“Professor Lombardi will be talking to you later on,” Master Tor said. He looked down at the piece of parchment. “I think he will want to go over, again, the sheer folly of a second-year student trying to craft a pocket dimension. What would you have done if it had started to expand uncontrollably? You would have been lucky if you’d only lost everything you put inside it.”
Emily fought to keep her face blank. That was alarmingly close to what she’d done to Shadye.
“Luckily for you, the Grandmaster is merciful enough not to have your stupidity publicly announced at dinnertime,” Master Tor added. “We would prefer that others didn’t get ideas. Still, you are to avoid using magic in Whitehall without supervision—and you are not to be alone in your room, at least until we rescind the ban. Your roommates will not be happy with you.”
Good thing Whitehall doesn’t have house points, the irreverent part of Emily’s mind whispered. They’d have to make up some new numbers...
She sobered. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. All three roommates suffered if one of them was caught misbehaving in the rooms. The Gorgon and Lin would be furious when they found out that Emily was under restriction. They’d have to stay in the room with her or chase her out when they left. It wasn’t going to be pleasant at all.
“No magic at all, unless you’re in immediate life-threatening danger,” Master Tor clarified. “I would suggest that you kept that part of the punishment to yourself.”
Emily felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. Melissa and her cronies hadn’t done anything so far, but she had a nagging feeling that once they had grown accustomed to the stresses of second year they would return to their favorite sport of hexing Alassa and her friends. Not that she could entirely blame Melissa for wanting a little revenge—Alassa had treated her badly, back when she’d been a royal brat—but it could go too far. And it would be worse if she wasn’t allowed to retaliate—or even to cancel the hexes that caught her. She’d have to tell her friends...
...And they would be mad at her too.
“I’ll do my best,” she said, sourly. “I...”
“You might also want to ask yourself why Yodel didn’t mention this to you when he loaned you the book,” Master Tor said, nastily. He tapped the cover thoughtfully. “Did he assume that you already knew or did he want to get you in trouble?”
Emily hesitated. It wasn’t uncommon for Whitehall students to be charged high prices when they went to Dragon’s Den—and one shopkeeper had tried to sell her fake dragon’s blood—but she couldn’t see Yodel doing it deliberately. For one thing, Emily would certainly remember—and he would be living in her territory. Setting her up would be an incredibly foolish thing to do. And he might have assumed that she knew what she was doing...just because she was seventeen—she thought—didn’t mean that she was in second year.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally.
“Perhaps I will ask,” Master Tor said. He leaned forward. “You will report to the Warden, immediately. He is expecting you. Once you have finished with him, you will go to the library and study—I would suggest that you reread the safety precautions and rules that apply to all students in Whitehall. I will summon you later to discuss the rest of your punishment.”
Emily gritted her teeth. It was far from uncommon to see punished students heading back to their rooms, but it was very rare to see one of them going to the library afterwards. Word would be all around the school before the hour was up. Everyone would wonder if she was trying to show off how tough she was...or if there was another reason why she hadn’t returned to her room to hide until she felt better. In a school of thousands of students, she suddenly felt very alone—and exposed.
“This was incredibly stupid,” Master Tor concluded. “If it were up to me, you would be expelled before you accidentally got someone killed—which, if memory serves, you nearly did once already. As it is...if you do something else like this, no one will be able to stop the Grandmaster from expelling you and sending you back to Zangaria. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, meekly.
“Remember what I told you,” Master Tor said, sternly. His gaze bored into hers for a long moment, then he looked down at the parchment on his desk. “No spells. No alone time in your room. And behave.
“Oh, and as for the book?”
Emily leaned forward, despite herself. It wasn’t her book.
“I shall return it to Yodel personally,” Master Tor informed her. “I suggest that you keep whatever your side of the agreement was. It might make it up to him.”
He pointed at the door. “Go.”
Emily took her hands off her head and marched through the door, trying to keep her head held high. She sagged the moment the door closed behind her, feeling utterly defeated. He’d been right; she had been stupid, too stupid to even think about the possible consequences. And she could have asked someone...he was right about that too. Instead, she’d just bulled ahead and almost caused a minor disaster. The wards wouldn’t have stopped her incinerating the room and everything inside it, including herself.
She dawdled as much as she could as she walked towards the Hall of Shame. There was hardly anyone in the corridors, apart from a pair of first-year boys who stared at her with open admiration. It was the Necromancer’s Bane they were looking at, she knew, not a young and inexperienced girl who had made a stupid mistake. She was tempted to hex them before remembering Master Tor’s admonishments. There was to be no magic at all without supervision, which effectively meant outside class. When Melissa found out...
The next corridor held a crying third year, who was being comforted by a sixth year girl who was clearly out of her depth. Emily remembered just how she’d felt while taking exams on Earth, even though they had been increasingly worthless as the years rolled on. Third year pupils, apparently, weren’t eased back into their education, but expected to start studying intensely as soon as they returned to school. Those who failed to get back into harness were often forced to repeat the year again and again until they got it right. Emily could understand why one of the students would be crying...
