The Grandmaster's Tale

“I believe it was an accident,” Boscha said. More proof, if I needed it, that Boscha had no idea Alan was his son. “However, we need to send a very firm message that such misbehaviour will not be tolerated. Accordingly, I have suspended Stephen Root for the rest of the year. He’ll have the opportunity to resume his studies next year. It will mean starting fifth year again, unfortunately, but he’ll have to cope. Somehow.”

“An accident,” I said. My voice could have frozen a desert. “He should be expelled.”

“He made a full confession,” Boscha said. “He will be punished, and the entire matter will be put behind us.”

My mind raced. I didn’t believe Stephen had cast the spell. But he’d confessed … I guessed Walter and Adrian, whichever one had wounded Alan, had … convinced … Stephen to take the fall. Stephen’s family wasn’t that important, in the grand scheme of things, but Walter and Adrian could offer all sorts of rewards, if Stephen confessed and accepted suspension. It would look pretty bad on his record, after he graduated, yet … it would be easy for Walter or Adrian to find him a post. Their families could certainly afford to give Stephen almost anything he could reasonably demand in exchange for his service. Damn them.

And someone has been punished, I thought, bitterly. Boscha had all the excuse he needed to let the matter drop. There’s no need for anyone to investigate further.

“However, this incident is just the tip of the iceberg,” Boscha continued. “There have been a great many disciplinary problems over the past few weeks, all of which will make it harder for us to convince the board we are in control. I …”

Mistress Constance snorted. “Are we talking about the boy who made a girl’s clothes fall off? Or the girl who cast a penis-enhancing spell on a boy? Or the person who charmed a mirror in the locker room so they could spy though it? All of which you dismissed on the grounds boys will be boys?”

Boscha ignored her. “There are not enough staff members to patrol the corridors and tackle troublemakers before they … ah, make trouble. Nor are there enough prefects. Accordingly, I have put together a list of fine young men from respectable families who will be appointed prefects—additional prefects, as it were. They will remain on duty at all times, with authority to intervene at once if they see anyone causing trouble. I expect you to give them your full support.”

I glanced at the list. Twenty names … all of whom, I knew, were part of Boscha’s underground training sessions. I was surprised there weren’t more … who was missing and why? My mind raced as I considered the implications. Boscha was taking control of the school … no, that was absurd. He already had control of the school. One might as well steal something one already owned. What was the point? I was sure I was missing something, but what?

“There will be more prefects than older students,” Master Waybright observed. The librarian was a traditionalist to the core. I had been reluctant to approach him, because I feared he might side with Boscha, but perhaps I’d been wrong. “It seems a little unbalanced.”

“There will still be fewer prefects than students,” Boscha said. “They will still have to work overtime to patrol the corridors.”

“I note that Walter did nothing to keep Stephen from gravely injuring a fellow student,” I pointed out, sourly. “He should be dismissed for failing in his duties, like Miss Geraldine.”

“Stephan confessed he ignored his friend’s orders,” Boscha said. “He insists that Walter really was trying to stop him … indeed, Walter was kind enough to bring Stephen to me so I could hear his confession.”

I bet he was, I thought, sourly. Geraldine got attacked, tied up and perhaps molested … and she lost her badge. Walter did nothing to prevent a student from injuring another, if he hadn’t cast the spell himself, and he got to keep his badge. After they worked out what to tell you, naturally.

It didn’t please me. Student alibis tended to be fantastically complex—they’d never heard of the KISS principle—and they could be broken quite easily, if one asked the right questions and then zeroed in on any discrepancies. Whatever mountain of nonsense Walter had concocted could be taken apart, if Boscha bothered to try. But why would it? Pretending to accept whatever nonsense he’d been told was the easiest way to put the matter to rest. It had even given him a convenient excuse to tighten his grip on the school.

“I trust you will all assist the new prefects in carrying out their duties,” Boscha said. “Now, about the arrival of the school board …”