The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic Book 13)

by Christopher Nuttall

  She walked back into the room, dug through her bag to find a new dress and pulled it over her head. It wasn’t anything fancy—a blue gown designed more for comfort and practicality than anything else—but she felt it suited her. Alassa’s mother had sent her a whole collection of dresses over the summer, each one expensive enough to feed an entire village for the year, yet Emily hadn’t been able to wear them. They’d just been too bright and colorful for her tastes.

  And I didn’t have time to go out anyway, she thought. I had to study.

  Emily couldn’t help feeling another pang at the thought. She was still—technically—banned from Zangaria, but there was nothing stopping her from meeting Alassa and Imaiqah somewhere along the border. Or she could just cross the border and dare Alassa’s father to do something about it. Or ... she shook her head, grimly. She knew she hadn’t had time to visit anyone, even her two oldest friends. There had been a time when she’d shared everything with Alassa and Imaiqah. And yet, she couldn’t help feeling as though they were drawing apart.

  And Alassa’s last letters spoke of trouble in Zangaria, Emily thought. And of her failure to conceive a child.

  There was a knock on the door. Emily glanced down at herself, making sure she looked reasonably presentable, then opened the door. Lady Barb stepped into the chamber, carrying a parchment scroll in one hand. She held it out to Emily without speaking. The charm on the seal glowed for a moment, reading Emily’s magical signature, then faded away into nothingness. She could open the parchment at will.

  Emily hesitated as she closed the door. She really wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She thought she’d done well, but she’d thought that before. And that had ended badly. If she’d failed ... she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Accept Void’s offer of an apprenticeship? Or swallow her pride and retake Fifth Year? She’d hardly be the first student to retake an entire year.

  Lady Barb snorted. “It won’t go away.”

  “I know,” Emily said. Her fingers refused to open the scroll. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I could read it for you,” Lady Barb offered. “But you will have to find out eventually.”

  Emily looked up at her. Lady Barb had been up for hours, longer than Emily herself, but there was no trace of it on her face. Her blonde hair framed a patrician face that made her look striking—and timeless. Emily felt a sudden rush of affection for the older woman, mingled with a faint dismay that she would never have a presence rivaling her mentor. Lady Barb was formidable and everyone knew it.

  “Yeah,” Emily said, finally. “If I faint ...”

  “I’ll catch you before you hit the ground,” Lady Barb promised.

  The wax seal broke under her fingers. She unfurled the scroll, feeling her heart starting to pound in her chest. If she’d failed ... she forced her doubts aside as she searched for the summary. The tutors would provide a great deal of feedback—she’d been promised entire books of feedback—but that didn’t matter, not now. All that mattered ...

  “I passed,” she said.

  She felt her face twisting into a smile. “I passed!”

  “Very good,” Lady Barb said. “Can I ...?”

  Emily wrapped her arms around the older woman, hugging her tightly. “I passed!”

  Lady Barb took the scroll. “Four exams ... good marks on all four, plus the joint project ... I dare say you did very well.”

  “Thank you.” Emily let go of Lady Barb. “I ...”

  “You won’t get the highest of marks,” Lady Barb added. “Retaking the exams will cost you, no matter how well you do. But you did well enough to pass into Sixth Year. Unless you’ve changed your mind ...”

  Emily shook her head, hastily. She didn’t really want to leave Whitehall, but she didn’t want to repeat a year either. It would have meant going over spells and rituals she’d already mastered, time and time again. And everyone she knew would graduate a year ahead of her, leaving her alone.

  Frieda wouldn’t, she reminded herself. But she’d still be a year below me.

  She took back the scroll and skimmed through the detailed feedback. Professor Lombardi and Master Tor had attached a series of comments; Professor Thande had written a short note, asking her to pay him a visit after term restarted. She promised herself that she’d sit down, when she returned to her house, and go through the comments carefully. There was still a week to go before term formally restarted.

