The Grandmaster's Tale

“The problem is spreading to my classes,” Mistress Constance said, breaking the stalemate. “Last week, I had to discipline both Adrian and Walter for throwing dragon’s root into another student’s cauldron, causing an explosion that could have wounded or killed half the class. Frankly, I am on the verge of banning both students permanently. Alchemy is dangerous enough at the best of times, when everyone is behaving themselves, and those students are going to get someone killed.”

I kept my face impassive with an effort. Adrian of House Rawlins and Walter of House Ashworth had been friends practically since birth, two handsome and cocky young men who would have gone far, if they hadn’t turned their magical talent to making everyone else’s lives miserable. They knew better than to cause trouble in my class, thankfully, but everywhere else … they and their toadies, Jacky McBrayer and Stephen Root, caused havoc. I lived in hope that, one day, they would cross the line to the point they could be expelled. But they were good at making themselves appear innocent …

“I believed we discussed the matter at the time,” Boscha said. “They insisted it was an accident.”

“An accident,” Mistress Constance repeated. I could hear the sneer in her voice. “A piece of root accidentally levitating itself into the air, and accidentally flying across the chamber and accidentally splashing into another student’s cauldron and triggering a reaction … all accidentally?”

“Unless you have clear proof it was done with murderous intent, you cannot bar them from your classes,” Boscha said. “There are rules …”

Mistress Constance fixed him with a stern look. I had to admire Boscha’s nerve, if nothing else. Mistress Constance was a skilled alchemist as well as a powerful magician and she hadn’t risen to the top of her profession without being extremely driven. If she’d been looking at me like that, I would have feared for my life.

“They are undisciplined, arrogant, and rude,” Mistress Constance said, coldly. “And foolish, too.”

I felt a stab of sympathy. It was rare for someone to openly look down on a sorceress for being female—it was a good way to end up a toad—and no one did it twice, but Adrian and Walter were disrespectful as hell. I knew their fathers. The poisoned apples hadn’t fallen too far from the tree. Boscha might not take the disrespect seriously—he might not even be aware it was there—but Mistress Constance had no choice. And she couldn’t teach the little brats the lesson they so sorely needed.

“They are also talented young lads with astonishing potential,” Boscha said. “They just need some proper guidance.”

“So give it to them,” Mistress Constance said. “Or tell their parents to send them to Stronghold.”

“Or to Widow’s Peak,” I muttered. The fact there was a necromancer squatting in the old fortress wasn’t a problem. Adrian and Walter might think highly of themselves, and they did have quite a bit to brag about, but a necromancer would have no trouble turning them both into a quick snack. “Why not …”

Daphne cleared her throat. “Sir, you have a meeting with Lord Archibald Rawlins in ten minutes.”

Boscha nodded. I wondered if he was glad of the interruption. “We’ll continue to discuss the matter later,” he said.

I wondered, idly, what matter? Adrian and Walter … or whatever he’d intended to discuss when he called the meeting. Two hours sitting at the table … for what? I still didn’t know. If it turned out to be something minor, after all that, I was going to be pissed!

The Grandmaster stood and left the room, Daphne following him like a puppy. I stood myself, exchanging brief looks with the others. We’d had our differences over the last few years, but none of us liked Boscha. Or his willingness to tolerate the intolerable. I made a mental note to ask Mistress Constance for a drink later, in my quarters. If nothing else, we could compare notes and see if we could determine just what our lord and master was doing this time.

It nagged at me as I stepped through the door and headed down the maze of stairs and corridors to my classroom. Boscha … was a puzzle. I didn’t pretend to understand what he was thinking. I’d known people from all walks of life, from commoner-born serfs and merchants to princes, kings and magicians, but Boscha didn’t fit any pattern. Perhaps he really was a homunculus. Or a dragon in disguise. Stranger things had happened. Or so I’d been told.

I stepped into the charms corridor and stopped dead, instincts flaring before my conscious mind caught up and realised what was wrong. A banging noise from one of the cupboards … someone was inside. And that meant …

Someone was trapped.

Chapter 2

I threw open the door, then stopped and stared in horror.