The Grandmaster's Tale

I nodded, then watched as the students went through their own lessons. Alan was a smart and canny combatant, once he got the idea he was allowed to cheat. He’d grown up in an orphanage, from what I’d heard, which probably accounted for his willingness to inflict as much pain as possible even if it cost him badly. He might not look as tough as some of the students who’d grown up in happier circumstances, but he was tougher. I rather thought Pepper liked him. As a slight girl who didn’t look particularly intimidating, she’d had to prove her capabilities very quickly or the students would’ve walked all over her.

Idiots, I thought, crossly. Frauds didn’t last long at magic school. Once it became clear they didn’t know what they were talking about, their career was over. Do they think she got the job—and kept it—because she has a nice smile?

I put the thought aside as the session came to an end. “If you want to practice any of these spells, do it in a spellchamber and try to make sure there are other spells being cast in the same room to conceal precisely what you’re doing,” I warned. I didn’t think Boscha paid close attention to what sort of spells the students were casting, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “I can book you into spellchambers if you need to. If not … we’ll come up with another excuse, next Saturday, for more lessons.”

Alan and Geraldine joined me for the walk back to the school. Mistress Constance had taken the precaution of obtaining supplies from elsewhere, ensuring the full baskets—and the mud on their outfits—would convince everyone we really had been hunting for potion ingredients. I doubted anyone would bother. Still … the two students chattered away excitedly as we walked, their woes forgotten in the aftermath of a fun and practical magic lesson. I felt a twinge of wistfulness, mixed with guilt and regret. I’d felt the same way, too, when my brothers and I had been the same age. Too many years had passed since then.

“Get a shower and a change,” I ordered, as we reached the dorms. “I’ll see you in class.”

They nodded and hurried away. I hoped they had the sense to believe me when I cautioned them about the wards. If they said the wrong thing at the wrong time … I put the thought out of my head as I turned and made my way back to my office. I had papers to grade, papers I should have attended to yesterday. But I hadn’t had time.

I could put them off some more, I thought. Or …

Jacky McBrayer stepped out to block my way. “My Lord?”

I tried to keep my displeasure from showing on my face. Jacky was a young man whose body somehow gave the impression of being fat and unhealthy, even though it was rare to see a fat magician. I’d never liked him. He was a crawler who sucked up to the biggest and strongest bully he could find, then—safe under the bully’s wing—tormented everyone else. Jacky was particularly unpleasant, as he was never safe in his position. I remained adamant in my opinion that Walter and Adrian would ditch him, the moment he became surplus to requirements, and all the people he’d tormented would come looking for revenge. Poor bastard. If he’d had a better upbringing, perhaps he’d be a little more careful about his friendships.

“What?” If he’d come to tattle on someone again, I was not going to be pleased. “What is it?”

“The Grandmaster would like to see you in his office,” Jacky said. “He sent me to escort you …”

“How … charming,” I said, keeping my face under tight control. Boscha wouldn’t send a student to escort me anywhere, even if he knew what I’d been doing. I suspected Jacky’s ‘friends’ had dumped him again, leaving him alone and vulnerable. Staying close to a tutor was one way to ensure he didn’t get hexed into next week. “Let us go to his office, shall we?”

My mind raced as we made our way up the stairs. The summons was an unpleasant surprise. Did Boscha know what I’d been doing? I didn’t think so—I knew how to evade the gaze of far more powerful and capable people—but I could be wrong. Or … what else could it be? I’d filed a bunch of complaints about various issues with the department and school at large—a cover; I’d noticed that when people got quiet, it was time to start worrying—but I was fairly sure Boscha had simply filed them in the bin. Or … what could it be? I ignored Jacky’s attempts at small talk as we reached the office, then motioned for him to wait outside as I entered. Boscha didn’t look like someone who was planning an ambush. He was sitting in his chair, drinking wine and reading papers.

“Ah, Hasdrubal,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

I nodded, impatiently. “Grandmaster. What can I do for you?”

Boscha didn’t seem disturbed by my rudeness. He just indicated the glass. “Wine? It was sent to me personally, by Lord Pollux.”