  “Thank you.” Emily felt her vision go blurry and hastily blinked away the tears. “I wouldn’t have passed if you hadn’t helped me.”

  “Don’t forget, Miles helped too.” Lady Barb winked, mischievously. “You owe him a thank you too.”

  “I will,” Emily promised. Lady Barb and Sergeant Miles had driven her mercilessly. She sometimes thought she’d learnt more practical magic over the last couple of months than she’d mastered in the last five years. It made her wonder just how far she would have progressed if she’d hired private tutors during the summer holidays. “Do I get to rest now?”

  “Not quite,” Lady Barb said. “As you’re staying for Sixth Year, the Grandmaster wishes a word with you.”

  Emily frowned. “Now?”

  “Soon,” Lady Barb said. “I advise you to go now, then ... then you can decide if you want to go back to Dragon’s Den or stay here.”

  “Oh,” Emily said. She’d always had the impression that Grandmaster Gordian didn’t like her. He’d certainly tried to make it clear he hadn’t wanted her to return to Whitehall after Grandmaster Hasdrubal’s death. Their relationship was frostily polite. “Did he say what he wants to talk about?”

  “No,” Lady Barb said. “It might be nothing more than a formal acceptance to Sixth Year.”

  She glanced at the clock. “If you go now, I’ll be in the Armory until dinnertime. I’ll see you there.”

  Emily turned and walked back to the table, picking up the bracelet and slipping it over her wrist. Gordian wanted to see her ... why? To ask her to—finally—take the oaths? She couldn’t still be on probation, could she? Or to ... suggest ... that she left the school and went elsewhere? Or ... she sighed, inwardly. Unannounced meetings—in her experience—were always bad news.

  “I’ll meet you afterwards.” Emily brushed her hair back as she headed for the door. “And have fun with Sergeant Miles.”

  Lady Barb snorted. “Mind your mouth,” she said, warningly. “I can still beat you for cheek.”

  Emily concealed her amusement as she walked into the corridor and headed towards the stairs. Whitehall hummed around her, the wards welcoming her home. She could feel the complex network of spellwork that made up the wards growing stronger and stronger as charm masters and wardcrafters struggled to prepare the school for the next intake of students. There was so much spellwork running through the system that even she had trouble working out what had evolved over the years and what was new. It was the most complex set of wards in the Allied Lands.

  Heart’s Eye will grow to match it, one day, she thought. She had plans for Heart’s Eye. A university, for starters. Caleb and she had talked about a lot of possibilities, back when they’d been lovers. She intended to go ahead anyway, with or without him. And who knows what will happen then?

  She passed a handful of younger students chatting at the bottom of the stairs—they’d retaken their own exams over the last few days—and walked up, nodding politely to Master Kay as he walked down. He nodded back, clearly distracted with a greater thought. Emily smiled to herself as she reached the top of the stairs and walked along to the Grandmaster’s office. A middle-aged couple was just coming out, looking annoyed. Emily stood to one side to allow them to pass, then stepped into the antechamber. Madame Griselda, Gordian’s secretary, was sitting behind her desk, writing something on a newfangled typewriter. Emily couldn’t help wondering if it had come out of Cockatrice or Beneficence.

  “Emily,” Madame Griselda said, flatly. She was a stern-faced older woman with a gimlet stare. Emily had heard she’d once turned an
imprudent student into a toad and eaten him, although she was fairly sure that was just another unfounded rumor. “Wait here. The Grandmaster will see you shortly.”

  Emily nodded and sat down, resting her hands on her lap. Madame Griselda’s office was bare, save for a bookshelf, a heavily-warded wooden cupboard and a large painting of Whitehall that someone had hung on the far wall. A handful of faces at the bottom were marked as Lord Whitehall and company, but none of them looked anything like the people Emily recalled meeting. Lord Whitehall had never been so handsome in his life.

  He might have been, in his youth, Emily thought. But they grew old quickly, back then.

