Nanette's Tale

Chapter 5

For a moment, as she stepped into the Emotional Stability classroom, Nanette honestly wondered if she’d got the wrong room. It didn’t look like a classroom. There were no chairs, no desks… just comfortable cushions scattered randomly across the carpeted floor and giant stuffed animals resting against the walls. A soft radiance with no discernible source bathed the room in light. It looked more like a nursery than anything else, although it was strikingly depersonalised. There were no paintings of a child’s parents or grandparents, no sweet little homilies carved on the walls…

“Ah, you must be Nadine,” a voice said. “Welcome, welcome.”

Nanette turned to see an elderly woman leaning on a cane. “I’m Duchene,” the woman said, pleasantly. “Headmistress, for my sins.”

“Ah.” Nanette stumbled into a hasty curtsy. “I… have I got the right room?”

“You have,” Duchene said. She walked past Nanette and into the room. “You’re just a little early.”

Nanette frowned as she studied the elderly woman. Duchene looked… nice, like everyone’s favourite grandmother, but no one became headmistress of a magical school without being powerful and ruthless. Or, she supposed, knowing where the bodies were buried, sometimes literally. Duchene probably had more magic in her little finger than the vast majority of magicians had in their entire bodies. Her grey hair covered a mind that had probably forgotten more magic than Nanette had ever known.

“I don’t understand,” Nanette said. “Why… why do I have to take this class?”

Duchene sat on one of the cushions, moving with surprising grace for an elderly lady who needed a cane. Nanette wondered, as she sat herself, if the headmistress really needed the cane. An appearance of weakness went against everything she’d been taught, but she could see the advantages. Duchene wouldn’t be anything like as frightening as her deputy. She could play the comforting grandmother while leaving the discipline to the younger members of staff.

“Men will tell you that women are emotional creatures,” Duchene said. “And then they will use it as an excuse to deny us power. What’s wrong with that statement?”

Nanette had to smile. “Men are emotional creatures too.”

“Precisely,” Duchene said. “Mankind is not, in the words of a great thinker, a rational animal. Mankind is, in fact, a rationalising animal. People — men and women alike — will decide what they want to do first, then come up with a semi-rational justification. The little kernel of truth in the statement is that people will often go with their gut and only then think of an excuse. And emotion can easily flow into magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Nanette said. She thought she did, but it was wiser to pretend ignorance. “I thought magic was… well, spells and suchlike.”

“It is,” Duchene confirmed. “The magical disciplines are the end result of centuries of research, of trial and error and the occasional outright disaster. You know to make a potion, or cast a charm, because someone worked out how to do it and told the world. However, emotion can bleed into magic. A number of spells will only work if you want them to work.”

She raised an eyebrow, challengingly. Nanette took the plunge. “Why would I cast a spell I didn’t want to work?”

“I’m sure you can think of a reason,” Duchene said. “But, in this case, you have to beware of your magic corrupting your emotions. It is very easy to become addicted to dark magic, or to allow your emotions to drive you into darkness. And even without that risk, losing control of your emotions can be disastrous. This class teaches you how to handle your emotions and, perhaps more importantly, consider why you might feel something. What do you want? Why do you want it? Is it really something you should have?”

I want… I don’t know what I want, Nanette thought. She had the feeling the class was not going to be easy. I don’t want to talk about what I want.

She looked up as the door opened. “Come on in, my darlings.”

Nanette glanced behind her as a line of students filed into the room. Penny hadn’t been too far wrong, she decided. The majority of the girls were firsties, girls who couldn’t be any older than sixteen. A handful definitely looked older. Nanette frowned. They looked to be in later years, too. Had they not mastered the class? Or had they been ordered to take it again?

“Sit down, sit down,” Duchene ordered. “We’ll start with some breathing exercises.”

Nanette studied the younger girls. Most of them seemed to have formed friendships, but a handful looked more socially isolated than she would have preferred. One girl sat alone, doing nothing to call attention to herself. Nanette felt an odd little twinge, a flicker of fellow-feeling. She’d been the same, back at Mountaintop. She wondered how the girl was coping. It was easy to tell she was common-born, almost certainly from a poor family. She looked, very much, like a young Nanette.

She forced herself to pay attention as Duchene led the girls through a series of centring exercises. Nanette was almost disappointed. The exercises weren’t that different from the mental disciplines she’d been taught at Mountaintop, although there was a little more talking about one’s feelings. Nanette wasn’t sure what she thought of that. It was good to talk, sometimes, but one never knew who might be listening. The smiling headmistress might have something darker in mind than merely encouraging the girls to think about their feelings. It was astonishing how much insight one could gain into someone’s character by discovering what moved them.

