First Witch's Tale

“Try not to run before you can walk,” Julianne advised. “You will be assessed tomorrow and then sorted into a proper class, depending on how much you know and how much you have to unlearn.”

I nodded, torn between excitement and trepidation. “I can’t wait!”

Julianne smiled, but there was a hard edge to it.

Chapter Three

“So,” Master Rupertson said, the following morning. “A little girl thinks she can learn magic?”

I did my best to contain my anger. Master Rupertson’s tone dripped condescension. I had not slept well, despite finally being in a place I could learn magic, and breakfast had been awkward. The students had stared at me with varying levels of interest, while the tutors had largely ignored me. I wasn’t sure if they had doubted my right to be there or if they had simply decided not to show any interest until they knew for sure I was staying. I feared the latter. It was never easy for women to force their way into a purely male sphere.

“Well?” Master Rupertson studied me thoughtfully. “Do you think you can learn magic?”

I stared back at him, as evenly as I could. Master Rupertson was old enough to be my father, with short dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He reminded me far too much of a wealthy farmer I knew, wealthy at least by the standards of my community, who insisted young girls could not be expected to work on the farm, an absurd concept in places where every hand needed to work to keep the farm going. He refused to hire women for manual labour, let alone anything else. Master Rupertson had the excuse, at least, of never meeting any female magicians. I have no idea why the other guy thought what he did. But then, he was wealthy enough to survive a bad harvest or worse winter.

“Yes, Master,” I said. “I can learn.”

“A common delusion,” Master Rupertson said. I couldn’t tell if he meant it was a delusion peculiar to women or one shared by both men and women alike. “Magic requires more than just power. It requires understanding and insight and the ability to focus one’s mind on what one is doing. And persistence. Do you have those traits?”

“Yes, Master,” I said. “I grew up on a farm. I am no stranger to hard work.”

Master Rupertson leaned forward. “Show me your magic.”

His tone irritated me. It wasn’t until much later that I realised that might have been intentional. Thankfully, I had a great deal practice in controlling my anger and irritation and squashing at it before it became a serious problem. Being a young woman meant dealing with a great deal of men who thought you couldn’t count past ten, or couldn’t be relied upon to understand what was really going on, or that it was your parents or husband who made the real decisions. There were some advantages to being a girl in such a community, but being constantly talked down to was not one of them.

I cupped my palm, as I had done for Bernard, and channelled my magic into the air. The room grew warm rapidly, the air shimmering over my bare skin as it heated, the first flickers of flame starting to glimmer into existence. Master Rupertson showed no visible reaction as the fire grew and grew, my will shaping it into a towering fountain of flame. I was weirdly disappointed. I had spent most of my journey practising what little magic I knew and … surely it deserved some response. But he said nothing as the flames started to die.

“You have power,” Master Rupertson said. “But you have very poor control.”

I blinked in surprise. I had summoned fire! I had started a blaze and controlled it. Maybe it wasn’t as grand a feat as those attributed to Lord Whitehall, but still …

“Watch.” Master Rupertson drew a long wooden stick from his belt and held it up in front of me. “Watch and learn.”

I felt the magic sparkling around his stick – his wand - as he cast a spell. It was very different from the magic I had summoned and directed, a perfect piece of directed magic that drew on enough energy to cast a spell … and no more. I sucked in my breath, eyeing Master Rupertson with new respect. I hadn’t thought myself the greatest magician in the world, and I had known I had a great deal to learn, but it was clear I had far more to learn than I had thought. The spell produced a perfect fireball, then snapped out of existence so completely I couldn’t sense any residue tainting the air. My magic, by contrast, could still be felt. I had never felt so clumsy in my entire life.

“Your spell has two problems,” Master Rupertson told me. “The first is that you are shaping the raw power directly, rather than channelling it with your spells. Rather like using your bare hands to dig rather than finding a shovel. You are expending far too much energy to keep the spell in being, which drains you at incredible speed. The second is that your magic is slopping out of your spell, poisoning the air and - more dangerously - yourself. You have a great deal of work to do. Are you willing to work hard, now you know more about how far you have to go?”