Schooled in Magic (31 page)

“Excellent,” Jade said. He sounded frighteningly like Sergeant Harkin. “This is a team and we are meant to work together. Anyone who doesn’t cooperate will regret it. We play together, study together and win together.”

Emily scowled inwardly. She liked her time alone, mostly.

“Now all we need is a name,” Jade continued. “What should we call ourselves?”

Slytherin
, Emily thought. She didn’t say it out loud. Jade would probably want to know where it came from and what it meant, and she had no idea how to explain
Harry Potter
to them. Besides, if she told him about games played on broomsticks he’d probably want to set one up immediately and expect her to play.

“Stalker’s Stalkers,” Cat suggested. “My father’s old unit was named after his Major.”

“Maybe not,” Bran countered. “I don’t think the Sergeant would approve.”

“Red Team,” Emily suggested. “Or maybe Redshirts?”

It struck her, a moment later, that that would be a bad omen. But Jade seemed to be taking it seriously.

“Deep in thought, I see,” Sergeant Harkin said. Emily jumped as she realized that he was right behind her. “And have you come up with a proper name for your team yet?”

“Ah ... Redshirts, Sergeant,” Jade said quickly. “It could be Redcoats, but some of our parents would object.”

“Yes,” Harkin agreed, flatly.

Emily was puzzled until she remembered that the British Army’s officers had used to wear red uniforms to ensure that the blood wouldn’t show and discourage their troops. There was no reason why this army wouldn’t have followed the same logic, although
she
wasn’t sure that it was truly that logical. Identifying the officers for watching snipers struck her as a bad idea.

“Redshirts ... ” He looked directly at Emily. “And have you mastered the skirmishing spells?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Emily said, trying to project confidence into her voice. She had learned them from Madame Irene, but she wasn’t sure that she could cast them at will. “I think so.”

“There is no room for
‘I think so’
in war,” Harkin informed her. He raised his voice. “Cast the shielding charm now, if you please.”

Emily tried to cast it and succeeded on the second try.

“It works,” Jade muttered to her. “Well done.”

“Now,” Harkin said, somehow projecting his voice across the field. “When I blow the whistle, start casting the skirmishing spells at enemy teams. The team with the last player standing wins. Go!”

He blew the whistle. There was a moment of stunned silence, broken by Jade hurling a spell at the nearest player from a different team. His body started to sparkle, just as everyone started hurling spells at very close range. Emily managed to fire a bolt at Sissy, a girl who had shown no interest in her one way or the other, before four different enemy players struck her with their own spells. She hit the deck as sparkles started to form around her body, silently grateful that she hadn’t been turned into stone this time. Looking up, it was evident that the only survivor from all four teams was Aloha. Her roommate looked muddy; it took Emily a moment to realize that she’d dropped to the ground as soon as spells started to fly and then picked off the remaining survivors before they realized that she wasn’t sparkling.

“Good thinking, Aloha,” Harkin said. Emily saw Aloha looking embarrassed–praise from Harkin was rare, it seemed–as she stood upright. “So, what went wrong there?”

His face twisted into an amused scowl. “Only one person had the wit to seek cover, what little cover there was. Everyone else was an easy target–although quite a few spells missed outright. And the person who took a shot at me wasted his chance to win the match.” There was a glitter of humor in his eye for a brief second. “Fighting in a crowded room is something that you have to learn to avoid, if possible. The nastier military spells will do as much harm to you and yours as they will to the enemy.”

Miles clicked his fingers and the sparkles vanished. “We’re going to start altering the positions now,” Harkin continued. “And then we’ll see if we can’t bash some proper tactics into your heads.”

Emily found herself enjoying the exercises, much to her surprise, as they played two more rounds in the forest. The trees provided additional cover; the bogs and other nasty surprises made it harder to concentrate on just the opposing team. Harkin watched them, shouting advice when one of the teams made an obvious mistake, once directing a new team into the forest to engage the victors of the first match. Emily managed to take out three other players before being taken out in turn. By the time class came to an end, she was tired, muddy and happy.

“I expect you to spend some time practicing in teams,” Harkin said. “Leaders: make sure you take the right safety precautions, or there will be beatings. Next period, we will be discussing proper tactics for magic spells. Why not see what you can find out for yourselves first?”

Emily walked back to the building, unable to resist smiling at the expression on Aloha’s face.

Her roommate looked delighted with herself. And she deserved to.

“Y
OU’RE NOT THINKING,” IMAIQAH SAID REPROVINGLY.
“I just took your king.”

Emily nodded sourly. She’d played chess as a younger girl–she’d been very good at it, she considered–but Imaiqah was unquestionably a skilful player of kingmaker. The game was close enough to chess to confuse Emily, because–as far as she could tell–the real key piece was the wizard, rather than the king or queen. Worse, the king was a mighty piece and the Queen was almost helpless, an inversion that puzzled her. Most confusingly of all, servants–pawns, by any other name–couldn’t always be promoted to replace the queen, if she happened to be lost. The servant she had designated as crown prince became king if–and only if–the original king happened to be lost. If both the king and crown prince were taken, or if the king was ‘checkmated’, the game ended.

She’d actually drawn out a plan for a chess board–eight by eight, instead of the nine by nine squares used by kingmaker–and listed the rules for Imaiqah, who had pointed out that they weren’t very realistic. Real life noted that queens were always weaker than kings, even when the Queen ruled in her own right. And if one king happened to die, there was always another king waiting in the wings, unless he’d died first. Emily had countered by pointing out that in chess the rules didn’t seem to change depending on the exact position of the pieces at any one time. And two pieces couldn’t occupy the same space.

