The Royal Sorceress by Christopher Nuttall Page A

Well done.”
    “Thank you,” Gwen said, tartly. Her mother would not have approved. “And why do we use water?”
    Cannock grinned, unpleasantly. “Because when we throw stones or something material, someone gets hurt,” he said. “The worst that can happen here is that we both end up drenched. Let’s see, shall we?”
    He pulled a second ball of water out of the bowl and launched it at Gwen. She tried to block it, but this time the ball resisted her efforts. For a moment, the ball of water seemed to flatten into a sheet of water hanging in the air, and then it flew right towards her and smashed into her face. Gwen gasped in shock as the water slid down her front and soaked her dress. Powered by anger, she reached out towards the bowl herself and yanked at the water. An entire stream of water rose out of the bowl and came down on Cannock, who held up his hand to deflect it. It seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, and then Cannock pushed it away. The water shattered into droplets that went everywhere, drenching the walls. He laughed and picked up the bowl. It was empty.
    “I think we need to work on control,” he said, as he turned one of the taps and refilled the bowl. “You are very blunt with your power, very crude. A more experienced Mover could have drenched me while I was holding off your stream of water.”
    Gwen flushed, feeling cold water trickling down her bodice. She hadn’t felt so cold since she’d taken an unplanned dip in the waters down near their country home. Cannock’s eyes seemed to light on her for a second and she flushed as she realised that her dress was clinging to her skin. He’d done that purposefully, or her name wasn’t Gwen. She ground her teeth as he placed the bowl back on the table behind him and – without any gestures – pulled three balls of water into the air. Gwen was impressed as they spun around his head, and then flew at her. This time, she was ready; one of the balls shattered, while the other two flew back at Cannock. He caught one and tossed it back at Gwen, but the other smashed into his shirt. Gwen had to smile at his expression, just before the final ball of water drenched her hair. The thought of what her mother would have said, if she’d seen her, made her giggle. Lady Mary would not have been amused.
    They practiced for nearly an hour, until Gwen felt her head beginning to throb. “Time to stop for the day,” Cannock said, seriously. He sounded more concerned about her than she’d expected. But then, if anything went badly wrong, Master Thomas would have thrashed him to within an inch of his life. “You don’t want to push your talent too far.”
    Gwen nodded. She disliked headaches at the best of times. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll just get changed and then I’ll join you for lunch.”
    Back in her rooms, she glanced at herself in the mirror and burst out laughing. Her sodden dress was clinging to her skin, her hair was a dreadful mess and her skin was covered in droplets of water. Pulling the dress off and dumping it on the floor was not particularly easy – and when she’d done so, she discovered that her undergarments had been soaked as well. The dress was almost completely ruined, even though it had been designed for rougher use than her ballroom dresses, and she made a mental note to insist on wearing trousers. It might not be acceptable in polite society for women to wear trousers, but the Crichton Family weren’t so rich that they could afford to keep buying new dresses. Conspicuous consumption wasn’t the kind of reputation a reputable older family wished to develop.
    She wiped herself with a towel, donned a light-green dress that would be suitable for an afternoon spent in the library, and headed down the stairs for lunch. The lunches in Cavendish Hall were served at noon precisely, with anyone who was late – according to Master Thomas – forced to dine out, unless they had a very good excuse. At least the food was good,