The door banged closed. We jumped.
“Greetings,” the old lady said. I flinched. Her aristocratic voice sounded a little like Great Aunt Stregheria. “Welcome to Protective and Defensive Magic. I am Magistra Solana. You will have two years with me, learning the basics. Should you survive--” she gave us a toothy grin “--you will go on to take the next two years with a different teacher. I ...”
A bell rang loudly as the door opened. I glanced back, just in time to see Alana and Zeya McDonald trying to sneak into the classroom. They both looked as if they’d run for miles, which wasn't too unlikely. The classroom was right at the far side of the school, well away from anywhere else. I couldn't help thinking that was a little ominous.
“And why,” Solana demanded, “are you two young ladies late for class?”
Alana opened her mouth. She looked shaken. Solana probably reminded her of Great Aunt Stregheria too. “I ...”
“I see the dictation of firsties hasn't improved,” Solana said. She sneered. Alana cowered back. “Take a seat at the front of the class, then shut up. Your classmates can tell you what little you missed later.”
She cleared her voice as the door banged closed, again. “I won’t be merciful a second time,” she added, as she produced the register. “Anyone stupid enough to be late will receive a detention.”
I resisted the urge to smirk at Alana. Sitting so close to the teacher, there was no hope of getting away with anything. But she’d been looking forward to this class ever since she’d read the brochure. She knew hundreds of spells already, of course, but here ... she would have a chance to learn more.
“This is the most dangerous class in school,” Solana informed us, when she'd confirmed that everyone was present. “And yes, this is more dangerous than forgery, potions and charms put together. I will not stand for any tomfoolery in my classroom, unless I specifically authorise it. If you treat this subject with anything less than the utmost seriousness, I will give you detention and then ban you from my classroom. Those of you with a magical background may think you know everything, but that merely means you have a great deal to unlearn.”
I frowned. Dad wouldn't have lied to us, would he?
“The purpose of this class is to teach you how to defend yourselves and others against hostile or dark magic,” Solana continued, after a long chilling moment. “By the time you take your exams at the end of the year, you will know how to use defensive magic and have a reasonably good grounding in the law regarding defensive magic. Or, in simpler terms, you will learn what you can and cannot do.”
She paused. “Not that such considerations matter,” she added. “When you are at risk, you do everything in your power to escape and worry about the rest later.”
“Escape?” Alana muttered. “Not fight.”
Solana whirled around to face her, moving with surprising speed for such an old lady. “What was that?”
Alana looked downcast. “I ... I ... I thought we would be fighting, not escaping.”
“Well, at least that’s a marginally more coherent statement than your last one,” Solana said, sardonically. She raised her voice. “Can anyone tell me why I’m more interested in teaching you to escape rather than to fight?”
There was a long pause. No one answered.
“You are twelve,” Solana said. She stepped away from Alana, her cold eyes sweeping the room. I shivered when she looked at me. “No one, not even I, expects you to fight. And while you may think you can cast Anna’s Amphibian in an eyeblink, I assure you that any half-way decent sorcerer could shrug the spell off even quicker. Casting the spell on your siblings or servants does not teach you how to fight sorcerers. Trying to turn a sorcerer like me into a frog will just waste magic.
“If you are cornered, then fight. But if there's a chance to escape, take it. You do not live in a storybook world where adults are useless and kids regularly win fights against enemies twice their age. The older the enemy, the more power they have at their disposal. Escape, not fight. Leave the fighting to the adults.”
I wished, suddenly, that I dared look behind me. I wanted to know how the rest of the class felt. Rose seemed unsure; Alana looked cowed, as long as Solana was looking in her direction. The ancient crone had a point, I felt. But I didn't think anyone wanted to believe her.
Solana clapped her hands together. “And now we’ve got that out of the way,” she said nastily, “what is dark magic?”
She pointed a finger over my head. “Yes, you. Boy who has his hand in the air.”
“Dark magic is magic used to hurt someone,” Akin said. He didn't sound too annoyed at his earlier failure. “To choose to cause harm is dark magic.”
“Almost correct,” Solana said. “Dark magic is magic used with bad intentions. You’ll find there is no real legal definition of the dark arts because almost any spell can be used to hurt an innocent victim. Even a simple lifting spell can become dark if you float someone into the air and then let them fall.”
I shuddered. I couldn't help myself.
“Your intentions shape the magic,” Solana continued. “If you didn't want to hurt or kill someone, it doesn't count as dark magic. If you acted in self-defence or defence of another, it doesn't count as dark magic. You’ll find, when you come to do your homework, that there are plenty of legal arguments surrounding even the simplest of curses. You’ll be required to argue the question time and time again over the next few years.”
She paused. “Yes? You have a question?”
I turned. A boy I didn't recognise had his hand in the air. “If I turn someone into a frog and they get squashed by a passing cart,” he said, “would I have used dark magic?”
