The Magic of Four: Land Mysteries, #7

Chapter 1

LEO ON AUGUST 31ST, 1946

Leo took a last look around the sitting room. He’d put all the books away in their proper places, or stacked them on Mum’s and Dad’s desks. The table was clear, save for a few autumn flowers in a vase for decoration. There was a bottle of cider in one of the chilling containers.

He could have spent the night in his dorm. That was one of the privileges of living at Schola out of term time. Leo had appreciated his Head of House, Professor Hammond, making it clear earlier in the week.

Tonight, there’d be just a few people there. The fourth and fifth year prefects were back a day early so they could get everything ready for the new firsties as well as for everyone else swarming back. Leo had helped them all afternoon. There was a lot of work to be done, and Leo had sorted papers for the firsties and helped make sure all the dorm beds were ready.

But he’d wanted one more night here, in his own bed, in what had been his own bedroom since he was born. Not that Mum would be around. She’d be up late with the other Heads of House, doing whatever it was that placed seventy new firsties into the right House for them. Tomorrow, through a very practical application of magic and physical effort, everyone’s trunks would end up in the right place. They’d all start with at least one set of clothing with the house colours and patches attached.

Dad hadn’t come back yet either. He was keeping the firsties busy into the evening. Exhausting them now meant tomorrow would be easier on everyone. All the new students were at the tail end of a week living in cottages on the east coast of Schola’s island, getting to know each other. And, as Leo remembered clearly from last year, worrying a lot about what their five years at Schola would be like.

Leo mostly remembered this week last year as a swirl of exhausting complexity. At the same time, he’d been bursting with energy. Everyone had been, even the people who had turned out to be quiet and laid back later on.

Of course, last year had a lot of reasons for high spirits and for nerves, both. They’d all been waiting for the announcement that the war was over, truly over. The end of the war in Europe in the spring had been a huge relief. They’d been able to stop worrying about bombs dropping from the skies, or U-Boats east in Cardigan Bay, or west in the Irish Sea. But there was still war going on, off halfway around the world. It had taken a couple more days, but they’d got that news on September second, when the school was caught up in the second day of classes.

This year, the world was different. And also the dates worked a little differently. Today was Saturday. Every older student was likely at one last family supper, gathering, or outing. Tomorrow, they’d come back, by portal or ferry, mostly portal. There would be regular runs of the pony carts and the village carts up here with trunks and cases and whatever people might bring. There’d be cases and bohort and pavo gear, duelling gear, musical instruments, or whatever they needed for their lives at school.

Tomorrow’s supper would be the opening feast with the announcements of the firsties into Houses. From there, he knew how it went. There’d be a gathering at Bear House to welcome theirs, and with each year to help them get settled in. And there’d be tons of catching up, though of course, Albion wasn’t a huge community. People had seen each other all summer at the Midsummer Faire and bigger events, even if they weren’t close friends.

Leo and his yearmates would be in a new dorm, which was another change. He’d been to look at it today, while he was helping set up things. It was more or less a mirror of last year. This time, instead of windows overlooking the keep and courtyard, the windows had views over the southern fields and coast, down toward the village. He’d claimed his own cubicle already, but he already knew no one else particularly wanted the one at the far end. He’d had the good sense to ask last spring. Leo got along well enough with the boys in his dorm, but he was desperately looking forward to third year, when they got their own rooms. This year, they at least each had their own workroom or study room.

Leo was still trying to figure out how to arrange his. They could bring in furniture if they wanted, and Leo knew where a lot of useful furniture was. There was plenty in the storage rooms across from their rooms here in the Keep, for a start. Or Mum had been making noises about Leo getting the desk Ursula had been using.

But Leo first needed to figure out what he wanted to use that space for. He preferred studying with other people in the background. Most often that was in the library’s quieter spaces, when he wanted that, at the group tables with his friends. Or he found a table in the House library when he wanted people around, but not to be interrupted too often.

He was going to have a lot of need for space to set up for ritual work and leave it up. That didn’t leave much room for furniture, necessarily. It wasn’t like the workrooms were big, though he’d been able to get the central slice of the tower room. Absolute luxury, compared to his sleeping space. But that wasn’t actually very big for some of the ritual work he was hoping to be starting later in the year. For the ordinary class exercises, any of the rooms would have done, but he was hoping to work on more than that with Uncle Alexander as he got time.

