The Grandmaster's Tale

And I had to watch, dying a little inside, as Alan and Geraldine lost the will to live.

I’d never been knocked down that far, not ever. My brothers and I had been tough enough to beat Walter and his cronies, tough enough to take on the rest of our year and make sure they remembered us even if they won by sheer weight of numbers. We had always been able to rely on each other. Alan and Geraldine had no one. They were alone in the midst of a crowd, isolated from everyone else ... no one, I reflected sourly, wanted to be associated with them when it might mean getting targeted themselves. Alan had always been a quiet little thing, but he withdrew even further into himself; Geraldine, by contrast, had been a fun-loving girl when she’d entered the school. Now …

I probably should have reported it, when I caught Alan reading forbidden textbooks. He was no coward, whatever his other flaws, and he was no weakling either. In his hands, the rites and rituals could be really dangerous. And yet … I confiscated the books, gave him a lecture on the dangers of embracing the darkness, and sent him on his way. Boscha wouldn’t hesitate to expel him, if he knew about the books. He didn’t have to play politics with a boy of no real family …

But he was playing politics with Walter.

It took me a while to notice, but he was. Boscha had never shown any real interest in any of the students before, yet now … he was doing more than just

showing open favouritism to Walter and his cronies. The pattern seemed odd … Boscha would sometimes override his tutors, when they handed out punishments, or give Walter privileges denied to other students, such as the right to visit Dragon’s Den during weekdays. It puzzled me. I couldn’t imagine any reason for such favouritism, certainly nothing Boscha could get elsewhere. The more I thought about it, the more it gnawed at me. What was he doing? I kept a close eye on the bully, watching and waiting, and eventually I saw him going deep into the school, to the tunnel that connected Whitehall to Blackhall. I was surprised he knew about it. My brothers and I had searched the school from top to bottom, when we’d been students, and we’d missed the tunnel. It hadn’t been until I’d found myself working closely with Lady Pepper that I’d been told about it. And yet, Walter knew?

Odd, I thought. Walter had never struck me as the kind of student who spent his time uncovering the school’s secrets, not when he could be pulling wings off flies instead. Did the Grandmaster tell him?

I slipped after him, down to the tunnel, and discovered it wasn’t just Walter. Nine students, all very well connected, were making their way through a passageway they weren’t supposed to know existed, wearing drab clothes that would make them harder to spot in the darkness. I wrapped myself in invisibility spells and followed, wondering just what I’d stumbled across. Walter could have asked for a pass, if he’d wanted to leave the school, and Boscha would have granted it. If he hadn’t asked Boscha … was he doing something that even Boscha would find abhorrent? Walter wasn’t stupid enough to engage in dark rites and sacrifices, was he? Or demon summoning? Or … I wasn’t in the best place to throw stones, but still …

Perhaps it’s something harmless

, I thought. I’d known girls who’d used to sneak out of the school to go dancing, something I wouldn’t have thought would cause any trouble. But then, the thrill of getting away with something was very seductive to young minds. Not that I’d ever done anything like that, when I’d been a student. Of course not. Perish the thought. But with Walter involved … how could it be harmless?

It wasn’t easy to remain hidden in the tunnel as we reached the far end and clambered into Blackhall. The problem with being invisible is that no one knows you’re there—obviously—and they try to shut doors in your face, without ever knowing what they’re doing. Or worse. I suspected I’d be in some trouble if anyone ever figured out what I’d done. Getting into the hall was tricky—I had to cast multiple spells to conceal my presence and the signs of my presence—and it galled me to resort to such tricks. I was a senior tutor! I should be able to walk through the corridors without being invisible. But … students don’t normally do things they know they shouldn’t when they know a tutor is watching. Even Walter had more sense.