“Blast,” she said, ruefully. The servant she’d designated as her crown prince was too close to Imaiqah’s lines for comfort. But she couldn’t conceal him any longer. Shaking her head, she removed the servant piece from the board and replaced it with the taken king. “I think you’re going to win, again.”

Imaiqah moved her castle and checked the new king. “Maybe not,” she said, seriously. “Your sergeant can cover him.”

Emily snorted. A king in chess, only able to move one square per turn, couldn’t easily escape a trap without support from other pieces. In kingmaker, a king could go anywhere as long as he didn’t cross a threatened line or took another piece, unless it was on the square next to him. The game was supposed to be more realistic, but it lacked the beautiful simplicity of chess.

She moved the sergeant, hoping that it wouldn’t expose her queen too badly. “I think we should go back to the spellcasting chamber. You need to work on your charms.”

Imaiqah nodded. They’d spent at least an hour a day for the last week practicing casting spells, both offensive practical jokes–in both senses of the word–and shielding charms. Alassa wasn’t the only bully out there, it seemed, and they had to be ready for trouble. Imaiqah seemed to be gaining confidence as she mastered new spells, thankfully.

But Emily still needed Imaiqah’s help and advice. Her potions rarely seemed to work properly, even potions Thande called easy and straightforward.

“There,” Imaiqah said, moving her own sergeant. “Your King is Mine.”

Emily looked at the board and swallowed a curse. She’d moved one piece, only to expose her king to another angle of attack. And this one not only threatened the king, but made it impossible to retreat. She looked for options–one game of chess she’d played had been lost because she hadn’t thought to check when her opponent declared checkmate–but saw nothing. There was no way to shield her king or take the attacking piece.

“Congratulations,” she said, lifting her king and tapping his head against the board. “Maybe you should teach this game to Alassa.”

“I think she already knows it,” Imaiqah said seriously. “It is a
very
good representation of her life.”

They shared a chuckle, then Imaiqah reached into her bag and produced a small chest, barely larger than one of the magical tomes they’d been studying in the library. “My father sent you this,” she said, as she pressed her finger against the latch. There was a brief flash of
mana
and the chest unlocked. “It came through the Portal this morning and I didn’t want to open it in front of everyone.”

Emily nodded. Student mail was handed out in the dining hall, but most of the students seemed to put mail aside to open up later. Apparently, some of the mail was charmed to prevent strangers from forcing their way inside and reading it before the intended recipient and some of those charms were owned by specific families. But she would have been surprised to learn that Imaiqah’s family had a charm of their own. As far as Emily knew, Imaiqah was the first magician in her bloodline.

“Here,” Imaiqah said. “The warlock my father hired didn’t know your karmic signature, so he used mine.”

The chest was surprisingly heavy, but the lid opened easily. Inside ... Emily felt her eyes widen in shock. There was a small pile of glittering gold and silver coins, as well as a letter addressed to Imaiqah. Emily passed her friend the letter and touched the coins, unable to believe that they were quite real. If they were real gold and silver, she was holding more money in her hand than her family had ever enjoyed back home.

“He’s been selling the idea of your new numbers and double-entry bookkeeping to everyone in the city,” Imaiqah said, reading the letter. “Apparently, he swore them to silence about the exact details, but they were allowed to tell everyone else just how great an idea the new numbers were. And that’s your share of the profits.”

Emily couldn’t believe her eyes. “And how much is the gold actually worth?”

Imaiqah looked puzzled. “It’s worth its weight, of course,” she said. “What do you mean?”

Not for the first time, Emily found herself wishing that she knew more about economics. She had a faint idea that gold backed modern currencies, and at one time those currencies had been pegged to the gold standard, but she wasn’t sure what the gold standard actually
was
. Gold had once been useless, at least in a practical sense; it couldn’t actually be destroyed. Or so she thought. Golden jewelry could be melted down to pay for goods and services, if necessary.

But gold might not buy everything. What good was a sack of gold on a desert island? Gold could only be used to buy items and services if those items were available. In one sense, it acted as a middleman between buyer and seller, rather than forcing them to bargain.

But ... she shook her head, confused. Like most subjects, economics seemed very simple until you tried to actually work out what it
meant
, let alone how to apply the lessons in real life. And half of what she knew about economics was just guesswork.

She picked up two of the coins and looked at them. They were stamped with a head that, she suspected, represented Alassa’s father, but they were clearly not the same size and weight. She poked through the chest in puzzlement, looking at different coins. Whoever had stamped them out hadn’t even bothered to
try
to get them to match. One was large enough to cover her palm, another was barely larger than a fingernail.

“That’s why they weigh gold in the shops,” Imaiqah said, taking pity on her. Emily was still trying to come to grips with the concept of two gold coins being worth vastly different values. Back home, money had been standardized by the government. “If the coin was too much, they’d either give you silver or clip off what they wanted from the original coin.”

“It doesn’t sound very precise,” Emily said, doubtfully.

“It isn’t,” Imaiqah agreed. “And you won’t believe what banks charge to reshape gold clippings into new coins. Or what punishments are handed out to people who try to make new coins out of tiny clips.”

Imaiqah smiled suddenly as she kept reading the letter. “Father has managed to convince a pair of tailors to make your
bras
,” she said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “He intends to see how well they sell before trying to sell the idea itself; he wonders if I can ask the Princess for Royal Patronage, something that would make it harder for others to copy the idea ... “

Emily stared at her, and then started to laugh. “Alassa! He expects
you
to ask
her
for Patronage?”

“It’s the way the world works,” Imaiqah said. “Banks won’t loan money to father to help him expand without a powerful supporter in the background. And who better than the King’s daughter?”