Her eyes kept drifting to the lone girl. She reminded Nanette of someone aside from herself, someone she knew… Frieda. Emily’s Shadow. Nanette’s eyes snapped open as she remembered how Frieda had blossomed into a powerful and capable student, one who’d learnt to stand up for herself. Nanette felt something twist inside her, a grim reminder that she’d had to learn on her own. Frieda had had Emily teaching her. She hadn’t been any match for an older student, of course — Nanette wasn’t sure if Frieda was still alive, after her expulsion — but she’d been well on the way. Envy curdled around Nanette’s heart. What had Frieda done to deserve private tutoring?

Her thoughts mocked her. What did you do?

“Lillian,” Duchene said. She was looking at the lone girl. “What do you want?”

The girl seemed to pale still further. “I want to study magic.”

A couple of girls giggled. Lillian reddened. Duchene gave the gigglers a reproving look that was somehow worse than shouting, screaming and threats of bodily harm. Nanette was a little impressed. Duchene had a presence that was soft and warm and yet — somehow — dominated the chamber. The gigglers shut up, sharply.

Duchene listened to Lillian’s answers, then turned to Nanette. “Nadine. What do you want?”

You’re not to ask me that question, Nanette said. What did she want? An easy end to her mission? Or… something a little more fundamental? A father? A lover? The power and respect she’d been promised, before Emily had snatched it away? I don’t know what I want.

She channelled Nadine. “I want a good match to a good man.”

“Indeed?” Duchene raised her eyebrows, again. “And why do you want it?”

Nanette shrugged. “Because I want it?”

Duchene smiled. “And why do you want it?”

“Because a good match would bring me security,” Nanette said. She understood the aristocracy well enough to know the answer, although she had no idea if Nadine was reflective enough to know. “And a good man will not hurt me.”

“Indeed.” Duchene sounded oddly disappointed. “We shall consider the question later on.”

She turned away. Nanette felt a flicker of regret. It was the right answer, she was sure, but not a very pleasing answer. Nadine would want a husband who was powerful, rich and handsome… in that order. An older man who was ugly but powerful would be a better match than a poor but handsome man. And yet… Nadine was a natural-born child. Her father might be a baron — by marriage — but he might not be able to arrange a good match for his only daughter. Perhaps that was why Nadine was such a brat, Nanette considered. Her society saw only one role for her, yet it wouldn’t let her play it. And magic alone wasn’t enough to make up for everything else.

The class wore on. Duchene cast a handful of emotion-inducing spells, a handful on the borderline between legal and illegal, and encouraged the girls to talk about their feelings. Nanette said as little as possible — she couldn’t help noting that Lillian said nothing — while the other girls talked, discussing how the spells made them feel and what they wanted to do about it. She wondered, sourly, if Duchene was bending the laws to breaking point. She might not be directly invading their minds, but she was certainly gaining insight into how they thought. It was something to consider later.

“For homework, I want you to practice your breathing exercises,” Duchene finished, when the bell finally rang. “There’s no need to do anything else, not now.”

She swept out of the room. The girls hurried after her, save for a couple who pinched Lillian before running out. Nanette opened her mouth to say something — anything — but closed it again without speaking. If Lillian was anything like her, she wouldn’t want fake sympathy from an older student. No, she’d want something Nanette couldn’t give. She gave the younger girl what privacy she could instead, turning her eyes away as she made her way out of the classroom and up the stairs. It was all she could do.

Her thoughts were a churning mess by the time she reached her room. Duchene had, deliberately or not, unleashed a wave of emotions Nanette really didn’t want to consider, certainly not when she was in enemy territory. What did she want? She knew some of the answers — power, respect, a father — but not all of them. She wanted appreciation as well as power and… she swallowed hard as she stepped through the door, took off her blazer and lay down on the bed. Did Duchene suspect something? Or was it merely just another hurdle she’d have to surmount?

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, studying the wards pulsing through the walls. They didn’t seem to be spying on her, much to her relief. It wasn’t unknown for magic schools to keep a close eye on their students, although there were limits. She studied them carefully, trying to determine what would trigger an alarm. Dark magic? Lethal spells? Or something that actually killed someone? The spells clearly didn’t respond to pranks or half the student body would be in permanent detention.

I can work with it, she mused, as she parsed out the wards. In some ways, they were less complex than Mountaintop’s. I should be able to complete my mission without setting off an alarm.

The door opened. Penny stepped into the room, her cheeks flushed. “Flying is the greatest!”

Nanette sat up. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, amused. “How long did it take you to get out of Emotional Stability?”

“Months.” Penny undressed rapidly, dropped her clothes on the floor and headed to the washroom. “You have to get in touch with your inner child and tell her to grow up.”

Which makes perfect sense, if you were allowed to have a childhood, Nanette thought, sardonically. Her childhood hadn’t been the worst, but it hadn’t been the best either. How old were you when you started to really work?

Penny stuck her head out of the washroom. “Toss me a towel, will you?”

“Sure.” Nanette picked up a towel and threw it to her. She couldn’t help thinking Penny looked pretty with her hair hanging low. “You don’t know how to dry yourself?”