She briefly considered helping, but what could she say? All she really wanted was to delay her visit to the Warden, not help a student who was a year ahead of her. The sixth year girl shot her an annoyed look and Emily walked on, not wishing to attract more trouble. She caught sight of her own reflection in one of the suits of armor lining the corridor and shuddered, inwardly. She looked as though she had been crying herself. Bitterly, she wiped at her eyes, then strode onwards. She would definitely be crying after she faced the Warden.
Emily gritted her teeth as she walked into the Hall of Shame. It was empty, apart from a sixth year boy—Travis—she knew from Martial Magic. He had never been teamed with her, which might have been why he seemed to dislike her. Jade, at least, had been willing to give her a chance...but the ones who didn’t know her might well resent her. And, she realized numbly, the student was also a keen Ken player. Being assigned to supervise students waiting for punishment meant he’d miss the game.
Travis looked up at her. “How goes the game?”
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. She didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. “I left early.”
“And got in real hot water,” Travis taunted. He smirked at her, unpleasantly. “I have never heard Master Tor shouting so loudly in my entire life.”
Emily shuddered. Had he really calmed down before coming back to face her?
Travis’s grin widened. “I dare say the Warden will let you have it all right,” he said. His face twisted into a leer. “I even think it’s going to be on the bare.”
“No,” Emily said. She’d already cursed the decision to wear the trousers instead of her robes, even if they did look flattering. The cane would hurt more when it struck her bottom. “He can’t...”
She saw his expression and realized that he was trying to make her panic. Jade had once told her that the only students who got caned on the
bare were the ones who tried to don extra padding before reporting to the Hall of Shame. The Warden, it seemed, had an uncanny ability to tell when someone was trying to cheat.
Her temper flared. “You...”
“Have a care,” Travis interrupted. “Insulting a sixth year could mean another session with the Warden. Or worse. Do you know how many transformation and compulsion spells I know?”
Emily bit down on what she wanted to say and started to walk towards the wall. “You might as well go in,” Travis said, airily. The previous ice was suddenly gone from his voice, replaced by mockery. “Fewer students come here for punishment when there’s a game on.”
His chuckles followed her as she pushed open the door and peered inside, her eyes slowly adjusting to the semi-darkness of the Warden’s lair. She’d never quite worked out why he seemed to like to live in darkness, unless it was part of his reputation. For all she knew, he was a real party animal when he wasn’t disciplining students.
“Hi,” she said. Behind her, she heard the chuckles growing louder. It had been a stupid thing to say, but how did one address the Warden? Mr. Warden? “I’m here...”
She stopped and stared, feeling cold horror taking a firm grip of her heart. The Warden was seated, but his head was cocked to one side as if someone had snapped his neck.
And a silver dagger had been plunged into his chest.
Chapter Seventeen
EMILY RAN FORWARD, HEARING THE DOOR slam closed behind her, and looked down at the Warden’s body. Bright red blood was trickling down from where the knife had been stabbed into his chest, while his neck was very definitely broken. She reached out to touch the knife, then caught herself at the very last second. Lady Barb had warned them that cursed blades could sometimes curse anyone foolish enough to touch them. And there was no point in trying to save him. If his neck was broken, the Warden was very definitely dead.
She spun around and ran back to the door. “Travis,” she called. “The Warden is...come and look.”
“This had better not be a joke,” Travis muttered, as he stood and walked towards her. “You don’t seem to have been...”
His voice drained away as he looked past her—and caught sight of the Warden. A moment later, he touched the sixth year badge he wore and then cast revealing spells over the protruding knife. Nothing appeared. Travis poked him in the chest and used a couple of spells Emily didn’t recognize, then he looked over at her, his eyes burning with accusation.
“How did you do that?” He demanded. “You killed him?”
Emily stared at him in horror. How could he think that she had killed the Warden?
“I didn’t,” she protested. “You were watching me!”
“I wasn’t watching you once you stepped inside and closed the door,” Travis sneered. He waved his hand at her and she felt an invisible force fixing her shoes to the floor. She suspected, judging from the power, that removing her shoes wouldn’t allow her to escape. “I’m calling the Grandmaster.”
Emily fought down the urge to cry as he tapped his badge again and again, all the while keeping one eye on Emily as if he expected her to pull out another knife and stab him in the chest. What was wrong today? Everything seemed to be falling down around her. There was a bustling noise behind her and she tried to turn, only to discover that she was still stuck.
“Good grief,” Mistress Irene’s voice said. “What happened to him?”
“Lady Emily must have killed him,” Travis said. “She was alone in the room with him...”
“For a few seconds,” Emily snapped, finding her voice. “I found him like that...”
“Shut up, the pair of you,” Mistress Irene ordered. She knelt down beside the Warden, then tapped the blade carefully. “Dead. Dead and gone.”
“Yeah,” Travis said. “He was alive while Master Tor was speaking to him...”
