First Witch's Tale

Chapter Four

If any of my tutors were giving me special treatment, I decided over the next few weeks, it was impossible to tell. They worked me hard. They worked us all hard. We woke in the morning and had breakfast, then studied until lunch, after which we returned to the classrooms or the training grounds for more studies and practice. The evenings were spent doing chores, some carrying buckets of water or firewood around the castle to cleaning up in the kitchen and even helping to prepare food. I didn’t resent it, certainly not as much as the other students. Cemburu and his cronies, Jahat and Irihati, spent more time grumbling than they did working. I was very tempted to point out that if they stopped moaning and actually did the work they’d be done well before nightfall. They wouldn’t have to go straight to bed after their chores.

I kept that opinion to myself, as the weeks turned into months. It wasn’t easy being the first female student. The men didn’t seem to know what to make of me. Some tried to flirt, others seemed to expect me to know who they were and why I should hop into bed with them, still others paid as little attention to me as possible. Cemburu wasn’t the only one, I discovered all too quickly, who resented the fact I had been given a private room. Whitehall appeared to be trying to treat all of its students as relative equals, and even though it was clear I needed some privacy no one seemed very happy about it. The dorms were not exactly cramped, I had been assured, but there was still very little privacy. I couldn’t help feeling they had a point. And yet …

It was disconcerting, I had to admit, to realise just how ignorant I was. There were factions amongst the students, and even amongst tutors who were supposed to be old enough to know better, factions that made little sense to me. I knew almost nothing of the world outside my village, or the world surrounding my new home, and it was hard to work out what was really going on when Cemburu clashed with another student. Cemburu himself was an aristocrat, I discovered, but other students were commoners like myself or even people of no clear origin. The aristocratic students sought everything should come to them by virtue of their name; the commoners, obviously, thought otherwise. And the aristocrats had factions of their own … I didn’t even pretend to understand them, let alone the questions of rank and hierarchy that preoccupied my fellow students. I had hoped for friends, or at least someone I could talk to on equal terms, but my combination of birth and sex made it impossible. It was deeply frustrating. What was I supposed to do about it?

The classes were, despite Cemburu’s constant barbs and jibes at my expense, extremely interesting, although the teachers constantly made it clear that I had a great deal to learn. We studied history, from the first recorded traces of magic to the Whitehall Commune and the decision to turn the castle into a school. Lord Whitehall had clearly been a great man as well as a great magician, although no one was entirely clear on what had happened to him. His old companions had largely passed on or dispersed, leaving Bernard in charge of the school. There were whispered rumours that Master Wolfe haunted the corridors, offering help and advice to students in exchange for their blood, but I was fairly sure they were just cautionary tales to keep students in the dorms after hours. It wasn’t as if we lived in a country village, where no one would willingly go outside after dark - and if they did, they would be taking their lives in their hands. I couldn’t help thinking, as I listened to the lectures, that was something missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Cemburu poured scorn on me the moment I tried to ask. He, apparently, had been taught everything he needed to know from a very early age.

The practical classes were more interesting, and relevant. I had never tried to write anything, even my own name, before I was given a slate and taught the basics. It was incredibly complicated to sound out the words, let alone write them for myself. I wasn’t convinced I needed to learn, if only because there were few books in the school, but my teachers gave me no choice. I practised extensively, trying to master the basics of reading and writing, even though I was sure it would take me years to match - if not surpass - Cemburu and his peers. They were not remotely helpful. The students were supposed to assist each other, but Cemburu gave me a line of writing to copy that was a direct insult to the tutor. He didn’t see the funny side. I had never been so tempted to rat someone out as I had been at that moment. The only thing that saved me from a whipping was the teacher’s awareness that I could not have written the line myself. And yet …

It was the raw magic classes that really interested me. Master Rupertson and Master Ashlord drilled us repeatedly in spellwork, teaching us how to put together the building blocks to cast complex spells. It was as frustrating and finicky as always, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was making progress with every spell I successfully cast. I had to work hard to figure out how the variables went together - the magic did not have a mind of its own, I was assured, although I didn’t really believe it - and then make sure there were no loopholes in the spell before embedding the spells into the wand. It wasn’t easy to do that either. Wood channelled magic very well, certainly compared to other materials, but embedded charms rarely lingered. Master Rupertson had prepared the wand he’d given me in advance. I did well - I knew I was doing well - and yet I was all too aware of how much else I had to learn.

