Fallen Magic

I wake early, as I’m in the habit of doing: I like to make sure I have the time to be prepared for the day ahead and possibly work on an essay before I have to leave for Genford. I guess my sleep schedule must have fixed itself despite the entire day I spent unconscious and how late I got to bed last night; when I pull back the curtains and peek out, the old clock hanging from the dormitory wall is just finishing striking six. Its chimes are soft and quiet, which is the only reason I slept at all.

Dormitory, I remember. Curtains around my four-poster bed. It takes me a little while to put together the pieces of where I am and everything that’s changed.

I stand and step away from my bed, trying not to make a sound that will wake the others. If I remember rightly, the attached bathroom should be just to the left… yes. I pad over to it and open the door slowly, wincing as it creaks a little, then slip inside and shut it behind me.

The bathroom’s enchanted light appears, filling the room nearly the size of the dormitory itself with a faint gold which reflects off the white tiles of the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut reflexively: the morning light in the dormitory was dim enough that this is a sudden adjustment.

Once I’ve adjusted, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror opposite the door. She looks about as exhausted as I feel, bags around her deep brown eyes. No wonder, after everything that happened yesterday.

Edward and I talked for an hour or two last night: at first about ourselves, and then about magic, history and whatever else occurred to us. Both of us carefully avoided the topic of Malaina or Falling.

By the time we were done it was about eight after noon: even for me, there was no prospect of sleep that early, so I discovered one of the many study rooms the Academy provides its students and spent an hour or two teaching myself some basic magical theory.

It hadn’t really occurred to me that I had dorm-mates until I got back just before ten after noon – I’d known it abstractly, in the sense that I’d seen four other beds in the room when unpacking, but hadn’t thought about what any of them would be like.

Still, they’d seen my things and realised someone new must have arrived, which meant they wanted to introduce themselves. They seem fairly normal, at least relative to the only two other residents of the Academy I’ve encountered, and are all about my age, give or take a year or two. Their names are Hannah, Aisha, Lucy and Robin; Hannah and Lucy are Rittome, Robin Siaril and Aisha Latira (I didn’t ask, but I’m curious about the story behind that one: there’s only one spirit-forest left in the whole of Rasin and it doesn’t particularly like people).

Robin and Hannah both visibly flinched when I told them I was Malaina. No-one made it into a problem, though, and we continued chatting while I tried to ignore the pain that gave me. After comparing timetables we discovered that I’ll share classes with Hannah and Aisha – Lucy is taking her Certificate of Education as well so has to work around the timetable of the partner school, and… I can’t remember why Robin isn’t in our class, actually. Did she even tell me?

After a while Lucy suggested a round of cards, and we played for a couple of hours. I withdrew to try and sleep after losing several times, but my curtains lack soundproof enchantments so the sound of the game kept me awake a while longer.

I step over to the sink and turn on the tap, rejoicing in whatever enchantment means water can flow directly out of it so I don’t have to fetch a heavy jug. Splashing a little water onto my face makes me feel a little more alive.

The canteen opens for breakfast at seven, if I remember right, and my first class is Spells at nine. That gives me plenty of time to clean myself up, work out where I’m going and – I force myself not to think about how unprepared I’ll be for the lesson without having had the chance to catch up on the two I’ve already missed.

I leave for breakfast just before seven, with none of my dorm-mates yet awake, but I underestimate the time it takes to reach the canteen from my dormitory so I’m there a couple of minutes after it opens.

Cooked breakfasts won’t be ready for another half-hour, since the cooking staff don’t particularly want to be up before five, but there’s the option of porridge or toast. I collect a bowl of the former and look for somewhere to sit. This early it’s still quiet, and people are sitting mostly on their own. I spot the only student I know who’s awake sitting at the same place as last night, working his way steadily through a plateful of toast and a pile of newspapers, and decide to join him.

He doesn’t look up as I approach, so when I reach the chair opposite I say “Morning.”

“Oh,” he says, dragging his gaze away from the papers. “Tallulah. Good morning.”

“Do you – do you mind if I sit with you?”

“No, I don’t.”

I pull out my chair and sit down, frowning in thought. Edward seems fairly alert, so it’s not that he just can’t function in the mornings, but there’s definitely a tension in him that wasn’t there last night.

“Sorry if I’m prying,” I say, “but – is something wrong?”

He hesitates for a second before tossing one of the papers at me. I catch it just in time to prevent it being dunked in porridge. It’s this morning’s edition of the City Herald, and its headline is FALL OF BLACKTHORN HEIR.

I grimace and begin to read. The account is lacking in any actual detail, simply stating that Edward Blackthorn, sixteen-year-old son and heir of Lord Henry Blackthorn, Siaril Royal and Minister for Intelligence, developed Malaina three days ago under unknown circumstances.

What it lacks in fact, it makes up for in speculation. There’s comments from a woman whose husband was questioned by Intelligence: The Black Raven is a cruel man. My husband still has nightmares after his interrogation. It doesn’t surprise me at all, the poor boy.

Is she implying –

She is, and the rest of the article makes that clear – that is to say, it dances carefully around it, implying it without ever outright accusing Henry Blackthorn of abusing his son.

“I’m sorry,” I say, tossing the paper away in disgust and meeting Edward’s eyes.

“They’re all like that,” he replies with barely-supressed anger. “The Report, the Informer. Never once saying anything that would lead to a lawsuit, but making their accusations quite clear regardless.”

“It’s not right,” I say with a conviction that surprises even myself. Regardless of whether he was abused, no-one deserves to have their private pain plastered all over the fronts of the papers for half the country to read.

