Gennady's Tale

Chapter 7

Gennady had never been scared of the dark.

It was true, he supposed, that anyone who ventured out of his home after dark risked an encounter with the other folk. It was also true there were enough nasty creatures in the forests that slept during the day to make life dangerous for anyone caught outside, if he wasn’t armed to the teeth and ready to fight. The things that lurked in the darkness that gripped the Cairngorms could be very dangerous indeed. But the darkness itself wasn’t dangerous. In many ways, the darkness represented safety.

Gennady felt the shadows moving around as he crept up the stairs towards the library. It was half-term, with half the students on their way back to their homes, but he stayed as quiet as possible as he reached the door. Charlus might have gone home, yet some of his friends had stayed behind. The bastard had probably given them orders to make Gennady’s life miserable. Charlus really did have a talent for being unpleasant. Gennady wouldn’t have thought he could get worse, but after the frog prank he had. Gennady, Simon and Lyndred had been lucky to spend more than a day or two over the last couple of months without being tormented.

He pushed the door open, reaching out with his senses for any spells that might keep him from getting into the library. None of them had been able to study properly over the last few weeks, putting them even further behind. They hadn’t been able to get help, either. The tutors hadn’t cared and the students had either laughed at them or made indecent demands. What they’d asked from Lyndred ... Gennady’s stomach churned at the very thought. Didn’t anyone know how to treat a decent woman right? He hadn’t even known that people did ... he shuddered, swallowing hard. It was filthy! And perverse! And ...

The chamber was empty, as far as he could tell. He muttered another night-vision spell under his breath, jumping slightly as he caught sight of the statue positioned near the returns trolley. There was no shortage of rumours and stories surrounding the statue—some claimed it had once been a student who’d lost an irreplaceable book, some that it was a statue of one of the founders—but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. Gennady took another look around, then cast a light globe. A ball of light drifted into the air, casting a shimmering eerie radiance over the scene. The library was empty. Gennady breathed a sigh of relief as he headed for the shelves. There was work to be done.

Simon should be here, Gennady thought. His friends had gone home for the holidays. Simon had promised to visit, but ... so far, he hadn’t kept his word. If he was here, we could have brought Lyndred ...

He took a book off the shelves and sat down, opening the textbook to the very first page. The unnamed author didn’t bother with any introductions, merely launching into a detailed dissection on magical theory and how it applied to more complex spells. Gennady forced himself to work through it, even though he felt as though he was completely out of his depth. The writer never bothered to explain anything, a common problem in magical textbooks. You either understood what he was trying to say or you shouldn’t be reading the book in the first place. Or so he’d been told.

They’re keeping things from us, he thought, as he parsed his way through a detailed spell diagram. And I have to learn.

He sighed, inwardly. He was still at the bottom. Charlus, damn him to all the hells, was right at the top. Gennady knew he was advancing, but not fast enough. He needed to learn more, before Charlus did something that would actually get someone killed. Gennady had no faith in the tutors to protect him, not any longer. They hadn’t said anything when Charlus hexed Gennady in the back, or destroyed his work, or caused life-threatening accidents ...

The book blurred into an impenetrable wodge of text. Gennady stared at it, feeling tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. It was impossible. It didn’t matter how powerful he became, if he lacked the skill to control his powers. Charlus wasn’t that much more powerful, no matter how it seemed. But he was skilled enough to really use his powers. Gennady’s head hurt whenever he thought about it. It just wasn’t fair! He’d moved from a place where the strong dominated the weak to another place that was just the same, only worse. Here, the old would remain magically strong until the end of their lives.

He went back to the textbooks, but the words were just ... words. Gennady glared in frustration, fighting the temptation to simply tear the book to pieces. But that would probably have gotten him expelled. He looked at the shelves, wondering how he was supposed to proceed if he couldn’t read the books. Every time he thought he’d mastered something, life threw him a new complication. How was he meant to be worthy of Primrose if he couldn’t read well enough to do any good?

A hand fell on his shoulder. Gennady jumped, whirling around. He brought up his fist, then stopped himself a moment before he slugged Housemaster Fredrick. The man raised his eyebrows, challengingly. Gennady shrank back into himself. There was a tradition of trying to escape, when one was caught after Lights Out, but trying and failing made one a laughing stock. The entire school would know the story by the end of the following day.

“Gennady.” Housemaster Fredrick was as cold as ever. “What are you doing here?”

Gennady felt an absurd urge to giggle. Charlus and his cronies sneaked down to the kitchens and stole enough grub for midnight feasts. Or so Gennady had been told. Neither he nor Simon had ever been invited. Others sneaked out to meet female students. But ... he’d been caught in the library. Housemaster Fredrick probably wanted to know why before he frogmarched Gennady to the Warden. Gennady supposed it was a bit odd.