The dormitory cubicles weren’t cramped, ten feet or so. They were long enough he could have his trunk at the end of the bed, have the curtain closed, and still have room to change or bend over. But it wasn’t much space for a bed, trunk, wardrobe, dresser, and whatever books he could fit into shelves along each of the dividing cubicle walls.

In his dorm last year, no one had bothered much with the curtains during the day. Mostly they were a handy way to indicate someone was sleeping, or trying to. And they did have charms on them that actually muffled the noise, or it’d have been a lot worse to be in the dorm.

Besides all that, second year had other changes. They added a new set of classes, beginning to work on particular types of magic. Leo was looking forward to his, especially Ritual and Incantation, but all of them really. Well, not Alchemy. He wasn’t taking it, even though Uncle Garin had roared about it. But second year was also the year the secret societies picked people. Whatever that meant for Leo or his particular friends, it was going to cause a lot of strain and nerves in his yearmates.

Leo was trying not to think - not too much today anyway - about everything else that meant. He was a second year; he was supposed to be figuring out what he wanted to do with himself, what he wanted to specialise in. He already had some ideas, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t talked about it with Mum and Dad and Uncle Alexander and other people some, but he didn’t know how to get from where he was now to where that was, whatever it looked like. Mum had suggested last year that he think about whether going to Oxford - and the magical Academy - might suit. That would mean a lot more work over next summer and the years after, for the non-magical exams. So he didn’t have to decide today, but he needed to by next spring. And that was both close and forever away.

Anyway, all of that new meant he’d wanted to spend one last night in the family rooms, tucked into the fourth floor of Schola’s keep. Only, right now, with it empty, he was sort of regretting that. It’d be different if Ursula had been here. If she’d still been at Schola, she’d have been with the other prefects in Fox House tonight. But she’d finished school in June and she’d been living with their Uncle Garin at Arundel since the beginning of July. She was doing whatever it was she did on a Saturday evening now. Her not being here was no longer entirely strange, but Leo still missed her.

His sister was annoying sometimes - it was apparently required of sisters. Also brothers. Leo tried to keep up his end of that. But she also had a lot of sense, and she saw things differently than Leo did. He was really missing having her to talk to at times like this. Things were changing, they were in the middle of changing, and he didn’t know what was coming. Not really.

Before he could get entirely tangled in his own thoughts, there was a sound at the door and a shift in the wards. It was properly dark out now, well past eight. Dad pushed the door open, his hand coming down from where he’d opened the warding. He had his satchel over his shoulder, a walking stick in one hand, and he looked tired. Maybe exhausted, but not like he had through the war, and through most of last year. Not that bad.

Leo. I wasn’t sure. Dad rubbed his hand through his hair, and it came out in odd waves, like Leo’s did. Same dark hair, same waves, same sort of face, though it looked better on Dad. Dad thought Leo would grow into it nicely. Dashing was one of the things people had called Dad when he was young. And - as he said - far more dissolute than had been a good idea, even at the time.

Cider for you? Mum left a little hunk of cheese and a couple of apples. There wasn’t bread to spare, or much flour for biscuits. The United Kingdom had just gone to full-on rationing for flour, along with everything else, thanks to a miserable wet summer. Albion had too, because they weren’t sure how much of the crop could be coaxed through the wet yet, even with a lot of magical skill thrown at the problem.

Bless. Do you mind fetching it? Dad hesitated.

One of the lighter potions? Leo knew that expression. It was one of the things people paid attention to, or at least Leo did. Ros and Avigail did the same with their parents. He’d been noticing that this summer, the few times the parents had been around while they were together. Whatever Jasper noticed from his mum and dad, Leo thought it came out differently. Maybe he worried about entirely different things. They’d never really talked about it. Jasper could be right private. Leo was never sure how much to ask about. He didn’t know whether Jasper would find it rude to be asked or feel like he had to answer, even if he didn’t want to, because Leo came from posh on Dad’s side. Mum’s side wasn’t a lot of help either, because the current bit of family were civil service or crafters, and that was different too.

Yeah. Please. Dad lowered himself into his usual chair, toeing the footstool over and leaning back. Wrenched my knee in the field. Which explained the stick, the potion, and the tired. Dad would have been masking that for however long he’d been out in public. Leo went trotting off to the storage cabinet, then stopped by the kitchen to slice up the apple and put the cheese on the same plate. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Once he’d handed everything over to Dad, he had to decide what to do. Dad waved him at a chair. Unless you had something else to be doing?

