I dropped a mocking curtsey — she took it as her due — and left the office, my plan already half-formulated. Juliet wanted me to follow her orders? Right, I would follow her orders to the letter. I’d heard all sorts of stories about spell-controlled slaves who looked for loopholes in their orders, to find ways to avoid doing as they were told… I was going to make them proud. And I’d make her regret she even thought of giving me such precise orders.
The next week would have been maddening, if I hadn’t been so determined to make a fool of her. I spent all my free time in the library, researching the games. The original rulebook had long since been lost — or so we’d been told — leaving a collection of rules that looked as if a bunch of lawyers had taken a relatively simple concept and turned it into a legalistic nightmare that favoured the well-connected, or at least decent players, over everyone else. I looked up all the precedents and studied previous games, trying to plot out how the different teams had evolved over the past decade. Juliet’s fingerprints were everywhere. She’d joined the teams right from the start and climbed to the top very quickly. I would have been impressed if I’d cared one jot about sports.
I’d always been good at pure research — my practical magic wasn’t that great, but my theoretical skills were first-rate — and I forced myself to keep going as the days wore on, even though it started to wear on me. I made long lists of questions to ask and then found a handful of players more than willing to talk to me, as long as I wanted to talk about sports. It was hard to hide my contempt as the players explained the rules to me again and again, then talked about famous goals they’d scored… I wondered, not for the first time, precisely what they thought they’d do with their lives after they graduated. The game was supposed to teach practical magic and teamwork — it was the official justification for allowing student magicians to play — but there weren’t that many slots open for adult players. Perhaps they thought they could find a way to parlay their skills into something a little more useful.
Or perhaps they simply haven’t thought that far ahead, I reflected, as I forced myself to listen to an endless discussion on the rules from a player I was starting to loathe. It wouldn’t surprise me.
The weekend dawned brightly, despite my looming headache. I’d spent the week studying, and I wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep it off, but there was no time. I collected my notebooks and spoke briefly to Aniseed before making my way to the arena well before the whistle blew. I’d taken care to reserve a spot right next to the referee, the best vantage point in the stands, but still… I wished, as the players marched onto the field, that I had a few friends to help. I hadn’t dared recruit anyone. If my plan went spectacularly wrong, I wanted to be the only one in trouble.
My lips quirked. She’s not going to find it easy to get me in trouble this time…
The whistle blew. I leaned forward, my pencil flying over my notepad automatically as I glued my eyes to the field. The players had clearly planned carefully — I gave Juliet credit for getting everyone going in the same direction, something that was almost impossible — and I noted every detail. The plays, the passes, the legal, semi-legal and flat-out illegal hexes and curses… I glanced at the Grandmaster, who seemed to be ignoring all but the most blatant spells. I knew cheating was part of the game — as long as it was done in the proper and acceptable manner, of course — yet… I shook my head. The Grandmaster knew what he was doing…
Right?
It grew harder to keep track of every detail as the carefully planned order started to break down. Juliet had had a plan, of course, but so had her opponent. The two teams were forced to improvise, and I thought, looking at the pattern, that the opposing side was much betterat it. They took more gambles, I noted, and some were good enough to score points… even when they weren’t scoring, they were still disrupting Juliet’s plan. I made careful note of her control freak tendencies. The plan had looked good on paper, I was sure, but she hadn’t primed her players to deal with the unexpected. She certainly wasn’t good enough to put a new plan together on the fly.
And she lost, I told myself. Her team had done well — I supposed; I was no expert — but they’d lost. She could have won if she’d let them have more freedom to act…
The thought made me smile as I hurried straight back to my bedroom to write. My notes were already fantastically detailed, but — with the help of a handful of memory charms and potions — I was able to list nearly everything that had happened between the first and last whistles. It was odd — I was sure I could sense a pattern lurking behind the plays, something a little more subtle than Juliet’s game plan — but it was impossible to be certain. My lips quirked as I surveyed my story. It was little better than a list of names and plays. If my father had seen it, he would have probably disowned me on the spot.
I added a little commentary, sticking carefully to the facts, then sat back in my chair to wait for the post-game party to finish. Juliet was good at throwing parties for her players… I supposed it was why they put up with her. It was astonishing what someone would do if they thought they’d be rewarded afterwards, win or lose. She’d even invited the opposing players… I snorted in cold amusement. Was it really so easy to win people to her cause?
It was nearly night when I made my way down to the office. It was empty. I placed the story on the desk — my desk — and sat on the chair, thumbing my way through a handful of other prospective stories as I waited. Juliet’s baleful influence was already contaminating my reporters. The stories they’d submitted were bland and boring and completely lacking in anything to grab and hold the reader’s attention. I cursed her under my breath as I finished the last story. If she wasn’t forced to step back and let me resume my post soon, the broadsheet would be beyond salvation and all my hopes and dreams would crumble into dust.
“You’re sitting in my seat,” a voice said. “Get up. Now.”
I tried not to jump. Juliet had practically sneaked up on me… no, there was no practically about it. She had. I didn’t like her surprising stealth… had she hidden herself behind a concealment charm, or was she simply light on her feet? She was certainly athletic enough to get very close to me before I registered her presence…
Juliet grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I tried not to wince. Juliet wasn’t the strongest student, but she was certainly in the top ten. Her bare arm was intimidatingly muscular. She could lay me out with a punch… if she was willing to take the risk of becoming a laughingstock. Magicians hexed or cursed their enemies. They didn’t stoop to physically striking them.
She shoved me in front of the desk, then took her seat. I clasped my hands behind my back to compose myself. Dad had been manhandled enough, during his career, for him to caution me it was an occupational risk. There had been times, in those days, when I’d feared he’d never come home. Compared to his enemies, Juliet was a silly little girl.
“This is my chair,” Juliet growled. “Why were you sitting in it?”
I didn’t try to answer. Nothing I could have said would have pleased her, even if I’d cared to try. “Did you enjoy the game?”
I’d hoped to needle her, just a little. If she lost control… I could take a slap, or a punch, in the certain knowledge it would hurt her far more than it hurt me. Instead, Juliet seemed remarkably calm, for someone whose team had just lost a game… and under her leadership, no less. I knew from my research it wouldn’t be enough to cost her the change to take her team into the big leagues — if she even bothered to take them with her; I wasn’t sure she could — but it still had to gnaw at her. Instead, she just looked serene. A ripple of alarm ran through me. Something was wrong. What?