“Enter,” said Miss Ellicott.
Anna and Leila were already there, sitting in severe, straight-backed chairs, with their faces to Miss Ellicott and their backs to the shelves that held jars of useful magical supplies. Chantel curtseyed and took a seat beside them.
Miss Ellicott stood and surveyed them somberly. “Circumstances change.”
This was a surprise. One of the fundamental lessons of life in Miss Ellicott’s School was that circumstances did not change.
“Regrettably, the future may not be like the glorious present. The present is a pinnacle that man has achieved by overcoming the trials of the terrible past.”
Miss Ellicott looked at her students to see how they would react to this pronouncement. Her students looked back and blinked.
“Although, in general, a girl is best off memorizing the wisdom of her elders and seeking to be worthy of it, there are times when originality and creativity may be unavoidable,” Miss Ellicott went on. “We find ourselves now in difficult times, interesting times, times when what is may change. Perhaps for the better, perhaps . . . not. Therefore, it becomes necessary to teach a few of my more advanced pupils the more difficult branches of magic.
“Later, I will teach you the spells by which you can help the patriarchs and the king. The Gleam, with which you can make a man feel and appear ten feet tall. The Contentedness spell, which brings peace to our city. But we will begin with principles of prognostication. We will see if any of you has the least aptitude for seeing the Will-Be or the Ago.”
Her tone conveyed that she did not expect they would.
“Prognosticatory magic is slippery stuff,” Miss Ellicott went on. “It is difficult to see the Will-Be, and even the Ago can be wavery and uncertain.”
Chantel was surprised by this, as she had always assumed that once something happened, it was done and was known. Miss Ellicott now told them this was not the case. It all came down to missing information, lost perspectives, and points of view.
Points of view are funny things.
Miss Ellicott showed them the spell for seeing the Will-Be.
It was important, Miss Ellicott said, to burn the right herbs, and then put the fire out suddenly with blood from a mortal wound.
They did this. There was a terrible burned-blood smell. Eye-watering purple smoke rose from the ashes, glowing, and formed itself into . . .
“Well?” said Miss Ellicott, looking from the smoke to the girls with eyes as sharp as a toothache.
Well, Anna said the smoke formed into a dog digging its way under a fence to escape from its yard. And Leila said there was indeed a fence, but a fearsome beast (possibly a dragon) was burrowing under it to attack the city.
Chantel was embarrassed to say that she didn’t see any animal at all, though she did see a fence. The fence was made of iron palings. A girl was walking along, pushing them over, one by one.
The other students looked at her in confusion. “So the girl’s the monster?” said Leila. “That’s stupid.”
“The girl’s trying to escape,” said Anna, clearly trying to be supportive.
“If she’s trying to escape, she should run as soon as she’s knocked down enough palings,” said Leila. “The girl’s stupid.”
Miss Ellicott looked at all of them and shook her head. “I expected better.”
She didn’t say what she’d seen, and naturally no one dared to ask.
For the next spell, they looked at the Ago. They peered into a mist made by boiling seven herbs and then dashing the hot brew onto ice cut from a pond in which seven maidens had drowned, tragically, while washing out their socks.
“Well?” said Miss Ellicott.
“I see a king sitting on a throne, bestowing justice on everyone,” said Anna.
Leila gave her a pitying look. “I see a mighty king leading men into battle. With each swipe of his sword, he knocks off two enemies’ heads.”
“Which king?” Miss Ellicott demanded.
“King Mergaunt the Meticulous,” said Anna.
“King Wiley the Warmonger,” said Leila.
“Hm.” Miss Ellicott turned to Chantel and waited.
Chantel was embarrassed to say. “I just saw, um, a crown. And it was, um, bleeding.”
Leila rolled her eyes expressively.
“Which king wore the crown?” said Miss Ellicott.
“Nobody wore it,” said Chantel. “It was just sitting there. Bleeding.”
She felt like a hideous failure. She was the one who was supposed to be good at things. If it was the Ago, she ought to have seen a king from the past. Leila and Anna had. Leila’s king had been fairly recent.
The year Chantel was eight, King Wiley the Warmonger had died of a sudden case of daggers in the back. Two years later, his successor died of a surfeit of lettuce, and was replaced by King Rathfest the Restless. It was soon after this that Miss Ellicott had been visited by a royal messenger.
“The king wishes prognostications,” said the messenger. “He wishes to know if he is likely to fall victim to the same sort of misfortune as his predecessors.”
Chantel thought it extremely likely, but nobody asked her.
So Miss Ellicott went to the palace to prognosticate. And when she returned, Chantel heard her talking to Miss Flivvers.
Miss Ellicott clearly approved of the new king. “This is a new era for sorceresses. King Rathfest doesn’t blame women for the treachery of Queen Haywith five centuries ago. King Rathfest puts women on a pedestal.”
“It seems to me,” said Miss Flivvers, who had been in a sour mood, “that once you’re up on a pedestal, you can’t take a step in any direction without falling.”
“It is better than the alternative,” said Miss Ellicott. “Mark my words.”
I give you now Chantel Goldenrod, magician, age thirteen.
Dangerous?
Yes, of course. All people are dangerous, especially when they think and act for themselves.
And does she?
Not yet.
Not entirely.
But there are signs.
And the girl is certainly magical, and she is training to be a sorceress.
Therefore, there are dangers. She is carefully watched.
We have seen nothing to alarm us yet. She is a model of deportment. She speaks when spoken to and otherwise maintains a proper silence in the presence of her elders and betters.
She can’t possibly be planning anything.
Nonetheless, she is thirteen, and she is a magician, and she is female.
We will keep an eye on her.
3
THE HALL OF PATRIARCHS
Considering how badly she’d done in her first prognostication lesson, Chantel was not exactly happy when Miss Ellicott decided to tutor her alone. She went into the close, candlelit study at the appointed time, feeling nervous.
“Now then,” said Miss Ellicott. “Describe to me exactly what you saw last week. First, the Ago.”