I was trying to figure that out when you came back. Haven’t seen Mum since mid-afternoon. He hadn’t expected to. She had things to sort out in Horse House, where she was Head. They’d have started the discussion or whatever it was by eight. He was pretty sure of that, even if it would likely run past midnight. And she’d had supper at the high table, and Leo had eaten with the prefects.

No. She said she thought it’d be a little shorter this year, maybe, than yours. Different class, different divisions. Dad shrugged once. I think at this point, familial obligation means I’m supposed to sternly ask you if you’re ready to excel this year. Do you mind if we don’t bother with that?

Leo laughed, leaning back in the chair. Did Uncle Garin lecture you again?

He tried to. And then I reminded him he should still be making it up to you, and he gave up. He’s getting better at picking what he fusses about, anyway. Retirement is good for him. Uncle Garin had retired from the Council last winter, and it had meant a lot of changes.

A fortnight ago, Uncle Garin had formally declared Ursula as his Heir, instead of Dad. Leo had been expecting it’d be years before they did that, though he’d hoped they would sooner than later. Dad had admitted later he’d thought the same, or he’d have warned Leo. But Uncle Garin made decisions when he made them and didn’t much worry about anyone else’s sense of timing.

He’d now had a bit to get used to the fact they’d made the decision that fast. Leo was glad of it. For one thing, Dad had been vastly relieved. He could help Ursula out with learning the Heir’s role in the land rituals, but he didn’t have to be responsible for all that, as well as everything he did at Schola. And it meant Leo could go into this year without that over his head, all those expectations.

When he looked up, Dad was watching him. Yes? Leo kept his voice steady enough, that was good.

Mum was clear. Dad should use his words, they were very useful. Dad had been brought up in the Great Family tradition of never saying anything that might be used against him later. And, well, Uncle Garin was sometimes an excellent example of that. Mum, on the other hand, felt it was a lot more practical to actually say things rather than guess.

Dad snorted, though he had a drink from his cider before saying anything. Once he’d put the bottle down, he asked, Have you decided if you want to make it public?

Everyone will know at Solstice, Dad. I could wait, but there’d be a fuss then. If I mention it now, it’ll just go into the first rush of everyone coming back. Leo spread his hands, mock-quoting. How was your summer? How’s your sister? Oh, she’s great. Uncle Garin named her Heir a fortnight ago. We’re all thrilled. Did you see the book list for Ritual?

Dad laughed. You’ve talked to your Mum about it, then.

Uncle Golshan, last week. He’s better with gossip. Setting it up right. Mum was good at a lot of things, but for managing gossip, Leo would go to Uncle Golshan or Uncle Alexander any time.

I needn’t ask if you’re ready for class. Alexander thinks he can clear a fair number of Sundays, so long as the bohort matches don’t run too late. An hour before or after supper, can you keep it open?

Of course, Dad. And it’s all right with Professor Leonard? He could probably still get away with calling her Aunt Borea tonight. They were technically not yet in term time. But it was about her as his teacher, so he’d be formal. Growing up at Schola, basically every professor was like that for him. Their teaching faces - and robes - and their personal ones were the same and different, always.

There’s a workroom, next floor down. We can set it aside for you. And she says she’s open to sorting out time in the Ritual classroom when you get to needing more space. Given Alexander. Uncle Alexander had been the Ritual professor at Schola before her, back when Mum and Dad were busy falling in love. Leo knew how lucky he was to get Uncle Alexander’s time on the regular.

For the last eight years, he’d been to and fro dealing with Council matters. Even when he was in Albion, he’d never known much in advance if he’d be available any given day. Or hour. The idea of having time scheduled regularly, even if Uncle Alexander had to cancel sometimes, was wonderful. And he knew Dad would enjoy it. Uncle Alexander had trained Dad, back when Dad was at Schola, though much more in duelling than in ritual. Which reminded him, actually, to check on that.

And then Tuesdays for duelling with other people. And Thursdays with just you.

Just so. You, Avigail, Theo Lefton. Maybe only you three. I’m thinking about whether there’s anyone worth adding. It might depend on how much people did over the summer that made a difference.

There were a number of people who wanted to be in Dad’s special training, but he didn’t usually take people on as first or second years. Leo knew Crimson Hettleburgh hoped for it. It’d be a mark of distinction for him. Crimson had a lot to live up to - he was Heir to his father’s title and the land magic. But he wasn’t naturally gifted at duelling like Dad was, and he wasn’t dedicated to getting better, like Leo was.

