Study in Slaughter (Schooled in Magic) (20 page)

“Stay there,” he grunted. “Hands on your head, where I can see them.”

Emily obeyed, and waited. She heard the rustle as he worked his way through the papers—her papers or essays; she didn’t know—and waited, as best as she could. The sergeants were fond of telling her that military service was mostly boredom, with fleeting moments of terror, but it didn’t seem to compare with waiting for the hammer to fall. Or perhaps it was entirely the same thing.

“Turn,” he ordered, finally.

Emily shifted around, not daring to take her hands from her head, and met his eyes. He was
furious
—and all of that anger was directed at Emily herself. It struck her, suddenly, that she had been very careless. He hated her and now she’d given him a reason to demand that she be expelled. And she didn’t even know why!

“So tell me,” he ordered, after a long chilling moment that had Emily half-convinced that he was going to kill her on the spot, “just
what
were you thinking?”

Chapter Sixteen

M
ASTER TOR WENT ON BEFORE EMILY
could say a word.

“Did it penetrate whatever you use for a mind,” he demanded, “that Whitehall is largely constructed within a pocket dimension? Your spell, as limited as it was, could easily have interfered with it.”

Emily stared at him in horror. She’d known, but she hadn’t considered the implications—and the book hadn’t bothered to mention them. But it wouldn’t have done, she suspected; nexus points were rare and required different techniques to harness and control.

“Did it occur to you to wonder,” Master Tor added, “
why
enchantment isn’t taught until fifth and sixth year? Why most enchanters learn their trade through apprenticeships? Why your class on Construction and Warding barely touched on it? The spells themselves cannot be practiced in Whitehall. Those spells have to be taught
outside
the school.”

His eyes bored into hers. “The wards protecting the school automatically shut down any spells intended to create pocket dimensions,” he snarled. “Under the circumstances, you’re very lucky that you didn’t accidentally start a fire too.”

Emily found herself torn between relief and fear. Relief that her spell had been fine—it had been the wards that had prevented it from working properly—and fear for her future. Master Tor was quite right; it
had
been stupid of her to experiment in Whitehall, particularly when a few questions would have told her why it was stupid. And she had thousands of square miles of land in Zangaria she could have used to carry out her experiments.

“This piece of work”—Master Tor waved her parchment at her—“is crude, unformed—and could have done serious damage, if you’d lost control of it. I would appreciate knowing just
what
you were
thinking
when you started your little project.”

“I wanted to learn how to make my own trunks,” Emily said. It was partly true, after all—and she didn’t want to share her other idea with anyone, at least until she knew if it would work. Once she’d created the pocket dimension, she would have embarked on the next stage of the project. “I’ve already lost one...”

“You are one of the richest students in Whitehall,” Master Tor snapped, effortlessly overpowering her voice. “If you wished, you could buy trunks for every single student without straining your resources.”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t be
mine
,” Emily said, frantically. She wanted to run and hide, not stand there and face him. “And I don’t have
that
much money...”

Master Tor gave her a furious look. “Do you have enough money to replace an entire school?”

His voice hardened. “What you did was criminally irresponsible,” he added. “I shudder for the poor peasants of Cockatrice, living under a baroness who thinks nothing of the danger to others when she works her magic. And you do realize that most peasants cannot leave their lands? They’ll be exposed to you until the day you die.”

That
stung
. Emily recalled the sort of brat Alassa had been before Emily had almost killed her; she’d shown a complete lack of concern for those she considered her social inferiors. But Emily
hadn’t
been like that...or like some of the others she’d heard rumors about, during her time in Zangaria. The less said about Princess Lucinda the better.

“I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger,” she said, trying to control her voice. “I...”

“You didn’t mean to put anyone in danger,” Master Tor repeated. His voice became mocking. “I do believe that is almost worse! You didn’t even
think
about the possible harm you could have done before you started messing around with pocket dimensions.”