Penny shrugged. “I prefer towels,” she said, as she rubbed herself dry. “Don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Nanette said. “I…”

“We have an hour before the bell goes for tea,” Penny said. “I think you can teach me a few things.”

Nanette smiled, coldly. “Like what?”

“How to present myself,” Penny said. “I’ll only have one chance to make a good impression, when I come out.”

“Which will be next year,” Nanette said. A student was still considered a child until she graduated, if she recalled correctly. Aristo families were fond of delaying adulthood as long as possible, parents or guardians taking advantage of the time to arrange matters to their satisfaction before they finally let their children go. Her uncle might have done that to her, if she’d had anything worth the effort. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Penny sat on the bed, naked. “How should I present myself?”

“I think you should get dressed first,” Nanette said, mischievously. She allowed her eyes to blatantly wander up and down Penny’s body. “Unless you really want them to see you nude.”

Penny gave her a sharp look as she stood and picked up a robe. “Answer the question.”

Nanette smirked. “It depends when and where you come out,” she said. “If you are presented to the king’s court, you allow the herald to announce you, you walk down the stairs and curtsey to the king and queen. You try not to trip over your dress because, if you do, everyone will be talking about it long after you’re dead. And then you dance with your paramours. You have to do at least one of each type of dance.”

“Why?” Penny looked dubious. “With the same man?”

“If you like,” Nanette shrugged. “If you already have a match, you’ll dance with him and him alone. If not, you can dance with whoever you like. The point is to show off your dancing skills. They’ll be watching you to make sure there’s nothing obviously wrong with you.”

“I see, I think,” Penny said. “Wouldn’t they trust my parents to tell them about me?”

“No.” Nanette recalled her etiquette lessons with a shudder. There was a practical explanation for everything, from formal manners to dancing, but they tended to be very cold-blooded. “They’ll want to see for themselves.”

She felt a twinge of pity, mingled with contempt. Her teachers had pointed out that a girl who had her season was being put on display, like a prize horse. She was being sold to the highest bidder, to someone who might be kind and loving or someone who’d see her as little more than a brood cow. Penny was a magician — and she had to be powerful, if she’d survived five years at school — but she’d still be sold. Nanette wondered, idly, why she didn’t simply walk away. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t find employment elsewhere.

“Cheek,” Penny said. “I suppose it might be better if I showed up naked.”

“People would definitely talk about you,” Nanette agreed, dryly. “But not in a good way.”

Penny stood. “Show me how to dance,” she said. “Properly.”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” Nanette said. “Why…?”

“Because my parents never go to parties,” Penny said. There was a world of pain in her words. “And I never get to practice.”

“I see,” Nanette said. She stood, brushing down her dress. “I’ll be the man, shall I?”

She held out her arm. Dancing was something she enjoyed, sometimes. It was fun, when it wasn’t loaded with meaning. Or when the steps were simply too complicated to follow easily. It wasn’t easy to find partners who didn’t read something else into her willingness to dance. She wondered, sourly, why Penny hadn’t been able to find dancing partners in Laughter. The school did socialise its students, didn’t it?

“Let me take the lead,” she said, as she took Penny’s hand. It was an opportunity, one that shouldn’t be missed. “And follow me.”

Penny smiled. “Men like to lead, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” Nanette allowed herself a tight smile as she pressed her hand against Penny’s back and stroked it lightly. “And some of them can get very intimate on the dance floor.”

She crafted the spell carefully — very carefully — and triggered it. Penny smiled, warmly, as Nanette’s magic shimmered against hers. Nanette smiled back as they moved around the room, gently widening the spell until it lightly brushed against Penny’s magic. The technique was very simple, but extremely difficult to use unless the caster was touching the victim. It was a kind of intimacy. And one that could easily be abused.

“That feels good,” Penny said. She looked… happy, relaxed. “What did you do?”

“A trick my mother taught me,” Nanette lied, smoothly. She massaged Penny’s back, drawing back the magic. She’d implant suggestions later. “It can make a man become putty in your hands.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” Penny said. She stepped back, letting go of Nanette. “It seems to work pretty well on women too.”

“Yes,” Nanette agreed. “But you have to dance with the men, I’m afraid.”

Penny laughed, humourlessly. “Next time, we’d better use proper music.”

“The music tells you how to move,” Nanette agreed. She glanced up as the bell rang. “Dinnertime?”

“Yeah.” Penny let out a long sigh. “And you know what comes after dinner?”

Nanette smiled. “Pudding?”

Penny gave her a thin smile. “Homework,” she said. “There’s no getting away from it, not here.”

“At least we’re doing something useful,” Nanette said. “What do you want us to do?”

“Flying charms,” Penny said. She changed into a dress and headed for the door. “And I’m pretty sure you know more than you’re telling.”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever worked with flying charms,” Nanette said. Technically, she hadn’t even done it once. “But I’m a quick study.”