Graduation Day (Schooled in Magic Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Emily looked up at her. “What could change things in our favor?”

  “Proof that Daze was working for Fulvia would certainly let us push her to abandon the inquest,” Sienna said. “There isn’t a magical family in the entire world that would be comfortable with Fulvia using soul magic against her enemies, even at one remove. Other than that ... you’ll have to work on the jurors.”

  She paused. “And while I understand why you picked your jurors, you do realize that Fulvia can work on them?”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

  “Markus is married to Melissa, who was kicked out of the Ashworths,” Sienna said. “Fulvia could offer to reinstate Melissa, perhaps with a long-term eye to eventually reuniting the Ashworths and the Ashfalls. Or she could simply offer to quietly support Markus and Melissa in the future. Either one, Emily, would be very tempting. Markus might go for it.”

  “I don’t think so,” Emily said.

  Sienna’s eyebrows rose. “And how good a judge of character are you?”

  Emily scowled. “Markus is a decent guy,” she said. She fought down a sudden tidal wave of Melissa’s memories. “He wouldn’t betray me.”

  Sienna pointed a long finger at her. “His priority will be Melissa, not you. And I suspect Melissa isn’t enjoying being disowned. What will Markus do if the prospect of being reinstated makes Melissa happy?”

  “I ...”

  “Jade is Prince Consort of Zangaria, which leaves Fulvia with fewer ways to bring pressure to bear on him,” Sienna continued, remorselessly. “However, she can make it harder for him to recruit magicians to support his wife, perhaps even call his credentials into question now that Master Grey is dead. In the long-term, Jade and Alassa might be better off siding with Fulvia - against you. They might like you as a person, but their kingdom comes first.”

  Emily winced. Sienna was right.

  “Zed is the hardest person to threaten, because he’s solidly established as Mountaintop’s MageMaster.” Sienna leaned forward, her voice icy cold. “But even he can be influenced. Fulvia could undermine his position, if she wishes, or even try to ensure that more children go to Whitehall or Stronghold instead of Mountaintop. The threat alone would be a matter of concern. Mountaintop’s finances are particularly weak at the moment and the prospect of losing a considerable number of students would be a serious concern.”

  Emily felt her heart sink. She had no real concerns about Jade or Markus, but Zed ...? It was easy to recall, suddenly, that there had been a time when Zed had hated her. And he’d had reason, too. He might consider that all debts had been paid, when she’d given Mountaintop to him. And even if he thought he owed her something personally, the good of the school came first. And that was true of the others too, wasn’t it?

  “So they can be pressured,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  “That you really need to get more jurors on your side,” Sienna said. “Or you find another way to bring pressure to bear on Fulvia.”

  Emily clenched her fists. Proof. Proof that Fulvia had masterminded events from beginning to end. But there was no proof ...

  She frowned. “Are there any rules about what evidence can be admitted to the trial?”

  Sienna pursed her lips. “It depends,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Emily said. A vague idea was flittering through her mind. “If someone in the Ashworths sent me something useful, could I show it to the jury?”

  “It would still depend,” Sienna said. “If it was something that Fulvia would fight tooth and nail to prevent being included in the official record, you might be better off threatening to disclose it if Fulvia didn’t back off. At that point, the inquest would officially find Frieda to be innocent of all charges, which would give Fulvia a reason to let the matter go. But there would be dangers for anyone who sent you something useful.”

  And what, Emily asked herself, if I was to search her suite?

  It was a tempting thought, even though the pessimistic side of her mind worried that Fulvia wouldn’t have brought anything incriminating into Whitehall. She couldn’t know that Emily had strong influence over the wards, but she did know that the Grandmaster could jump in either direction. And yet ... it would be a severe breach of etiquette for Gordian to search Fulvia’s rooms. She might just have brought something that could be turned against her.

  Sienna cleared her throat. “Be careful,” she said. “Whatever you have in mind, be careful.”