“I told you to be quiet,” Mistress Irene said. She pulled the blade out of the Warden’s body and examined it. “A silver dagger. Interesting. Sergeant Miles will need to look at it...”
She stood and walked over to Emily. “Come with me,” she ordered. “Now.”
“I can’t,” Emily said. Tears welled up in her eyes. “My feet are stuck.”
“I didn’t want her to escape,” Travis said, self-righteously. “She could have...”
Mistress Irene waved her hand, cancelling the spell. Emily stumbled as the magic around her feet faded away; Mistress Irene caught her with one strong hand and gently steered her towards the door. Professor Thande appeared, as wild-eyed as ever, and stared in horror at the Warden. Mistress Irene nodded to him, then pointed to Travis.
“Take him to a private study cell and keep him there,” she ordered. “The Grandmaster will want to talk to him.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Travis protested. “I...”
“It is standard procedure,” Mistress Irene snapped, her patience clearly exhausted. “And if you have problems remembering it, perhaps your position of power should be revoked.”
Professor Thande beckoned for Travis to accompany him. “Come with me, lad,” he said, grimly. “There’s no other choice.”
Emily watched Travis, still muttering protests, being escorted out of the room, then Mistress Irene took her hand and led Emily out, closing, locking and warding the door behind them. There were a handful of onlookers already, gathered at the far end of the corridor, but there was no sign of the Grandmaster. Surely he would know that Emily couldn’t have killed the Warden? Why would anyone want to kill the Warden?
The entire school, her own thoughts answered her.
She couldn’t help feeling as if she were in handcuffs while she was escorted through a confusing network of corridors. If the other students had already seen her with Master Tor, God alone knew what sort of rumors were going to start when they realized that she’d been with Mistress Irene later. Even if they didn’t know about the Warden...but they would, she knew. Even if Travis kept his mouth shut, it was rare for a day to go by without someone being sent to face him. Who would take over his duties now that he was dead? Someone would realize that Emily might have been the last person to see him alive...
And there had been a knife in his chest. Necromancers used knives...and quite a few students already believed that she was a necromancer. If they heard about her experiments with pocket dimensions, they might have wondered if it was the first sign of instability.
Mistress Irene stopped in front of a wooden door and waved her hand in a complicated gesture, disengaging the wards holding it closed. The door unlocked, revealing a small bedroom illuminated by a magical light set within the ceiling. There was a bed, a toilet and little else.
“I need you to stay here,” Mistress Irene said, as she gently pushed Emily inside. “You have to wait here until you are summoned.”
Emily looked around the bare stone walls. “Why?”
“Because we have to investigate what happened to the Warden,” Mistress Irene said. “And because the alternative is taking other steps to...immobilize you.”
“I understand,” Emily said, bleakly. There weren’t even any books in the tiny room. “Can I have something to read?”
“I can’t let you have anything,” Mistress Irene informed her. “And Emily?”
Emily looked up, frowning.
“Don’t try to leave this room,” Mistress Irene said. “There are people who would take it as a sign of guilt.”
She closed the door, leaving Emily alone.
Emily stared at the bed for a long moment, then stepped over and lay down. It was a harder mattress than the one from the bedroom she shared with her roommates; she couldn’t help wondering if the room was supposed to belong to the servants—or a prisoner. Whitehall was effectively a military school, at least to some extent, and she was sure that military schools had something resembling a prison for really rowdy students. Or maybe they were just expelled. She’d never been to such a school on Earth.
She stared up at the blank
ceiling, trying to meditate. The sergeants—and later Lady Barb—had been keen on meditation as a mental discipline, but Emily still found it very hard to focus and calm her thoughts. Her emotions were spinning around; Master Tor’s row had been bad enough, but discovering that the Warden was dead...she didn’t know how to cope any longer, even though it had only been a day. Part of her just wanted to curl up and die.
They couldn’t blame her for the Warden’s death, could they? She’d been in Master Tor’s office while he’d spoken to the Warden—if Travis had been telling the truth, Master Tor had been the last person to see the Warden alive. Had he killed him in a clumsy attempt to frame Emily? But the Grandmaster had already agreed to her punishment for crafting a pocket dimension and surely Master Tor wouldn’t risk his position to try to punish her further. Besides, she knew that he had a great deal of latitude when it came to determining the rest of her punishment. He could have made Emily’s life thoroughly miserable without risking his own career.
But would everyone listen to her?
No one had taken her seriously, not until she had come to Whitehall. Even then, there were people who thought that she was strange, or a very real danger. She remembered the reactions of some of Alassa’s suitors and their families to the changes that Emily, however inadvertently, had wrought. They might well ignore all the evidence and demand that Emily be charged with murder, just to discredit her. And what sort of punishment would she receive for murder? Somehow, she doubted that it would be time in jail.
Maybe they give the keys to their jailhouse to unscrupulous creatures, the irreverent part of her mind whispered. What could possibly go wrong?
Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) Page 16
