Chapter 6

The steam that rose up from the Astral Express stung in Minerva’s nose as she stepped out into the shadow of Hexgramatica. She was further from it than she expected - the rail-line didn’t seem to have gone straight to the castle, but rather had swept off and into a quaint village that was set at the bottom of the hill from the castle itself. The castle was dominated by a profusion of turreted towers that were connected into a complex webwork of walls that protected the outer areas of the castle and the inner. There was something decidedly workman like about what Minerva could see of the castle - gates and walls working together to cut down entrances and funnel any who entered into it into old killing fields.

Hexgramatica looked, for all the world, as if it could have withstood every army thrown at it for centuries ... and if it had been set on a modern battlefield, artillery would have knocked the whole thing flat in a half an hour.

The village, though, was more homely. Cottages rose two, three stories along a mainstreet, with a collection of pubs, shops, and other town buildings that looked like they were there for the enjoyment of students alone. Minerva was a little disappointed at how ordinary it looked, until she saw that the second story of The Alliterative Alembic had a window cast open and a cheerful girl was waving down to the passing students, dressed in a very scanty looking shift which did quite a lot to present her assets to the whole world.

That was almost as shocking as the fact she was emerald green and had ears the length of her shoulders.

Minerva heard a boy, his voice not quite low enough to be missed, whispering to his friend. “There they are, the goblins of Underfae.”

Gina, who was walking beside Minerva, scoffed and shook her head. “Men are such pigs,” She said, sighing as she brushed her fingers through her hair. Beside her, Katarina blew a kiss to the gobliness, who giggled and blew a kiss right back with such overt eagerness that Minerva felt scandalized all over again

Scandalized and jealous...

“W-What is this place?” Minerva asked as the crowd of students continued off the train, their luggage carried by burly stevedores - there were humans in that group, but also men with horns, centaurs, and one silvery unicorn who seemed to be in charge of everything by the way he prodded people with his horn to direct them hither and yon.

“It’s Underfae Upon Brocéliande,” Gina said, shrugging. “It’s some lake in France, but they pulled it into the Astral back in the ... back in the ... um...” She snapped her fingers. “In The Hundred Years War, I think?”

“Ah,” Minerva said, dazed. “And it’s full of goblins?”

“Who else would it be full of?” Gina asked. “But no, there’s a lot of magical creatures that live in Underfae, they get paid by students, they can use the money in the mundane world once they’re disguised.” She smiled. “Come on! We should hurry, before all the carriages are taken.” She took Minerva’s hand and tugged her along, while Katarina started to light up a cigarette she took from her buttoned up shirt pocket. The acrid scent of her smoke followed after Minerva as she started to process the rest of what Gina had said - they had stolen the lake? From France? - before they came to a set of carriages that were arrayed before one of the stables.

They were drawn by unicorns, their flanks bright, gleaming and beautiful beyond compare. Just seeing them made Minreva want to let loose with a girlish giggle. She managed to get past the awe: “W-Wait, the Hundred Year War? That was two centuries after the school was founded?”

“Grounds change,” Gina said, shrugging. “The railroad wasn’t always here neither. Used to be, you had to fly across all of bloody England and Scotland and half the Astral to get here.”

Minerva’s hand dropped to the purse where her broom waited. It rubbed against her fingers, clearly happy to be touched. Then Gina groaned as a voice called out: “Oi! Gina! Gina!” Minerva saw that a tall, sandy haired man who looked somewhat like a cross between Roland and a pencil was waving from one of the wagons. “Gina, get in here!”

“It’s my older brother, Parcival,” Gina said, sighing.

“Gina!” he called, more forcefully.

“Go, I’ll see you at the castle,” Minerva said, and Gina gave her one more hug. Minerva forced herself to not look around for Katarina. She forced herself to not think about being in a close coach with Katarina sitting across from her. Or next to her. She stepped up to a wagon that seemed empty, then swung herself into the compartment, thumping down with a grunt - to find herself sitting across from a silver haired woman of intensely pale complexion who was wearing ... precisely nothing above the waist. Her breasts, modest and perky, were fully on display and either she enjoyed body paint or her nipples were naturally silver.

