But the wards will consume the wild magic in the shine, I told myself, firmly. The demon will fall back into the darkness the second it breaks free.
Void grinned at me. “No reward without risk,” he said. “Isn’t that right?”
I suppose I should have said no. But the truth is, we needed it.
We worked until evening — Himilco was dispatched to Dragon’s Den to buy food and drink — and then slept in our tents, returning to the shrine in the morning. Our work had held up well, we decided, but we checked it carefully before continuing to draw out the wards. Wards had a tendency to melt like frost in sunlight, when exposed to wild magic, and we’d feared all our careful work would be undone overnight. It was a relief to discover the damage was minimal. Once the wards were empowered, they’d be fairly safe and secure.
“We have company,” Himilco said, that afternoon. “Someone is coming. They just crossed the outmost ward.”
I tensed, bracing myself for… something. We’d hoped we’d remain unnoticed. The shrine was off-limits to students and the townspeople knew better than to go anywhere near the magical school. The Grandmaster wasn’t known for giving a damn about what his students did when they were in the town, turning a blind eye to everything from minor pranks — a little more serious to a magicless mundane — to outright rape. I glanced at the others as we readied ourselves. We’d have no trouble handling a student, but a professor would be a far harder problem. If they saw enough of our work to realise what we were trying to do, we’d have to go on the run.
The leaves rustled. Grandmaster Boscha stepped into the clearing.
I kept my face under tight control. Boscha was not a nice man. I gave him credit for preserving the school, in the face of storms that threatened to destroy it, but little else. He fawned on well-connected students and sneered at everyone else, risking the strict tradition of neutrality by forging connections with the newborn kingdoms… hell, from what I’d heard, he kept his students and staff from rebelling against them by manipulating the different factions into fighting each other. I believed it. I’d been a student when the charms and potions students, and their tutors, had fought a mini-war in the corridors. The Grandmaster had the power to stop it, in an instant. He’d let it go on and on for weeks.
“Void,” he said. Boscha had never liked Void. The feeling was mutual. “What are you doing here?”
Our magics flickered, threatening to link us together. The Grandmaster was old and skilled and very powerful, but there were four of us and we were powerful as well and if we could take him the entire school would be a far better place… we quashed that line of thought before we threw the first hex. The Grandmaster was not a kind man, and had a disturbing fondness for punishments that made flogging look civilised, but he knew where the bodies were buried. Too many people would unite against us if we struck him down, even though they’d probably be secretly grateful. Bastards. They should have removed the Grandmaster long ago.
“Grandmaster,” Void said. His voice was artfully bland. “We’re conducing an experiment in how to drain wild magic from the tainted ground.”
Boscha raised his bushy eyebrows. “And this experiment has been officially sanctioned?”
“The White Council is very keen to find a way to drain wild magic before it spreads,” Void said. It was technically true. There was a well-known reward for anyone who found a reliable way to cleanse the land. We hadn’t bothered to ask permission, not for the cover story nor the real ritual, but who should we ask? The White Council’s authority was very limited. “We think we can pull it off.”
“I look forward to seeing the results,” Boscha said, after a moment. I knew what he was thinking. If the experiment worked, he could claim the credit by retroactively sanctioning the ritual. If it failed, he could blame it all on us. I had to give Void credit. The cover story was designed to discourage intruders from asking awkward questions. “And I trust” — he looked at me — “that you’ll attend your interview tomorrow?”
I felt a pang of guilt. Professor Bodoh had been looking for an assistant, and a possible successor, for years. I’d written to him, offering to interview. It was odd how quickly he’d written back and agreed. I had no idea why he hadn’t found someone a long time ago. There was no shortage of possible candidates. Perhaps he just wanted someone with no strong ties outside the school. My family would probably be glad to cut me off if I started to work at Whitehall. It was my brothers that might object.
“Yes, sir,” I said. I wasn’t looking forward to working under him. Perhaps that was why Professor Bodoh had so few candidates. “I’ll be up tomorrow morning.”
“Good.” Boscha bowed. “I look forward to seeing the results of your experiment.”
We glowered at his back as he turned and walked away, our thoughts nervous. It would be so easy to curse him now, to stun or kill or… even use him as a sacrifice. Or something. The world would be a better place without him. But cold logic told us otherwise. The Grandmaster had powerful protections, perhaps strong enough to give him a fighting chance or merely win him time to escape. He’d been careful not to step into our wards. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.
“Wanker,” Himilco commented. “He hasn’t changed a bit, has he?”
“No,” Void agreed. “But he’ll keep his mouth shut long enough for us to complete the ritual.”
He met my eyes. “We still need a wardstone, though.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I know.”
I made a face. Wardstones weren’t rare, even in those days, but they were astonishingly difficult to produce even for an experienced wardcrafter. Hamilcar was good — and he’d have our help — yet even he didn’t have the skill to craft a wardstone in time to be useful. There was no way to take one from the family too, not without permission. And our dear uncle would ask too many questions before saying no.
And if this fails, we’ll be lucky to escape with our lives, I reflected. We had a plan. We knew what we were doing. But the odds were very much against us. We could wind up in very deep shit indeed.
The following day, Void, Himilco and I made our way to the road and walked up to Whitehall. Hamilcar stayed behind to mind the shrine and check — again — our work before it was too late. It felt weird returning to school after graduating. The students looked terrifyingly young — and just plain terrifying. Some of them were elitist snobs with more power than they knew what to do with, others had only had their first taste of power when they’d entered the school and were intent on making up for lost time. A young girl pointed a finger at us and cast a charm. Void caught it effortlessly and batted it back at her. She melted into a frog and hopped off, croaking loudly. She was lucky. Void had nearly killed a young man who’d thought his family name would let him get away with pretty much anything.
“She’ll get in real trouble if she tries that on someone important,” Void predicted. We walked on, leaving the frog behind. The spell would wear off soon. She’d be safe enough until then. “The Grandmaster won’t protect her if she really crosses the line.”
I nodded, feeling a twinge of discomfort. The Grandmaster let his students get away with a hell of a lot. I knew places where magic was banned and magicians were officially unwelcome — they didn’t have the power to enforce it, although they tried — and part of the reason was that magicians regularly abused their powers. I wondered if the girl was from a magical family, like my cousins, or a commoner doomed to an unhappy life before coming into her magic. It didn’t matter. I heard someone cancel the spell behind us, followed by a sharp lecture. A tutor, probably. I wondered if the silly girl would go straight to the Grandmaster to complain.