“They will.” Louise sounded very definite. “They’ll start running short too.”
“Then we’ll stop them,” Francis insisted. “We charmed all the bags shut, didn’t we? And hexed them, to give anyone who tried to open them a nasty surprise.”
“That won’t stop them for long,” Saline warned. “They’re upperclassmen, not firsties.”
“If they manage to steal the bags long enough to remove the hexes, we’ve probably lost anyway,” I said. “Right now, we have other problems.”
“Yep.” Saline grinned, practically jumping in the air. “We have to practice our spells.”
I allowed myself to relax, a little, as we started an impromptu duel. We had gotten a lot better, even Tobias and Louise. And Saline was brilliant. I wondered, briefly, if I could convince her to pretend the curse was still there, in class. If the other teams didn’t realise how good she was, they might underestimate her. If ... I shook my head. It wouldn’t be remotely fair on her. Saline had too many marks to make up before the final year exams rolled around. I couldn’t ask her to throw that away for me.
Particularly as I hurt her deeply, I reminded myself. The thought nagged at my brain, mocking me. I’d tried to remember every little interaction I’d had with Saline, but ... there had been nothing, no hints that she liked me. She has to feel as bad about it as I do.
A hex slammed into my chest. My body twisted and shrank into a mouse. The world suddenly loomed very large. I heard Saline giggling as I concentrated on breaking the spell, feeling a flicker of panic. If she’d used one of those spells ... the spell broke, almost effortlessly. I rolled over and snapped out a hex of my own. Saline jumped to one side, allowing the spell to expend itself uselessly against the far wall. She was smiling, an open honest smile. I found it oddly reassuring. She didn’t hate me.
“You snooze, you lose,” Saline called. “You should have been moving.”
“Yeah,” Francis said. His words lacked their usual bite. “You should have ...”
He broke off, one hand raised. “Can you feel the wards?”
I frowned, reaching out with my mind to touch the wards. They were strong - we’d put them together carefully, after the last set had been torn down - but ... they were starting to go down. No, they were being taken down. I felt a flash of alarm, mingled with dull admiration. Whoever was probing their way towards us was good. Very good. They would have sneaked up on us if we hadn’t taken so much care with our wards. And they might not realise they’d tripped an alarm.
“They’re coming,” I said. I tried to get a sense of how many were coming, but it was impossible. They’d weakened the wards they hadn’t taken down. There would have to be at least three people, by my estimate, but ... there was no way to be sure. “We have to get ready.”
Louise looked pale. “They’re coming here?”
“Yeah.” For once, Francis didn’t sound sarcastic. “And we can grab them.”
He looked at me. “What do we do, fearless leader?”
I felt my stomach sink. I didn’t want to give orders ... but I had no choice. I was the one in charge.
“Louise, Tobias, stay behind,” I said. They were our weakest duellists. I didn’t want to put them in the front line. “Everyone else, come with me.”
I felt the air grow colder as I led the way out of our secret - not so secret now, I supposed - lair and down the corridor. We’d spread the wards out as widely as possible, accepting the danger of someone tripping them by accident in exchange for early warning of any intruders. I checked their path, then motioned for my team to take up places in another abandoned classroom. We still couldn’t get a good look at the invaders, but ... we’d know if they changed their plan and circumvented the ambush. They’d have to start taking down more wards if they wanted to come at us from another direction.
Unless they’ve found a way through the wards, I thought. It should have been impossible, but I knew better than to believe it. There was always a way though, even with Objects of Power anchoring the wardlines. It was just a matter of finding the weak spot and forcing one’s way through it. If I obtained an Object of Power, why couldn’t they?
I lowered my voice as we spread out and took cover. “Don’t hex until I shout,” I ordered, slowly. “Saline, you and I will bring down their defences; Francis, you and Harvard hex them.”
“Got it,” Francis said. “What do we do with them afterwards?”
Put them in the locker rooms, the nasty part of my mind whispered. Or ...
I shook my head. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald had been lucky, very lucky, that their little joke hadn’t led to outright disaster. The consequences ... no, I wasn’t going to risk that, not for a prank. Better to merely humiliate them than ... I braced myself, sweat prickling down my back as I heard a shuffling sound in the distance. I cast an obscurification charm over our positions, then stood still. I could feel them coming towards us. Their charms were strong, but I’d spent hours getting a feel for the room’s background magic. They might be able to keep me from sensing them directly, yet ... it didn’t matter. I knew where they were because I knew where they weren’t.
My lips twitched. Magister Harmon had said that, years ago. I hadn’t understood him at the time. Now ... now, I thought I knew what he meant.
I glanced at Saline as the intruders came into view. They were inching forward, holding long metal wands - Devices of Power - as they advanced. They’d planned it carefully, I noted; one inched forward, then the other two would come forward in turn. There didn’t seem to be any more than three of them, as far as I could tell, although that meant nothing. A whole army could be following them and, as they’d already taken down the wards, we’d have no way to sense them. I shook my head. There wouldn’t be a whole army. There would be ten of them at most.
