by Kailin Gow
“Yes.”
Alana kissed him on both cheeks then, and Wirt could feel his heart race. It was, he felt, almost worth having to deal with unicorns for.
“Thank you,” Alana said.
Wirt nodded, though he didn’t dare say anything.
“You’re worried about what Spencer will think, aren’t you?” Alana asked. “I know he’s your friend. He’s my friend, but him and me… we’re done. I might have followed him all the way to the academy, but his family doesn’t want me dating him. This is a new year, Wirt. A new start. And I can do what I want.”
Wirt nodded. “I know. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
Alana smiled. “Me too.”
Wirt noticed that he still had hold of Alana’s hand from where he’d helped her up. He didn’t let go. Neither did Alana. At least, not until Sir Percival called them over and demanded to know which of them had done the spell.
“Me, Sir Percival,” Wirt admitted. Knowing the knight, he would probably be upset about the damage to the natural environment, and Wirt didn’t want any trouble for Alana.
“Wonderful,” Sir Percival said, clapping him on the back. “Now, do you think you can do it again? I haven’t seen such an efficient way of dealing with unicorns in years!”
Chapter 7
It was late by the time they got back from rounding up the unicorns, but there wasn’t time to change or head to the cafeteria, because Ms. Lake met them at the entrance to the tree, with instructions that they should head up to the solarium. Wirt couldn’t help feeling a note of tension at that. After all, the last time he had been there, it had been so that Ender Paine could announce that the chalice of life was missing. Had something equally serious happened while they had been away?
Wirt tried to ask Ms. Lake, but the teacher didn’t say anything as she led them up to the solarium. There, Wirt found his fellow second year students, about thirty of them in total, waiting. The headmaster was there too, along with Ms. Burns, Mr. Fowler and a few other members of the academy’s staff.
Ender Paine waited until Wirt and the others were all inside the room before beginning, snapping his fingers in a way that echoed around the solarium’s plant-filled interior. At once, a small begonia next to him transformed into a flip chart.
“Now that we are all here,” Ender Paine said, with just a hint of reproach that seemed out of place given that the students were only late because of a timetabled lesson, “I will begin.”
He nodded to a spot behind Wirt and the others, and Wirt looked round to see a group of students entering the room via the transport tubes. There were fourteen of them. They were all older than Wirt, and they all seemed a lot more confident because they were older, as though they expected… no, demanded respect from the students around them. They were dressed in a variety of different ways, from deep black robes to elegant court dresses and expensive looking suits, but they all wore a golden scarf, bearing an image of the academy’s tree as well as a dragon flying out of the sun. Along with the other students, Wirt made way for them as they strode towards the front of the solarium, lining up on either side of Ender Paine.
Wirt could already hear the whispers around him from the other students.
“It’s the elite class,” one girl whispered, while her neighbor nudged her and pointed at the scarves.
“Do you think I’ll get one of those one day?”
“They’re hardly ever here,” the first girl said. “They’re usually busy studying off campus.”
Ender Paine held up his hand for silence, and as usual, he got it.
“As you can see, the students of our school’s elite class stand before you. Students who have proven their skills. Students who are in the process of learning the deepest things the academy has to teach. Students who represent the very best that the academy has to offer.”
That was certainly a change from the way that the headmaster normally talked about students. Generally, he seemed to treat them as a necessary inconvenience that he had to put up with when running the school.
“Next year,” Ender Paine continued, “some of you will fill the fourteen places that exist in this elite class. Personally, of course, I believe that none of you deserve it and that you should all have your brains rented out for storage space, but those are the school rules, and we will be following them.”
A ripple of excitement went around the hall. Apparently, getting into the elite group was a big deal for most of the students. But then, from what Spencer had said earlier, it meant the difference between being stuck with an ordinary life as a lesser magical practitioner somewhere, and getting the very best jobs. Ordinarily, Wirt wouldn’t have cared about that sort of thing. He would have seen the whole set up as some silly little private club. But somehow, he felt that it was more than that. Far more.
Ender Paine started to introduce the students to each side of him, explaining where they were currently learning and what they were doing there. Wirt didn’t know what was more impressive, some of the things they were working on, or the fact that the headmaster bothered to remember who they were.
Actually, there was no contest there, but only because some of the projects the students were engaged in were extremely impressive. Apparently, the school’s approach to the third year was to home in on each student’s individual talents, finding placements where they could learn one on one from some of the most respected names in the magical field. Since those names were almost invariably Alchemists Academy trained themselves, they were more than happy to have another Alchemists Academy alumni join them.
One student was working with someone called Argor the Magesmith, who specialized in making items of power. Another was engaged in research on some complex business-magic techniques that Wirt didn’t grasp, but which Spencer would undoubtedly be in awe of. A third was using battle magic to help in a small war in one of the furthest of the hundred kingdoms, while others were already serving as advisors to royalty, or solving impossible sounding problems.
