The Grandmaster's Tale

Chapter 5

It was a fun couple of hours.

Lady Pepper was good at her job, and she had two other experienced magicians to help her. I didn’t mind showing something of what I could do and allowing myself to make mistakes—the kind of mistakes my old instructor would have hexed me for making—so she could demonstrate how to take best advantage of them. It helped that our nine students were smart enough to realise the mistakes weren’t real, that we’d worked out in advance what sort of mistakes I could make that would be credible. I knew at least one instructor who’d gotten pissy, not without reason, when his senior forgot to make it clear the mistakes hadn’t been real. The poor guy had been sore for weeks afterwards.

“Master Hasdrubal tried to be fancy,” Pepper said, as I picked myself off the ground. “The spell he wanted to use takes too long to cast, if one is standing in the open. He gave me all the time I needed to strike him first, with a simple but nasty spell. And if you’re unlucky, you get worse for grandstanding than being knocked on your ass.”

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.”

“That was very good of him,” I said, a deadpan look on my face. Lord Pollux was Walter’s dad. His estates were renowned for their grapes, as well as a number of alchemically interesting crops, but … it was never safe, for a magician, to risk getting drunk. I hoped Boscha was careful enough to remove the alcohol before he let it pass his lips. “I trust he and his vineyards are doing well?”

“Well enough,” Boscha said. He took another sip of his glass. “The flavour is exquisite.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Maybe it was something to do with my birth, but I’d always been a pleb when it came to wine. The idea of rolling the liquid around in my mouth and then spouting nonsense was just silly. Besides, it was an affectation of people who had nothing better to do with their lives. Or just wanted to claim they were better than everyone else. It was a fairly common delusion.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I do have grading to be getting on with …”

“You probably shouldn’t have taken the detention this morning,” Boscha said. “Next time, hand them over to someone else. I’m sure Walter or one of the other prefects would be happy to do the work.”

“It was a favour to Mistress Constance,” I said. I was sure Walter would be happy, too. I was also sure there was a better than even chance he’d be hurt if he tried. It was funny how many prefects, particularly the mean ones, went outside the school and vanished, only to come stumbling back weeks later with some cock and bull story about how they’d encountered a wild witch who’d turned them into toads. Or something. I don’t know why they bothered. Everyone knew the truth. “And it was a good walk. It helped to clear my mind.”

Boscha nodded, then changed the subject. “Two months from now, the school board will be visiting,” he said. “I believe they want to inspect the school but also to discuss our role in our changing world. We will, of course, be hosting them.”

I nodded, keeping my amusement from showing. What did the school board ever do to you?

“Of course,” I said. I pitied the board members. They’d have bad food, lumpy beds, and quite a few other experiences that would give them flashbacks to their childhoods. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy the experience.”

“I certainly hope so,” Boscha said. “We will, of course, be doing our best to ensure they have a good time here. The classrooms will be dusted; the corridors will be cleaned; the beds in the guest quarters will be replaced … they will, of course, join me for dinner each night in my own private suite. I see no reason to expose them to the students.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Do you not want them to inspect the classes?”

“You and the other tutors will give demonstrations of your teaching styles,” Boscha said, calmly. “But I feel it is important not to interrupt the students as they study. A handful of students will be presented to the board, of course, but the majority will be left to continue their work uninterrupted.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. I needed time to think about what I was being told. “I’m sure the board will find it very interesting indeed.”

“Quite,” Boscha agreed. “These are challenging times for all, Hasdrubal, and it is vitally important we prove that we can live up to the challenge.”

Quite right, I thought, as I took my leave. And what, precisely, are you planning?

My thoughts ran in circles. The school board was coming here. That was odd. The board was rarely, if ever, involved in actual decision-making. I thought the last thing they’d ever done was rule on a teacher’s complaint about being sacked for no good reason, shortly after Boscha took his post, and they’d ruled the teacher was in the wrong. Otherwise … Boscha was allowed to run the school to suit himself. I wondered, idly, just how many board members had kids attending school. They would certainly all be aristos.

Jacky was waiting outside. I eyed him sourly, wondering if it was worth trying to recruit him as a source, then ordered him to go. The fear in his eyes almost convinced me to change my mind. He wasn’t a bad student, just … I shook my head and made my way back to the staff rooms. I needed to speak to Mistress Constance and Pepper, when they returned to the school. If the board was coming here … why?

Maybe someone has been telling tales out of school, I thought, although it was hard to believe anything serious would be delayed for two months. Or maybe it really is just what it seems.

It bugged me. Boscha had a point about one thing, and that was that the world was changing. The old certainties of my childhood—and his—were gone. Whitehall had been part of the imperial establishment for so long that … what was the school’s role now, after the establishment had been swept away? The thought haunted me. There were no shortages of power-hungry men, and a handful of women, taking advantage of the chaos to seize power for themselves. Did Boscha want to do the same? Or … or what?

