Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) (12 page)

Imaiqah sat down beside her. “I think I did all right,” she said, reluctantly. “But I never liked playing it before.”

“I guess it’s better if you’re playing with friends,” Emily said. Perhaps she would have enjoyed herself more if Alassa hadn’t been so determined to found her own team. But then, she’d always been happier by herself—or with one or two friends. “How do you decide who’s better?”

“Alassa was saying that it was the ones who stayed in the game the longest who won,” Imaiqah explained. “But someone could just hide...”

Emily nodded, watching as the second game came to an end. A handful of students stumbled off, looking tired and dispirited, but there were still enough players to form three whole teams. It struck her that some of them might form their own teams too, following in Alassa’s footsteps—there was certainly no rule against it. But would the older, more established teams try something to deter them?

She rolled her eyes. Life was definitely much simpler when she hadn’t even
thought
about team games.

“Good work, all of you,” Alassa said. “Third match, now; sudden death. If you get hit with a ball thrown by another player, you’re out. The remaining players when we get down to twelve will be the first team. And then we start practicing in earnest.”

Emily sighed and climbed to her feet, looking over at the Gorgon. “Didn’t Lin want to come?”

“She was studying in our room,” the Gorgon explained. “She didn’t even want to go down for dinner.”

The arena opened up in front of them, even though there were nearly three times as many players this time. Alassa tossed balls upwards, where the magic fields caught them and started to project them into the arena at random. Emily wasn’t sure what happened if a player was hit by a ball thrown by the arena itself, but she didn’t want to find out. It was probably something that fans like Alassa considered obvious.

She picked up a ball that rolled past her and looked around. The arena seemed determined to make it harder for her to
see
the other players this time; she caught sight of the Gorgon, briefly, but when she hurled the ball it ricocheted off an invisible wall. A loud chime rang through the arena as the first player was knocked out, followed rapidly by a second. Emily saw something moving out of the corner of her eye and ducked, sharply, as a ball flew over her head. She grabbed the ball as it bounced back at her and threw it at a young male student she vaguely recognized from Advanced Charms. He caught it neatly, grinned at her, and then launched the ball towards her with all of his might. Emily started to dodge, but it caught her in the side before she could escape. Another chime rang through the arena as the magic reconfigured itself, creating an invisible slide that evicted her from the playing field.

“Hard luck,” a voice said. “Happens to us all.

Emily looked up to see Cat. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Checking out the competition,” Cat explained, without a hint of shame. “You never know; your royal friend might just be the ideal player for
my
team.”

Emily looked over at Alassa, who was doing an impression of Sergeant Harkin while preparing to throw a ball at the next target, and then looked back at Cat. “You’re
talent-spotting
?”

“Of course,” Cat said. “I’m a sixth year now, don’t you know? I won’t even be
here
next year. If I can find the teammates who will take the team further—after I’m gone, of course—it will look very good on my resumé.”

He gave her a smug smile that made Emily want to hit him. “Some people here with talent,” he noted happily. “What will your friend say if we lure them away?”

Emily shrugged. “Is that even legal?”

“There’s no rule against it,” Cat said. “Of course, the original rulebook was lost years ago, so it is possible that there
was
such a rule...”

“And someone junked the book so they could break it,” Emily said. She had a private suspicion that Ken, the wizard who had created the game and then named it after himself, had actually pulled several different games together, but there was no way to know. “What can you actually offer the players?”

Cat shrugged. “Fame and glory?”

Emily laughed. She
had
fame and glory—and they weren’t really what she’d
wanted
. Alassa was a Royal Princess. Neither of them could really be boosted by playing
Ken
. And if someone else decided to leave Alassa’s team to join an older one...well, it wasn’t as if she were short of volunteers to play.

“Best of luck,” Cat said, as he turned away. “You’ll need it.”

