Chosen (9781742844657) (9 page)

‘But who is he?' I pressed keenly. ‘Is it Lord Gawain?' I'd heard that he lived here in Ireland.

‘No. This house belongs to a White Elm named Renatus.'

I frowned, stopping beside Tian. I hadn't heard much of Renatus. He'd only entered the council within the past two years. Not many people talked about him. Not many people
wanted
to talk about him, perhaps. The only way I knew about his existence was that Aunt Leanne had mentioned one morning that the White Elm had enlisted a young sorcerer named Renatus – and she thought it was a strange choice. I hadn't cared enough then to ask further questions. Tian didn't seem willing to answer them anyway.

‘This is the library. This is a resource that will be open to you throughout the term, but you must treat it with respect. It is also the official meeting place in times of emergency. Today it will be where you will wait until all students have arrived. Enjoy your term.'

With a final smile, Tian turned and walked back out of the house. Feeling apprehensive, I entered the library through its odd, thin door.

As I walked down the few steps into the sunken library, I knew I would be spending a lot of time here if I could. The library was high-ceilinged, old-fashioned and housed dozens of ridiculously tall, thin bookcases, all packed with books of all kinds, sizes, colours and ages. It was twenty times better than the little occult bookstore I'd been working at. I couldn't wait to get a good look at the titles on the spines of those thousands of books.

But as I reached the floor and was itching to run to the bookshelves, I realised that I was not alone. The library was quiet, but it was then that I noticed at least twenty other presences. The library was practically crackling with magical energy. These were some of the most potentially powerful teenage witches in the world. Some were browsing shelves. A few were standing around talking quietly. Most were sitting, either in the comfy-looking chairs against the walls, or in one of the wooden chairs that faced a podium. The wooden chairs didn't look like permanent fixtures to the library – they were probably there just for today's orientation.

Most of the kids were dressed like mortals – jeans, skirts, t-shirts, etc – but two people, definitely not teenagers, were not. Like the other White Elm members I'd encountered today already, the young chestnut-haired man and the rake-thin woman sitting side-by-side in chairs on the podium were dressed in long robes of royal purple. They smiled at me when they noticed me. All the White Elm people, besides Qasim, seemed nice, open and warm people. I wondered how far up in rank these two were. They were obviously keeping an eye on the students waiting here in the library.

Would I be able to befriend any of these other teenagers? Carefully, so as not to touch their presences with mine, I brushed my senses across the entire room. I didn't feel any hostile presences, but then again, I wasn't getting close enough to notice anything but general stuff. They were all strong sorcerers who were generally nice people and were quite nervous.

With a small sigh, I began browsing the nearest bookshelf. I was in the herbs and plants section. Herbs and plants were fine, but I wasn't too interested in that category. I couldn't wait to learn more spells like my wards. I wanted to learn scrying.

Scrying. Where would books on scrying be? I wandered around, not forgetting about the other nervous students. Were they eager to learn to scry, too? Or were they all experts at it already?

It was about ten quiet minutes later that I found the scrying section. Granted, I hadn't been looking too hard, slowly meandering through the shelves, stopping to examine every book with an interesting title or attractive cover, but I was glad to have found it. This Renatus guy had a good collection of scrying reference books.

I started pulling books out, examining them and judging them all by their covers, before I realised that I wasn't the only person in this row. I was in the advanced magic section, and an Asian girl of my own age was slowly making her way towards me, gazing at the spines of the books. She hadn't noticed me yet. Her shiny jet-black hair was cut on a funky diagonal, from her chin on one side to her opposite shoulder, and it looked like she was trying to grow her fringe out. Her skin was porcelain white. She was very thin, very pretty in a doll-like, dainty way, a bit shorter than me, and was all but flat-chested.

She noticed my attention and looked up. Somehow, I knew that she was Japanese, which was odd because my knowledge of Asia was limited to what I'd seen on TV and I had never spoken to a Japanese person in my entire life. I forced a smile. Did she speak English?

‘Hi,' I said awkwardly, pushing a scrying book back into its slot on the shelf.