All in all, entry to their elite group sounded like it was a passport to the sort of life Wirt could never have dreamed of leading. Certainly, it sounded like a way to learn things that were far beyond even what they were already doing at the school. Did he want that, though? Wirt was surprised to find that he did. When he had first come to the school, his only concern had been getting home, but now… what was there to go back for, when compared with this?
Ender Paine snapped his fingers again, and the first sheet of the flip chart turned over. A ghostly hand appeared in midair, flames seeming to burn at its fingertips, and as the headmaster spoke, it moved across the board, searing key points into it.
“By now, you will all be wondering how you get into the elite group. Most of you will not. There are fourteen spots, and fourteen only. No exceptions. No second chances.”
Ender Paine looked over at Ms. Lake. “There are those who say that creates an unnatural atmosphere of mistrust and competition in the school. I disagree. You should get used to the fact that friendship should never come before power. Magic is an unforgiving business. If you are not up to the privilege being offered to you, I see no reason to make it easy for you.”
Wirt looked up at the headmaster and knew that Ender Paine was serious. Not least because his ghostly hand had just written “fourteen places only” on the board.
Ender Paine continued once he had let that sink in. “To determine which fourteen of you are the least incompetent, and will therefore go through to the elite class, we will use a combination of factors. Some of you will be less than happy to know that we are already assessing you, and that what you have done so far in your school career counts towards our assessment.”
Was it an accident that his gaze flickered to Wirt there?
“We will be using your grades as one benchmark,” the hand wrote the word “grades” in large letters, “but it is only one component. We will also use your performance in special assignments to weed out those who are merely good at reading books
from those with actual talent.”
For some reason, Wirt found himself thinking of Spencer at that moment. Maybe that was unfair. Just because the other boy liked to read, that didn’t mean he would have any trouble with what was coming.
“We will also ask your teachers about you, and seek their recommendations. No doubt, you will all try to find ways to worm your way into their good graces. It will not work.” Ender Paine smiled to himself. “You are welcome to try, of course.”
“Finally,” the headmaster said, “when we reach the situation where there is only a single space in the elite group remaining, those who have a chance of taking that spot will have the opportunity to take it by winning the quantum games, which have been reinstituted this year after several years without their presence.”
Ms. Lake coughed discreetly, and Ender Paine looked around at her.
“Yes, Vivaine?”
“I thought perhaps that we should tell the students why there have been no quantum games for several years, headmaster.”
Ender Paine’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “If you insist.”
“The quantum games are dangerous,” Ms. Lake said, looking out over the assembled students. “Very dangerous. For years, it was felt that they were too dangerous to be played in their full form. It is only recently, under pressure from some of those who feel that they make the school more competitive, that we have reinstituted them.”
“Not to mention the governors,” Ender Paine said, with a certain amount of relish. “And we must always do as the governors wish.” It seemed that he wasn’t as unhappy as Ms. Lake to see the games back. Wirt thought about the creatures whose statues were outside the headmaster’s study. He could just imagine things like that enjoying the sport of hyper-leap. Or at least, enjoying its fatal conclusion.
Ms. Lake looked grave. “I would urge you, should you get down to the final spot, to consider very carefully whether it is worth risking your life over. Whether it is worth hurting your friends over. It will only be used as a tie-breaker, but you need to think about what you might do.”
Ender Paine laughed. “They will do what everyone does, Vivaine. They will take their spot. And it will be worth it, won’t it?” he added, looking towards the fourteen who stood at the front. One by one, they nodded.
“And let us be clear about one other thing,” the headmaster added. “There is no place for failure at this school. You have seen these fourteen. They are the only third year students in this school. Just as the fourteen who are chosen from among you will be the only third years permitted next year. Those of you who cannot keep up will leave. You might find places at other schools, but there will be no place for you here. Consider that when you are thinking about whether it is worth it.”
Wirt found himself considering it. There would be no other school for him, he knew. He was only here because of the headmaster’s strange decision to offer him a scholarship. If he were thrown out of the academy, that would be it. He would be stranded here, with only those skills he already had to try and survive. He wouldn’t even have a home to go to. Faced with that, would he really be able to step back and let someone else take his place? Even Spencer? Even Alana?
And then there was Roland. The boy who just happened to have brought his father’s old quantum ball with him when they were reinstituting the tradition. He had known that this was going to happen, somehow. Wirt was certain of it. The only question was how.
Chapter 8
The other second years were curiously quiet as they left the solarium. Thoughtful, perhaps. Considering exactly what Ender Paine’s announcement about the elite class might mean for them. A few would no doubt already know that their chances of making it through were poor. Would those get in contact with their parents to start making arrangements for moves to other schools? Or would they stay and hope that they were wrong?
A few more might be totally confident of their ability to get into the class. With grades playing a part, those who got the best grades in the year would surely think that they had a better chance than any of the others. Yet with grades forming only one part of it, could any of them really say that they were safe? One poor comment from a teacher, one failure in a special assignment, and even those getting the highest grades might be in trouble.