Emily snorted as the final chime rang out, signaling that the number of players in the game had been reduced to twelve. Alassa had made it, naturally, as had the Gorgon, Alassa’s two roommates—and Imaiqah. Emily felt an odd pang as she realized that her friends were going to be spending their evenings practicing the game, rather than spending time studying with her. After finally making friends...she was going to be left alone again.

Maybe I should have tried harder
, she thought sourly, as she walked over to where Alassa was handing out practice schedules.
But I tried as hard as I could
.

“You four will be in the reserves,” Alassa said, to the last four students to be evicted from the arena. “If one of the players can’t make it, you can take their place.”

She looked over at Emily as the rest of the players started to head towards the showers. “I can still put you on the team...”

Emily hesitated. She hadn’t enjoyed the game, not really. And yet, the thought of being left alone was...unpleasant.

“I think it would be obvious that you were showing favoritism,” she said, finally. It was true, after all. “I didn’t make the team fairly.”

“I suppose not,” Alassa said. She reached out and took Emily’s arm, leading her back towards the school. “And thank you for trying. You’re welcome to help with planning, if you want.”

She leaned closer. “Or is there something from your home that can help?”

“Probably not,” Emily said. It wasn’t as if she’d spent time following sports on Earth. “And I don’t qualify as a cheerleader.”

Alassa blinked. “A cheerleader?”

Emily hesitated, then tried to explain. “They’re girls who dress up in skimpy clothes and cheer for the team,” she said, after a moment’s thought. There was probably more to it than that, but she hadn’t bothered to follow the cheerleaders either.
She
had certainly never been considered to join the team—and wouldn’t have wanted to if she had. “I think it’s meant to encourage the players.”

Alassa snorted. “And distract them so they run into the walls and suchlike?”

“Probably,” Emily said. “I really don’t know much about them.”

“Maybe not something we need,” Alassa said, after a moment. “Would the spectators be cheering on the team—or the girls?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Emily said. It was easy to think that the spectators might be watching the girls, rather than the players. But the first requirement for being a cheerleader, at least in her opinion, was being brainless...and it was hard to think of anyone at Whitehall who qualified. Brainless magicians, she had been told, never lasted very long. “What else can I do?”

“Help me think of tactics,” Alassa said. She put on a wheedling tone. “Or you could do my coursework while I play.”

Emily gave her a sharp look. Last year, Alassa had bullied Imaiqah into doing her homework—before Emily had nearly killed her, accidentally.

“Not a chance,” she said, finally. “Besides, do we have the
same
coursework?”

Alassa shrugged as they entered the shower. “I’ve noticed you reading books on everything,” she said, dryly. “I think you probably know more than I do about some things—and I was born here.”

Emily flushed. She
had
spent plenty of time in the library, just learning as much as she could. There was no shortage of interesting books in Whitehall, although most of them were written on the assumption that their readers didn’t come from a different world. She had already run into several problems caused by her lack of background knowledge, knowledge that any child born near Whitehall would gain instinctively.

“Maybe,” she said, as she started to remove her tunic. Three showers in a day—thankfully, Whitehall didn’t have any restrictions on how much water they could use. There were students, she knew, who came from hovels and had to go back to truly disgusting conditions when term ended. It separated them out from their families, creating a gulf that would be near-impossible to surmount.

Maybe Master Tor has a point
, she thought, reluctantly.
They have to get to know their new family, because they won’t have much in common with their old one.

She washed and dried herself, then pulled on her robes, wincing slightly as her body started to ache. Between playing
Ken
and Martial Magic, she had used muscles she hadn’t used in far too long. The sergeant had been right, she realized. She had allowed herself to slip.

“Come and eat,” Alassa said. Somehow, she always managed to look beautiful, even after a communal shower. “And then we can plan how we’re going to win the next game.”

“Cat was watching,” Emily said. She explained quickly. “He even
admitted
that he was talent-spotting.”

Alassa looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head. “He can’t offer slots on his team to everyone, or he’d destroy it,” she said. “It isn’t really something we need to worry about.”

