“What sorts of favors did Lily make you do for her?” I asked with a gnawing in my stomach.
“Carry her books to class, bring her clothes to be washed and mended in the basement, steal sweets from the kitchen, bring messages to the men’s side of the tower…” Callie sounded as if her list wouldn’t be finished for a while, but I couldn’t listen anymore.
“She made you her servant.” Hot anger rose inside me.
“I guess so.” Callie hung her head.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, feeling responsible for Callie’s suddenly hunched shoulders and faster breathing “I wonder who my mentor is,” I said, mostly to change the subject. It wouldn’t do any good to get mad at Lily, no matter how cruel or unfair she was; Callie and I had to live with her, intimately. Briefly I wondered why Valeriya didn’t group like classes together. Was the headmaster secretly a progressive idealist? Recalling what I did about Elijah, it seemed more likely that he was just eccentric and disorganized, if he were in charge of room arrangements at all.
“Didn’t you know?” Callie said. “Mentors are assigned by room, so that makes yours -”
“Rosalyn.” I groaned. The dark-haired girl hadn’t told me, probably because I hadn’t bullied Callie on the first day.
“In a way, Rosalyn is worse than Lily. She’s the reason Jen got expelled. Jen wasn’t afraid of Rosalyn. She yelled right back at her. Once, they got into a fight. After that, Rosalyn would never go with her to the lab.”
I shook my head, then latched on to the nearest distraction. “Who’s Paxta’s mentor, then?” We were five in our room.
“Paxta is royalty,” Callie said. “She has a professor as her mentor.”
“Oh.” I sighed heavily. “There has to be a way around our mentors,” I said more hopefully than I felt, mostly to cheer Callie up. “We’ll find a way into the lab, with or without them!”
“What if that doesn’t work?” Callie whispered, sweeping the room with her wide-eyed gaze as though she feared being overheard.
“We have to try.”
“Lily and Rosalyn are scary,” Callie confided in me. “You’re so brave to defy them.” Her smile was that of one confident she had been delivered.
“They can’t stop us from doing what we need to,” I said, though now my anger was subsiding, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d been foolish to stick my neck out.
Chapter Eight
The Practical Examination
Rosalyn and Lily picked up on Callie’s and my friendship at once.
Not that we were subtle about it. Callie asked me to read at least one passage for her every day. For me, it was nice to have someone to talk to. Even in another world, I had no illusions that I’d suddenly become popular. I knew I’d be slow at making new friendships, if they came at all.
Now that I wasn’t the new girl, and Rosalyn and Lily perceived that friendship with me offered them no special benefits, their interactions with me turned to a mix of subtlety and snubs.
Nowhere was this more apparent than their refusal to help Callie and me with the practicals lab issue. Had Callie or I had actually found a way in without them, I wouldn’t have bothered.
Among our many attempts (speaking to professors who taught Practical Application of Magic; searching for secret entrances; paying for a fake skeleton key), we tried joining with some of Callie’s friends and their mentors, but ten minutes after the others had entered, Callie and I were still trying to pass through the door. Something kept turning us around and putting us back in the hall. In class the next day Professor Tala revealed there was a ward around the classroom that only permitted one mentor and one student who had not yet obtained their second year studies.
Each unsuccessful week, I mustered my courage to ask Rosalyn. On really good weeks, I made the request of her and Lily, while Callie watched from the other side of the room, my silent, petrified cheerleader. It became a game for the noble girls to see who had the wildest but still probable excuse.
It didn’t take long for “I have to study” and “It’s too late” to become “The sun is in the wrong position” or “It’s too cold.”
Once I asked Rosalyn while she combed her dark, wet ringlets in front of her mirror.
“Alas, no,” she said, her eyes meeting mine in the glass. “I must wash my hair.”
“You mean comb your hair, don’t you?” I made the mistake of asking.
“Why, no, Leah of Ivenbury,” Lily said much too sweetly. “Nobility of Erutania such as Rosalyn wash their hair, comb it, then wash it again.”
Lily joined Rosalyn on their shared dressing table stool, and the two began whispering and giggling. Mostly certain that dual hair washings were not some bizarre Other World custom, I kept my eye on Rosalyn until lights out. She used elements to dry her curls so not a strand was out of place, fidgeted over some needlework while Lily read their homework to her, and gossiped about letters she’d received during the day. By the time darkness cloaked the room, I was annoyed enough to tear Rosalyn’s hair out. She must have enjoyed seeing me watch her all night.
At least Paxta stayed out of it. With her title and wealth, I would have expected her to be the ringleader.
“Why do I bother asking?” I muttered as the wicked stepsisters (my secret name for Rosalyn and Lily) left one the evening. It was the last night before classes started again (Sunday, back at home), and they had been invited to a small supper in the capital. “We simply must attend,” Rosalyn explained, on her way out the door. “We've been unable this entire month due to our studies.”
“Oh please” I muttered. I never saw Rosalyn or Lily crack a book on weekends. They just didn't give two hoots about their duty to help Callie and me with the lab assignments. I mean, really? How much could one Sunday evening hurt? Once they got us started, Callie and I could take it from there. Grumbling to that effect, I was surprised to see the princess of Aurlien had actually looked up from her book. Usually her concentration rivaled a Zen master.
