She looked up at the clear blue sky and sighed. It was a perfect day, a minor miracle given how rapidly the weather near Whitehall could change from brilliant sunshine to a freezing snowstorm. If she had been free, she would have walked the mountains herself—perhaps invited Frieda along so they could talk outside school—or even strolled down to Dragon’s Den. Instead ...
“You all read the rules.” She waved her hand in the air, triggering the tokens. The spell was simple enough, linking two students together at random. There was no way to avoid the simple fact that the older students were likely to dominate, but at least the younger ones would have a chance to move on to the second round. “Find your partners, then line up in front of the dueling rings. Do not step into the circle until you are ordered to do so.”
She smiled, inwardly. Professor Armstrong had checked and rechecked the original dueling circle, then forced her and the other students to add a whole series of dueling rings. It had been practical work Emily would have enjoyed if she hadn’t been all too aware that lives depended on their wardcrafting. Professor Armstrong had promised her that he wouldn’t allow a real mistake to go through, even if it meant someone ending up in trouble, but she knew how easy it would be for something to go wrong. Too many spells were about to be exchanged in close quarters.
“In order to progress, you have to win at least two out of three duels,” she reminded them, as the younger students shuffled about, trying to find their partners. Next time, Emily promised herself, she’d just pick couples herself, even though there would probably be complaints that the selection process wasn’t truly random. “Those of you who win all three will have higher marks as you go into the second round.”
She glanced at Cirroc, Jacqui and Cerise. Cirroc looked excited—he’d been disappointed when Emily had told him he couldn’t take part himself—but Jacqui and Cerise looked as if they were waiting for something. Emily eyed them suspiciously, trying to convince herself that neither Jacqui nor Cerise was stupid enough to try anything in front of a dozen tutors and three outside representatives. And yet, she was sure that Jacqui had deliberately manipulated events so she had to deal with Frieda. The snide suggestions and constant interruptions suggested that Jacqui thought she would make a better Head Girl.
And I’d give her the post, if I could, Emily thought, wryly. It isn’t really a reward for anything.
“Make sure they follow the rules,” she told her assistants. She hadn’t seen any more blatant attempts to push the limits, but she had a nasty feeling it was just a matter of time. “And don’t let them hurt each other.”
“Of course,” Cirroc said. He didn’t sound impressed. “We’ll look after them.”
Emily scowled at him, then walked to the first dueling circle. Adana stood there, facing a second-year boy Emily vaguely remembered as being one of Caleb’s mentees, last year. He looked nervous when he saw Emily, his face falling sharply. Emily wondered what was bothering him—the storm of rumors had somehow managed to get even more intense over the last few days—but whatever it was, she was sure it wasn’t important. She would be a fair and impartial referee and that was all that mattered.
“Into the circle,” she said. Behind her, she heard whizzes and bangs as two contestants began their duel. “When I blow the whistle, you may begin.”
Adana looked confident, Emily noted. She was Melissa’s cousin, if Emily recalled correctly; she’d been taught a number of dueling spells—and self-defense spells—when she’d come into her magic, before she’d been sent to Whitehall. Emily would not have cared to face her as a firstie, even though it hadn’t taken long for Emily to pick up a number of spells of her own. Adana lacked Tiega’s undoubted skill—and vindictiveness—but she was still formidable for her age. Her opponent didn’t look anything like so calm.
Emily blew the whistle. Adana opened the duel by hurling a massively overpowered transfiguration spell at her opponent, who jumped out of the way rather than try to block it directly. It was a smart move, Emily noted, as he launched a set of needle-hexes back at Adana. Even if he had managed to block the spell, Adana would have had a clear shot at him before he managed to recover and return fire. Perhaps the duel wouldn’t be as one-sided as she—and Adana—had assumed ...
Someone has definitely been teaching Adana, she thought. The younger girl fought with a mixture of skill and cunning, hunching down and expanding her wards to provide a smaller target. Her opponent was larger, but he made up for it in speed. He might lack Adana’s collection of spells, yet he was smart enough not to give her an opening. And yet, he also lacked a certain ruthlessness. I wonder if ...
Adana whooped as she snuck a spell through her opponent’s defenses. Emily winced inwardly at the shock on the young boy’s face, an instant before his body shrank and became a mouse. He scuttled away at speed, but it was clear that he couldn’t continue the duel. Emily waited for ten seconds to see if he could free himself from the spell, then blew her whistle.
“Well done,” Emily said, as Adana released the spell. The boy snapped back to normal. “Go wait for your next duel.”
She met the boy’s eyes as Adana strode off, waggling her hips in a manner that would probably have earned her a particularly unpleasant hex from her great-grandmother. “You didn’t do badly,” she said. “But you’re not casting your spells fast enough.”
“Thank you,” the boy said, sourly. “I tried ...”
“Sometimes, that is all you can do,” Emily said, as reassuringly as possible. He hadn’t broken and run, had he? That counted for something. Sergeant Miles would probably have approved. A brave man could be trained. A coward was better off well away from the battlefield. “Good luck with your next duel.”
He nodded and walked off. Emily took a moment to note that both Frieda and Tiega had made it through their first duels, then turned her attention to the next pair of duelists. She winced, openly, the moment she saw them. A firstie and a Fifth Year? The outcome was practically pre-ordained. She was tempted to order them both to find other partners, but the selection process had been random. Perhaps she should have put her thumb on the scale.
“I’m not going to give up,” the firstie said.
“I wasn’t expecting you to give up,” his opponent countered.
Emily sighed and blew the whistle. The duel shouldn’t have lasted more than a handful of seconds. And yet, the firstie had guts, if not brains. He kept moving, ducking low and jumping high ... he even attached himself to the wards, firing hexes down at his opponent’s head. Emily made a mental note to recommend him to Sergeant Miles. The firstie lost—his opponent finally managed to hit him with a gust of freezing air, then locked him in place—but he’d put up an impressive fight. It was hard to say who’d truly won the duel.