“Not if you didn't mean for them to get killed,” Solana said, simply. She paused. “Do not imagine this would save you from consequences. You would be innocent of using dark magic, not of reckless endangerment.”
She cleared her throat. “A further danger is that the use of dark magic tends to encourage the use of more dark magic,” she added. “Once you cross that line, once you deliberately decide to embrace the darkness, it’s very hard to save yourself. It becomes harder and harder to think clearly - eventually, you go insane. Even the simplest spells can send you falling into the darkness.”
Rose nudged me. “Then why don’t they ban dark magic?”
Solana proved to have very sharp ears. “Because they cannot forbid the use of nearly every known spell,” she said, dryly. “A handful of spells are on the banned list, but I assure you that dark wizards don’t need to use them to start their decline.”
She smiled, rather coldly. “I want you all to think about what you’re doing,” she warned. “Rest assured, you will not pass this class without careful thought.”
And magic, I thought.
Solana’s smile grew wider. “Alana,” she said. Her voice dripped honey - and ice. “Why don't you come forward?”
I felt a stab of unexpected sympathy as my sister rose and walked to the front of the class, her hands clasped behind her back. She hid it well, but Alana was clearly nervous, if not terrified. She looked as though she was going to her own execution. Solana pointed to a space in front of her desk, then stepped backwards. Alana held herself upright by force of will. I was, reluctantly, impressed.
“I am sure you know how to cast Anna’s Amphibian,” Solana said. “Cast it now.”
Alana blinked. “On ... on you?”
“No, on the floor,” Solana said, sarcastically. “On me.”
I tensed as Alana waved her hand. She was an expert at casting the spell, as I knew all too well, but she messed it up the first time. The spell splintered out of existence before it even left her hand, the light breaking up and fading back into nothingness. Solana snorted nastily and ordered Alana to try again. This time, there was a ball of light that flashed towards Solana ... and stopped, dead, in the air. I stared in disbelief as the light hovered, just waiting. I’d never seen anything like that before, not even from Dad!
&
nbsp; “You’ll draw two lessons from this instead of one,” Solana said. She spoke to all of us, but she never took her eyes off Alana. “The first one is that fear - an adverse fear response - is not conductive to casting spells. In the time it took Alana to get the spell right, I could have hexed or cursed her a dozen times over. If you should happen to get yourselves into real trouble, as you probably will if you walk around convinced you know everything, you’ll be terrified. Learning to work magic even when terrified is important.”
She eyed Alana unpleasantly. “And the second lesson is this,” she added, jabbing a finger at the hovering spell. “When used on a defenceless victim, the spell is invincible; when used on a person who knows how to counter it, the spell is pathetic.”
Not that it matters when you can't use magic, I thought. I’d ducked such spells more than once, but that only worked when I saw them coming. She could toss another spell at me if she wanted while I dodged the first one.
Solana put a hand forward, touching the spell. The eldritch light flickered, then darted back to Alana. My sister threw up her hands, too late. The spell crashed into her and she morphed into a wooden chair. My mouth fell open in shock. I heard gasps from behind me. Alana hadn't cast that spell, had she?
“Fates,” Rose muttered.
“I rewrote that spell,” Solana said. She jabbed a finger at the chair - at Alana. “Her magic, her power ... rewritten by me. And now she is trapped by her own spell.”
She gave us all a tight smile. “Any questions? You, girl who looks like a ghost?”
Isabella sounded annoyed. “Von Rupert ...”
“Magister Von Rupert,” Solana corrected. Her voice hardened. “Unless you want Magister Grayson to be supervising your detentions from now till winter.”
There was a pause. “Magister Von Rupert said that the spell couldn't be altered,” Isabella said, tartly. “Was he wrong?”
Solana smiled. “It would be more accurate to say that it would be easier to use a very different transfiguration spell than adapt Anna’s Amphibian to serve another purpose,” she said. “But as you’re meant to be learning to build spells up from the bare basics, what he said serves the purpose.”
She waved a hand at the chair. “I want you all to think about something,” she said. “That girl is now a chair. She is trapped in a very different form, unable to move ... she may not even be able to perceive the world around her. And yet she is still aware. She can hear us, somehow. But she cannot answer. She cannot tell us what’s happened to her.”
Her voice hardened. “Some of you may think that this is a great joke,” she warned. “You’re laughing, deep inside. I’m sure that most of you have been inanimate objects, just for a short while. But think about it for a moment. What happens to her if I break a wooden leg? Or toss her into the fire? The spell might be a joke, but the consequences could prove lethal.”
I swallowed. Beside me, Rose looked sick. Solana was right. Alana was awake in there, she was aware in there ... but she had no way to communicate with the outside world. I didn't pretend to know how she could hear - there were no ears on the chair - yet it wouldn't be enough to keep her from panicking. She might be on the verge of a breakdown ...