“Surely you've seen how they blow us off all the time,” I sputtered. “I don’t see why we can’t all pitch in. We’re all human beings; it doesn’t matter how much money or social status we have!”
“You have an odd perspective, Leah. Are all the people in Ivenbury as strange as you?” the princess replied.
“No.” I chose my next words carefully. “Even there, I’m seen as somewhat different and odd.”
“Well, I like the way you think. If you keep studying and gaining influence, you could be a revolutionary.” Paxta’s eyes shone like Callie’s usually did when I said something that delighted her. I wondered if Paxta, despite her status and extreme people skills, ever felt hemmed in by her role as future queen. I was sure Fiona had.
“You’re of a higher station than any of them. Why aren’t you nasty?” I asked without thinking.
Paxta actually laughed, warmly. Her blue gem gaze sparkled. “I am the heir to Aurlien, my Queendom,” Paxta said. “I am also the eldest of seven sisters. It has taught me the humility that some lack. But more, my mother and her mother before her taught that kindness and diplomacy fosters strong bonds — within families, across houses, and throughout kingdoms.”
I felt enthralled, and all Paxta had done was speak to me. “Could you help us?” I stammered out.
Paxta sighed. “I would like to. But I cannot. There are many inequalities I would like to end here at Valeriya, too. But Aurliens do not crush our enemies with power and wealth. That is not the way to lasting change; the power of an individual is.”
“But…” I ventured, hardly able to believe that I was contradicting a real life princess, soon-to-be queen. Maybe some magic in her eyes was making me share thoughts that I never would have voiced. “You have an influential way about you. I can't think of one person who speaks over you. I always find what you say convincing.”
“Thank you,” Paxta said with surprising seriousness. “But even if I had a natural ability to intervene and create change, I canno
t fight the unfortunate’s battles for them. Where would it end?”
So she was a future queen, not a saint. And I doubted the struggles of others was as real to her as they might have been. Still, I had to respect Paxta for guarding her boundaries. It was something I'd tried to work on with several therapists before giving up and trying for some more manageable issues first.
Maybe Paxta was subtly encouraging me to a revolutionary course of action.
Such thinking and deeds weren't getting Callie and me into the lab, however. Meanwhile, the deadline crept closer.
“There must be something else we can do,” I said, sitting with Callie in the study area outside our room.
“How do you mean?”
“Neither of us have set foot inside the practicals lab since we started studying together. It’s been four weeks.”
“And the first practical test is in two weeks,” Callie murmured. “I’m sure I can be ready for the written part, but a bad practical means a failure for the whole exam.” She shook her head and squinted, as though watching a storm form on the horizon. “And I thought farmers had all the worries.”
“What do people actually do in the practicals lab?”
“They see if they can copy the demonstrations Professor Tala did in class.”
“That’s it? So if you know her lectures and demonstrations well, you should be able to pass the practical.” Through my frustration, an idea was beginning to take shape.
Callie nodded slowly. “It isn’t exact, but if you understand what went on in class, you can figure out the test.”
“Maybe we don’t need a lab, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, suppose we find a place to practice what Professor Tala has said? A secret place, mind,” I added quickly. Using magic outside designated areas in the tower was - officially — forbidden. While the practice was widespread, the consequences were serious for those caught, ranging from hard labor around the tower, extra homework, harder tests, and sometimes expulsion in serious cases. “We don’t have to use magic equipment. We know how to command the elements.” I didn’t add that I had yet to test drive this knowledge. “In other words, if a stick will do for a magic wand, we can use that and talk through the magic part. We wouldn’t even have to break the rules.”
“There’s mental and metaphysical work to do to make the elements cooperate, too,” Callie said. “That’s one of the reasons they have the labs in the first place.”
I blinked at the strangeness of hearing a country girl in a calico dress say a word like metaphysical. “It’s all we’ve got, though,” I said, trying not to think too hard about our imminent rule-breaking. Seeing Callie’s anxious expression made me feel a little queasy, myself. “I’ll let you know if I find a place,” I said. “If you’re in, look too. We need to do this soon.”
Callie started to smile, only for the expression to die away like a candle in a draft. “We still need to sign the lab evening book. They only put it out after the lab has been locked for the day.”
“We can’t let that stop us,” I said at last. “For now, let’s focus on what we can do and figure out this…evening book later.”
I began my search for our hiding place by going about my usual business. My next stop that evening was the Maestos library. While Valeriya had smaller libraries on every floor, the Maestos library occupied an area underground that was said to span the entire tower.
I’d first heard about the Maestos library when assigned to do a short paper for a class. Ever since, I’d come back almost every night, searching the endless book caverns for information on the elusive magic mirrors and practically unheard-of other worlds. The closest I’d gotten to the latter was a lecture on faerie rings, a type of magic that drew in hapless individuals and released them after years that felt like minutes. When I’d asked about other worlds and their possible connection to faerie rings, the professor had dismissed the topic as “beyond the scope of the class.” That, more than anything else that had happened, had made me homesick.