  Emily nodded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Sienna what she was considering. A Defender had an obligation to make sure everyone understood precisely what had happened. It was better to leave her with some plausible deniability rather than force her into a situation where she had to admit to something that could hurt their side as much as it could help.

  Perhaps hurt more than it helps, Emily thought. She cursed, inwardly. Fulvia might be hoping we’d try to search her rooms.

  She finished her dinner and sat back, trying to think. Perhaps she shouldn’t stay at Whitehall after all. It wasn’t as if she needed to finish her exams. If worse came to worst, she could always take them at Mountaintop instead. There was no reason they’d reject her after everything she’d done.

  There was a tap on the door. “Come.”

  The door opened. Madame Griselda peered in.

  “By order of the Grandmaster, the afternoon session has been cancelled,” she said. “The inquest will resume next weekend.”

  Emily stared. “Why?”

  “I was not told,” Madame Griselda said. “I believe that something important has come up.”

  “Thank you,” Sienna said. “It gives us more time to work on our case.”

  “Fuck,” Emily said, when Madame Griselda had retreated. “Why?”

  “I suspect the Grandmaster has many matters occupying his attention,” Sienna said. “And not all of them can be passed to his deputy.”

  She stood. “I suggest you spend the afternoon studying. You are due back in class tomorrow, are you not?”

  Emily looked down at the table. “Does it matter?”

  “You don’t want to give up now,” Sienna said, curtly. “A delay doesn’t hurt us, Emily. It prolongs things, true, but nothing else. And you never know. Something might pop up.”

  And if I do find something in her room, Emily thought, we can use it to make her back off.

  “It also gives you time to try to lure the undecided jurors to your side,” Sienna added. “You may have ways to pry her chosen jurors away from her. As long as they have a suitable excuse, no one will blame them for voting against her.”

  “Fulvia will,” Emily muttered.

  “But she’ll be alone,” Sienna said. “Read their files and consider how best they could be approached.”

  Emily sat back in her chair as Sienna swept out of the room, feeling despondent. It was impossible to escape the feeling that Fulvia - and Gordian - were just dragging matters out, instead of rushing to judgement. She knew it should be a relief, but ... the longer the inquest lasted, the longer Fulvia had to work on the jurors. And ...

  I need another option, she thought. And fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE DUMMY DARTED FORWARD, MAGIC SPARKLING around its outstretched hand. Emily waited until the skeletal figure was ready to unleash the spell, then cast a complex counterspell that triggered the magic before it could be cast. The dummy staggered back, its hand shattering into dust, but two more dummies came forward. Emily hastily ducked and looked for cover as they unleashed hex after hex, knowing she couldn’t take too many hits without losing the match. But there was little cover inside the spellchamber.

  She felt a hot flash of anger as another hex crashed into her protections, weakening them and pushing her back against the wall. Her magic sparked out, slashing into the dummies ... only to be deflected and absorbed by the wards. The dummies kept coming, crowding her ... magic blazed through her, fueled by her anger. She lifted her
hands and forced it out, pushing all her frustration and rage into her power. The dummies exploded into dust, the wards flickering and flaring as they strove to contain the excess power. Emily stumbled, then fell to her knees. The exertion had been too much.

  And you’re not concentrating, she told herself, sternly. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, racing from Fulvia to Frieda and back again. You’re in no state to practice magic.

  Someone clapped, behind her. Emily jumped, then spun around. No one should have been able to enter the chamber without her noticing, except for Sergeant Miles. And yet, it was Jade and Cat - not Sergeant Miles - standing by the door. She stared at them, torn between embarrassment and relief. Sergeant Miles had said quite a few sharp things to her the last time she’d ruined his dummies.

  “I think you got them,” Jade said. “Does the sergeant still make you repair the wretched things?”

