play.
“Best of luck,” Cat said, as he turned away. “You’ll need it.”
Emily snorted as the final chime rang out, signaling that the number of players in the game had been reduced to twelve. Alassa had made it, naturally, as had the Gorgon, Alassa’s two roommates—and Imaiqah. Emily felt an odd pang as she realized that her friends were going to be spending their evenings practicing the game, rather than spending time studying with her. After finally making friends...she was going to be left alone again.
Maybe I should have tried harder, she thought sourly, as she walked over to where Alassa was handing out practice schedules. But I tried as hard as I could.
“You four will be in the reserves,” Alassa said, to the last four students to be evicted from the arena. “If one of the players can’t make it, you can take their place.”
She looked over at Emily as the rest of the players started to head towards the showers. “I can still put you on the team...”
Emily hesitated. She hadn’t enjoyed the game, not really. And yet, the thought of being left alone was...unpleasant.
“I think it would be obvious that you were showing favoritism,” she said, finally. It was true, after all. “I didn’t make the team fairly.”
“I suppose not,” Alassa said. She reached out and took Emily’s arm, leading her back towards the school. “And thank you for trying. You’re welcome to help with planning, if you want.”
She leaned closer. “Or is there something from your home that can help?”
“Probably not,” Emily said. It wasn’t as if she’d spent time following sports on Earth. “And I don’t qualify as a cheerleader.”
Alassa blinked. “A cheerleader?”
Emily hesitated, then tried to explain. “They’re girls who dress up in skimpy clothes and cheer for the team,” she said, after a moment’s thought. There was probably more to it than that, but she hadn’t bothered to follow the cheerleaders either. She had certainly never been considered to join the team—and wouldn’t have wanted to if she had. “I think it’s meant to encourage the players.”
Alassa snorted. “And distract them so they run into the walls and suchlike?”
“Probably,” Emily said. “I really don’t know much about them.”
“Maybe not something we need,” Alassa said, after a moment. “Would the spectators be cheering on the team—or the girls?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Emily said. It was easy to think that the spectators might be watching the girls, rather than the players. But the first requirement for being a cheerleader, at least in her opinion, was being brainless...and it was hard to think of anyone at Whitehall who qualified. Brainless magicians, she had been told, never lasted very long. “What else can I do?”
“Help me think of tactics,” Alassa said. She put on a wheedling tone. “Or you could do my coursework while I play.”
Emily gave her a sharp look. Last year, Alassa had bullied Imaiqah into doing her homework—before Emily had nearly killed her, accidentally.
“Not a chance,” she said, finally. “Besides, do we have the same coursework?”
Alassa shrugged as they entered the shower. “I’ve noticed you reading books on everything,” she said, dryly. “I think you probably know more than I do about some things—and I was born here.”
Emily flushed. She had spent plenty of time in the library, just learning as much as she could. There was no shortage of interesting books in Whitehall, although most of them were written on the assumption that their readers didn’t come from a different world. She had already run into several problems caused by her lack of background knowledge, knowledge that any child born near Whitehall would gain instinctively.
“Maybe,” she said, as she started to remove her tunic. Three showers in a day—thankfully, Whitehall didn’t have any restrictions on how much water they could use. There were students, she knew, who came from hovels and had to go back to truly disgusting conditions when term ended. It separated them out from their families, creating a gulf that would be near-impossible to surmount.
Maybe Master Tor has a point, she thought, reluctantly. They have to get to know their new family, because they won’t have much in common with their old one.
She washed and dried herself, then pulled on her robes, wincing slightly as her body started to ache. Between playing Ken and Martial Magic, she had used muscles she hadn’t used in far too long. The sergeant had been right, she realized. She had allowed herself to slip.
“Come and eat,” Alassa said. Somehow, she always managed to look beautiful, even after a communal shower. “And then we can plan how we’re going to win the next game.”
“Cat was watching,” Emily said. She explained quickly. “He even admitted that he was talent-spotting.”
Alassa looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head. “He can’t offer slots on his team to everyone, or he’d destroy it,” she said. “It isn’t really something we need to worry about.”
“True,” Emily agreed. Cat’s team probably had three open slots for new players, after the previous players had graduated. He could only steal three players at most, from people who probably wouldn’t be interested. “Let’s see how it goes.”
Chapter Ten
IT IS LAW,” MASTER TOR SAID, “that is the true embodiment of society.”
Emily listened, fighting down the urge to rub her eyes. Instead of going to bed early after the Ken game and dinner, she had stayed up with Alassa and the other girls, listening as they brainstormed ideas and tactics for their first formal match. In hindsight, she realized, she should have left them and gone to bed herself, but she’d forgotten that she had an early class the following morning. Thankfully, Master Tor didn’t seem to have noticed her tiredness as he swept into the room and took control of the class.
“You will be aware, no doubt, that there are different laws in each of the Allied Lands,” he continued. “One kingdom may forbid something that is enthusiastically practiced in another, which in turn may forbid something that is a vital part of the third’s economy. You are not expected to be familiar with the intricacies of separate kingdoms, at least unless you intend to spend the rest of your lives practicing law. However, you are expected to be familiar with the shared law upheld by the Allied Lands. Can anyone tell me which field that law covers?”
There was a long pause.
“Magic,” Alassa said, finally.
“Correct,” Master Tor said. “Sorcerers are not always bound by local laws, but they are obliged to follow the shared laws of the Allied Lands, which are upheld by the White Council and the Mediators. You are expected to be at least loosely familiar with those laws, as well as a handful of others. Those of you who go on to serve as Mediators will be expected to know the laws thoroughly. Judging will be a vitally important part of your career.”
Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) Page 9