Unless two teams have decided to ally, I thought, as I peered into the semi-darkness. That would give them a major advantage.
I took a breath, then gave the command. “Now!”
Saline and I cast the spell together, tearing into their protective webbing of obscurification and concealment charms. I heard someone shout in surprise as their cover vanished, an instant before Francis and Harvard hurled their first hexes. A dark figure melted - I heard croaking a second - later, but the other figures jumped reflexively to the side, dodging the spell. I was unwillingly impressed. They hadn’t known they were walking into an ambush, but they’d reacted with admirable speed. I saw the frog grow back into a man, a second later. I hexed him in the back before he could react.
“Yield,” Harvard shouted, as he threw another hex. “We’ve got you.”
A flare of light almost blinded me. I half-covered my eyes and ducked, sharply, as a hex flew over my head. Someone - I thought it was a girl, but I wasn’t sure - ducked behind an old piece of sporting equipment, so old and degraded that I wasn’t certain what particular kind of torture it had been used to inflict. Perhaps students had been forced to clamber up and jump to the ground ... or something. I’d never liked gym and I’d dropped it as soon as I could. I didn’t care if the wretched monstrosity got destroyed in the crossfire.
I glanced at Saline. “When I give the command, yank it away.”
Saline nodded, her dark face almost invisible in the half-light. “Ready.”
“Now,” I ordered.
She cast the spell. The climbing frame - or whatever it was - hurled itself away from the wall and crashed somewhere on the far side of the room. The person hiding behind it was caught by surprise, desperately trying to get her wards up before it was too late. I didn’t give her time. I slammed a shatter charm into her wards - I almost shouted as I saw Ayesha McDonald illuminated in the glow - and then hit her with a transfiguration hex. She shrank into a tiny doll, no larger than my arm. I kept a wary eye on her - she was strong, more than strong enough to break the spell - as I layered another charm on her. It should be enough to make breaking the charm difficult, if not impossible.
Francis whooped. “I thi
nk we won!”
I cast a light spell into the air. The chamber was suddenly filled with light. Ayesha was lying on the floor, helplessly. One of her companions was a frog, croaking pitifully in Harvard’s tight grip; the other, sensibly, had beaten a hasty retreat as soon as she’d realised they’d walked into an ambush. Ayesha’s sister? It was odd, not to see the two McDonalds together. Or was Zeya the frog? I didn’t want to check.
Saline laughed. “I think we won too.”
I looked down at Ayesha. The doll was immobile, but ... I could feel the magic, mine and hers, pulsing around her silent form. She was looking back at me, somehow. She knew I had no reason to be gentle. Maybe I wouldn’t take the risk of putting her in the locker room. There were plenty of other embarrassing things I could do to her, without the risk of being expelled. It was all part of the game.
Francis nudged me. “We should ransom them back to their team.”
“Maybe they’d pay us to keep them,” Harvard said. The frog croaked in protest. “What happens if the team leadership is permanently transfigured?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We can’t keep them permanently anyway.”
“I’m sure we could get something for them,” Francis persisted. “Perhaps a guarantee that they wouldn’t try to sabotage us again. Or ...”
I shook my head. There were limits. We couldn’t keep them prisoner indefinitely ... and they knew it. Sooner or later, the teachers would notice they were missing and we’d all be for the high jump. Ayesha’s comrades weren’t going to pay any ransom. They simply had to wait us out. I looked down at the doll, wondering just what she was thinking. Was she trying to break the spell? Or was she waiting, biding her time until she could change back without interference? I had no way to know.
“I’ll deal with them,” Saline said. She cast a spell on the frog, freezing it into immobility. “I’ll take them to the upper levels. They can change back there.”
“And who knows who will see them?” Francis smirked, openly. “They might be very embarrassed indeed.”
“I’ll see to it,” Saline said. She took Ayesha and studied her for a long moment. “She was often very unpleasant, you know.”
“Don’t go too far,” I said, warningly.
Saline winked at me, then took the frog and hurried off into the distance. I watched her go, then picked up the abandoned Devices of Power. They’d been forged very well, although ... it was clear they hadn’t been designed for the Challenge. I had the feeling they’d held their better work in reserve. They wouldn’t have wanted to waste those on a sabotage raid, not when it could cost them their change to win. That would be amusing.
Francis nudged me. “So ... what happened between you two?”
I gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
“She can barely look at you and you ... can barely look at her.” Francis’s grin widened, until it looked like the last thing a particularly unfortunate swimmer might see before his death. “Have you been fooling around when you’re betrothed?”
“No.” I felt a hot stab of white-hot anger. Why did Francis have to be so perceptive, particularly now? “She made her interest clear, but I turned her down.”
Francis whistled. “You turned her down? That’s some impressive willpower, my man!”
I glared at him. “And what about you and Lindsey?”