  Emily nodded, feeling her cheeks heat. There was no point in trying to repair these dummies. It would be easier to build a new set from scratch. No doubt Sergeant Miles would make her work on them, just to give her some more practical experience. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “I think I got them too,” Emily said. She felt sweat run down her back as she stepped over the wardline on the floor. She should have changed, after leaving the dining room, but she’d just wanted to work off some steam. The outfit was ruined, now. It wasn’t designed for dueling. “I’ll be making new ones soon, I’m sure.”

  Jade eyed the mess on the floor. “Want some help clearing up?”

  Emily shook her head as she reached for the brush. Sergeant Miles wouldn’t be happy if he discovered the boys had helped her - or that she’d used magic, instead of brushing the floor manually. Emily wasn’t sure she agreed with his logic, but she knew better than to argue the point. Besides, she’d grown up without magic. It stood to reason that a magician shouldn’t get too dependent on it.

  And there are always problems if you try to animate your cleaning tools, she thought, wryly. You never know what might go wrong.

  “That’s good enough,” Jade said. He gave her a challenging look. “Do you want to watch us spar, then take the winner?”

  Emily hesitated. It had been too long since she’d sparred with anyone, save for Lady Barb. And Lady Barb was too far ahead of her for Emily to gain much from the experience, save for bumps and bruises. Watching Lady Barb spar with Sergeant Miles had been a grim reminder of just how far she had to go.

  “I suppose,” she said, as she dumped the debris in the bin. “I could do with the practice.”

  “So could I.” Jade stepped across the wardline, waving his hands in the air. “Can you believe I’ve been having trouble sparring with anyone in Zangaria?”

  Emily frowned, remembering Sienna’s words. “How come?”

  Cat snickered. “He’s the Princess Consort,” he said mischievously. “Giving him a bruise is high treason.”

  “Prince Consort,” Jade corrected, crossly. “And most of the people I have to deal with either hate my guts or refuse to remove their lips from my ass.”

  “Thank you for that mental image,” Emily told him. “Excuse me while I go throw up.”

  “He does make people want to throw up,” Cat gibed. He stepped over the wardline and bowed to Jade. “Standard rules? Or should I be careful not to hit you in the groin?”

  Emily looked from one to the other. “Do I want to know?”

  “No, you don’t,” Jade said. “Really.”

  He eyed Cat. “Why don’t we leave magic out of the contest?”

  Cat eyed him back. “Why not?”

  Emily leaned against the wall and watched as the two men fell into combat stances and inched around each other. They were both trained in taking the initiative, she recalled, but they also knew the dangers of exposing themselves too early. The one who threw the first punch would also risk his opponent dodging and striking back before it was too late. She felt her heart begin to race as they converged, bracing herself. It wouldn’t be long before ...

  Cat threw the first punch, she thought, but it was hard to be sure. Both men moved fast, fast enough to remind her why she should never risk physical combat with someone who knew what they were doing. She was stronger than she’d ever been, thanks to the sergeants, but she was still no match for a trained man. It was a grim reminder that, without magic, she’d be at the mercy of someone physically stronger than her.

  She shuddered as the sound of fighting grew louder. Being at the mercy of someone stronger was a simple fact of life for women on the Nameless World, save for the handful with magic or aristocratic power. No one would think twice if a husband chose to “rebuke” his wife with his fists, unless it was to excess. And the definition of excess depended, very much, on just who was doing the rebuking. Emily couldn’t help feeling genuine sympathy for Alicia. She might have been heir to a barony, but she was still unable to wield genuine power in her own right. She would be dependent on men for the rest of her life. Alassa had been lucky. Emily knew that others, no matter how nobly-born, were far less lucky.

  Jade fell back, crashing against the wards. Cat came forward, only to be struck by a punch that snapped his head to one side. Emily felt sick as Jade threw another punch, a fraction of a second too late. Cat darted back, blood trickling from his mouth; he parried Jade’s blow, then launched another punch of his own. Jade fell back, again. This time, he hit the floor.

