“We can practice here,” I said, as I led the way into the nearest hut. It was bare and barren, the stone floor eroded so badly there were no traces of the long-gone furniture, but it would do. “Sit down.”
I knelt facing him, unsure how to proceed. I’d been taught a handful of spells right from the get-go, then drilled in spellwork notation until I could modify the spells at will. Rolf could learn like us, couldn’t he? My pen-pal studied at Whitehall and she’d never mentioned any differences, save for a lack of flying lessons. I thought that was silly. Flying was a skill every girl should master.
“Watch carefully,” I said. I’d looked at my old notes, but it was still hard to cast the spells slowly enough for him to follow my casting. “And see what you make of it.”
I cast the lightspell. A globe of soft yellow light materialised between us. Rolf’s face was thrown into sharp relief as he stared at the globe, a hungry expression on his face that wouldn’t have been out of place on a hunting wolf. I knew what he was feeling. I’d felt it myself. The lightglobe was a very simple spell, but it was power. Mastering the spell was the first step towards becoming a sorceress. Or sorcerer, in his case.
“Now,” I said. “You try.”
Rolf did as he was told. I watched, torn between awe and concern, as a series of lightglobes wobbled into life. They were far from perfect — one was too bright, one looked too dim, one looked like a yolk on the verge of breaking — but it was progress. Rolf kept casting until he sagged, suddenly. I kicked myself for forgetting how drained myself, when I’d first started to study magic, as I dug a ration bar out of my pouch. They tasted like parchment — unfavoured parchment — but they would keep him going until he got something proper to eat.
“So,” he said, as he sat back. The lightglobes blinked out, throwing the hut into shadow. “When are you going to teach me how to turn someone into a frog?”
“When you’re ready,” I said, vaguely. It had taken me weeks to master the spell. “This week, I want you to keep practicing. We’ll try a second spell next weekend.”
Rolf nodded and stood. “You’re a good teacher,” he said. “And thank you.”
I blushed. I’d never understood why some of my tutors enjoyed teaching, not until now.
Rolf was a good student. There was no doubt of that. Frankly, he was better than me. I was almost envious as I watched him learning and practicing his spells. He mastered tricks in days that had taken me weeks, then insisted on learning more. I found myself fighting to catch up at times, studying spells in the library and practicing in the spellchambers just to make sure I stayed one step ahead. It wasn’t easy. If Rolf had been allowed to enter the school, which would never happen, he’d have jumped ahead in leaps and bounds. I was tempted to suggest he applied for a scholarship again, when the summer came around. If he won it fair and square, Madam Silverknows wouldn’t be able to stand in his way.
And yet, there was something nagging at the back of my mind.
I heard a rumour, one day in the library, that someone had been carrying out animal sacrifices near Pendle. It was hard to be sure, of course, because the mountain peaks were suffused with tainted magic, but… the story hung in my mind long after the tutors told the rumourmongers to shut up. I paid little attention. Rolf was advancing in leaps and bounds, jumping ahead in ways that fascinated me. I was even starting to think about becoming a teacher myself. He had a way of smiling, when he mastered a new trick, that made my heart melt. I could deny him nothing.
In hindsight, I still don’t know how we got away with it for so long.
It was rare, those days, for me to visit Pendle. The other girls saw it as a place to relax, shop, and flirt with local boys, but for me it was just home. Technically, I wasn’t even supposed to visit my parents, not during term. I was bending the rules by walking into my mother’s shop, even though it was a shop. My mother being there was a complete coincidence. Of course it was. And if you believe that, I have an entire kingdom to sell you.
“You’re looking more grown-up every day,” Mother said, as we hugged. “How are the witches treating you?”
“Fine,” I said. We exchanged polite nothings for a long moment before I came to the meat of the matter. “How is Madam Silverknows treating her servant?”
It was a question that had been plaguing me for some time. Rolf had appeared, every so often, with nasty bruises on his face and cuts on his arms. He said that Madam Silverknows had punished him and then refused to talk about it any further. I’d been shocked. There were limits, there had to be. It was one thing to give a disobedient servant a belting, but quite another to inflict permanent damage.
Mother gave me an odd look. “She has no servant,” she said. “Unless you count her husband…”
I was so shocked by her words that my first thought, I tell you no lie, was sympathy for the wretched woman’s husband. He was a beaten down man who, if rumour was to be believed, secretly hated his wife. Anywhere else, a shrewish wife would be forced to wear a scold’s bridle or simply put in the stocks and flogged, but not in Pendle. The town belonged to the witches and any man who abused his wife would be lucky if he was just turned into a pig.
And then it hit me. “She has no servant?”
“No,” Mother said. “Are you alright?”
My world crumbled. Rolf had lied to me. He had. I would have understood him being reluctant to talk about his home, but… he’d lied! And… he’d told me a lot of things, between spellcasting sessions. How many of them were lies? I felt a surge of sudden anger so great my magic flared, the entire shop vibrating as I lost control. Mother stepped back hastily, fear in her eyes. She had no magic of her own. She might be a woman, but she was still at the mercy of the witches. Witches like me.
I turned and fled, running as though the creatures of the darkness were coming after me. I had to find Rolf. I did… my heart churned, admitting I’d been seduced, that I’d fallen in love with him even though we’d never kissed. He’d not even hinted he wanted to kiss, let alone do anything else… what was he? My imagination spun out of control as I plunged into the forest. What had I done?
In hindsight, I should have gone to the tutors and confessed. But I was too conflicted.
“Rolf,” I screamed, as I plunged into the old quarry. “Rolf!”
He appeared, by the hut. He looked different, somehow. His smile looked crooked, as if it wasn’t quite real. His left hand was hidden behind his back. I felt a wave of conflicting emotions — anger and rage, admiration and respect and even love — as I forced myself to slow down. Perhaps there was an explanation. Perhaps…
“You lied to me,” I snapped. “You’re not Madam Silverknows’s boy at all!”
Rolf brought his hand into the open. It held a makeshift wand. I goggled at it, realising — too late — that I was in very real danger. There was a flash of light…
… And, when I woke up, it was dark.
I took a breath and choked. My mouth tasted foul. It took me a moment to recognise the taste. Durian. I tried to cast a spell, just in case, but nothing happened. I tried to move and discovered I couldn’t. Rolf had tied my hands behind my back. There were old stories about witches who couldn’t use their magic, if their hands were bound. There was actually some truth to them, if the witch didn’t have good control over her magic. If she couldn’t make hand gestures, she couldn’t direct the spell.
“Welcome back,” Rolf said. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
I glared at him. The taste of betrayal was worse than the durian. “Who are you?”