Anthony Phipps and Malcolm Hector both wanted that sort of attention, too. But they wanted to be flashy and showy, and that didn’t actually make for good duelling skill. More to the point, it didn’t make them very safe partners to learn more complicated techniques with. Oh, Leo would have class with them eventually, but hopefully a couple of years after he’d got the basics solidly down without interference.

Leo grinned. At least I might have slightly fewer bruises. No Artemis. Artemis, Theo’s older sister, had been in Ursula’s year. Artemis had gone right into Guard training, like her Mum. Theo was a tremendous dueller, especially working with her, but she was the more aggressive of the two. Theo was now a fifth year in Bear House, but for all his own skill he did, in fact, usually leave fewer bruises on his opponents.

I’m thinking about Tiberius, too. Or maybe I’ll ask you to come into some of his, some of the time. Dad ran his hand over his face. Then he shook his head. I know that’s more complicated, socially. No, I think I’ll bring you into his. I’ll let you know in good time.

Sure, Dad. Leo wasn’t going to argue. Tiberius Warren was a good sort, but very much of Fox House, absolutely standing upon his dignity. Tiberius’s father was Leo’s Uncle Claudio, one of Dad’s earliest students and now a great friend, but that kind of fondness wasn’t transitive. Leo didn’t dislike Tiberius, but they didn’t seek each other out, either. Being a year apart and in different houses, that wasn’t uncommon, anyway. Secret teaching, then? He offered a grin, because it was and wasn’t. Other people not having a real sense of your skill was a good protective move.

Don’t you get ahead of yourself. We’ll be stepping things up a bit for you and Avigail. And you’ve pavo and bohort practice, too. Doing both wasn’t common, but both games were great training for magic on the fly, and that was something Leo wanted to get a lot better at, since his own tendencies were for slow and deliberate. Dad had been an amazing bohort player in his own youth, and Leo felt he had to live up to that. Or at least try. Pavo was just fun, especially with three friends who were all amazing riders. Leo was decidedly not in their league, but he was steadily working on competent, and it was good to learn how to do that, too.

Leo leaned back a bit more. Lots of learning. And lots of subjects. I’ll do my best, Dad. You can tell Uncle Garin you gave me a sufficient lecture.

Dad waved a hand, then considered the bottle. He’d devoured the apple, apparently, in bites when Leo wasn’t noticing. What do you say to a bit of time up on the top of the keep, looking at stars?

Leo considered. Dad made a good effort at stars, but he was - well, Leo was maybe reliably better there. But Leo had grown up with Mum teaching him about them from before he could talk. You just want to amuse Mum when she comes in.

Yes. But also it’s a nice night, it’s our last one without any obligations for the term, and it’s actually clear. Might as well take advantage. It was a little chilly coming in, though. Bring your cloak. Let me leave a note for her.

Five minutes later, they were out on the top of the keep. Dad slid them through the warding smoothly. Leo got to work figuring out where things were in the sky that might be interesting to look at, so he could point them out to Dad.

Chapter 2

ROS ON SEPTEMBER 1ST

Ros looked around and was satisfied with her unpacking for the moment. She’d want to rearrange the books later, most likely. Right now, they were in order by subject, but of course that wasn’t how they fell in her week. On the other hand, with classes on different days, she couldn’t just put them in order by the day of the week. She’d be constantly shuffling everything over, and that was hard on a book’s spine. Papa had taught her better than that.

She had set out what she needed immediately, though, and the notebooks to go with them. The first day of class would be busy, but at least this year she knew where everything was, near enough. And how to get there efficiently. She flicked through the items on top of the shelf one more time, nodded, and went down to see who was in the House library. Or, specifically, if Peter had already gone to find a table in the back of the main library to claim for his own.

Ros nodded at a few people in passing. That was part of what was expected of her. The Carillon family reputation was for making and remembering connections. It came out in the pleasant sociability Mama brought to all the necessary philanthropy she did. Papa was more complicated, but his public face was all about his particular interests and sharing them with people who enjoyed them. The private, of course, had a lot more to do with sharply refined pattern-matching, Intelligence work, and a range of skills for managing secrets that neither Mama or Papa talked about.

