Past Tense (Schooled in Magic Book 10) by Christopher Nuttall

said. It was likely to have changed and evolved before she’d arrived at Whitehall. Besides, if nothing else, talking about etiquette would keep Bernard from asking more awkward questions. “I don’t know how to introduce myself, let alone ask for help without getting into trouble.”
    “I imagine your tutor didn’t plan to introduce you,” Bernard said.
    He paused, stroking his chin. “You address your master as Master or My Master ,” he said, after a moment. “In conversation, you would call him Master Whitehall. All other masters are addressed as Lord or My Lord , unless you were friends before he reached his mastery. In that case, you can address him by name. Apprentices can be addressed by name, unless you have a reason to give their rank—in which case, you would address them as Apprentice Whatever.”
    Emily nodded. “Why is Whitehall ...”
    Bernard pointed a finger at her. “ Master Whitehall.”
    “Why is Master Whitehall called Lord and Master Whitehall?”
    “He combines both titles,” Bernard said. “Address him as Master unless you’re being strictly formal or begging for mercy.”
    He shrugged. “If a master approaches you first, make sure you rise and bow to him,” he added. “If you approach him, go down on your knees and wait for him to acknowledge you before rising. Should he offer something to you, take it with your casting hand. Do not offer your other hand, whatever happens, unless you need both hands ...”
    Emily held up a hand. “My casting hand?”
    “The hand you use to cast spells,” Bernard explained. His eyes narrowed. “How do you not know that?”
    “I was taught to use both hands,” Emily said. She was right-handed, but her tutors had insisted on their students using alternating hands when they cast spells. Only a couple of students in first year had been unable to use both hands—and the problem had cleared up, she recalled, with practice. “Aren’t you?”
    “That’s odd,” Bernard said. “I was always taught to use my right hand.”
    He frowned. “I suggest you hold out both hands, then,” he added. “But be careful.”
    Emily swallowed. Whitehall— her Whitehall—had been very different from Earth. But this Whitehall was familiar enough to be disconcerting. Something that would have passed unremarked in her Whitehall might start a fight here, hundreds of years in the past. She’d have to watch herself, but she wasn’t sure how.
    “I will,” she said.
    Bernard rose. “I’ll find you a place to wash,” he said. “And then my master will ...”
    He paused, then bowed hastily as an older man hurried over to them. Emily bowed too, realizing that she was looking at yet another master. He looked to be in his nineties, although that proved nothing; he might well be no older than forty. She couldn’t help thinking of Albert Einstein as the man studied her. He had the same impression of being nothing more than a kindly old grandfather.
    “Lady Emily,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
    Bernard cleared his throat. “Lord Wolfe, Master Whitehall wishes to talk to her in thirty minutes,” he warned. “I ...”
    “I will have her there for him,” Lord Wolfe said.
    “Don’t worry,” Emily said. “I’ll be fine.”
    Bernard nodded. “I’ll inform my master,” he said. “He may want to give you more time with Lord Wolfe.”
    “That would be good,” Lord Wolfe said. He grinned at Emily. “This way, please.”

Chapter Five
    T HE CAMP FOLLOWERS HAD DONE A remarkable job at cleaning the dirt and grime from the floor, Emily decided as she followed Lord Wolfe through a maze of disconcertingly familiar corridors. It might not be anything like as clean as King Randor’s castle—at least, not yet—but the future school was starting to look livable. Small groups of workers swept the corridors, while apprentices—some throwing doubtful glances at her as she passed—prowled the corridors, searching for more traps.
    Probably keeping them busy