He looked her right in the eye. “That book is only available with a permission slip from the Head of Construction,” he said. “Where did you get it?”

Emily hesitated, then confessed. “I borrowed it from Yodel, in Dragon’s Den,” she admitted. “I...”

Master Tor interrupted her. “And he loaned it to you, just like
that
?”

He went on before Emily could admit to making a deal with Yodel. “I shall insist that the Grandmaster have strong words with him,” he snapped. “Taking on apprentices is one thing, but actually giving out books...you stupid girl! Why didn’t you ask him to teach you on weekends? You could have performed the spell safely in Dragon’s Den.”

Emily shuddered, remembering her stepfather. He’d been fond of calling her a stupid girl too.

“Stop snivelling,” Master Tor ordered. “Do you have the slightest comprehension of just how far the repercussions could have reached if you managed to actually
damage
the school?”

“...Yes,” Emily said. She felt very small and stupid. If Whitehall had been damaged, if the nexus point had been warped...there were cautionary tales about what happened to people who meddled with nexus points. None of them ended well. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re
sorry
,” Master Tor repeated. “You’re lucky you didn’t accidentally start a fire and burn yourself to ash and you’re
sorry
?”

“There aren’t any rules against it,” Emily said. “I...”

“Very few people would be stupid enough to start experimenting with pocket dimensions without reading up on them first,” Master Tor said. “Or were you so determined to see if you could master the spell that you didn’t even think to ask a few questions? Lady Emily, this is a place of
education
! Had you bothered to
ask
, we would have explained to you why trying to build your own pocket dimensions inside Whitehall was an immensely foolish idea. It’s hard enough to convince the wards to accept trunks and other dimensionally-transcendent artefacts that are created outside the building. Why didn’t you
ask
?

“Or weren’t you told, back when you started, to be careful what spells you cast?”

His eyes bored into hers. “The most ignorant Hedge Witch would be aware of the danger,” he sneered. “Why weren’t
you
?”

Emily gritted her teeth, but said nothing. Like so much else, it was something that would be immediately obvious to a native of this universe, but utterly unknown to someone from Earth, where pocket dimensions were the stuff of science fiction and fantasy. But hadn’t there been an episode of
Doctor Who
where the TARDIS had been twisted around so that there was no way out?

“I have spoken with the Grandmaster,” Master Tor added. “He is not happy.”

Cold ice ran down Emily’s spine as he continued. “He doesn’t intend to expel you,” Master Tor added. “He does, however, intend to ensure that you receive a very severe punishment. There may also be punishment for Yodel. Giving that book to anyone was not wise.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Emily said, quickly. “I borrowed the book...”

“And you seem to be alive and human,” Master Tor sneered. “Dear me—did you manage to steal the book without being caught and punished? Or did you think that your status as the Necromancer’s Bane was enough to save you from the consequences of your actions?”

Emily did her best to ignore his tone. “I made a deal with him,” she said. “He didn’t know what I wanted to do with the book and...”

“Do you think,” Master Tor enquired archly, “that makes it any better?”

Emily remembered what he’d said earlier and flushed.

“The Grandmaster will talk to him,” Master Tor said. “After that...we shall see.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that Yodel had wanted to move to Cockatrice, but she held it back. If Yodel was forced out of Dragon’s Den, he could just go directly to Cockatrice and set up shop there. Even without any further patronage, an enchanter could find work anywhere. There was no shortage of demand for their skills. Master Tor didn’t need to know that Yodel had options. Besides, it
wasn’t
fair that he should suffer the consequences of Emily’s misdeeds.

“Professor Lombardi will be talking to you later on,” Master Tor said. He looked down at the piece of parchment. “I think he will want to go over, again, the sheer folly of a second-year student trying to craft a pocket dimension. What would you have done if it had started to expand uncontrollably? You would have been lucky if you’d
only
lost everything you put inside it.”

Emily fought to keep her face blank. That was alarmingly close to what she’d done to Shadye.