‘Hi,' she responded.

‘I'm Aristea,' I said because I had nothing better to say, and also because I had to say something now that I'd initiated a conversation. ‘Aristea Byrne.'

‘My name is Hiroko Sasaki,' the Japanese teenager answered, smiling. It didn't sound like English was her first language. She shifted her books into her other arm and offered me her hand. Smiling back and relaxing, I shook her hand. ‘How long have you been here?'

‘Fifteen minutes,' I said. ‘How about you?'

‘One hour, I think. No one else here seems willing to talk to me, so I want to read about displacing. Do you like displacement?'

‘Aye, it would be pretty cool,' I agreed automatically, earning myself an awkward pause.

‘My father and I searched for Irish colloquialisms online so I could learn,' she said finally. ‘Aye means yes.'

I caught the twinkle in her dark eyes. She was amused. I cracked a wider smile, too. I immediately liked this girl.

‘Do you want some help finding the displacing books?' I asked, pushing my handful of scrying books back onto the shelf. Displacing was interesting, too.

Hiroko looked pleased.

‘Yes, please,' she said. ‘If you don't mind.'

I shook my head and walked down the row with her, looking for books with ‘Displacing' printed on the spine.

‘My main objective of coming here this year is to learn to scry,' I told Hiroko. ‘I always wanted to learn how to do it. What about you?'

‘I'd like to learn,' Hiroko agreed, ‘but first I want to perfect my displacing. My father has been teaching me for some past years.'

‘You can displace already?' I asked, impressed. She nodded, her pale cheeks turning to a delicate shade of pink.

‘Not reliable. I cannot displace myself very far. My father helped me to get here. But I can displace objects almost perfectly now, and I am studying very hard to displace myself properly. I want to study the theory more and get better with this.'

For half an hour, we chatted, getting to know each other as we searched the shelves for displacement reference books. Hiroko's English was very good, although it was quite obvious that it was a language that she had learnt through study rather than through necessity. Finally we found the books we'd been searching for. The selection was quite small it turned out, and was on the very bottom shelf, practically on the floor. We sat opposite each other on the carpet, sorting through the twelve displacing books and talking.

Hiroko
was
from Japan – she was from Sapporo, Hokkaido Island. She was also seventeen, but had no siblings. She lived with her father in a flat in the city. Surprised by our similarities despite our cultures, I told her that I also lived in a flat in the city with one guardian.

I must have been there for going on three hours (Hiroko must have been there for almost four) when I heard someone close the tall, thin door through which everyone had entered. Hiroko heard it too, and we both peered apprehensively through the shelves towards the door, which was now on the far side of the library. We'd managed to find two comfortable chairs right at the back of the room.

Eight purple-robed figures had just entered. The other kids in the library were putting their books away and respectfully hurrying over to the chairs set out before the podium. With a quick glance at one another, Hiroko and I got up and walked as fast as we could towards the crowd, ensuring that we didn't run. You can't run in a library.

Of the thirteen chairs set up on the little platform, ten of them were now occupied. I personally recognised some of the occupants – Tian, Susannah, Glen, and Qasim (the Scrier!) – but the other six sitting down were unfamiliar, nameless. The eleventh man was old, bearded and radiant with compassion and warmth. He was standing at the front of the podium, waiting. I'd never seen him before but I knew immediately who he was: Lord Gawain, widely regarded as the greatest sorcerer of the time, head of White Elm and the leader of the magical world. He was nearing seventy, I saw, and was tall and broad. His purple robes sported a white sash. His face was lined but friendly and he had a certain air, an aura of greatness that could not fail to impress his audience.

Hiroko and I found seats next to each other. She was in an aisle seat, with no one to her right. To my left was a boy who looked to be fifteen or less, except of course he must be at least sixteen to even be here.

Once everyone was silently seated, Lord Gawain began to speak.

