Magic spiked, behind me. The spell slammed into my back. My body froze, then tumbled to the ground. The impact would have hurt if the spell hadn’t been binding me in place. I cursed as I tried desperately to cast a counterspell. Juliet was strong, stronger than I’d dared admit to myself. I could have escaped one of my peers, if they’d frozen me, but not an older student. A strong hand gripped mine and rolled me over. I found myself looking up into Juliet’s blue eyes.
She was beautiful. Beautiful and cold. Long blonde hair framed a delicate face and hung over muscular shoulders. Juliet was no academic, but everyone knew she was one of the best sportswomen in school. She was proud, tough, and not given to allowing anyone to get away with the slightest hint of disrespect. And she’d caught me spying on her.
I wanted to wince, but I couldn’t move a muscle. I was in deep shit. Older students were not allowed to pick on younger students, a rule I suspected was honoured in the breach rather more than the observance, but if the younger student started something the older student was allowed to finish it. Juliet could curse me and swear blind it was a terrible accident or… I heard running footsteps coming up behind her and groaned mentally. The other captains would demand harsh punishment. I was really in deep shit.
“And what,” a mild voice asked, “is going on here?”
Juliet’s face tightened. I felt a flash of hope, mingled with a strange and bitter resignation. I’d been saved by the grandmaster and… oh, no one was ever going to let me forget it. It would be better if I’d taken my lumps and then put the matter behind me. Instead…
“We caught Janet spying on us,” Juliet said and explained. I was surprised she tattled so quickly — and in so much detail. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. If the grandmaster thought they were picking on me for no reason, they might be expelled. “And we were going to bring her to you.”
My name is Jane, I thought, angrily. Did Juliet really not remember me? Or was she being insulting? It was unlikely the grandmaster would call her on it and if he did, she had plausible deniability. Damn it!
“I see.” Grandmaster Gordian made a dismissive gesture with one hand. I found myself suddenly free. My body collapsed in a heap. “Jane, accompany me.”
I staggered to my feet, all too aware of Juliet’s eyes burning into my back, and followed the grandmaster as he led the way to his office. Passing students stared, wondering what I’d done to draw the attention of the grandmaster himself. Was it pity in their eyes, or amusement? It was always hard to tell. The grandmaster was supposed to keep himself aloof from the younger students, or so I’d been told. He’d certainly never spoken to me in private before, even when I’d put together the proposal for Whitehall Times. I wondered, sometimes, if there’d been a debate amongst the staff, or if they’d just rubber-stamped the paper without bothering to read it. My broadsheet wasn’t the strangest proposal that had been approved…
I’d never been in the grandmaster’s office before. I couldn’t help looking around with interest, my eyes drinking in the bookshelves, the portraits and the heavy wooden desk positioned in the centre of the room. The grandmaster’s chair was suspiciously close to a throne. He motioned for me to stay on the near side of the desk as he took his seat and scowled. I clasped my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking. It was almost a relief there was no chair for me.
“Perhaps you could tell me,” the grandmaster said, “precisely why you were spying on the captains?”
His tone was mild, but I didn’t need to hear the ice to know I’d better come up with a very good explanation indeed. And I didn’t think I could. Spying on one’s fellow students might be a hallowed tradition, but so were harsh punishments for anyone who got caught.
“I’m waiting,” the grandmaster said. “Why?”
I met his eyes. “The student body has long wanted to know precisely how the sports captains make their selections, sir,” I said, carefully. “The captains themselves don’t tell the candidates how and why they make their choices; they just issue the final results and force everyone to accept them.”
“There is nothing stopping the disappointed from founding their own teams,” the grandmaster pointed out, in the same mild tones. “There is room for everyone.”
“There isn’t,” I insisted. I remembered myself a second later. “Sir.”
The grandmaster studied me for a long, cold minute. “I was not best pleased when you put forward your proposal for a school newsletter. It was a good idea, in theory, but your father’s reputation precedes you. I did not expect you’d be able to content yourself with matters of interest to the school…”
“This is a matter of interest,” I insisted.
“… And now you have been caught spying on older students,” the grandmaster continued, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “That is not acceptable conduct.”
Spying on them was perfectly acceptable, I thought, darkly. It was spying on them and getting caught you found so offensive.
“I am not pleased, young lady,” the grandmaster told me. “You have betrayed the trust vested in you. Frankly, your newsletter should be shut down. I understand your arguments — and those of your supporters — but you have undermined the school. The championship is coming up, and we do not have time to deal with the problems you have raised.”
I felt my heart clench. “You mean, the unfairness of the process?”
“Life is not fair,” the grandmaster snapped. “And it is vitally important the championships go off without a hitch.”
Because the old grandmaster had little interest in sporting events and kept us largely out of them, I thought, nastily. And you want to change things.
The grandmaster kept talking, unaware of my inner thoughts. “After this meeting, you will report to the Warden, and then you will wait in your bedroom. I will not shut down your newsletter — not yet — but I will appoint an editor who will ride herd on you and tamp down any wild ideas before they lead the newsletter to ruin. That person will have authority over the newsletter, with the final say on what does and does not get published. If you defy them, they will have the power to sack you.”
I blanched. “It’s my newsletter!”
“No,” the grandmaster said. “It’s the school’s newsletter. You may have made the proposal and done the legwork, but the school funded the printing press and provided the office and how much else? We own it. If you want to abandon your project, you may. If not, you need someone riding herd on you to make sure you don’t do something stupid. Again.”
I ground my teeth. “Sir…”
The grandmaster cut me off. “It isn’t up for debate,” he said. “If you want the newsletter to continue, with your involvement, you can do it with supervision. If not… you may go.”
“Yes, sir,” I grated. There was no point in arguing further. Some people would dig their heels in and refuse to concede an inch, or worse, if you kept up the pressure. I had a nasty feeling Grandmaster Gordian was one of them. Lady Emily might have been able to talk sense into him. I couldn’t. “I look forward to meeting my new boss.”
“Glad to hear it,” the grandmaster said. He didn’t react to my sardonic tone. “Now, go.”