My as-yet fruitless searches eased that pain and helped remind me I was at Valeriya for mirrors, not elements. If I rescued Gerry, no, when I rescued him, maybe we could use Valeriya to find our way home.
The Maestos library seemed to have no organization system whatsoever, and in all the weeks I’d come, I had yet to meet the head librarian or any assistants. Sometimes when my lack of success annoyed me, I wondered if they bothered to come to work at all. On the other hand, the library wound and twisted like a vast labyrinth. They could have been here the whole time, and I’d never know.
I spent an hour or so poring over a thick tome on “exceptional magic.” Most of it described minutiae in elemental spells. Still, I held on and was rewarded with a footnote about mirror magic that led to several book titles. I wrote these down, aware that I might not find them here, even after months of searching.
The center of the Maestos library consisted of locking cubicles made of wood. Each contained a table, chair, and candlestick.
Hoping for something more out of the way, I wandered to the edge of the area I had mapped. (Paxta had recommended that I start mapping my trips through the Maestos library after I’d gotten lost before dinner and returned, shaking, to our room just after lights out.) I would add some new territory today, I decided.
I stuck close to the walls, hoping to come across some out-of-the-way closet or archive. Every so often, I stopped and leaned against the mahogany paneling, drawing shelves of books and landmarks on my map. The latter were especially important; without them, the place became a maze, and with my sense of direction, even a map might not have helped me escape. Eventually I came to a painting of a woman in white approaching a watchman in a garden. This was an especially good landmark because of its size and uniqueness.
I took my time updating the map. Everyone in Valeriya still used quill pens and ink bottles. I’d only recently gotten to where I could read a majority of my class notes. I had no desire to copy my map over or worse, lose places entirely because I had smudged them and couldn’t remember what they were.
When I looked up, the corridor of books was gone. I stood in an empty room, about the size of my bedroom in California. It was carpeted and paneled just like the Maestos library, wherever it had gone. From the thick, undisturbed dust, this place had been forgotten for a long time. It would be perfect for Callie and me!
Only…how had I gotten in? And more importantly, how was I to get out?
Biting back panic, I surveyed the room again without moving from where I stood. Apart from the paneling and carpet, the area was completely bare and empty. It was somewhat of a relief to see there were no bones on the ground. Slowly I turned around. I would be happy to feel foolish if only there were a door behind me. (It had happened before when I was first getting my bearings in the cast member tunnels of Portalis Park.)
No matter how I turned, there was no door. However, a painting hung behind me, a twin to the one on the outside. I studied it closely, suddenly certain it was the key out. The woman and the watchman. Flowers and stars. A faint sheen of moonlight on the tiny pond. What did it all mean?
I made a note about the secret room in the margin of my map. When I looked up, I was once again gazing at mahogany shelves holding ages of captured knowledge.
When I brought Callie, I would have to remember my map. Before making that note, I made sure I was halfway down the row of books. Just in case.
No matter how Callie and I prepared, my anxiety grew as the test day neared. When I was in character at Portalis, knowing it was all pretense got me through the anxiety. But for a test, I’d have to be completely myself in front of the professor and possibly curious onlookers, with only my subject knowledge to get me through. That was if my mind didn’t blank out entirely.
During our practice sessions in the secret room, Callie and I reviewed Professor Tala’s demonstrations until we could recite them verbatim. For our last study session, I got a little crazy and pret
ended to be Professor Tala, imitating her voice and stabbing at the class with the stick I’d been using as a wand to emphasize my point.
“I guess we’re ready,” I whispered when our laughter died down.
“We still need signatures.” Callie sighed.
I gripped my “wand” tighter. “After the test, let’s tell Professor Tala our technique. She’ll see that Rosalyn and Lily are the problem, not us.”
“I sure hope you’re right,” Callie said.
Neither of us voiced the concern we’d shared all along, that all the effort we’d put in wouldn’t work when the time came to use magic. Although there was no danger of anyone observing us in the secret room, we hadn’t been brave enough to break the rules and actually use magic during our practices.
The day of the practical, Professor Tala’s class was scheduled last. I could barely eat breakfast and couldn’t touch lunch. I drifted through my other classes, barely paying attention. Professor Tala’s various demonstrations floated through my head like songs I couldn’t stop hearing. I’d be so glad to finish this!
At last I filed into the practicals lab with a group of classmates. As I took a seat, my heart beat so loudly it surprised me that no one turned to look.
Professor Tala was already waiting. She was never late and expected the same punctuality of us. Despite her stature — she couldn’t have been 5 foot tall — she owned the room.
Mist as thick as a London fog shielded the big table at the front of the room where our professor conducted her demonstrations. So that was to be the test site. I crossed my arms to warm my suddenly cold, sweaty hands.
Meanwhile, Professor Tala perched on a stool and wrote instructions on the blackboard in her fancy looping script. When she finished, she dismounted and took in the class with her usual sweeping gaze to silence any conversations that continued from outside. Today the class was already quiet. Briefly I worried that Professor Tala would call out Callie and me for not having our signatures in the evening book.
Rescuing the Prince Page 9
