Nanette frowned as she studied the elderly woman. Duchene looked… nice, like everyone’s favourite grandmother, but no one became headmistress of a magical school without being powerful and ruthless. Or, she supposed, knowing where the bodies were buried, sometimes literally. Duchene probably had more magic in her little finger than the vast majority of magicians had in their entire bodies. Her grey hair covered a mind that had probably forgotten more magic than Nanette had ever known.
“I don’t understand,” Nanette said. “Why… why do I have to take this class?”
Duchene sat on one of the cushions, moving with surprising grace for an elderly lady who needed a cane. Nanette wondered, as she sat herself, if the headmistress really needed the cane. An appearance of weakness went against everything she’d been taught, but she could see the advantages. Duchene wouldn’t be anything like as frightening as her deputy. She could play the comforting grandmother while leaving the discipline to the younger members of staff.
“Men will tell you that women are emotional creatures,” Duchene said. “And then they will use it as an excuse to deny us power. What’s wrong with that statement?”
Nanette had to smile. “Men are emotional creatures too.”
“Precisely,” Duchene said. “Mankind is not, in the words of a great thinker, a rational animal. Mankind is, in fact, a rationalising animal. People — men and women alike — will decide what they want to do first, then come up with a semi-rational justification. The little kernel of truth in the statement is that people will often go with their gut and only then think of an excuse. And emotion can easily flow into magic.”
“I don’t understand,” Nanette said. She thought she did, but it was wiser to pretend ignorance. “I thought magic was… well, spells and suchlike.”
“It is,” Duchene confirmed. “The magical disciplines are the end result of centuries of research, of trial and error and the occasional outright disaster. You know to make a potion, or cast a charm, because someone worked out how to do it and told the world. However, emotion can bleed into magic. A number of spells will only work if you want them to work.”
She raised an eyebrow, challengingly. Nanette took the plunge. “Why would I cast a spell I didn’t want to work?”
“I’m sure you can think of a reason,” Duchene said. “But, in this case, you have to beware of your magic corrupting your emotions. It is very easy to become addicted to dark magic, or to allow your emotions to drive you into darkness. And even without that risk, losing control of your emotions can be disastrous. This class teaches you how to handle your emotions and, perhaps more importantly, consider why you might feel something. What do you want? Why do you want it? Is it really something you should have?”
I want… I don’t know what I want, Nanette thought. She had the feeling the class was not going to be easy. I don’t want to talk about what I want.
She looked up as the door opened. “Come on in, my darlings.”
Nanette glanced behind her as a line of students filed into the room. Penny hadn’t been too far wrong, she decided. The majority of the girls were firsties, girls who couldn’t be any older than sixteen. A handful definitely looked older. Nanette frowned. They looked to be in later years, too. Had they not mastered the class? Or had they been ordered to take it again?
“Sit down, sit down,” Duchene ordered. “We’ll start with some breathing exercises.”
Nanette studied the younger girls. Most of them seemed to have formed friendships, but a handful looked more socially isolated than she would have preferred. One girl sat alone, doing nothing to call attention to herself. Nanette felt an odd little twinge, a flicker of fellow-feeling. She’d been the same, back at Mountaintop. She wondered how the girl was coping. It was easy to tell she was common-born, almost certainly from a poor family. She looked, very much, like a young Nanette.
She forced herself to pay attention as Duchene led the girls through a series of centring exercises. Nanette was almost disappointed. The exercises weren’t that different from the mental disciplines she’d been taught at Mountaintop, although there was a little more talking about one’s feelings. Nanette wasn’t sure what she thought of that. It was good to talk, sometimes, but one never knew who might be listening. The smiling headmistress might have something darker in mind than merely encouraging the girls to think about their feelings. It was astonishing how much insight one could gain into someone’s character by discovering what moved them.
Her eyes kept drifting to the lone girl. She reminded Nanette of someone aside from herself, someone she knew… Frieda. Emily’s Shadow. Nanette’s eyes snapped open as she remembered how Frieda had blossomed into a powerful and capable student, one who’d learnt to stand up for herself. Nanette felt something twist inside her, a grim reminder that she’d had to learn on her own. Frieda had had Emily teaching her. She hadn’t been any match for an older student, of course — Nanette wasn’t sure if Frieda was still alive, after her expulsion — but she’d been well on the way. Envy curdled around Nanette’s heart. What had Frieda done to deserve private tutoring?
Her thoughts mocked her. What did you do?
“Lillian,” Duchene said. She was looking at the lone girl. “What do you want?”
The girl seemed to pale still further. “I want to study magic.”
A couple of girls giggled. Lillian reddened. Duchene gave the gigglers a reproving look that was somehow worse than shouting, screaming and threats of bodily harm. Nanette was a little impressed. Duchene had a presence that was soft and warm and yet — somehow — dominated the chamber. The gigglers shut up, sharply.
Duchene listened to Lillian’s answers, then turned to Nanette. “Nadine. What do you want?”
You’re not to ask me that question, Nanette said. What did she want? An easy end to her mission? Or… something a little more fundamental? A father? A lover? The power and respect she’d been promised, before Emily had snatched it away? I don’t know what I want.
She channelled Nadine. “I want a good match to a good man.”
“Indeed?” Duchene raised her eyebrows, again. “And why do you want it?”
Nanette shrugged. “Because I want it?”
Duchene smiled. “And why do you want it?”
“Because a good match would bring me security,” Nanette said. She understood the aristocracy well enough to know the answer, although she had no idea if Nadine was reflective enough to know. “And a good man will not hurt me.”
“Indeed.” Duchene sounded oddly disappointed. “We shall consider the question later on.”
She turned away. Nanette felt a flicker of regret. It was the right answer, she was sure, but not a very pleasing answer. Nadine would want a husband who was powerful, rich and handsome… in that order. An older man who was ugly but powerful would be a better match than a poor but handsome man. And yet… Nadine was a natural-born child. Her father might be a baron — by marriage — but he might not be able to arrange a good match for his only daughter. Perhaps that was why Nadine was such a brat, Nanette considered. Her society saw only one role for her, yet it wouldn’t let her play it. And magic alone wasn’t enough to make up for everything else.