Chapter 19

In the end, Alastair lost.

When Marcus Gold heard they’d banned Caliban Elmwood from participating in the Dueling League, he and his cohort of parents wrote a scathing letter to the school, threatening to withdraw all future donations and restart their campaign against Alastair as interim headmaster.

“I guess their desire to work with me, not against me, was short-lived,” Alastair said, setting the letter down on the table.

Eloise shrugged. “They might just think everyone’s a dimwit except them. Maybe they’re hoping you’ll forget about this the next time they want something.”

They’d all gathered around the long table in the faculty kitchen. The other teachers looked dismayed—all but Amaryllis Shadow. She had ignored the entire conversation, staring into a bowl of water, and writing furiously in a small spiral notebook. He considered asking her if she cared to join the faculty meeting, then decided against making yet another enemy.

“Well,” he said, “seems like we’re stuck with the boys. Unless we can afford to lose their money?”

“We cannot,” Eloise said flatly.

Sebastian looked exhausted. “Fine. We’ll just make sure to keep them separated. They should never go up against each other. Then again, Gold said nothing about keeping George out—”

“No,” Alastair said with authority. “Absolutely not. How would that look, letting the rich kid in and forcing the poor boy out? We can’t do that.”

Sebastian sighed. “Worth a shot. Yeah, alright. I’ll just deal with it in the match schedule. What’s one more complication?”

* * *

The day of the first Saturday match dawned crisp and clear. Alastair had to dig a sweater out of his closet to wear under his robes. The Emberstone gardens were alive with color, all reds, golds, and yellows. Alastair looked down upon it from his office window, wishing he didn’t have to attend Match Day, and could, instead, spend the whole of the day reading quietly in the Natural Garden as he had when he was a student.

But it was not meant to be. He could already see the first parents crossing the bridge, here to enjoy a full breakfast with their children before taking them out on the town for a little pre-duel shopping. He remembered the type. Though, of course, his own parents had never shown up for anything like that.

He entered the Main Hall at the appointed time—one hour before match—and found Sebastian already there, squinting at a sheet of paper. Quicksilver had done fine work with the decorations, hanging banners along the walls in House colors with dueling-related graphics. A wand, a flame, a shower of sparks, a stylized explosion. Alastair tried not to shudder at that last one.

Hopefully none of those.

The students had spent the last two weeks with their noses to the grindstone, so to speak. Problem was, not a one showed any extraordinary talent for dueling. The 1848 Handbook was so convoluted, it was often challenging to understand what the rules actually were, let alone what counted as a foul. At practices, Sebastian constantly flipped through an old leather-bound copy of the book, and sometimes, he simply gave up and declared what he thought should happen.

“Um,” Alastair said when Sebastian didn’t acknowledge him. “You alright?”

Sebastian looked up at him, a man distraught. His hair was disheveled, robes wrinkled.

“Meade!” he said as if salvation had arrived for him. “Look over these brackets for me, would you? Everything look okay? They seem about evenly matched?”

Alastair smiled, took the sheet, and gave it a thorough inspection. “You have a fourth-year fighting only seventh and eighth-year students.”

“That’s Raya,” Sebastian said without looking up. “She’s turned out to be incredibly skilled at Battle Magic. A prodigy, almost. She can hold her own.”

“Hm.” He tried to picture Raya—a small, shy girl with big eyes and long black hair. She had definitely stood out during exercises, though he wasn’t sure he’d call her a prodigy. Almost.

“And George Redding’s up against a lot of eighth-years too.”

“For a different reason,” Sebastian said, wearing a sly grin. “I’m hoping he’ll get knocked out early. Then I don’t have to deal with it.”

Alastair frowned. “And I’m guessing you don’t hope the same for Mr. Elmwood.”

Sebastian looked as if he were about to respond, but it was too late. The students were already trickling in, nervously awaiting the matches ahead. Sebastian snatched the bracket page back and cast a Fire spell into the air. The flames formed themselves into floating letters, mirroring the list of upcoming matches. Everyone clustered together to read them—kids and parents alike. Marcus Gold and his flunkies were gathered among the rest.

Hopefully, he’s happy with what he sees.

Everyone sorted themselves into pairs, as laid out in Sebastian’s bracket. The parents sat in the large wooden dining hall chairs that had been prearranged for them, and the competition was prepared to begin in earnest.

Sebastian stepped onto the dueling platform to address those in attendance. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first Emberstone dueling match in nearly sixty years!”

The room erupted with applause.

“Thank you. Yes, I am your… League Liege…” He said the words as if they embarrassed him, however, the crowd raised another whoop. “Sebastian Shelley. Today, we will put to use our skills as we battle mage against mage. Above me, you can see the bracket, listing who will be squaring off first. I hope you have found your student. There will be six concurrent duels per round. We will give the first duos an opportunity to prepare and get underway!”

Sebastian stepped down and approached the six dueling pairs. He spoke to all of them together, no doubt reminding them of the many rules, and especially those they should not break to avoid disqualification—intentionally injuring or maiming another student at the top of the list.

Once the students were in their places, they bowed, exchanged wands, and Sebastian began the countdown. Each number was displayed in fire above the platform in time with his words.

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Alastair presided from the high table, and their captive, proud audience looked eager, but, well…

The students, by his measure, were reluctant to actually cast at each other, and those that did either chose relatively harmless spells or waited until their opponents’ shields were safely up. Watching the proceedings, it was difficult for Alastair to remember why they’d been so worried the students would hex each other to shreds. The Dueling League was still a terrible idea, to be clear, but at least it didn’t seem likely to kill anyone.

When the first six matches had their winners, the next round began. It would continue like this until all thirty-six participants each battled once.

The only students genuinely doing well were Caliban Elmwood, Raya Li, and—in a surprising turn—George Redding. They weren’t casting anything deadly, but they were crafting careful work and moving up in the rankings. Each duel had a five-minute limit, and if one of the contestants hadn’t scored three times by the buzzer, the one with the most points would take the win.

Alastair’s favorite parents looked thrilled that one of their own—Caliban—did so well, while most of the student body were supporting Raya.

“Alright!” Sebastian bellowed once the rounds were finally done. “We’re calling it here. Raya Li and Caliban Elmwood tied for first place with almost identical times! We’ll keep practicing, all, and see you at the Winter Match!”

The parents looked a bit deflated as they filed out of the hall, and Alastair couldn’t really blame them. Dueling League hadn’t proved to be as exciting as any might have hoped.

Still, the Primordium students were energized—all except George, who was clearly annoyed not to have come in first. The two girls—Daphne and Lavinia—appeared elated to have fought at all.

“Did you see the hex I cast?” Daphne squealed. “It made it through his shield!”

Her opponent’s Shield spell had been patchy and poorly constructed, but it was better to let her have the win. Alastair took a mental note, though, to do a shield workshop with the whole House before the end of the fall.

“You killed it!” Lavinia yelled. “I was watching your match. You won with three points, and not a time-out!”