“Oy Gevalt!” Minerva exclaimed before she could stop herself.

“Shhh!” The girl lifted her finger to her lips.

They sat in silence, save for the faint sounds of conversation outside.

“ ... a-are you...” Minerva started, quietly.

“Shhhhhhhh...” The girl, this time, reached out, and placed her finger on Minerva’s lip. Her fingertip was warm.

Silence continued. Then the compartment door opened and a black haired fellow with blue eyes leaned in, smiling. “Oh hey, la-” He stopped, seeing the girl with her bared breast. His Scottish brogue made him stand out against the more posh, upper class sounding Londoners that made up the majority of the Hexgramatica student body. “ ... I’ll take another one.” He ducked back out again.

“Drat,” the girl said, slumping back. “I was sure it would work.”

“W-What would work?” Minerva asked.

“It’s just, I’m a virgin, I double checked with the unicorn,” the girl said, shaking her head as she started to slide her blouse on, buttoning it up - without showing any sign she had remembered or even packed underclothes. “Oh, right, I was hoping to attract some wild fae. Maybe a redcap or an ettercap or selkie.”

“Why?” Minerva asked.

“I always wanted to meet one that wasn’t enslaved,” the silver haired girl said. Then she frowned. “Sorry, I meant bound. People get so mad at me sometimes for that.”

“N-No, uh, you’re right, it does seem rather like slavery,” Minerva said, hesitantly.

“Oh,” the girl brightened. “My name is Selene. Selene Lunachild Sidereal. My mother conceived me during a full moon at Stonehenge, she wanted to inculcate celestial aspects. I don’t think it quite worked, though, I’ve never become a wolf once.”

“I ... see...” Minerva said, slowly. “Well, Selene, my name is Minerva Golding.”

“Minerva,” Selene said, brightening. “That’s the Roman name for Athena. We’re like Greek siblings!” She smiled, warmly. “Golding, though, I haven’t heard that as a wizard family’s name. It sounds...” She furrowed her brow. “Jewish? That would explain the Yiddish.” She smiled, even more warmly. “I’ve never met a Jewish woman before - some people say that you’re a Christ killer, but that always seemed odd to me, the Romans were the ones who crucified him.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I hope no one at school gives you a hard time. People usually give me a hard time.”

Minerva smiled, uncertainty. She was still not sure if this girl was having her on as a joke, or if this was just how she was. “Well, I won’t give you a hard time,” she said. “I was born among the mundanes - so, this is all ... heh, this is all Greek to me!” She tried for a warmer smile.

Selene’s brow furrowed. She cocked her head. Then her eyes shone. “Ah! Hah!” She laughed. “Oh, that’s lovely!” She turned around, then opened the front window of the coach. She leaned out, calling to ... the unicorn, for all that Minerva could tell. “Silvermane, so, my new friend here, she said that she’s from the mundane world, so, this is all like Greek to her, get it? Oh! Her name is Minerva!” She paused, then frowned as the unicorn whinnied. “Well, no, but in Greek, that would be Athena!”

There was another whinny.

Selene drew back - but even as she said the words, Minerva realized that she had understood the whinny.

“Silvermane is asking if you’re also a virgin birth,” she said. “Like your namesake, leaping from your father’s head?”

“I am not and have not!” Minerva said, frowning seriously.

Another whinny.

“I will not be sassed by a ... a unicorn on my first day!” Minerva said, huffing even as she laughed. The whole stagecoach lurched, then, as Silvermane and the other unicorns started forward. The rumble and creak of the wheels was almost overpowering - but then Selene shut the window and turned back to smile warmly at Minerva.

“Silvermane likes you,” she said. “I can tell. I always liked unicorns.”