As for Wirt, he wasn’t sure where he stood. He wasn’t the best student in the school. Unlike Alana his glamour spells were weak and patchy, and he hadn’t taken any of the classes on advising royalty. If that was what the elite class was meant to be for, wouldn’t that be an advantage? Spencer, meanwhile, got far better all-round grades than Wirt did, and seemed to understand esoteric subjects like number magic without having to try.
On the other hand, Wirt wasn’t the worst student either, and the school had already invested a lot in him thanks to his natural talent for transportation magic. Ms. Burns had shown him that he had more than a few skills when it came to elemental magic too, and last year, he had been excellent when it came to Ms. Genovia’s transmutation spells. Though thinking about his time as a frog still made Wirt wince.
The only downside to all that was that the school had invested so much in him. Would Wirt be at a disadvantage as a scholarship student in a school that had so little money to spare? After all, he had seen the figures when he snuck into Urlando Roth’s office last year, and heard the management board discussing the problems. Would Ender Paine finally decide that keeping Wirt around wasn’t worth the money?
Wirt simply didn’t know. More than that, he didn’t know how far he would go to claim a place. He really, really didn’t want to have to leave the school just yet. He didn’t want to be left without a home again. Because that was what the giant tree had become, despite all its weirdness. Home.
Yet would he be prepared to play hyper-leap for that last place if it came down to it? Would he really be willing to put his life on the line for just one more year there? Would he be willing to kill another student? Wirt couldn’t shake off that question, and it was obvious, as he and the others made their way down to the cafeteria for the evening meal, that it was clinging to the thoughts of more than a few of his classmates. Wirt suspected that it was meant to.
For the next few days, things were remarkably quiet around the academy, except for the inevitable explosions from Mr. Fowler’s alchemy classes. People got on with their lessons, and put in extra work wherever they could. Wirt saw Spencer and Alana in classes, but there was hardly time to talk to them much. Alana, in particular, always seemed to be busy either with Priscilla or Roland, spending plenty of time with the new boy and obviously liking him. Whenever Wirt saw them together, he couldn’t help feeling a quick pang of jealousy, but compared to the harsh stares Spencer shot their way, it was nothing. Or at least, nothing he couldn’t bury under the need to do more work before the end of the year.
Some people were prepared to try other methods of getting into the elite class. Wirt overheard a couple of girls wondering aloud whether there would be any quests this term, apparently unconcerned by the way Wirt, Alana and Spencer had almost died in the last one. He also got the sense that, in spite of the obvious futility of it, students were attempting to find ways to suck up to the teachers. He found a couple of students clearing leaves from Ms. Lake’s watery home, while others cleaned Sir Percival’s armor for him with wire wool, or helped to polish Ms. Genovia’s extensive collection of frog figurines.
Wirt did his best to keep out of it. Doing a few odd jobs, even very odd ones, for teachers wouldn’t earn a recommendation. Instead, he tried to concentrate on his classes, because making sure he got the best possible grades seemed like his best way into the elite class. He spent more time than he had before in the academy’s library, getting to the stage where he hardly flinched as the bespectacled green blob of a librarian shot tentacles right past his head to retrieve books from the pocket dimensions where they were stored.
He studied as hard as he could, but even so, Wirt couldn’t escape the feeling that something wasn’t quite rig
ht. Maybe it was just that he felt tired. For the past couple of days, he’d been having dreams that veered between the disturbing and the merely strange. The one with King Arthur on the slab made a comeback, but there were others too. Ones where he was surrounded by the tentacled and many-clawed forms of the school’s governors, staring down at Wirt as though he were a bug trapped in a glass jar. Ones that consisted of little more than darkness with things whispering in it, right on the edge of hearing.
There were even a few where Wirt was standing in the great arena that served as one of the school’s gymnasia, playing hyper-leap against figures he couldn’t identify at first. He’d spin the quantum ball up to speed, and throw it with a sense of satisfaction that the other person couldn’t possibly dodge, only to realize once the ball was on its way that the person he’d just thrown it at was Spencer, or Alana, or occasionally himself. The other person would stare back at him with helpless eyes in the fraction of a second it took for the ball to reach them, and would scatter into dust right at the point where the dream faded.
It was that dream Wirt woke from on the third night, laying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t disturb Roland. There was no point in waking up his roommate just because he’d had a bad dream. Except that it seemed Roland was already awake. At least, Wirt could hear the low murmur of his voice in the dark.
“Yes. Everything is going well. No, there haven’t been any problems. It’s just a question of being patient.”
Wirt looked towards Roland’s bed, and he saw that the room wasn’t quite dark after all. A soft, greenish light, hardly stronger than moonlight, seemed to fill Roland’s side of the room, letting Wirt see the other boy clearly as he sat at his desk. He had that odd lead box of his in front of him, and even in the half light, Wirt could see that the lid was open, and that it was where the glow was coming from. Roland didn’t see him looking over, but then, Roland was busy looking down into the box, the light throwing strange shadows over his features.
