Gennady felt a hint of dull resentment. He didn’t wantLyndred. She was pretty, but she wasn’t Primrose. And yet, he envied Simon for growing closer to a girl. He wanted to do that too. He wanted ... he shook his head. He didn’t have time. He wanted—he needed—to get them to help him.
He opened his knapsack. “I found this book,” he said. The journal tingled against his fingers as he brought it into the open. “It has a handful of spells we can try.”
Simon sucked in his breath. “Where did you get that?”
“I found it,” Gennady repeated. Simon hadn’t grown up with the knowledge he might be killed at any moment, that sometimes one needed to steal to survive. Simon wouldn’t understand the truth. “It belonged to an older student who left Whitehall years ago.”
“Found it,” Simon repeated. He didn’t sound as if he believed the story. “Where ... where did you find it?”
Gennady scowled. “The point is, the book includes a handful of rites and rituals we can use to boost our powers,” he said. “We can jump up a level or two overnight, if ...”
Simon and Lyndred exchanged glances. “That’s dangerous,” Lyndred said, finally. “We’ve been warned not to try ...”
“Of course, we have.” Gennady felt a rush of anger. She didn’t understand. She really didn’t understand. “They don’t want us to boost our powers.”
“If that was true,” Simon said reasonably, “why would they teach us magic in the first place?”
“They’re making sure we never catch up with Charlus and his band of merry bastards,” Gennady snarled. “Don’t you get it? We’ll have power, but not enough to challenge our lords and masters. They’ll cut us down the minute we fail to genuflect to them. And this” —he waved the book under Simon’s nose— “might be our only chance to boost our powers and beat them at their own game.”
He forced himself to lower his voice. “Come on. Aren’t you sick of being treated worse than dirt?”
“Yeah, but ...” Simon swallowed, hard. “Gennady, the risks are too great.”
“Life is a risk,” Gennady snapped. “How long do you think it’s going to be until Charlus does something really dangerous? How long do you think it’s going to be until he kills one of us? Or ... or has his way with one of us?”
“This is what we were told not to do.” Lyndred took the book and flipped through the pages, then passed it back to Gennady. “The spells all come with dangerous side effects. If something goes wrong ...”
Gennady stared at her. She was ... she was mad. Or ... she simply didn’t understand the reality of a world where one could be killed at the drop of a hat, where one’s killer would get away with it because ... it didn’t matter. He knew, from bitter experience, that he couldn’t rely on anyone. The Grandmaster wouldn’t give a damn if Charlus killed him or raped Lyndred or ... or anything. Gennady had studied the records. For all the stories about Whitehall’s vaunted neutrality, it was clear that aristocrats had more leeway than commoners. No one would look too closely at a dead body for fear of what they might find.
“We spent the last year trying to catch up, but the gulf is too wide,” he said. It was hard to think of a way to convince them. He’d thought they’d understand the opportunity as soon as they saw the book. “And it’s just going to keep getting wider. We can’t catch up ...”
“We have been catching up,” Simon disagreed. “Haven’t we?”
“If that was true,” Gennady said, “how does Charlus keep kicking our asses?”
“He has friends,” Lyndred said.
“Cronies,” Gennady corrected. He knew the type. They’d do Charlus’s bidding as long as he was the strongest and nastiest piece of shit in the school. Hogarth’s friends had been just the same. They’d only turn on their master when it became clear their master was no longer strong enough to smack them down. “And that’s another point. We’re outnumbered. We need to find a way to even the odds.”
He held up the book. “This is the key,” he said. “We can open our minds and boost our powers.”
Lyndred let out a breath. “At least, let us think about it,” she said. “Do some research, figure out the downsides ...”
“There isn’t time,” Gennady said. The longer he kept the book, the greater the chance of one of his roommates finding and stealing it. Charlus would use the rites himself, boosting his powers to the point resistance would be truly futile. Of course he would. Charlus loved power. “If the book gets discovered ...”
“It’s too dangerous,” Simon said. His voice was low, but very hard. “Gennady, I understand, but ...”
Gennady felt his temper snap. “Listen to me! This is our one chance to get ahead of them and beat them!”
“At what cost?” Lyndred’s voice was sad, but unbending. “Gennady, we could go mad. Or worse.”
“I’ll take the risk.” Gennady gritted his teeth, biting his lip to keep from screaming. “You grew up here. You don’t understand! You don’t know what it’s like! You ...”
“Charlus showed off my underclothes to all and sundry,” Lyndred snapped. She made a very visible effort to control herself. “I do understand ...”
“No, you don’t!” Gennady tried to calm himself, but failed. “He’ll rape you next time. Or force you to do ... do whatever he wants! And afterwards ... who’ll give a shit about you?”
“We can endure three years of schooling, then leave,” Simon said. “I’m not going to stay for the final two years. You don’t have to stay either.”
He stood. “Gennady ...”
“You don’t understand,” Gennady shouted. He jumped to his feet, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d thought better of them. He’d thought they’d understand. Instead, they were dismissing him. “You’re leaving me like ... you’re betraying me!”
Simon made a gesture with his hand. Magic crackled through the air. Gennady found himself unable to move. He struggled, trying desperately to cast the counterspell, but he’d never managed to master the art of using the magic without moving his hands. Simon stared at him for a long chilling moment, then looked at Lyndred. She stood and headed for the spellchamber door.
“You’re wrong,” Simon said. He spoke as if he were a judge pronouncing a death sentence. “We’re not leaving you. You left us.”
“I’m sorry,” Lyndred added. She took Simon’s hand. Gennady felt a stab of envy. He wanted someone to take his hand. “But we really cannot go on like this.”
Gennady wanted to scream in outrage as his former friends stepped through the door, closing it behind them. But he couldn’t move a muscle. Simon had cast his spell well ... Gennady nerved himself to concentrate, to try to best the spell, but nothing happened. Bitterness welled up within him. He should have known. Everyone betrayed him, time and time again. Simon and Lyndred had sold out. They’d found places in magical society, places that would be forever denied their friend ... their former friend. Had they ever really been friends? A true friend would not have betrayed him. A true friend would not have cast spells on him. A true friend ... he wanted to cry. He should have known. He really should have known.
They’ll regret it, when they’re no longer useful to their betters, he thought, sourly. He’d known men in the village who’d worked for the count, only to be kicked out when they grew too old to serve. One of them had been lamed, utterly unable to work. Gennady had looked into the man’s broken eyes and seen his future looking back at him. They’ll regret it and ...