The Gordian Knot (Schooled in Magic #13)
Christopher G. Nuttall
Prologue
“AND FINALLY, I’M GLAD TO ANNOUNCE that both of our picks for replacement Charms and Healing tutors have accepted their offers,” Grandmaster Gordian said. He allowed himself a thin smile at the whisper of relief that ran around the table. It had been a long meeting, even though they’d had a break for lunch. No one wanted to prolong it further. “They’ll arrive tomorrow and take the oaths in the Great Hall.”
He leaned back in his chair, silently enjoying the moment. Too many of the senior tutors were not bound to him, either through loyalty to Gordian’s predecessor or through ambitions of their own. He could count on them not to do anything that would actively harm Whitehall itself—their oaths would see to that—but he knew better than to expect them to follow him unquestioningly. And it was difficult, even for an experienced political warrior like himself, to edge them out of their positions. They couldn’t be dismissed for anything other than gross misconduct.
“You’ll be invited to watch and bear witness, of course,” he added. “Now, before we break up for the evening, is there any more business?”
Professor Lombardi cleared his throat. “The election of a Head Pupil. I believe we are running short of time to nominate one.”
Gordian nodded, keeping his face expressionless. The senior tutors had the right to elect the Head Pupil for the year, if they wished to use it. He’d refrained from raising the issue, half-hoping they’d choose to leave the matter in his hands. There were pupils—several pupils—he would prefer not to see elected.
“Very well,” he said. “Nominations?”
“Emily,” Sergeant Miles said, immediately. “I believe her record speaks for itself.”
“She had to retake four of her exams,” Gordian said. It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. His feelings about his most troublesome student were decidedly mixed. “That does not suggest a sterling academic record.”
“She failed the exams because she was summoned to war,” Sergeant Miles countered, his voice unyielding. “And because she was ... involved ... in that mess in Beneficence.”
Gordian tried not to groan. No two accounts of what had happened in Beneficence seemed to agree on everything, save for one detail. Emily had saved the city, somehow. If the more extreme reports were to be believed, she’d battled a god. Gordian wouldn’t have believed it himself, if he hadn’t read the reports that hadn’t been made public. He hoped the full story—or at least the version he’d heard—never leaked out to the rest of the world. Too many sorcerers—and religious sects—would see it as a challenge.
“There are others,” Professor Gaunt said. “Melissa has very definite potential.”
“But she’s politically unacceptable,” Gordian said. “She was disowned by her family.”
“She does have the talent,” Gaunt insisted. “And she is ... more aware of social situations than Emily.”
“Cabiria has talent,” Professor Thande said.
“She was suspended for a year,” Gordian pointed out. “What about Caleb or Cirroc?”
Sergeant Miles snorted. “And how many students have actually saved the school?”
Gordian met his eyes. The hell of it was that Sergeant Miles was correct. Emily was the only student who had saved the school once let alone twice. By any reasonable standard—certainly in terms of achievement—she stood head and shoulders above the rest of the students in her year. There had never been any sign that Emily wanted, let alone expected, to be Head Girl, but everyone else probably expected her to walk into the post. And she deserved it.
And yet, she was a menace too. He’d wanted to expel her last year, when he’d become Grandmaster. Putting her on probation—and forcing her to work with Professor Locke—had been done in the hopes of keeping her out of trouble—or convincing her to quit. It wasn’t as if she would have had problems finding a place at another school, somewhere well away from Whitehall. Gordian certainly wouldn’t have stood in her way.
She’s not evil, he admitted, privately. Technically, she was a probationary student too, although he’d decided to ignore that as much as possible. But she is disruptive.
He kept his face impassive as he contemplated his options. Nothing had happened openly—not yet—but he knew that more and more important figures were growing ... concerned about Emily. Child of Destiny, Necromancer’s Bane ... she was a knife that could cut both ways, something that could reshape the world or damage it beyond repair. A sorceress who’d bested two—no, three—necromancers would be alarming enough, but her ... innovations had started a chain reaction she might not be able to control. And she didn’t seem able or willing even to try.
And she owns the school, Gordian reminded himself.
Gordian wouldn’t have believed that, either, if Emily hadn’t shown an astonishing prowess at manipulating and duplicating Whitehall’s wards. Even now, a year after she’d told him the full story, he still found it hard to come to terms with it. The Founders of Whitehall had been lost in the mists of time, known only by a handful of contradictory stories. And Emily had gone back in time, taught Lord Whitehall and his fellows the secret to controlling a nexus point, then returned to the present. It was unbelievable.
It was also intolerable. He was Grandmaster, not her. He’d worked hard to secure a position of boundless power and influence, only to see it turn to ashes. He couldn’t have a student in a position to overrule him, perhaps even remove him from the school. He’d already started a very quiet program to do something about the whole situation, but he doubted he’d have time to complete it. Too many people wanted something done, now. And they were pressuring him to force her to divulge her secrets.
He cleared his throat. “Emily has earned her reputation. I do not dispute that. But would she be a good Head Girl? She is not the most ... sociable of students.”
“She has a gift for making friends in high and low places,” Sergeant Miles reminded him, dryly. “And that has saved her life, more than once.”
“She’d be required to do more than make friends,” Gordian countered. “The Head Pupil has to do everything from organizing the mentorship program to carrying out a project of their own. She would be distracted from her work.”
“The same could be said of almost anyone else,” Madame Rosalinda said. The Housemother smiled at him. “And while she is not that friendly with anyone outside her circle, she doesn’t have many enemies either.”
Not in the school, perhaps, Gordian thought.