  The inner door opened. “Emily.” Grandmaster Gordian stood in the doorway, giving her a searching look. “Come in, if you please?”

  Emily rose and followed Gordian into his office. It hadn’t changed. The room was bare, save for a large wooden desk and a pair of chairs. A handful of scrolls rested on the desk, but otherwise it was empty. The bookshelves and paintings had been removed, leaving the walls completely barren of anything that might catch the eye. There was nothing to draw her attention away from him, nothing to distract her ...

  “Take a seat,” Gordian said.

  Emily sat, studying Gordian as he looked at her. He hadn’t changed either, as far as she could tell. He was a tall, powerfully-built man, with long dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. His face seemed somehow ageless, yet lined enough to make it clear he was no longer young; his dark eyes peered at her, as if they could see into her very soul. She could sense the magic humming around him, a grim reminder of his power. Whatever else he was, Gordian was a formidable magician.

  His voice was very calm. “Congratulations on passing your exams.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Emily said, carefully. She didn’t think Gordian actually wanted to congratulate her. There was ... something ... in his voice. “I look forward to going into Sixth Year.”

  Gordian’s lips twitched. “You worked hard.” He didn’t sound pleased about that either. “I have been told that you deserved to pass.”

  Emily frowned. Who’d told him that? And why?

  “You’ll join the rest of your classmates in a week, when term restarts for you,” Gordian said, curtly. “However, there is something that has to be addressed immediately.”

  The oaths, Emily thought, grimly. She’d anticipated a demand that she swear the oaths months ago. In some ways, it had almost slipped her mind. Do you want me to swear them here and now?

  “There was a staff meeting yesterday,” Gordian said, sounding vaguely displeased. “My staff saw fit to nominate you for Head Girl.”

  Emily blinked. “What?”

  “You were elected Head Girl,” Gordian said, patiently. “Do you wish to accept the nomination?”

  Chapter Two

  EMILY STARED AT GORDIAN IN SHOCK.

  “They nominated me for Head Girl?”

  “You were the prime candidate by a considerable margin,” Gordian informed her. He seemed to be enjoying her surprise. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Emily managed. She tried to force herself to think. She’d known there would be a new Head Pupil, of course, but she’d never imagined she would be in the running. She doubted Gordian had put her name forward. Technically, she was still on probation. Who had voted for her? And why? “Who ... who nominated me?”

  “The deliberations are private, I’m afraid,” Gordian said. “Suffice it to say that ten out of fifteen Senior Tutors cast their votes for you.”

  “Oh,” Emily said. Ten out of fifteen? She knew enough about the post to realize that it would be hard to decline the nomination, particularly when she’d been elected by such a considerable margin. It had just never crossed her mind that she would be nominated. She’d certainly never expressed interest in the role. “I ...”

  She looked down at her hands, trying to think of a proper response. She didn’t want the post, not when she had so little free time. Her studies—and her private research projects—came first. And she doubted she’d be the most capable candidate. Being Head Girl required skills she knew she didn’t possess. Aloha had made it look easy, but Aloha had been sociable as well as smart.

  And yet, with so many tutors having voted for her, she couldn’t decline the nomination.

  Twenty-five possible candidates, she thought. She didn’t think any of her peers were disqualified, certainly if she wasn’t disqualified. And I received ten out of fifteen votes.

  “I’m sure you will bring credit to the school.” Gordian picked a scroll off his desk and held it out to her. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Emily took the scroll automatically. She felt as though she was still in shock. Head Girl wasn’t a meaningless position, not in Whitehall. She’d be expected to do everything from supervising detentions to policing the corridors after dark and mentoring the younger students. She wasn’t sure she had time to do everything, even with assistance from the other older students. God knew she had to work hard to pass the next set of exams.

