The Grandmaster's Tale

I heard a patting sound, followed by a pained yelp. I didn’t need to look back to know what had happened. Walter had touched her ass, and she’d hexed him for it. I pretended not to notice, even as Walter started spluttering complaints. He’d deserved worse … a lot worse. I knew his type all too well. They did whatever they liked and woe betide anyone who had something they wanted, or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but when anyone dared to fight back it was unfair. How dare they refuse to bend over and take it?

The Grandmaster’s door opened as we approached. Boscha would probably have some idea of what had happened, if I was any judge, although I was fairly sure he didn’t pay close attention to the wards that were meant to alert him if there were any major disputes between students. He’d have problems coping, if he did pay attention. There were just so many clashes, as students sorted themselves into gangs for their own protection … Boscha, damn him, didn’t care. There were times when I thought he encouraged the disputes for his own twisted amusement.

I heard Geraldine suck in her breath as we stepped into the office and nodded in bitter understanding. Boscha’s office looked like a throne room, complete with an actual throne and a heavy wooden desk designed to put visitors in the right frame of mind for approaching the school’s lord and master. The walls were lined with portraits of kings, queens and princes, all of whom had never looked so good in their lives. The Grandmaster himself sat on his throne and studied us all, his eyes dark and cold. I wasn’t impressed. I’d come face to face with demons, necromancers and my own family.

“Hasdrubal,” Boscha said. I’d never liked the way he said my name. “What do you have for me?”

“I caught these four torturing one student, after sexually assaulting another,” I said, bluntly. It was hard to keep my voice under control as I ran through the entire story. If the Grandmaster had been doing his job properly, the whole affair would never have happened. “They need to be suspended. Now.”

Boscha’s face was unreadable. “I see,” he said. “Walter, perhaps you could give us your side of the story?”

I blinked. “Sir, with all due respect …”

Boscha held up a hand. “I believe we should not rush to judgement, when the schooling and careers of four young men are at stake,” he said, smoothly. The nasty part of my mind wondered if he’d practiced. “We need to hear their side of the story too.”

Walter stepped forward and gave his wretched smile. “We were merely teaching … ah … Alan … how to defend himself against some of the nastier charms,” he said, in a tone so sweet it would have been too much for my dear uncle. I half-expected Boscha to tell Walker to take his tongue off the grandmaster’s boot. Or another part of his anatomy. “His resistance has improved in the last few days.”

My fists tried to clench. I wasn’t looking at Alan, but I could feel

his resentment and hatred. And the certainty that there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make matters worse.

I spoke for him. “I don’t recall you ever being given the authority to teach students anything,” I said, my tone dripping sarcasm. Walter was no prefect. “What makes you think you have the right to do anything of the sort?”

“Noblesse oblige,” Walter said. His voice dripped honey. And condescension. I wanted to hit him. “It is the responsibility of those of us born to power and privilege to assist the less fortunate by sharing our blessings. The Grandmaster himself lectured us on our duties to the poor, to those unfortunate enough to be born in ignorance and raised by parents incapable of offering even the slightest hint of magical education. They cannot be blamed, of course, for such unfortunate circumstances, yet those of us who are fortunate …”

I cut him off. “And tying up Geraldine, and exposing her, and leaving her in a cupboard is … what?”

“Another lesson,” Walter said, smoothly. “And I didn’t expose her.”

I felt Geraldine tense. Was Walter lying? Or had one of his cronies exposed Geraldine instead? Or … had she been exposed by her own movements, as she struggled to free herself? Geraldine was the only person who could answer, and she wouldn’t, not unless she wanted to be a pariah for the rest of her schooling. I wanted to demand Boscha use a truth spell, but I knew he wouldn’t. Walter’s family would throw a fit. So would everyone else.

“I’m glad to hear the matter has a simple explanation,” Boscha said. “I see no reason to take this any further.”

I stared. “You’re really buying that … that excuse?”

Boscha looked irked. I wasn’t impressed. “Walter has no authority to teach other students anything, nor does he have any real training or supervision. His methods are …”