“True,” Emily agreed. Cat’s team probably had three open slots for new players, after the previous players had graduated. He could only steal three players at most, from people who probably wouldn’t be interested. “Let’s see how it goes.”

Chapter Ten

I
T IS LAW,” MASTER TOR SAID,
“that is the true embodiment of society.”

Emily listened, fighting down the urge to rub her eyes. Instead of going to bed early after the
Ken
game and dinner, she had stayed up with Alassa and the other girls, listening as they brainstormed ideas and tactics for their first formal match. In hindsight, she realized, she should have left them and gone to bed herself, but she’d forgotten that she had an early class the following morning. Thankfully, Master Tor didn’t seem to have noticed her tiredness as he swept into the room and took control of the class.

“You will be aware, no doubt, that there are different laws in each of the Allied Lands,” he continued. “One kingdom may forbid something that is enthusiastically practiced in another, which in turn may forbid something that is a vital part of the third’s economy. You are not expected to be familiar with the intricacies of separate kingdoms, at least unless you intend to spend the rest of your lives practicing law. However, you
are
expected to be familiar with the shared law upheld by the Allied Lands. Can anyone tell me which field that law covers?”

There was a long pause.

“Magic,” Alassa said, finally.

“Correct,” Master Tor said. “Sorcerers are not always bound by local laws, but they are obliged to follow the shared laws of the Allied Lands, which are upheld by the White Council and the Mediators. You are expected to be at least loosely familiar with those laws, as well as a handful of others. Those of you who go on to serve as Mediators will be expected to know the laws
thoroughly
. Judging will be a vitally important part of your career.”

He paused, tapping one finger against his cheek. “When magic is involved, the White Council has the right to take the lead,” he added. “This can include dealing with magicians, but also with magical creatures and magically-binding contracts. If you serve as a Mediator, you will be called upon to create such contracts—or to try to break one, if it was created illegally. Such tasks also require an awareness of both human and magical law.

“A secondary aspect of your career will include meditating disputes between the different Allied Lands. Most of you, I suspect, will be aware that there
are
clashes between the Allied Lands on a regular basis. I might direct you, for example, to the endless skirmishes between kingdoms and city-states, or commercial disputes that threaten to turn into wars. It is the task of the Mediators to attempt to moderate such disagreements and maintain a united front against the necromancers.”

For a long moment, he gazed at Emily—and then continued. “For the remainder of this lesson, I will give you a brief overview of the basics and a reading list for further study,” he concluded. “Should you wish to remain in this class, you will be expected to research precedents and cases that date all the way back to the foundation of the Allied Lands themselves—and be ready to quote them when necessary. Many of you will find them tedious and boring, but they are vitally important. Attention to detail matters even outside learning magic.

“We will also be practicing debating and rhetoric,” he added. “You will be expected to present evidence in support of an assertion—or to counter it. This is excellent training for law-related work—and also for writing essays, if you haven’t mastered it by now. I intend to hold a debate every Friday afternoon, using topics chosen by you. You may pick anything you like, as long as you are prepared to argue for it—or against it.”

Song put up her hand. “Are you saying, sir, that I might have to argue against something I support?”

“Precisely,” Master Tor said. He held up a hand before she could object. “A frequent problem in arguments is that both sides are incapable of seeing the other’s point of view, which ensures that they see each other as monsters who need to be fought, tooth and nail. If you try to look at the argument from the other person’s point of view—if you try to uphold their side of the argument—you will come to understand it. You may then be able to look for a workable compromise.”

Emily wasn’t so sure that she agreed. It was true that political debates and internet discussions back home had degenerated into shouting matches rather than reasoned discussion, but there were subjects that could
never
be upheld.
She
couldn’t put together an argument that supported the suppression of human rights or forced marriages, even though there were people who did both with enthusiasm. How could she be forced to
defend
them?