“Studying, sir,” he said, shortly. “I ...”

Housemaster Fredrick picked up the book. “And do you understand it?”

Gennady lowered his eyes. He’d learnt the hard way not to make claims he couldn’t back up.

“No, sir,” he said. “I ... I just can’t make head or tail of it.”

“I’m not surprised.” Housemaster Fredrick flicked through the book. “This is a Third Year textbook. You’re in your first year. You’re nowhere near advanced enough to read this book and understand it.”

“Yes, sir.” Gennady swallowed. His mouth was almost painfully dry. “But I need to master magic.”

“There are some students your age who might be able to make use of this book,” Housemaster Fredrick said, dryly. “Hasdrubal and his brothers were certainly supposed to be geniuses. But you’re nowhere near advanced enough to make sense of it. Why were you even looking at it?”

Gennady glared down at his hands. “Because I need to get better.”

“You won’t get better by trying to jump ahead,” Housemaster Fredrick warned. “Magic is a complex subject. If you don’t master the basics, you certainly won’t master the advanced levels. You need two entire years of study to read this book with a hope of understanding it.”

“I need to jump ahead,” Gennady protested. “I need to ...”

“What you need to do is master the basics first,” Housemaster Fredrick told him, as he returned the textbook to the shelves. “You cannot jump ahead. These spells ... yes, you might manage to cast some of them. But if you try without the background knowledge you’ll learn in the next two years, you’ll be unable to do much with them. You certainly won’t be able to alter them to suit yourself. It’s what you need to demonstrate if you want to pass the first set of real exams.”

Gennady hunched in on himself. There were exams at the end of each year, he’d been told, but the truly important exams would come at the end of his fourth and sixth years in the school. It seemed impossible that he’d pass the exams at the end of this important exams year, let alone the ones in three years. He felt as if he was spinning his wheels, caught—perhaps—in a swamp that grew worse the more he tried to escape it. He couldn’t put his feelings into words. He was sure, all too sure, that Housemaster Fredrick wouldn’t care.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered.

“Life isn’t fair,” Housemaster Fredrick said. “What don’t you want to tell me?”

Gennady found himself answering, in spite of himself. “Charlus is so good,” he said. “And I ... I can’t keep up with him.”

“Don’t worry about keeping up with him—or anyone,” Housemaster Fredrick advised. His face was an emotionless mask. “Concentrate, instead, on mastering the basics before you move ahead. It isn’t a competition.”

“It is,” Gennady insisted. He was dimly aware that he was being ... encouraged... to speak, but he couldn’t stop himself. The words came tumbling out without passing through his brain first. “He keeps moving ahead of me and cursing me and enchanting me and it just isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Housemaster Fredrick repeated. “Charlus was raised in House Ashworth. He has years of education you never had. It isn’t a fair comparison.”

“But ...” Gennady caught himself before he could say anything else. He was already walking far too close to tattling. No one would ever trust him again if he did. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. “Sir, I can’t ...”

“He should be ahead of you.” Housemaster Fredrick cut him off. “His family would be more concerned if he wasn’t. But it really isn’t a race. It doesn’t matter who crosses the finish line first, or last, or whenever. All that matters is completing the race.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Forget Charlus,” Housemaster Fredrick said, curtly. “Like I said, concentrate on the basics. Once you’ve mastered them, you can move ahead.”

“Forget Charlus,” Gennady repeated. “Do you know ... I share a room with him!”

“You won’t share with him next year,” Housemaster Fredrick assured him. “It’s rare to keep the same roommates for more than a year. You only have five months to go.”

“He’ll kill me,” Gennady predicted. He felt his clubfoot start to ache. “Sir ... I don’t know what to do!”

“Forget him,” Housemaster Fredrick said again. “It isn’t a race. Concentrate on mastering the skills you need to move ahead. Charlus ... will no longer be your problem soon enough.”

His voice hardened. “Now, I’m going to do you a favour. I should send you to the Warden—or thrash you myself—for being out of bounds. Instead, I’m just going to send you back to your room. Do try not to be caught on your way back or you’ll get us both in hot water.”

Gennady was too depressed to care. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Housemaster Fredrick clapped his shoulder. “Remember what I said. Forget Charlus. Concentrate on learning.”

Gennady forced his legs—they felt leaden—to stand. He knew Housemaster Fredrick had done him a favour ... although, really, what was one more beating? But the man was an idiot. Forget Charlus? Forget the roommate who hated him, who hexed him every hour of every day ... who’d beaten him with a belt, amongst other atrocities? Gennady couldn’t forget Charlus. The bastard was good at making himself noticed, damn him. Housemaster Fredrick was wrong. Gennady had to keep learning.