“There will always be something to learn,” Julianne told me. She was the closest thing Whitehall had to a witchcraft tutor, although very few students took her classes. I wasn’t sure if they were reluctant to take instruction from a woman or felt witchcraft was not a proper subject of study for male magicians. “We are constantly pushing the limits of what we can do, learning more and more as we go along. You will make discoveries yourself as you grow older, discoveries that will be passed down and used as the base for later discoveries.”

I nodded, thoughtfully. Julianne had listened carefully as I told her what I had learnt from Hilde, then taught me some things of her own in return. I couldn’t help wondering how she had learnt the basics of witchcraft - hedge witches rarely shared their secrets with anyone outside their circle - let alone the magic she used freely. I was convinced there was a secret there, something kept from me and everyone else. Cemburu insisted that no woman could learn magic properly, certainly not in a classroom, but there were stories of another female magician who had helped to found the school. I didn’t know how seriously to take them. Julianne had learnt from her father and then her husband. But who had taught the mystery sorceress? Cemburu insisted she was nothing more than a myth spread to legitimise the idea of women learning magic. I hated to think he might be right.

“I wish I knew more,” I admitted. “How long does it take to get out of the basic classes?”

“As long as it takes.” Julianne gave me a faint smile. “The students have to master the basics before they can proceed. Even something as simple as brewing potions” - she indicated cauldrons at the back of the room - “relies upon the student having precise control over their powers. If they do not, they will either turn the potion into sludge or kill themselves - and if they are very unlucky, they will kill everyone nearby as well.”

I shivered. I was well aware that life could be dangerous, that a man could be crippled or killed quite by accident, or a woman - like my mother - could die in childbirth, but it was hard to gauge just how dangerous any given piece of magic actually was. Some of the simplest spells could be very dangerous if cast with malicious or deadly intent, or even without sufficient forethought. Master Ashlord had demonstrated how easily a levitation spell could get someone killed by launching an apple into the air and smashing it into the ceiling. I had taken note. The magic coursing through me, growing stronger and more controlled with every passing day, could be lethal if I made a single mistake.

The thought haunted me as I continued my lessons. I had always been strong, but nowhere near as strong as my father or brothers. The idea I could seriously hurt someone had been unthinkable until David and then … I had used magic to do it. I wasn’t even sure what had happened. I felt reluctant to discuss it with Julianne, let alone the other teachers. Julianne … I liked her, really I did, but there was something about her that made it difficult to confide in her. The other tutors were all male. I couldn’t be alone with them without Cemburu starting rumours. He was very lucky that the teachers hadn’t heard the handful of rumours he had spread.

“There’s no reason for you to be here,” he said, time and time again. I was tempted to ask when he would come up with some new material. Jokes lose their humour with every repetition and insults lose their sting. “Why do you even bother?”

His cronies tittered on cue. I rolled my eyes and ignored them as Master Falladine entered the classroom and started to demonstrate how spells, even very simple spells, could be used in combat. My older classmates - some were old enough to be my father - leaned forward with interest. A couple of them, I was sure, had served in an army; they certainly asked questions that suggested they had genuine experience, unlike the aristocrats who were granted rank as their birthright. Or so I thought. My father and brothers had kept me and my sisters well away from any passing soldiers, on the rare occasions they marched through the village. Much of what I knew came from horror stories of wars and conflicts so far away they might as well be in fantasy lands. I didn’t want to be involved.

“You must always be prepared to fight,” Master Falladine told us. He was the battle magic teacher, the only man I had ever met who looked more muscular than my father. His outfit was tight enough to show off his physique, while still allowing him to move easily. He carried a sword as well as a pair of wands, pointing out to Cemburu - when he asked - that magic wasn’t always reliable in combat, while a sword usually was. “You will never know when threats will raise their heads, or when you will have to fight for your life.”

Cemburu stuck up his hand. “Sir,” he said. “Who would fight a magician?”

“There is no shortage of people who think they can fight and kill a magician,” Master Falladine said, bluntly. “The anarchy may be in the past, but there is no shortage of lawless territory or men seeking to profit from the cares. Whitehall itself may be attacked at any moment. There are kings and noblemen out there who resent our predominance and our willingness to teach magic to everyone” – I could feel eyes burning into my back – “and they may sponsor further attacks on us, if they scent weakness.”