Now, that brought her to thinking about how the space changed the people. This year, their dorm was on the other side of the House, with a rather gorgeous bit of sea view. That was especially true from her workroom. Fox assigned them out based on marks and good reports from professors the previous term. Peter had barely beaten her out in overall marks, but she’d earned several comments of note from professors about helping with things in class, and they’d more or less tied. Fortunately, they didn’t want the same thing in a workroom, so it had been easy. She got her fabulous sea view. He got the room next to her with a bit more space.

No, there he was, at a table near the back of the House library, a couple of books stacked in front of him. He looked up, a little warily, as he heard a noise, then visibly relaxed when he saw who it was. Maybe before they left school, she’d have managed to teach him not to show his reactions that blatantly.

She’d been talking to some of the third years at supper, and he’d been down near where the new firsties sat, so they hadn’t had a chance to talk yet. Rough afternoon? she asked, before adding, And how was your summer since I saw you? He’d invited Ros out for a day in London at the beginning of August. He’d done the same for Leo and Avigail on other days, and he’d also invited Jasper, but Jasper had been busy with horses. Though Jasper was on average always busy with horses.

Busy. Lots of reading, in between other things, I’m ahead on that. Only of course, I don’t know what a lot of it means, or how to apply it. Remind me why taking everything seemed like a good idea?

Because you want to know everything. Ros grinned. You and Avigail, wanting to take everything you can. At least Leo and I are skipping one or two.

Peter snorted, running a hand through dark brown hair, and then frowning. When are your free periods, then?

Ros had been expecting this, and she pulled out the book she’d been working on so hard all summer. It was only just begun, the making of it and the two charms. But Papa had said it’d work best if she used it, even if it was just to tuck notes into right now. She opened it, carefully.

That a journal? The magical journals were wonderful, and she did, in fact, have one. It was in her trunk. She’d write Mama and Papa before she went to sleep tonight. They also cost enough - still - that most people her age didn’t have one, and someone from Peter’s sort of family definitely wouldn’t. Leo didn’t have one, either, or Jasper. Though money wasn’t the issue with Leo, so she wasn’t actually sure why he didn’t.

Family tradition. A book of charms, embedded. We start working on them about, well, after our first year at Schola, and keep working on them. Mine’s only got a real simple charm or two. There’s one that’s handy for seeing if anyone’s listening. Papa has one that will muffle sound, one to help trace lines between people, lineage. All sorts of other things.

Those were the two Papa had said she could talk about. She was working on sketches for a third. Hopefully she’d get to set that over solstice hols. And her sister Merry said she’d help, too. Though Merry was busy with her own things as a fifth year in Seal House, even if she didn’t talk a lot about what they were.

The images by themselves - even if she’d had more than two right now - wouldn’t have been informative. The second of hers was one to improve memory and focus, an aid to study. It didn’t replace doing the work, but it meant if she were tired or distracted or any of a dozen other things that came up all the time, she had a better chance of remembering what she’d read or studied or heard in a lecture later.

Anyway, she said. It’s where I put my timetable. Here. You’ve still got Latin every day? First thing?

Peter nodded. Latin. I’m in the Monday Arithmetic section, then lecture on Wednesday.

I’m Wednesday and Thursday there. That’s no good. They turned out to have the same Trivium schedule but not the same section. So they’d both be free on Mondays and Fridays, but Avigail had riding scheduled on Wednesdays before lunch. And you’re taking Sympathetic when I’m free.

Why aren’t you taking it?

Ros shrugged. It’s - I could? Of course. She didn’t need to justify herself or her marks to Peter, of all people. The two of them - and Iseult Crane - reliably vied for top of the class, depending on the subject. But if I want to do languages, I need some time to study them. And do my assignments. Sympathetic was the thing I could give up most easily. Not Materia. And Alchemy’s useful and Papa has someone I can do some work with next summer if I do well.

Ah. Peter bit his lip. Nothing like that for me. There’s not much alchemy in eels. Or dockyard sums.

No, but there’s a lot in the shipping charms. And... Ros considered the connections. Papa knows someone who’s in with the Pelagiuses. I suppose that’s the plural, even if it sounds wrong. I mean, it’s a family name. If you wanted, I could see if they’re taking anyone on for a summer. Maybe not next, but going into fourth or fifth.

Peter went entirely still. I’d not want to owe a favour.

Me asking Papa isn’t a favour. And if you turned out to suit, you’d be doing them some of a favour. I can ask Papa if it’s worth asking about. They don’t see each other terribly often, but he will sometime in the next month or two, probably.

