“Welcome to Whitehall,” a grim-faced woman said, as Gennady and two of his fellow boarders scrambled out of the carriage. “Make your way through the door and into the Grand Hall, if you please.”
Gennady barely heard her. He was too busy staring. He’d heard so much about Whitehall, over the past few months, that he’d thought he’d known what to expect. He was wrong. Whitehall was massive, a structure that seemed to change every time he blinked ... white walls, topped with glowing towers that seemed to shift in and out of his view ... his head swam as the crowd of students pushed him into the building, down a long corridor and into the Grand Hall. He’d never seen so many people in all his life. Magic hung in the air, crackling with power. His hair tried to stand on end as he clasped his hands behind his back, bracing himself for ... he wasn’t sure. It felt as if everything was going to change.
An aura of power flowed through the chamber as a small man took his place at the podium. Gennady stared. The man was short, with a cloth wrapped around his eyes, but there was an aura of power around him that suggested he was someone to respect. Gennady felt a flash of envy, mingled with a grim determination to equal or match the man’s power himself. He wanted—he needed—to be respected. It was the only thing that would make his life worth living.
“Welcome to Whitehall.” The man spoke in a soft voice that somehow echoed throughout the hall. “For those of you who don’t know me” —there was a hint of amusement in his voice— “I am the Grandmaster.”
He paused. “Whitehall has a long history of teaching magic to students, dating all the way back to the days of Lord Whitehall himself. By entering the building, you join some of the greatest sorcerers and wizards in recorded history. You become heirs to traditions that put us above the common herd, charged with maintaining those traditions and passing them on to the next generation. The school can and will offer you everything. You just need to reach out and take it.”
Gennady felt a thrill of excitement as the speech continued. It was hard to follow some of the Grandmaster’s words, but it didn’t matter. He still felt as if he’d been singled out for something special. Waves of magic drifted through the air, brushing against his newborn senses. Master Hathaway had taught him well. The handful of spells he’d mastered were tiny, he’d been warned, but they were a beginning. He’d do well, he promised himself. He’d make everyone—particularly Primrose—fond of him. His heart ached as he told himself, once again, that he’d be able to go home in the summer. He’d be a sorcerer. They’d all bend the knee to him.
The Grandmaster's speech finally came to an end. He nodded as the new students raised their hands in salute, then stepped through a door and vanished. A taller man stepped up to the podium and peered at them, his eyes cold and hard. Gennady knew, instinctively, that the newcomer wasn’t someone to mess with either. The man looked as if he was permanently on the verge of administering extreme violence to anyone who got in his way. Gennady knew the type. He’d met too many people like that already.
“I am Housemaster Fredrick,” the man said, gruffly. “Tonight, we get you settled into your rooms. Tomorrow, you attend your classes. Try and make this easier for all of us by keeping your questions to yourself. We’ll sort through such matters later.”
He paused, then continued. “Girls, accompany Housemistress Ethel,” Fredrick said. He pointed to an older woman with a nice smile, standing by a large door. “Boys, accompany me.”
Gennady joined the throng as Fredrick stepped off the podium and marched through a separate door without looking back. His fellow students looked either nervous, utterly unsure of themselves, or strikingly confident even though most of them would never have visited the school before. They all wore the same drab robes, covering themselves from head to toe. Gennady wasn’t sure quite what to make of the outfits—they reminded him too much of dresses for his peace of mind—but no one was going to mock him in Whitehall. They all wore the same clothes. The sense of magic grew stronger as they walked up a long flight of stairs, climbing higher and higher until it seemed as if they were on the verge of walking onto the roof. Whitehall was the largest building he’d ever seen. His tutors had told him it was bigger on the inside too.
They passed through a locked door and into another corridor, lined with smaller doors. Orbs of glowing light hung in the air, casting an eerie radiance over the scene. Gennady shivered, despite himself, as he walked under one of the light globes. The magic felt odd, as if it was reaching for him. He thought he felt something hot splattering down his backside, although there was nothing there. It felt as if it would take far too long to get used to the new environment. Dragon’s Den had been reassuringly normal compared to this.
Fredrick came to a halt. “Line up,” he ordered. His eyes flashed over the boys, narrowing in disapproval of something. Gennady cringed inwardly, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d done ... if he’d done anything. “I’m only going to say this once. Anyone who doesn’t pay attention will regret it.”
Gennady shivered, helplessly.
“These are the First Year dorms,” Fredrick informed them. “Boys—men—only. Girls have their own dorms, on the other side of the school. They’re not allowed to enter your dorms” —he glared at a pair of boys who moaned in disappointment—“and you’re not allowed to enter theirs. You’re also not allowed to enter any of the other rooms without permission from the occupants—all of the occupants. Your bedroom is your haven. I expect you all to remember that.”
