“Yeah.” Nanette forced herself to stand. “And what do you want in exchange for this bit of… benevolence?”
Penny smiled as she brought out a handful of parchments. “I know you’re better at charms than you let on,” she said. “I want you to tell me what you think of these.”
Nanette concealed her irritation as she studied the parchments. The suggestions had clearly taken root in Penny’s mind. It helped, she supposed, that Penny wanted to take advantage of her. There were definite advantages to knowing someone’s secrets. You could make them do anything, if the alternative was worse. And everyone knew Nadine was useless at charms or — indeed — any form of advanced magic. No one would believe her if she claimed the other girl had stolen her ideas.
“You’re planning a ritualised flying display,” she mused. There would be eleven girls in the formation, each one casting a part of the whole. “Who are you trying to impress?”
“There’s a bunch of charms mistresses who’re meant to be attending,” Penny said. “If I can impress them, they’ll be falling over themselves to offer me an apprenticeship.”
Nanette felt a flash of amused understanding. Competition for apprenticeships was fierce. No wonder Penny was prepared to bend the rules and beg for help. If it worked out for her, she’d be on top of the world. Nadine wouldn’t see the point, but Nanette did. And she could see how to take advantage of it. She was already starting to form a plan.
“You’re going to have to plan it carefully,” she said. “And if someone fails their role…”
“I know my team,” Penny insisted. “They can do it.”
“I’m sure they can,” Nanette said. She was tempted to point out that Penny had never tried to introduce her, but kept that to herself. The last thing she wanted was an introduction. “If you work the spells together…”
She heard what sounded like a knock, a very faint knock, on the door. She looked up, puzzled. Someone who wanted in would knock louder, wouldn’t they? So would someone who wanted to prank them. They’d want to make sure no one was in… she heard Penny snort, an instant before she heard the knock again. Someone was there, but knocking lightly… they seemed to be in two minds about it. Did they want the door to open?
“Come,” she called.
The door opened. Lillian stepped into the room, wringing her hands together nervously. Nanette blinked in surprise. It was rare, at Mountaintop, for a young student to enter an older student’s dorm. Whitehall seemed to operate on the same principle. But Laughter… she stood, trying to paste a welcoming expression on her face. It wasn’t easy.
Penny looked up. “What are you doing here?”
Lillian paled still further. “I… I…”
“She came to see me,” Nanette said, before Penny could say or do something unfortunate. “I’m her new mentor.”
“Sucks to be you, I guess,” Penny said. She glowered at the parchments. “Tell her to buzz off and come back tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to you after dinner,” Nanette said, to Penny. It would have been rude to invite Lillian to stay, given that Penny clearly didn’t want her there. “Lillian, shall we go find a place to chat?”
The younger girl looked surprised, but nodded. Nanette felt depressed. Lillian had probably expected to be told to get lost, if she wasn’t simply thrown out the room or given detention. It had taken a great deal of nerve for her to enter the corridor, let alone knock on the door and wait. The older students didn’t take kindly to younger students invading their domain.
Which is how the staff controls us, Nanette thought. Studying under Aurelius had been an eye-opening experience in more ways than one. They manipulate our social hierarchy to make us behave.
She found an empty study and motioned for Lillian to enter. “How are you?”
Lillian shifted, uncomfortably. “How are you?”
Nanette felt a hot flash of anger. How dare Lillian ask her anything? How dare… she shook her head. Lillian had probably heard the rumours, the rumours that had probably grown in the telling. If Nanette was any judge, half the school probably believed the gym mistress had beaten her to death and then used forbidden magics to make her rise from the dead. And there were plenty of students who had every reason to want to put her down a little. Nadine was an aristocrat whose father had pulled strings to get his daughter into the school.
“I’m fine,” she said, tersely. Emily would have known what to say. Emily would probably have had the younger girl eating out of the palm of her hand in a day or two. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Lillian shifted awkwardly. “I… Lady Damia said you’d help me.”
“I’m sure she did,” Nanette said. She wondered at the older woman’s motives. Nadine wouldn’t be around for more than a couple of years, whatever happened. “Did she say with what?”
“With everything,” Lillian said. She reached into her pocket and produced a piece of parchment. “I just don’t understand.”
Nanette took the parchment and unfolded it. “You’re trying to get ahead too fast,” she said, after a moment. She recognised the signs, all too well. She’d had her nose rubbed in them, six years ago. And then… she rubbed her arm, unconsciously. “You have to master the basics first, or you’ll get your palm smacked.”
“That’s happened.” Lillian’s face reddened. “I just don’t understand.”
“Clearly.” Nanette motioned for her to sit. “Let’s go through it, shall we?”
She’d never really considered teaching as a career, although Aurelius had made her proctor a couple of classes and mark assignments he couldn’t be bothered to mark himself. And yet, as she forced herself to go through half-remembered spellwork she’d left behind years ago, she found herself starting to enjoy it. Lillian wasn’t stupid, merely ignorant. The way her eyes lit up when she finally connected the dots… Nanette understood, just for a moment, why some of her teachers enjoyed their work. The satisfaction of merely helping someone to think made up for one hell of a lot.
“These exercises don’t make sense,” Lillian grumbled. “Why do they ask us to prepare ingredients, then reject them?”
“You’re meant to ask what you’re going to be brewing,” Nanette said. “Take… fairy roots. If you were making a soothing potion, you’d peel the roots before chopping them up and putting them in the brew, but if you were making a healing potion you’d merely wash them first. If you don’t ask what you’re doing, how do you expect to get it right?”
Lillian frowned. “We’re not meant to ask questions.”
“It’s better to confess ignorance than look like an idiot when your potion explodes,” Nanette pointed out, dryly. She’d met her share of sarcastic alchemists who looked to have dark secrets preying on their minds — or hangovers, from drinking their own brews — but none of them had ever punished her for asking questions. “Don’t you ever speak up in class?”
“Everyone laughs, every time I reveal my ignorance,” Lillian said. “And they…”
“Learn to defend yourself,” Nanette said, curtly. She felt a twinge of disgust, mingled with guilt. “Bullies go away if you hurt them. And you have magic.”
“They have magic too,” Lillian pointed out.
“You don’t have to kill them.” Nanette’s lips twitched. “You just have to give them a bloody nose.”
She studied the younger girl for a long moment. She shouldn’t get attached. She shouldn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. And yet… it had worked out for Emily. She’d taught the Shadows how to defend themselves. She’d… Nanette wasn’t quite sure what Emily had been doing at Mountaintop, but she had to admit the whole affair had been one hell of a diversion. Even Aurelius had had problems coping with it.