  She kept her face as impassive as possible as she unfurled the scroll. If she declined the nomination ... she sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t possible, not without offending everyone who’d voted for her. Lady Barb had once told her, years ago, that anyone who declined such an honor was unlikely to receive another one, even if they had good reasons to refuse it. And it was an honor. There was only one Head Pupil per year. She’d be in good company.

  Assuming I don’t mess it up, she thought, wryly. She’d read horror stories about Head Boys and Girls who’d accidentally created all sorts of problems. They’ll forgot I ever held the post if I make a real mess of it.

  “I look forward to working with you too,” she lied, finally. She was fairly sure that Gordian wasn’t looking forward to working with her. He’d done his level best to ignore her since she’d returned from Beneficence. “When do I have to accept the nomination?”

  Gordian lifted a single eyebrow. “You were elected to the post. It is generally assumed that the person elected will serve.”

  And no one bothered to ask me if I wanted the post, Emily thought, sourly. Who had nominated her? And why? She knew she couldn’t ask. I wouldn’t have put my hat in the ring if I’d been asked.

  “I see,” she said.

  She considered—briefly—declining the nomination anyway. There were good reasons to want to decline it. They couldn’t force her to serve, could they? But it would cost her later on, she was sure. The Senior Tutors wouldn’t be too pleased with her ... she wondered, grimly, if Gordian had deliberately created the whole situation. Either she accepted the post and ran the risk of messing up or she declined, offending the other tutors. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Gordian didn’t like her. That didn’t mean he was out to get her.

  He knows I can control the wards, she reminded herself. That can’t sit well with him.

  “You’ll be familiar with most of the Head Girl’s duties,” Gordian said. He nodded to the scroll in her hand. “However, there are two issues that I need to discuss with you.”

  Emily nodded, slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  “First, we will be continuing the mentorship program from last year,” Gordian said. “You will be responsible for assigning the Fifth Year students to mentor First Year students, then supervising their progress over the first three months. I expect you to ensure that the newcomers get the sort of mentoring they need.”

  Without making life too easy for them, Emily thought. It was a fine balancing act and she suspected she’d fallen off, last year. She’d wound up helping her mentees more than she thought she should. But then, the entire school had nearly collapsed in on itself. The new students had endured a baptism of fire. It won’t be easy to supervise the older students without being far too intrusive.

  She pushed the thought aside and forced herself to think. Aloha had just assigned people at random, as far as she knew. She’d have to check the records to be sure. That wouldn’t take too long. T
here were roughly two hundred new pupils every year. She could simply parcel them out to the Fifth Years, then watch progress from a distance. Aloha hadn’t watched her that closely, had she? She’d have to check that too.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said. The mentoring program was important. She knew she would have avoided a number of missteps if she’d had a mentor, back when she’d first entered Whitehall. “Did Aloha leave behind any records?”

  “They’ll be made available to you.” Gordian held up a hand. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that they’re confidential. You are not to discuss them with anyone outside the staff without permission from myself.”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  She looked down at the stone floor, thinking hard. She’d have to read through the records carefully, then decide how to proceed. It wasn’t going to be easy. Perhaps Aloha had put more thought into the whole process than Emily assumed. Pairing up the wrong students and mentors would be disastrous. It was something to discuss with Lady Barb, then perhaps Aloha herself. But the former Head Girl would be busy with her mastery ...

  And she’d expect me to stand on my own two feet, Emily reminded herself. She won’t come back long enough to hold my hand.

  “The second matter is considerably more important,” Gordian added.

  Emily straightened up and looked at him.

  “You are aware, of course, that the Head Pupil is supposed to undertake a special project?”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “The mentoring program ...”

  Gordian smiled. “The mentoring program was Aloha’s idea,” he said. “You will need something different.”

  Emily’s confusion must have shown on her face, for Gordian started to explain.

  “The Head Pupil is required to design and implement a special project of their own,” Gordian said. “The project can—and will—be maintained after the Head Pupil has left, provided it proves itself beneficial. I believe the mentoring program was beneficial, correct?”