He stayed as quiet as a mouse as he walked down the stairs and glided along the corridor that led to the dorms. Housemaster Fredrick might not get in trouble if Gennady was caught a second time, but Gennady himself certainly would. And ... if someone noticed Gennady had made it back without being caught, they might ask questions. Or jump to the wrong—or right—conclusions. Or ... Gennady cursed everyone, from Charlus to Housemaster Fredrick, as he finally returned to his empty room. It felt wonderful to have such a space all to himself. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Simon and Charlus would be back soon enough.

Housemaster Fredrick said nothing, the following morning, when Gennady ate a quick breakfast and then hurried back to the library. There were a handful of other early-risers in evidence, but most of them were too old to do more than look down their noses at him disdainfully. It was irritating, yet ... better than being beaten or hexed. He found a pair of books and forced himself to go through them, trying to understand the principles of advanced magic. If he could master a spell to crack Charlus’s wards, just one, he might give the bully the shock of a lifetime. If he turned Charlus into a snail and stepped on him ...

The thought gnawed at his mind. If only ... he saw the words starting to blur together and knew it wasn’t going to be so easy. Charlus was holding him back, deliberately. The bully had no choice. He knew what Gennady would do to him, when—if—Gennady surpassed him. His only hope was to keep Gennady from mastering the basics. And Housemaster Fredrick was helping him. Gennady wasn’t blind to who benefited from the housemaster’s advice. It might have been wrapped in kindness, a hint of sugar to hide the poison, but ... it was poison. They were trying to hold him back. Of course they were. There could be no other answer.

His head pounded as he worked his way through the textbooks, going all the way back to the beginning. There were a lot of little tips and tricks he’d missed along the way, things that made life easier as he progressed ... he understood, now, why he’d remained at the bottom. But ... he cursed Charlus under his breath, once again. The moment the bully returned, Gennady would be denied the library. And that would be the end.

He was still reading the textbooks when Lyndred appeared, wearing a long dress that covered everything below her neckline. She looked ... stunning. Gennady stared, then reminded himself—sharply—about Primrose. Lyndred wasn’t just a girl. She was one of his friends, one of his two friends. He felt his cheeks heat as he looked away. He wasn’t one of the boys who’d made indecent suggestions, damn it. He was ... he was a decent man.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get back earlier,” Lyndred said. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve discovered we’re being held back,” Gennady grumbled. He fought the urge to put the books back and go outside with her. Charlus was a long way away. There wouldn’t be any ambushes if they walked outside the school. “Where’s Simon?”

Lyndred gave him an unreadable look. “He’s getting changed. Some”—her lips shaped a word she didn’t quite say—“threw eggs at him.”

Gennady winced, feeling a mixture of guilt and relief he hadn’t been there. What could he have done? He couldn’t have fought back, could he? It would have just ended up with them both covered in eggs. He was surprised Lyndred hadn’t been splashed too. Magicians didn’t seem to think women should be honoured and protected. They were to be treated just like men, in all ways.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without being quite sure what he was apologising for. He hated—he hated—being ashamed of himself. And yet ... he was always ashamed. “I think we need to study more.”

“I know.” Lyndred gritted her teeth. “Perhaps I should ask for tutoring. There are older students.”

“We couldn’t trust them,” Gennady said. His conscience pointed out that prospective tutors might also demand a price they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—pay. “We just have to keep learning.”

“Right.” Lyndred frowned. “When shall we begin?”

“Tonight?” Gennady glanced at the clock. It was mid-afternoon. Where had the time gone? He’d spent all day looking at the books, but he couldn’t say he’d learnt anything. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he’d read. “We’ll meet Simon, then come back here.”

He stood, brushing down his robes. His stomach rumbled warningly, a reminder that he was growing too used to three meals a day. Back home, he’d been lucky to get more than just the table scraps. They’d never been enough food to go around. He promised himself that—when he and Primrose were married—he’d do whatever it took to put food on the table. He had magic. It shouldn’t be too hard. Some of the little charms he’d learnt would be enough to bring in money when he went back home.

“I wish things were different,” Lyndred said. Her face sagged, a display of weakness that would have marked her for real trouble in the mountains. Hogarth would have started to circle her the moment he saw it. “I wish ...”

Gennady understood. Things should be different. But they weren’t. Magical society wasn’t that different from the mountains, no matter what they claimed. The strong did whatever they liked, without fear of punishment. The weak ... the weak had no choice, but to take whatever they were given. In one sense, Lyndred was from another world. In another, they were just the same. He followed her as she led the way down the stairs, back to the dorms. He couldn’t afford to listen to the housemaster. They couldn’t afford to listen. Their only hope was to catch up before it was too late.

And if that means studying till our eyes bleed, he thought as they walked past a pair of older students, that’s what we’ll do.