Chapter 8

The morning of the board meeting dawned clear, crisp, and bright, the first real fall day they’d had since Alastair arrived. As had become custom, Quicksilver met him in his office with a stack of papers two feet high.

“You will want to read these before going in,” the elemental said. “First page is the agenda. Then, what follows is a more specific rundown of each individual item.”

Alastair’s heart sank.

Front and center on the agenda, after the customary recap of the past year’s meeting and appointment of new officers, was “the issue” the parents had been discussing. The bullet point was labeled: CONCERNS ABOUT THE NEW INTERIM HEADMASTER. Ignoring everything else, he flipped through the pages until he found the letter under discussion.

I, Marcus Gold, and a group of concerned parents want to raise the issue of Alastair Meade’s position as interim headmaster at the next meeting of the Board of Governors. We respect Headmaster Ozelius’ leadership—certainly, he’s never steered our children wrong—but this appointment feels out of character for him. It came as a surprise to us that someone who has never taught at Emberstone, who hasn’t even been to Watermere in years, who’s spent a decade overseeing a small and second-rate country school, should be promoted to a position of such responsibility. We wish Mr. Meade no ill, but feel that neither he nor the students are set up for success in the current arrangement.

We re-propose our initial suggestion of longtime teacher and head of House Aurum, Sebastian Shelley, as a more suitable fit for the Emberstone community. Mr. Shelley, while young, has made substantial contributions to Emberstone during his tenure and is more than qualified to step in for a year in Headmaster Ozelius’ absence. We hope he might be interested in serving as full-time headmaster in the future, and this temporary position might give him a taste of it.

In Magical Solidarity,

Marcus Gold’s signature and a list of names followed. Alastair sighed. This was going to be a bloody battle today. He could tell.

The next paper was also from Marcus Gold.

I, Marcus Gold, and a group of concerned parents wish to propose the re-installation of the Emberstone Dueling League, starting this academic year, and culminating with the traditional Tournament of Champions in the spring.

Watermere isn’t what it used to be, and our students need to be able to defend themselves. We hope that the noble sport of dueling will mark a return to tradition here at the school and cultivate strong minds and bodies amongst the Emberstone community.

We propose following the 1848 Code for the Club…

The full text of Section 33 from the 1848 Code followed. It was a byzantine list of rules and regulations written in an archaic hand, and Alastair squinted as he tried to follow it.

Never a dull moment.

He set the papers down, put on his best set of robes, and headed off to the Board of Governors’ meeting as if he were, in fact, marching into battle.

The Main Hall was packed when he arrived, and the staff had taken the time to decorate with banners and tapestries in orange and black—the Emberstone colors. The headmaster’s staircase led to a balcony overlooking the hall, and he took a beat to survey the scene. Parents in their most formal “first day of school” attire milled about on the floor below, scrutinizing other parents, conversing with friends, and clustering together in cliques.

Alastair scanned the room for Marcus Gold.

“That one,” Eloise said, appearing beside him as if out of nowhere.

“Gah!”

“Sorry. I scried you and figured I’d come up. Don’t worry, none of them have spotted you yet. I just knew where to look.”

“I don’t like being spied on,” Alastair said.

“Relax, anyone with a remote talent could see you anywhere in the castle outside of your private quarters.”

“Ah, yes. That does a great deal to ease my mind,” he said with no intent to hide his sarcasm.

Eloise laughed. Alastair simply wanted one more chance to breathe before stepping into the role of headmaster for all these people.

“Anywho, there he is.” She pointed to a tall, well-built man in sanguine robes that had obviously cost a small fortune, with an expensive-looking haircut and a gleaming emerald ring on his pinky finger large enough that Alastair could see it even from this far away. He had a small gaggle of parents gathered around him in heated discussion.

Of course.

“The concerned parents, I assume,” he said, looking them over. Clearly Watermere old money. He knew the look.

“You got it.”

“Anything I should know?”

She smiled. “Give ’em hell, Ally. We’ve got your back. Even Sebastian, although he doesn’t look it. He’s not thrilled, but he cares about Emberstone. He’s not going to blow things up.”

Alastair turned his attention to the other side of the room, where a very different group of mages were gathered. They wore uninteresting gray suits and had the wan look of people who spent most of their time working in windowless rooms.

“Let me guess,” he said, “that side’s city government.”

“Yep. Curious to see what happens between them and Gold’s group. They’ve got no love for each other, and it seems like the government side is running out of patience.”

Alastair squared his shoulders, and took a breath. “Alright, then. Let’s go down.”

Eloise took his arm and, together, they made their way down the headmaster’s staircase and into the hall. An elemental spirit—one of Quicksilver’s staff, maybe—rang a gong as they entered, and a hush fell over the crowd. Alastair left Eloise at the junior faculty table and, feeling very unprepared, walked alone toward the headmaster’s dais.

Easy. It’s just like the board meetings at Glimmerglass. Just larger and more complicated.

Thank the gods for Quicksilver, who’d thoughtfully left a copy of the meeting agenda at the podium.

Alastair took one last look at it, very conscious of the sea of upturned faces waiting for him to say something. He cast a Projection spell on his voice, and began to speak.

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“Greetings, all.” His voice echoed through the hall. “For those I haven’t met yet, I’m Alastair Meade, interim headmaster—”

Marcus Gold’s hand shot up. Alastair faltered for a split-second, ultimately ignoring it.

“—and welcome to our annual meeting of the Board of Governors! I know you’re all eager to get down to business, but some formalities to attend to first—”

Gold waved his hand.

So this is how it’s going to be.

Emberstone parents were already reminding him of unruly children. He steadfastly continued to ignore Gold as he read off the minutes of the previous board meeting and listed the proposed officers for the upcoming year. Occasionally glancing upward from the papers, Alastair watched the man’s face grow nearly as red as his robes as time went on. Marcus Gold was clearly used to getting his way—and getting it immediately.

Good. This will be a learning experience for him, then.

Finally, when Alastair invited the assembled parties to vote on whether to approve the new officers, Gold clearly had enough.

“Excuse me,” he bellowed, shooting to his feet. “I’ve got something to say!”

Alastair looked at him mildly. “Is it on the agenda?”

“It is. Right at the top!”

“Then we’ll get to it at the appointed time,” Alastair said, mustering every memory of how Ozelius carried himself. “Never fear. If it’s at the top of the list we’ll get to it first.”