Solana snapped her fingers. There was a flash of light. Alana appeared, kneeling on the floor where the chair had been. She looked ...
I couldn't put it into words. It was fear and terror and something truly awful. But it shocked me more than I cared to admit.
“I hope you understand the dangers now,” Solana said, very quietly. “A simple prank can become dark magic very quickly, if one does not think.”
She waited for Alana to sit down, then launched into a long lecture. Most of it I already knew, but I took careful notes anyway. I didn’t want to draw Solana’s attention in my direction. Besides, there was always the prospect of learning something new ...
“This is a very basic defence spell,” Solana finished. She held up a hand and chanted a couple of harsh words. There was a flicker of light in front of her which snapped out of existence a second later. “You can use it to deflect basic jinxes and hexes - although most curses, alas, are rarely bothered by it. Unfortunately, without proper protection, the spell has a very short lifespan. Don’t try to use it as a permanent shield because it won’t last.”
She made us practice, again and again. Alana already knew it, but her hand was so unsteady that it took her four tries to get it right. Rose managed it on her second try and smiled so brightly that I couldn't help a surge of pure hatred. The others seemed to get it just as quickly, save for me. I made the gestures and said the words, but nothing happened.
“Get the timing right,” Solana ordered, as she started to move down the line of desks, casting small jinxes on each of us. Alana deflected her spell, easily. I thought I saw her smile, just for a second, as her confidence returned. “Cast it too early and it will fail, cast it too late and it will be worse than useless.”
I shuddered as she stopped in front of Rose, then cast the jinx. Rose cast her spell a second later, sending the jinx rattling off into the ceiling. Solana nodded in cold approval - I could practically feel Rose vibrating in excitement - and then moved to face me. Her expression suggested I was in deep trouble. And I was right.
She cast the jinx slowly, giving me plenty of time to see it coming. It didn’t matter. I said the words and made the gestures, but her jinx still struck me. My skin started to itch a moment later. It took all of my determination not to start scratching as she gave me a disappointed look, then cast a second hex. Once again, nothing happened. The itch only got worse.
“Work on it,” she ordered, curtly.
Alana was muttering to Bella about writing to Dad, as we left the classroom. He could write an official complaint, perhaps even get Solana sacked. Alana’s voice rose as she argued her case, but I found it hard to care. A simple spell, one so easy that a complete novice like Rose had managed it on her second try ... and I had failed, once again. Everyone had seen me fail.
And the more they saw me fail, the more they would believe I was nothing more than a zero.
“You’ll get it,” Rose said, trying to be encouraging. “I’m sure you will.”
“Hah,” I grumbled. I peeked at my timetable. Had it really been over two hours since lunchtime? “One more class before dinner and sleep.”
“And the library,” Rose reminded me. “You said you’d come with me.”
I sighed. The library ... at least it would be better than being trapped in the dorm.
“All right,” I said. “We’ll go after dinner.”
Chapter Ten
“I must say you’re quite an interesting case, Caitlyn,” Magistra Haydon said. Her green eyes studied me as though she wanted to dissect me. “I’ve seen students with low magic before, of course, but you’re lower than any of them.”
I chose to look around her office rather than answer her. It was a simple room, lined with bookshelves and a large painting of a sour-faced woman in purple robes. There was something about it I would have found comforting, if Magistra Haydon hadn't reminded me so much of my mother. Mum could see through any number of excuses, half-truths and blatant lies. And Magistra Haydon gave me the same impression. She was a woman who was good at talking, but not so good at listening.
Reluctantly, I dragged my attention back to her. Her hair was blue, contrasting oddly with her dark skin, green eyes and white robe. I would have put her age at forty, although with magic a magician could look any age she chose. She wouldn't have gone into healing - and magical growth - if she hadn't been a very skilled magician. But that didn't stop her from looking at me as though I was nothing more than a particularly interesting specimen.
“I’ve had quite a bit of experience with low-magic students,” she offered, after a moment. “I think they mostly came from commoner backgrounds, although a few” - her lips pursed -“had repressed their magic for various reasons. There was a girl who ...”
She shook her head. “
Can you think of any reason you shouldn't have magic?”
I shrugged. There was none. I’d been born to two magicians, I’d grown up in a magical environment, my two sisters were both strongly magical ... there was no reason to assume I shouldn't have magic. And really, I’d had a comfortable life. My parents had given us tools to develop magic almost as soon as we could use them. They’d known precisely how to fan the spark into a flame.
“Your parents have given me permission to try a few experiments,” Magistra Haydon said, softly. “Do I have your permission?”
I shrugged, again. This was a waste of time. “Do you need it?”
“You’re not an adult, yet,” Magistra Haydon said. “You won’t come of age for another four years - and even then, you will be guided by your parents for another three. But it is better to work with you than against you. It is for your own good.”
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