  Cat landed on top of him, one hand pressed against Jade’s throat. “Yield?”

  There was a long pause. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Cat had won ... but Jade might not concede. She’d seen too many young men keep fighting, even when it was clearly futile; they’d been more concerned about their pride than the beating. And Cat wouldn’t want to actually kill Jade, would he? Trying to choke him into submission might easily go too far.

  “Yield,” Jade croaked. “Ouch.”

  Cat rolled over and stood, then helped Jade to his feet. “You nearly got me,” he said. Blood splashed to the floor. “A second quicker and it would have been your victory.”

  Emily shook her head. Both boys had taken a beating. Jade had a black eye and was limping slightly, Cat was bleeding, his left arm hanging loose. They had to be in terrible pain, she thought as she reached for the medical kit, but neither of them were complaining. But then, they’d been taught to soak up pain. Showing weakness was considered effeminate.

  “You both look a mess,” she said. She opened the kit and dabbled salve against Jade’s eye, then Cat’s jaw. “I think I’d better heal that arm.”

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” Cat protested.

  Emily rolled her eyes, rudely. She was no expert in battlefield medicine, but she knew the basics. Cat’s arm was broken in at least two places. She understood the importance of not showing weakness, but there were limits. If nothing else, leaving the arm untreated would have made it harder to offer proper treatment later on.

  “Stay still,” she said, as she rested her hands on his arm. “I’ll be done in a second.”

  She closed her eyes and cast the spell, feeling the magic seeping into Cat’s arm. If there were complications ... she sighed in relief as the bones knitted themselves back together. The breaks were fairly clean, thankfully. If Jade had shattered Cat’s arm, repairing the damage would have been far harder. Madame Kyla would probably have turned it into a teachable moment for Melissa and the rest of the trainee healers.

  “Pour us both a glass of water,” Cat said. It took Emily a moment to realize that he was talking to Jade. “And get yourself one too, if you like.”

  “You’re the one who broke his arm and yet you’re still trying to boss me around,” Jade commented. “I thought I had you, then.”

  Emily opened her eyes. “How does that feel?”

  “Better,” Cat said, flexing his arm. “It was a choice between taking a blow to the arm or being walloped in the chest. I didn’t see any real choice.”

  He took a glass of water from
Jade and drank it, quickly. “You’ve slipped.”

  “I know,” Jade said. “I have to spend most of my practice time sparring with the guards - and some of them are not particularly well trained. I’m working on getting Alassa’s personal guard trained to better standards, but it’s taking time.”

  Emily nodded. There was no such thing as a professional military on the Nameless World, save for a handful of experienced soldiers and mercenaries. Officers were selected because of their titles, while common soldiers were often little better than press-ganged criminals offered a choice between service or the noose. King Randor’s father might have built a tough, semi-professional military, but it hadn’t lasted. And anyone who tried to build a professional fighting force was regarded with suspicion.

  “You are her primary guard,” she said. “Have you tried recruiting from the middle classes?”

  “Most of them don’t want to be soldiers,” Jade said. “You know what they say about soldiers.”

  Emily didn’t, but she could guess. Good iron is not used to make nails, as the Chinese had once said, and good men are not used to make soldiers. It made sense, she supposed. Most peasants and merchants saw soldiers as little more than legalized thieves, murderers and rapists, at best. And that was during peacetime. During war, peasants would hide their wives, daughters and crops from the soldiers. They knew better than to think the soldiers were on their side.

  “Right now, I have to draw experienced men from the regular army or hire mercenaries,” Jade added. “And mercenaries aren’t trustworthy.”

  “Hire Sergeant Miles to beat the regulars into shape,” Cat suggested. He reached for a towel and wiped the blood from his face. “He’d have them under control in no time.”

  “I doubt he’d want the job,” Jade said. “And right now, everyone in Zangaria who can afford it is building up a private army.”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “I thought that was illegal.”

  “It is,” Jade said. “But the men with swords make the rules.”