He went on, outlining rule after rule until Gennady started to fear he would never remember them all. Rules for navigating the school, rules for using the libraries, spellchambers and other resources, rules for entering and leaving the dining halls ... there seemed to be a rule for every occasion. Fredrick even added a warning about contraceptive potion, making it clear that the infirmary would supply doses without asking any awkward questions. Gennady snorted inwardly at the very thought. He was saving himself for Primrose. And, even if he wasn’t, it was a point of honour to get one’s wife pregnant as quickly as possible. People would start making pointed remarks if a couple didn’t announce a pregnancy in their first year of marriage.
“Allan, Barr, Bertram,” Fredrick said. “You’ll have the first room.”
Gennady felt another thrill as Fredrick pointed to a room, dispatching the first trio of boys to their lair. It was a shared room, but ... it would be better than the dorms in the boarding house, let alone the shack his family had shared. There would be room to grow, room to ... there would be actual privacy.He wanted it, more than he could say. There had been no privacy back home. There had certainly been nowhere to hide.
“Gennady, Charlus, Simon,” Fredrick said. “You’ll have this room.”
His eyebrows narrowed as only two boys stepped forward. “Charlus will be along shortly, I’m sure,” he said, in a tone that promised trouble for the absent Charlus. “You two can get inside. Dinner will be served when the bell rings.”
“Thank you, sir,” the other boy said. Simon, Gennady guessed. “I ...”
Fredrick pointed at the door. “In.”
Gennady was already pushing the door open. A faint tingle of magic flickered through the air as he stepped inside and looked around. The room was bigger than he’d dared expect, with three beds, three wardrobes, three bookshelves and a single small door in the rear of the chamber. There were no windows. Light was provided by a single glowing orb, drifting just below the ceiling. He inched forward, struck with wonder. It was his. It was all his.
“Excuse me,” Simon said. He had an accent that reminded Gennady of the shopkeepers in Dragon’s Den. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, sorry.” Gennady felt his face heat. “I’m ... I’m Gennady. Pleased to meet you.”
“Simon.” Simon stuck out a hand. “Glad to be here.”
Gennady nodded, studying Simon with interest. The young man—boy, really—couldn’t be any younger than Gennady himself, but he looked younger. His face was pale and unmarked, his brown hair long and floppy rather than cut close to his scalp ... he looked secure, as if he thought he had nothing to fear. Gennady felt envy, mingled with bitter regret. He could have been secure, if he’d grown up somewhere else. No one was truly secure in the Cairngorms, not even the aristocracy. You never knew when the other folk would reach out their hand and take you.
“I’m from Dragon’s Den,” Simon said, confirming Gennady’s earlier thought. “Where are you from?”
“The Cairngorms,” Gennady said. His village didn’t have a name. He’d never realised how strange that was until he’d discovered that every town and city outside the mountains did have a name. “That’s a long way away.”
“I’ve never been there,” Simon said. He had an infectious smile. “What’s it like?”
“Harsh.” Gennady turned away, trying to hide his jealously. Simon could talk freely about traveling ... of course he could. “I’m glad to be away.”
He opened the rear door and peered inside. A washbasin, a shower, a toilet ... he shuddered, remembering how hard it had been to use the toilets in the boarding house. He was too used to doing his business outside, converting his waste to night soil that would—eventually—be used to fertilise the fields. Indoor toilets struck him as dirty and disgusting and—worst of all—wasteful. He told himself, firmly, that he had no idea what happened after he did his business. For all he knew, Whitehall sold compost to the local farmers.
Simon kept chatting, telling Gennady more than he wanted to know about his merchant family, their life and a whole string of issues that made absolutely no sense at all to his captive audience. Gennady tried hard to keep his face under tight control, torn between the urge to tell Simon to shut up and the grim awareness that Simon was just trying to be friendly. The merchant boy was probably as nervous as Gennady himself. He listened quietly as he chose a bed and sat down, opening the drawer under the bed to see a selection of robes, underwear and towels. The tutors had told him that everything would be provided. He hadn’t really believed it until now.
“The beds look small,” Simon said. “We’re supposed to get bigger beds if we pass our first tests.”
“Are we?” Gennady looked at Simon, then at the bed, then back at Simon again. “It looks big enough for me.”
Simon shrugged. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“I had to share a blanket with my siblings,” Gennady said, as he ran his finger over the duvet. It was easily big enough to cover him from head to toe. “This is so much better.”
The door burst open. A young man stamped into the room, looking pissed. Gennady glanced at him, then froze. His instincts recognised a threat when they saw one. The young man was wearing robes, just like them, but there was something fancy about the stitching that suggested they were customized. Gennady’s tutors had mumbled something about students who bought their own robes, rather than drawing them from the school’s stockpiles. He hadn’t understood what they meant until now.