“Well ...” Francis shrugged. “We talked and decided it would be better to go our separate ways. No harm done, no hard feelings ... you know the drill.”
“How suspiciously mature of you,” I muttered, darkly. It was stupid, but I envied him. “And what about the other girls?”
Francis eyed me. “Other girls?”
“Be careful.” I didn’t really want to know what he was doing, but ... if it could impact the family it was my duty to know. “And ...”
I stopped as Saline ran back down the corridor to join us. “Done,” she said. “They’ll revert to normal in a few hours, unless they break the spells themselves. And when they do, they’ll have witnesses.”
I frowned. “Where did you put them?”
“By the statue of Tempest the Terrible,” Saline said. “The firsties use that corridor all the time. Someone will trip the ward and break the spells ... and see them snap back to normal.”
“Ouch.” I was torn between unholy glee and the uneasy sense we might have stepped over a line. “And what else did you do?”
Saline gave me a long look. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Instinct,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could put it into words. “What did you do?”
“Oh, just a little charm I learnt when I was a firstie,” Saline said. “It makes someone think they’re naked. Completely untrue, of course, but ...”
Francis laughed. “You couldn’t have made their clothes fall off?”
“Of course not.” Saline gave us both a brilliant smile. “That would have been a bit obvious. This way ... they’d have to admit they were pranked by a firstie spell if they wanted to make a complaint. And they’d have to work out what we’d done before they could remove it.”
Or use a spellbreaker, I thought. Saline’s prank would work. I was certain of it. Ayesha and Zeya would waste time looking for an upperclassman-level spell, instead of realising they’d been hit with a mild compulsion. Once they did, of course, they’d have no trouble at all getting rid of it. And then they’ll start plotting revenge.
I shook my head. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”
Francis blinked. “What do you mean?”
Saline jumped in before I could formulate a reply. “I think we should all go out to dinner,” she said. “We have a lot to celebrate, don’t we?”
“Yes,” I said. I had a lot to do, too, but it could wait one night. “I suppose we do.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I should have gone straight to bed, after we returned from dinner, but I couldn’t sleep. I simply didn’t feel tired. Instead, I checked in with Alana - she was on night duty, as she didn’t have any classes in the early morning - and made my way to the library. It was on the verge of closing - it was practically Lights Out - but I did have some privileges as Head Boy. The librarians ignored me as I slipped through the door and made my way down to the archives, ignoring a pair of lowerclassmen who were frantically trying to finish their homework before the bell rang.
The sight took my breath away. The archivists had filed away everything, from outdated copies of The Practical Potioneer to Society Pages, a newsletter covering the doings of High Society. I rolled my eyes, thinking about how my aunts cursed the paper - sometimes literally - and yet were delighted when they appeared between its pages. The only thing worse than having one’s dirty laundry splashed across the front page, it seemed, was not having one’s dirty laundry on display. I snorted at the thought. They couldn’t complain about being featured if they went out of their way to make sure they would be featured.
I made my way to the rear of the room, looking for newspapers and broadsheets from fifty-one years ago. The stacks were crammed with dust, despite arrays of protection spells. The archivists had done their best, but there were limits. I was uneasily aware the paper might crumble in my hands. I tried not to cough as I found a handful of scrapbooks. Someone - a very long time ago - had cut up the newspapers, then folded the cuttings into giant scrapbooks. I wondered if they’d been trying to make things easier for their successors or harder. There were so many spells woven into the scrapbook that I didn’t dare try to use magic to lift them. I had to carry them to the desk with my bare hands.
Brushing dust off the cover, I slowly started to work my way through the book. It rapidly became clear that nothing had really improved over the last fifty years, at least when it came to reporting. A third of the articles were full of fluff and nonsense, another third were practically obscene ... I read a description of a dress worn by a society beauty and shuddered by how much attention the reporter paid to her figure, rather than the
dress itself. He was practically slobbering over her. I wondered what the poor girl had thought, at the time. My mother would have turned the reporter into a pig, if it hadn’t been so completely redundant.
The remaining articles were more informative, but I still had to flip through them to find the ones I wanted. Some crawler of a reporter had written a piece of backstory on Master Carioca Rubén - it was hard to connect the description with my father, who would have been about fourteen when the article was written - that had to have been approved by the family. It was so fawning that even the most contemptible social climber I’d met would have been repulsed. I wondered just how much the reporter had been paid to write such things with a straight face. Did they need surgery to remove his tongue from my grandfather’s buttocks?
I snickered at the thought, then flipped through the pages. There was another puff piece on Sofia Cameron - Cat’s mother, I thought - about her graduation; she’d gone into an apprenticeship with a very experienced Potions Master. Beyond that, there was another brief piece on a handful of names I barely recognised, families that had been falling below the poverty line for years. I wondered, as I kept turning the pages, if I’d gone too far into the future. Perhaps I needed an earlier scrapbook.
(The Zero Enigma Book 6) The Family Pride Page 31