“Luckily for you, the Grandmaster is merciful enough
not
to have your stupidity publicly announced at dinnertime,” Master Tor added. “We would prefer that others didn’t get ideas. Still, you are to avoid using magic in Whitehall without supervision—and you are
not
to be alone in your room, at least until we rescind the ban. Your roommates will not be happy with you.”

Good thing Whitehall doesn’t have house points
, the irreverent part of Emily’s mind whispered.
They’d have to make up some new numbers...

She sobered. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. All three roommates suffered if one of them was caught misbehaving in the rooms. The Gorgon and Lin would be furious when they found out that Emily was under restriction. They’d have to stay in the room with her or chase her out when they left. It wasn’t going to be pleasant at all.

“No magic at all, unless you’re in immediate life-threatening danger,” Master Tor clarified. “I would suggest that you kept
that
part of the punishment to yourself.”

Emily felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. Melissa and her cronies hadn’t done anything so far, but she had a nagging feeling that once they had grown accustomed to the stresses of second year they would return to their favorite sport of hexing Alassa and her friends. Not that she could entirely blame Melissa for wanting a little revenge—Alassa had treated her badly, back when she’d been a royal brat—but it could go too far. And it would be worse if she wasn’t allowed to retaliate—or even to cancel the hexes that caught her. She’d
have
to tell her friends...

...And they would be mad at her too.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, sourly. “I...”

“You might also want to ask yourself why Yodel didn’t mention this to you when he loaned you the book,” Master Tor said, nastily. He tapped the cover thoughtfully. “Did he assume that you already knew or did he want to get you in trouble?”

Emily hesitated. It wasn’t uncommon for Whitehall students to be charged high prices when they went to Dragon’s Den—and one shopkeeper had tried to sell her fake dragon’s blood—but she couldn’t see Yodel doing it deliberately. For one thing, Emily would certainly remember—and he would be living in
her
territory. Setting her up would be an incredibly foolish thing to do. And he might have assumed that she knew what she was doing...just because she was seventeen—she thought—didn’t mean that she was in second year.

“I don’t know,” she said, finally.

“Perhaps I will ask,” Master Tor said. He leaned forward. “You will report to the Warden, immediately. He is expecting you. Once you have finished with him, you will go to the library and study—I would suggest that you reread the safety precautions and rules that apply to all students in Whitehall. I will summon you later to discuss the rest of your punishment.”

Emily gritted her teeth. It was far from uncommon to see punished students heading back to their rooms, but it was very rare to see one of them going to the library afterwards. Word would be all around the school before the hour was up. Everyone would wonder if she was trying to show off how tough she was...or if there was another reason why she hadn’t returned to her room to hide until she felt better. In a school of thousands of students, she suddenly felt very alone—and exposed.

“This was incredibly stupid,” Master Tor concluded. “If it were up to me, you would be expelled before you accidentally got someone killed—which, if memory serves, you nearly did once already. As it is...if you do something else like this, no one will be able to stop the Grandmaster from expelling you and sending you back to Zangaria. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said, meekly.

“Remember what I told you,” Master Tor said, sternly. His gaze bored into hers for a long moment, then he looked down at the parchment on his desk. “No spells. No alone time in your room. And
behave
.

“Oh, and as for the book?”

Emily leaned forward, despite herself. It wasn’t
her
book.

“I shall return it to Yodel personally,” Master Tor informed her. “I suggest that you keep whatever your side of the agreement was. It might make it up to him.”

He pointed at the door. “Go.”

Emily took her hands off her head and marched through the door, trying to keep her head held high. She sagged the moment the door closed behind her, feeling utterly defeated. He’d been right; she
had
been stupid, too stupid to even
think
about the possible consequences. And she could have asked someone...he was right about that too. Instead, she’d just bulled ahead and almost caused a minor disaster. The wards wouldn’t have stopped her incinerating the room and everything inside it, including herself.