I tried not to shudder as Master Falladine continued to demonstrate spells, in-between lecturing as on the importance of physical exercise and combat training. I had never considered that the school might not be popular with everyone, although in hindsight it was obvious. Common-born magicians - and witches – threatened to upend the social order. I wasn’t sure if the story about Hilde turning a young nobleman into a frog and telling him that he would have to get a woman to willingly kiss him if he wanted to be turned back to a man, was true, but it was hard to control magicians. I could easily imagine the local nobility trying to maintain a monopoly on magical education and trying to stamp out commoner magic.

“I expect you all to practice these spells,” Master Falladine finished. “I want you all perfect by the end of the week. If you can cast them on cue, we will move on to embedding spells within bladed weapons and using them to enhance our prowess; if not …”

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a long moment, then smiled. “Janis, you’re on cleaning duty. The rest of you can go.”

I nodded as I got to work. As chores went, clearing the classroom was one of the easier tasks we were set. I really didn’t have to do much beyond picking up the states and wiping them, straightening the chairs and a handful of other minor tasks. Master Falladine and the rest of the class filed out, leaving me alone. I wondered, idly, where Master Falladine went for lunch. I had never seen him in the dining hall, not at lunch time. Perhaps he ate with his wife and family.… if he had a family. I didn’t know. We were not encouraged to socialise with our teachers outside the classroom. It would be difficult, I suspected, if Bernard and Julianne had a child. Did they? I didn’t know.

The air shifted behind me, a moment before I felt a hard pinch on my arse. I jumped and spun around, fists raised. It wasn’t uncommon for boys to try to kiss girls back home, but actually touching her rear? I was not surprised to see Cemburu standing by the door, flanked by his two goons, leering at me. He’d pinched me with magic. Anger shot through me. Father had walloped my bottom more than once, as I’d grown up, but how dare Cemburu touch me that way? How dare he?

Cemburu smirked and returned his wand to his sleeve. “Master Falladine did tell us to practice our spells.”

I gaped at him. Master Falladine had taught us the pinching spell, but he had never told us to practice or each other … and certainly not like that. “You dare …?”

His leer grew worse. “Of course I dare,” he said, fumbling with his belt. “You’re just a little commoner slut who needs to be put in her place, on her knees.”

For a moment, I just stared. Did he really think I would …? No village boy would ever dream of doing such a thing. Even if he managed to have his way with me, my father and brothers would pound him into bloody paste and no one would get in their way. They might even help them. It was one thing for a girl to open her legs willingly, even outside wedlock, but quite another for her to be forced. Her rapist would be lucky to survive long enough to be kicked out of the village. And yet …

Cemburu was an aristocrat. He thought himself my superior. Anywhere else, he would be right. I had heard the stories. No one would care about a commoner who was raped by a nobleman. They’d say you was lucky to be favoured with his attentions.

He started to draw his wand. I darted forward and punched his jaw, hard. Cemburu staggered backwards and collapsed, hitting the floor hard enough to surprise even me. My brothers would have shrugged off the blow, as would David and the other village lads. I would have hurt myself worse than I hurt them. But Cemburu … I wondered, for a moment, if I had broken his jaw. It was quite possible.

A spell struck me. I realise my mistake too late. Jahat or Irihati had hexed me. My entire body went limp. I fell to the floor, unable to move a single voluntary muscle. I could barely see anything as I lay helpless, all too aware I was suddenly at their mercy. If they wanted to rape me, they could … I cursed my decision to aim for the jaw instead of the throat. I could have killed Cemburu before he could lay a hand on me, maybe even taken down Jahat or Irihati. If nothing else, I would have made them pay …

“And just what,” Master Falladine said coldly, “is going on here?”

I flushed, drenching myself in shame. I had lost without even knowing I was in a fight. I should have …

“Well, sir,” Cemburu managed. His voice was no longer so snooty. I was impressed he could talk at all. “We were just practising our magic and …”

“Really.” Master Falladine sounded utterly unimpressed. “Go to my office and prepare yourself.”

The three boys started to protest in unison, only to be cut off by Master Falladine. “Go. Now.”

I groaned, inwardly, as Master Falladine closed the door, giving me some privacy to recover. The spell was slowly wearing off, but … I felt unable to think. The boys would blame me, of course, and unless they were expelled … I swallowed hard. They weren’t going to be expelled. Master Falladine would make their bottoms wish they had never been born, I was sure, but it wouldn’t be enough. They had stripped my confidence from me, called my very presence at the school into question, and … I was sure it was just a matter of time before they had everyone convinced I had been begging for it. For a moment, I wanted to run …

And then cold determination overwhelmed me.

I was going to make them pay for what they had done.