“Get a shower and a change,” I ordered, as we reached the dorms. “I’ll see you in class.”
They nodded and hurried away. I hoped they had the sense to believe me when I cautioned them about the wards. If they said the wrong thing at the wrong time … I put the thought out of my head as I turned and made my way back to my office. I had papers to grade, papers I should have attended to yesterday. But I hadn’t had time.
I could put them off some more, I thought. Or …
Jacky McBrayer stepped out to block my way. “My Lord?”
I tried to keep my displeasure from showing on my face. Jacky was a young man whose body somehow gave the impression of being fat and unhealthy, even though it was rare to see a fat magician. I’d never liked him. He was a crawler who sucked up to the biggest and strongest bully he could find, then—safe under the bully’s wing—tormented everyone else. Jacky was particularly unpleasant, as he was never safe in his position. I remained adamant in my opinion that Walter and Adrian would ditch him, the moment he became surplus to requirements, and all the people he’d tormented would come looking for revenge. Poor bastard. If he’d had a better upbringing, perhaps he’d be a little more careful about his friendships.
“What?” If he’d come to tattle on someone again, I was not going to be pleased. “What is it?”
“The Grandmaster would like to see you in his office,” Jacky said. “He sent me to escort you …”
“How … charming,” I said, keeping my face under tight control. Boscha wouldn’t send a student to escort me anywhere, even if he knew what I’d been doing. I suspected Jacky’s ‘friends’ had dumped him again, leaving him alone and vulnerable. Staying close to a tutor was one way to ensure he didn’t get hexed into next week. “Let us go to his office, shall we?”
My mind raced as we made our way up the stairs. The summons was an unpleasant surprise. Did Boscha know what I’d been doing? I didn’t think so—I knew how to evade the gaze of far more powerful and capable people—but I could be wrong. Or … what else could it be? I’d filed a bunch of complaints about various issues with the department and school at large—a cover; I’d noticed that when people got quiet, it was time to start worrying—but I was fairly sure Boscha had simply filed them in the bin. Or … what could it be? I ignored Jacky’s attempts at small talk as we reached the office, then motioned for him to wait outside as I entered. Boscha didn’t look like someone who was planning an ambush. He was sitting in his chair, drinking wine and reading papers.
“Ah, Hasdrubal,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
I nodded, impatiently. “Grandmaster. What can I do for you?”
Boscha didn’t seem disturbed by my rudeness. He just indicated the glass. “Wine? It was sent to me personally, by Lord Pollux.”
“That was very good of him,” I said, a deadpan look on my face. Lord Pollux was Walter’s dad. His estates were renowned for their grapes, as well as a number of alchemically interesting crops, but … it was never safe, for a magician, to risk getting drunk. I hoped Boscha was careful enough to remove the alcohol before he let it pass his lips. “I trust he and his vineyards are doing well?”
“Well enough,” Boscha said. He took another sip of his glass. “The flavour is exquisite.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Maybe it was something to do with my birth, but I’d always been a pleb when it came to wine. The idea of rolling the liquid around in my mouth and then spouting nonsense was just silly. Besides, it was an affectation of people who had nothing better to do with their lives. Or just wanted to claim they were better than everyone else. It was a fairly common delusion.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I do have grading to be getting on with …”
“You probably shouldn’t have taken the detention this morning,” Boscha said. “Next time, hand them over to someone else. I’m sure Walter or one of the other prefects would be happy to do the work.”
“It was a favour to Mistress Constance,” I said. I was sure Walter would be happy, too. I was also sure there was a better than even chance he’d be hurt if he tried. It was funny how many prefects, particularly the mean ones, went outside the school and vanished, only to come stumbling back weeks later with some cock and bull story about how they’d encountered a wild witch who’d turned them into toads. Or something. I don’t know why they bothered. Everyone knew the truth. “And it was a good walk. It helped to clear my mind.”
Boscha nodded, then changed the subject. “Two months from now, the school board will be visiting,” he said. “I believe they want to inspect the school but also to discuss our role in our changing world. We will, of course, be hosting them.”
I nodded, keeping my amusement from showing. What did the school board ever do to you?
“Of course,” I said. I pitied the board members. They’d have bad food, lumpy beds, and quite a few other experiences that would give them flashbacks to their childhoods. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy the experience.”
“I certainly hope so,” Boscha said. “We will, of course, be doing our best to ensure they have a good time here. The classrooms will be dusted; the corridors will be cleaned; the beds in the guest quarters will be replaced … they will, of course, join me for dinner each night in my own private suite. I see no reason to expose them to the students.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you not want them to inspect the classes?”
“You and the other tutors will give demonstrations of your teaching styles,” Boscha said, calmly. “But I feel it is important not to interrupt the students as they study. A handful of students will be presented to the board, of course, but the majority will be left to continue their work uninterrupted.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I needed time to think about what I was being told. “I’m sure the board will find it very interesting indeed.”
“Quite,” Boscha agreed. “These are challenging times for all, Hasdrubal, and it is vitally important we prove that we can live up to the challenge.”
Quite right, I thought, as I took my leave. And what, precisely, are you planning?
My thoughts ran in circles. The school board was coming here. That was odd. The board was rarely, if ever, involved in actual decision-making. I thought the last thing they’d ever done was rule on a teacher’s complaint about being sacked for no good reason, shortly after Boscha took his post, and they’d ruled the teacher was in the wrong. Otherwise … Boscha was allowed to run the school to suit himself. I wondered, idly, just how many board members had kids attending school. They would certainly all be aristos.
Jacky was waiting outside. I eyed him sourly, wondering if it was worth trying to recruit him as a source, then ordered him to go. The fear in his eyes almost convinced me to change my mind. He wasn’t a bad student, just … I shook my head and made my way back to the staff rooms. I needed to speak to Mistress Constance and Pepper, when they returned to the school. If the board was coming here … why?
Maybe someone has been telling tales out of school, I thought, although it was hard to believe anything serious would be delayed for two months. Or maybe it really is just what it seems.
It bugged me. Boscha had a point about one thing, and that was that the world was changing. The old certainties of my childhood—and his—were gone. Whitehall had been part of the imperial establishment for so long that … what was the school’s role now, after the establishment had been swept away? The thought haunted me. There were no shortages of power-hungry men, and a handful of women, taking advantage of the chaos to seize power for themselves. Did Boscha want to do the same? Or … or what?