I reached my office and returned to the grading, feeling my head start to pound as I read through the essays. There’s always a handful of students who don’t pay any attention to the instructions and a couple whose answers go off on tangents so bizarre you honestly wonder what they think they’re studying. You might as well ask someone to add two and two and get donkey as the answer. And then there’s the students whose handwriting is so bad that unravelling their answers is an exercise in cryptography. I knew teachers who didn’t bother to try…

Bastards, I thought, as I reached for the kettle to brew myself something to drink. They could put in the effort, couldn’t they?

I rubbed my forehead. Reading and writing were complex skills and the students from lower social classes tended not to have any training until they reached school. It made it harder for them to catch up … Geraldine’s family might have paid for lessons for her, if they were progressive enough to educate young women, but it was interesting that Alan knew how to read and write. The orphanage must have hired tutors. I sighed as I poured steaming liquid into a cup, then sat down to work. If I was ever in a position to change the rules, ensuring everyone had a chance to learn the basics before going on to the advanced classes would be the first thing I’d do.

“He gave me the same speech,” Mistress Constance said, that evening. “The board is coming, and we have to be ready.”

“He’s making sure the board isn’t going to be exposed to the food,” Pepper cracked. “Wise of him.”

I nodded, although I suspected Boscha was wasting his time. The board members had all been to school. Surely, they recalled just how bad the food was … surely. There were occasional midnight feasts, which were quietly ignored if they didn’t become excessive, but most students had to eat in the dining hall. Maybe they’d forgotten. Most people don’t like to dwell on unpleasant memories and school meals were very unpleasant indeed. It was something else I intended to change. I had to eat those dinners, too!

“Yeah,” I agreed. “What is he doing?”

“Building an army,” Pepper said, flatly. “We know it. But who is the real mastermind?”

I frowned. Boscha had been at pains to remind me of his connection to Lord Pollux. I guessed he had ties to Lord Archibald too. I doubted Boscha was acting on his own, but …

“We need to unseat him,” I said. “I doubt the board will do it for us.”

“No,” Mistress Constance agreed. “He’ll just claim he was giving students some extra tuition. He might even get away with it.”

“Probably,” I agreed. It wasn’t uncommon for students to seek out extra tutoring. The precedent had been set long ago. But Boscha was doing it on an excessive scale … if he hadn’t been working so hard to hide it, and Walter hadn’t been more obnoxious than usual, I would have wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake. The grandmaster could come up with a decent cover story for doing it openly, if he’d tried. “Why do it in secret?”

“To avoid exciting jealousy,” Pepper said. “But why not offer the lessons to everyone?”

“We need to keep training our own students,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I had in mind, not yet, but Boscha couldn’t be allowed to have the only army or he’d win by default. And so would his backers. “And we need to come up with a plan.”

I finished my drink and left, leaving them alone.

The next two weeks went slowly. We carried on the private training—and kept an eye out for new recruits— as we studied Boscha as closely as we could, trying to determine what he was planning. I was sure we were missing a major piece of the puzzle, perhaps the piece that would show us what the remainder of the puzzle would look like, but we didn’t have any idea what it was. Boscha himself showed no inclination to give anything away, save for endless reminders about the board’s visit. It made me wonder if he was planning to kidnap the board members and hold them for ransom, an idea that only made sense if one assumed Boscha was a complete idiot. Even Walter would hesitate to kidnap his own father!

Unless he thinks he can inherit ahead of time, I thought, before dismissing the idea as being absurdly complex. There were no shortages of heirs who’d inherited in suspicious circumstances, but most of them had fairly credible cover stories. Walter isn’t daft enough to believe he could get away with kidnapping and murdering his father outright, is he?

I didn’t know. I had relatives who were stupid enough to think they could get away with just about anything, from molesting the maids to lying to their fathers. They’d never faced consequences in their lives, not even a slap on the wrist … naturally, they thought they’d never face any consequences at all. Some of them had been right … others had discovered, too late, that they weren’t immune to punishment or that simply they’d been denied the rewards and prospects offered to others. I wouldn’t have trusted someone so entitled he thought he could get away with anything and many other people would feel the same way.

And then they had the nerve to complain they were being denied the posts they thought were theirs by right, I thought. It had been a rare moment of justice in a family that thought blood was often more important than skill. Walter might go the same way, too.

I kept walking, randomly wandering the corridors. The air felt tense, suggesting trouble … I kept my eyes open, watching for the first hint someone had drawn the short straw and found himself charged with keeping watch for approaching tutors. It was a thankless job, but someone had to do it …

And then I heard the scream.