“It’s politics. I didn’t think it would happen so quickly, but it was inevitable. A Malaina son is the perfect way to hurt his reputation and make him into even more of a villain. And it’s not as if he can do anything to supress it, what with their technically not lying about us.”

Stars. The wounds left by my Fall are still far too raw to touch. I can only imagine how much worse it would be if they were being exploited for political gain. “Surely there’s something you can do to stop them?”

“You haven’t touched your porridge.”

I haven’t. Even I can recognise that for the deflection it is, though.

“How familiar are you with politics?”

I shrug. “I know how the system works.” There’s the King, of course, and then the nobles, Parliament and the Ministries all answer to him and to each other. Most of the nobles sit in Parliament, and many govern cities or regions; the Ministries are responsible for infrastructure and enforcement of the law on a national level, and Parliament passes laws that keep each of them in check and hold them to account.

“Have you read Thornton?”

“I’ve heard of him, but I’m not acquainted with his work.” All I know, really, is that he was one of the foremost political philosophers of the last century. Political philosophy isn’t something I’ve studied at all.

“I recommend it. An oversimplification of reality, of course, but illustrates the principles at work very well. His Doctrine of Balances is one of those: at its core, it states that no one person can gather too much power to themselves without attracting opposition, and that there must exist an equilibrium between the most powerful lords for a kingdom to be stable.”

History agrees with that principle: all three Civil Wars and several minor unrests have been provoked by individuals or groups gathering enough power that they posed a threat to the throne, and now I think about it the lack of others with that power who could have acted as counterweights undoubtedly contributed to that.

“That makes sense,” I say, “but what does that – “ I should have seen it at once. A Royal Magician is by default one of the most powerful people in the kingdom: even without lands granted to them their position as a close advisor to the King gives them great influence. And Ministers for Intelligence have often wielded more power than other offices: having all of the kingdom's spies reporting to you personally tends to make you indispensable to the throne.

So when someone is both of those things at once? That is most definitely enough power to disrupt the balance.

“He can’t influence the papers,” I say. “If it got out he was doing that – “

“Then there’d be no stopping the rumours he’s set on taking the throne for himself. So I’m stuck with – “ he jerks his hand at the papers – “this.”

“Except,” I muse, “you’re not your father. Are you?”

I didn’t have a particular idea in mind, saying that, but I seem to have given him one. By the time I’ve remembered that my porridge is getting cold he’s set off elsewhere, the entire stack of papers tucked under one arm and carrying his mostly-finished plate of toast in his other hand.

I eat quickly, wishing I hadn’t left the porridge so long: the consistency is good, but porridge is nicer the hotter it is, and this is no exception. If I get back to the dormitory soon enough, I should be able to do enough work that I’m somewhat prepared for the upcoming lessons.

“Morning, Tallulah,” says Aisha softly when I return to the dormitory, standing up from her perch on the end of her bed, just in front of her curtains. “Hope you didn’t want the bathroom. Robin’s been in there fifteen minutes already. She does that every morning.”

She doesn’t seem too bothered about it, and I’m not surprised: even tired and overwhelmed last night, I saw she doesn’t let much bother her. She’s the peacemaker in this group of girls, with a serenity I envy a little.

“Morning,” I reply in the same quiet tone. “Is anyone still asleep?”

“Hannah. She should be awake soon, though. We’re mostly early risers, except on weekends. You’ve had breakfast?”

I nod.

“You can still come down with me and Lucy?” she offers.

Lucy pokes her upper body out from between her curtains and waves.

Aisha and Lucy are probably the two I like most of the four girls I share a room with; neither of them seemed as concerned as the other two about Malaina, and besides Hannah is too loud and brash for me to get on well with her and Robin a little stand-offish.

Still, though, I was going to study, wasn’t I?

I’m surprised at the disappointment I feel at the thought of turning them down and shutting myself away in one of the study rooms for an hour. I want to go down to breakfast and get to know them better.

“Sure. Why not?”

Aisha and Lucy take large helpings of bacon and eggs, and I briefly consider getting some myself: the porridge was a good meal, but I’ve never liked watching other people eat while I have nothing. I settle for a glass of water.

I want to ask Aisha for her story, but it seems unfair to do that without sharing mine and that isn’t something I have any intention of doing. Instead I settle for picking up some useful gossip on the teachers and their subjects, looking as much for an idea of who I should talk to about Electra as general tips for surviving classes.

“Alchemy’s the hardest,” Lucy says, “at least if you’re a normal person.”

Aisha laughs. “Normal is overrated. Enchantments is worst, for me, but that’s because Latira isn’t suited to it. Your School makes quite a bit of difference in those things.”

“And then there’s CME – Countering Magical Effects – “

“Electra?” I ask wryly.

“You’ve met her, then. She’s not a bad teacher, most of the time, but you do not get in trouble with her if you value not being reduced to a sobbing heap. And I know you don’t believe me about that, Lucy, but I saw the state Hannah was in after detention with her.”

I don’t get in trouble with any teacher if I can help it, but I resolve to make doubly sure of that with Electra. The idea of being shut in a room alone with her terrifies me.

“What about Spells?” I ask. “That’s what we’ve got first today, isn’t it?”

Aisha nods. “It’s not too bad,” she says. “It would be a fun class if it had a better teacher.”

“I’m half convinced she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Lucy adds. “And the amount of class time she wastes on silly things…”

“Don’t spoil the fun for Tallulah, will you?”

Well, that’s reassuring, isn’t it?