You Great Families and the interconnections. Peter frowned. Not a marriage connection?

Council. Well, now retired. Magister Cyrus Smythe-Clive’s sister is a senior Healer, Rhoe Belisama. She’s married to Magister Hugh Pelagius, and he’s been running the shipping line since his older brother - half-brother, I think that’s a first wife - retired. Ros dropped in the full names automatically, both because it was a lot more clear and because Peter wouldn’t place them immediately. Avigail would have, and not just because of her own Papa’s Council seat. But of course, she wouldn’t have had to explain it to Avigail or Leo.

I repeat. Great Families and the interconnections. Peter was good-natured about it, given that she had all that information more or less at her disposal. She’d learned it from the nursery, and he had only really understood it existed a year or so ago. What languages? Did you sort out all four?

All four, yes. Ros was going to be very busy indeed. Arabic with Professor Ward on Mondays - when you’ve got Arithmetic. French with Professor Knox, when you’ve got Latin first thing.

You’re braver than I am. Peter was still a little unsure about their Head of House, who was sharply observant.

Ros grinned. But I’m going to have four languages. She shrugged. Latin with Professor Leonard, that’s on Thursday, that’s the one we were trying to sort out last time I wrote. Papa traded favours for the others, but he doesn’t know her as well.

How does your father know Professor Ward? Or, wait, who’s the other one?

That involved lowering her voice, because this was a little sensitive. German with Professor Wain. A lot of the astronomy literature, and a fair bit of other things, it’s either in German or Latin. And she’s fluent, because of the astronomy.

Even with the war? Peter didn’t exactly look upset, but he looked confused.

Ros considered how to put it. It’s not the language that did the damage. And Papa says, if we don’t understand the language, how can we begin to mend things? He’s fluent in it, Uncle Alexander’s perfectly conversational. One of the alchemists I might spend the summer with, he’s German originally. Been here since 1935, though. So it’d be handy to get it conversational by then, even if I can’t do academic work in it. She wanted to make that very clear. And Papa sorted it with Professor Wain.

Professor Wain makes sense, what you and Leo have said about his parents, and where they spend time. Your parents, Avigail’s. And Jasper, by association. Jasper’s father ran Papa’s stables, so yes. The same and different. Professor Ward?

I know you know Mistress Ward, down in the village with the bookshop. She was in Owl House with Papa, when they were in school, and they’ve been friends since.

Peter laughed. So not Great Families, the same way. House connections, like you keep telling me, might be useful some day. He considered. You at least explain it.

I mean, most of ours aren’t very obvious. Sometimes deliberately. It’s not like Crimson Hettleburgh or Iseult Crane or the people who’d like to get close to them, Ros pointed out.

Hettleburgh’s all right, I suppose. It’s got to be queer, not knowing if someone likes you for you, or because you’re going to inherit the land magic, Peter said. And Crane doesn’t like me.

Iseult Crane wants to be top of our class, and you keep getting in the way of that. She thinks there can only be one person who’s most excellent. And Philemon Hestelbloom’s good, but he’s not as much of a danger. Hestlebloom was a steady academic sort. His mother did something in the diplomatic corps of the Ministry.

Ros sort of understood how people got competitive about it, how there could only be one at the top. She’d talked to her older brother, Edmund, enough about it. That didn’t mean she approved. Many people could be excellent, it wasn’t like there could be only one excellent and everyone else middling.

So why don’t you do that? Or aren’t like that. Peter flicked his fingers, agitated, and Ros let him talk it out. Your father’s a Lord, your brother is his Heir, people want you to be their friend? Why bother talking to me? Peter lowered his voice even more, and after a moment Ros reached for her book and brushed her fingers over the charm. She’d only cast it a handful of times this way. But now she could see the shimmer on the raven wings in the illustration for just a moment before the border turned a translucent blue. No one near enough to overhear. Peter’s eyes widened at it.

Ros shrugged. I think it’s more fun if a lot of people are excellent. There isn’t a scarcity, only so much to go around. Crimson needs to live up to his family's expectations, or at least he thinks he needs to. Iseult does too, only hers are about being the best Owl ever, top of her class in everything. I want to know a lot of things, but I don’t have those expectations. Mama and Papa have both been very clear about that. Or, say, there’s Jasper, who’s really good at horses, but he might well be really good at other things we haven’t figured out yet. Or had a chance to learn yet.