The Royal Sorceress by Christopher Nuttall Page B

although it was a curious mixture of typically British foods and imported tastes from the Empire. Some of the student magicians would be going to India or Africa or even the Americas when they graduated and they would have to learn to eat native cuisine. The Colonial Service frowned on officers who refused to eat local foods, at least outside the network of government officers. It also frowned on British officers who formed liaisons with the local womenfolk, but Gwen had heard enough whispers from relatives of those who had served in India to know that such regulations were tacitly ignored.
    The table wasn’t as crowded as she had expected. Master Thomas and several of the senior tutors hadn’t come to dine, which was surprising. A handful of students – including Cannock – sat at the table, tucking into the soup that formed the first course. Anyone who failed to arrive by the time the maids started removing the soup would have to beg and plead to receive a share of roast lamb or beef. Gwen took a seat, accepted a bowl of soup and bread from one of the maids, and started to sip at it. The cooks had produced a rather surprisingly spicy carrot soup.
    She glanced up sharply as she felt the first tingle of magic surrounding her. No one seemed to be looking at her; in fact, the group of students seemed to be looking away from Gwen. The magic faded away, and then reappeared, right behind her. Gwen frowned and concentrated, trying to understand what it was. A moment later, she felt a sharp pinch on her rear end. There was no one behind her, which meant that someone was using magic to pinch her from a distance. She felt a hot flash of anger as she glared at Cannock and his friends, all of whom were clearly fighting to control the urge to burst into giggles. They could play their tricks on the maids if they liked – she’d already heard that Cavendish Hall had a higher turnover of servants than her father’s house – but they couldn’t play them on her. A second pinch made her jump, followed rapidly by a third. It felt as if someone was crawling over her body, pinching away at exposed flesh.
    “Stop it,” she ordered. The students burst into giggles, followed by another series of pinches. Gwen yelped as she felt her buttocks stinging in pain. “Stop it!”
    Magic flared through her and the soup bowls in front of the students seemed to explode, showering them in hot soup. It was their turn to yelp in shock, just as another wave of magic – only partly under Gwen’s control – slammed into the tureen and tipped it over onto the table. A flood of hot soup spread across the tablecloth and into their laps. She wanted to giggle herself as they jumped up, the stain spreading over their clean trousers, but she was burning with rage. A hot prickling behind her eyes seemed to be overpowering her. Cannock turned and glared at her, no longer so amused now he was dripping with soup. He used his magic to pick up the bread and throw it at her. Gwen caught it with her own magic and knocked it back at him, only to see it come apart as the other students – two of whom were clearly Movers themselves – caught it and shoved it at her. Tiny pieces of bread slashed into her skin, leaving her feeling bruised and sore. Angrily, she sent her own magic billowing out of control across the table, picking up spilled soup, tableware and even part of the table and hurling it at them. Cannock ducked in alarm as a knife narrowly missed him by inches. Maids and kitchen staff scattered, screaming in panic as the magic duel ran right out of control.
    Gwen felt Cannock’s magic forming around her and pushed it back, slamming her will directly against his. For a moment, she held her own, but his greater experience and skill told and he broke through her defences. A wave of magic slapped into her and sent her staggering backwards; she hit the floor hard enough to hurt as the table started to disintegrate around her. Magic flared over her fingers,