‘Good afternoon, my friends,' he said. His voice was quite soft, and, like Glen, he had a Welsh accent, but it carried. I was surprised – I had never known that Lord Gawain was Welsh. Everyone said that he lived here in Northern Ireland, so I'd assumed he was a local. ‘Welcome to the White Elm Academy. I would firstly like to thank you all for your generosity in giving your time to come here this year. I assure you all it will not be a waste of time – all of the White Elm have skills we are willing to share with you and pass on to you. For those of you who are not aware, my name is Lord Gawain, head of White Elm.'

Like anybody here was dumb enough not to know that, though
, I thought a second too early, because the boy beside me flinched in utter shock. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Who else would the man be?

‘Seated behind me are ten of my White Elm colleagues,' Lord Gawain continued. He did not look back at them but listed their names from left to right as though he were looking at them. Could he sense them so distinctly that he knew exactly where they all were? ‘Qasim, Glen, Susannah, Elijah, Anouk, Tian, Emmanuelle, Aubrey, Teresa and Jadon. Some have been working here at the Academy all day to ensure that your first day runs as smoothly as possible; others have been transporting many of you from your home countries so that you may be with us today.'

I scanned the row left to right, trying to memorise the names of the White Elm. The first three I recognised; Elijah was next, a fragile-looking man with unruly brown hair. He looked like he might be blown away in a strong wind, never to be seen again. The fifth was the rake-thin woman who had been in the library when I arrived, and the sixth was Tian. The next woman was exceedingly beautiful and I guessed (as I had with Hiroko) that she was European. Her hair was long, wavy and blonde – Emmanuelle. Next was Aubrey, who had been here with Anouk when I'd arrived. Teresa was petite and of evident eastern European descent, and Jadon was slightly gangly with close-cropped hair.

They were sitting, I noticed, in such an order that the older councillors were seated at one end and younger ones at the other. I didn't know any of their exact ages, but I assumed that they must have seated themselves according to rank, which must have been organised by age.

Still, the first three seats were vacant. One must be Lord Gawain's. Who else was missing?

‘Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, a list will be posted here in the library to inform you all of which White Elm members will be teaching which subjects. Your classes are being decided tonight, and the class lists will be posted at the same time. Each class is being arranged with age and abilities in mind.'

I wondered if Hiroko would be in my classes. She was my age, but she seemed quite more advanced than me.

‘You will have eleven subjects in all, but no real timetables have been created – our schedules are much too busy and prone to change for us to even attempt to organise a workable, structured timetable for you all to follow. Your week's subjects will be posted by Monday morning each week in this library. Because of this flexible timetabling, you may find sometimes that two classes are scheduled for the same time. In this instance, we remind you that you are all young adults: you can elect which class to attend, according to your own preferences or areas of need.'

I guessed that Lord Gawain was one of the White Elm councillors not teaching. After all, he was much too busy for something as unimportant as teaching schoolchildren. He ran a nation, more or less.

‘Your meals will be served in the dining hall, which is through the door opposite the library,' Lord Gawain was saying now. ‘Your dormitories are on the second level of the school. Some house three students, others four. Your key will fit only one. Each key is unique and different. They all fitted the simple gate lock, and will all unlock the front doors of this school, but only students living inside a dormitory will be able to gain access with his or her own key. Your closets are accessible only with your own key. Your roommates' keys will not fit the locks on your cupboards and closets.'

I, like most of the other students around me, got my key out and gazed at it.

‘Now I would like to introduce you all to a pair of extraordinary people,' Lord Gawain said suddenly, causing us all to pocket or hide away our keys quickly. The impressive, white-haired man waved his hand towards the library door. Every student turned to stare at it. It was closed.

But then it opened, and, as promised, two people stepped inside the library. The first was a shortish woman of almost sixty. Her black hair was streaked with silver and the very dark skin on her kindly face was starting to wrinkle. Her royal purple robes also bore a white sash, like Lord Gawain. I'd seen photos of this woman before, in mortal newspapers – she was Lady Miranda, second-longest serving current White Elm and co-leader to Lord Gawain. She was a most gifted Healer – once she had succeeded in bringing someone back to life almost a minute after his heart had stopped, using her talent. She worked in London as a surgeon. The mortals there thought she was just good at her job. They had no idea who she really was, how great she was to us.