He felt his fists clench as he stared at the newcomer. He—Charlus, Gennady assumed—was tall and haughty, with a face that was entirely too angular for Gennady’s peace of mind and a nose that was tailor-made for sneering. His eyes were sharp—and angry. Gennady saw a hint of loathing in the eyes ... no, not loathing. Charlus thought they were too lowly for him to loathe. Gennady was sure of it.
“I’m Simon,” Simon said. “You must be Charlus ...”
“That’s LordCharlus to you, peasant,” Charlus snapped. “Lord Charlus of House Ashworth!”
He lifted his hand, spread out his fingers and jabbed them towards the other two boys. Gennady felt ... something ... hit the back of his neck, a blow that wasn’t a blow. The world seemed to grow larger all of sudden, something dark landing on top of him as magic—alien magic—pulsed through his body. It took him longer than it should have done to realise that Charlus had cast a spell on him. The room went completely dark as something warm and soft brushed against his head. He reached up and felt cloth. It made no sense.
The ground shook. Gennady nearly panicked. Fear held him frozen as the warm object was pulled away. Light flowed into his eyes, almost blinding him. It was hard, so hard, to make sense of what he was seeing. Charlus had become a giant, looming over him. His face was so large that ... Gennady started back as he realised that Charlus hadn’t grown larger, not really. It was Gennady who’d been shrunk. The room was suddenly so immense that it would take far too long to reach the door. He glanced down and realised, to his horror, that he was naked. He clamped his hand over his manhood as Charlus laughed. Tears filled his eyes as he bowed his head in shame. Charlus was no better than Hogarth. He’d used magic rather than his fists, but otherwise ...
He looked at Simon, who’d also been shrunk. They were barely two metres apart, but it might as well have been a thousand miles. Charlus peered down at them, his face a cruel rictus of amusement. He continued to laugh at them. Gennady felt a surge of sudden hatred that burned through him, demanding an outlet. But there was nothing. There was nothing he could do. He was helpless ...
“They told me I couldn’t share a room with my friends.” Charlus spoke quietly, but it felt as if he were shouting. “They told me I had to ... expand my mind. They told me ...”
His voice rose. “Get this through your heads. I’m in charge. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Or else I’ll punish you like the vermin you are.”
Gennady clenched his fists, knowing it would be useless. Charlus had all the power. There was nothing he could do to fight back. Not yet, perhaps not ever ... no, he told himself, firmly, that he’d study hard and learn how to best Charlus at his own game. The aristocrat had cheated, but ... he wouldn’t win. Gennady was grimly determined to make him pay.
“You can’t do this to us,” Simon protested. “You can’t ...”
Charlus snapped his fingers. Simon’s tiny form fell to the ground. “Yes, I can. And I will.”
He tossed his carryall at one of the beds, then turned. “I’m in charge. Don’t you forget it.”
Gennady watched him walk out the door, staring in horror as he realised they were still about two inches high. The floor shook as Charlus closed the door behind him. Gennady swallowed hard, then tried to cast the cancellation spell he’d been taught. It didn’t work. He gritted his teeth and tried again, telling himself that Charlus was just a student. There was no reason to believe his magic would last for more than an hour or two, but ...
“Gennady!” Simon was running towards him. It looked as though he was running a race. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Gennady lied. It was a mistake—it was always a mistake—to show weakness. The boys would see it as an invitation. The girls would laugh and mock. “You?”
“I’ve been better.” Simon looked pale. “What a toffee-nosed bastard!”
Gennady flinched, despite himself. Someone might be listening. Someone was always listening, back home. The village had few secrets. Here ... who knew? Someone might be watching them through magic. He’d heard enough stories from his tutors—tales of Lord Whitehall and Lord Alfred and Robin De Bold—to know there were few true limits to magic. And then he remembered he was naked, that they were both naked ...
Simon didn’t seem to care. “A year of him,” he said. “It’s going to feel like an eternity.”
“Yeah,” Gennady said. The thought was unbearable. Hogarth had been horrid, but at least Gennady hadn’t had to share a room with him. “We’re going to have to study hard. We’re going to have to beat him.”
“If we can,” Simon said, pessimistically. He sat down, resting his hands on his knees as he waited for the spell to wear off. “He’ll have been raised in a magical household. He’ll know more than us ...”
“People like that never stop, unless they run into someone hard enough to stop them,” Gennady said. He’d heard that bullies were always cowards, but it wasn’t true. Bullies were rarely cowards because they rarely ran into someone who could stop them. They’d never tasted defeat, let alone the humiliation of being a victim. He promised himself that Charlus would taste it for himself before he was done. “We have to study hard.”
But he knew, as he tried to cancel the spell once again, that it wouldn’t be easy.