“A-Are all kinds of magical creatures real? What about dragons?” Minerva asked.

Selene nodded. “There’s a rumor that one of the Blyhtes eloped with a dragon. Very scandalous.”

“Oh!” Minerva’s eyebrows shot up. Then she shook her head. “I-I shouldn’t pry.”

“Why?” Selene asked.

“It’s rude to pry,” Minerva said, realizing that ... perhaps this girl, having been raised by the kind of mother who would give a child a lunar name in hopes of creating a ... a what? A werewolf? Well, she supposed that kind of parent might not have taught her the ins and outs of polite society. And even Minerva knew the basics.

“Oh,” Selene said. “How annoying. It’s ever so much fun.” Her smile grew whimsical. The stagecoach tilted slightly as they started to head up the hill and both girls moved to the window, peering out and watching as the castle grew closer and closer. Someone was waiting out by the castle gates, and Selene let out an excited squeal as she pressed her face so firmly against the glass that Minerva had no chance to see what had her so entranced. “She really is!” She exclaimed.

“Who is really what?” Minerva asked.

“Well, I-” Selene started, but then the coach came to a stop, and Silvermane let an imperious whinny that echo into the cabin. Minerva opened her door, figuring that she’d see what had gotten Selene so excited. She stepped out and froze, her eyes wide, as she saw that she was one of the first students from the carriages, and thus, was the first one in the sights of the professor who was waiting for her.

To her utter and complete shock, the professor was not a man.

In fact, the professor did not seem to be entirely human.

She was a tall and elegant woman who stood as straight as if she had been etched by a ruler, with hair graying to magnificent silver tied into a severe ponytail behind her. Her face was delicately lined by worry and frowns, adding to her harsh expression. Her eyes were a luminous gold and green, mismatched and slitted like that of a cat - while her brow was partially concealed by a sweeping broad brimmed hat which had a pair of holes cut in the middle of the brim to allow a pair of tawny cat-ears to peek forth and twitch. The golden fur of the ears was also threaded slightly with gray, as if she was aging all as a piece. Despite the age, though, there was beauty and strictness and a faint frown that made Minerva feel like she was in primary school again. The woman was dressed in flowing robes of black cut, with a green scarf and a green pin upon her breast of a rampant lion.

“Welcome to Hexgramatica,” the woman said. “Assemble, please.” She gestured before herself with a wand - and her wand tip glowed. WIthout a single word being said, a red carpet appeared and unfurled, leading the way straight to the front gates. Minerva walked forward, hesitantly. The woman’s voice grew firm. “Assemble in good time, if you kindly?”

Minerva’s cheeks heated and she hurried to respond to the professor’s voice. A shiver ran along her spine and she ducked her head forward as she stepped into the line, with Selene walking up behind her - other students beginning to fill in.

“Look up,” the professor’s voice did not snap, and yet, still held enough command in it to jerk Minerva’s chin right upwards. She tried to look back with cool bravery, but the woman exuded such intense prowess that it was hard to not feel one’s knees knocking. “I don’t recognize your face from the newspapers, nor do I see a family crest. Your name, girl?”

Minerva’s cheeks flushed. “Mine ... Minerva Golding,” she said.

The professor arched an eyebrow. “Minerva Golding. And your wizarding family?”

Minerva’s throat felt dry. “S-Schross-Sableknight.”

“Ah, one of Maximillian’s conquests,” the woman said, frowning at her. “Well. I am the Head of Evocations and of House Glintfaire, Professor Stevenson, you may refer to me as Ma’am.”

“Y-Yes Ma’am!” Minerva said.

Once the students had been assembled, Professor Stevenson began to pace before them, her voice pitched to carry. “Welcome, one and all, to Hexgramatica. For the past fifteen years, we have been accepting females to the college grounds, which has led to us needing to enact new rules, rules that will now be iterated for you as a group. Firstly, female and male dormitories are separated by a spell - any male or any female who attempts to enter the incorrect room will be ... ejected.” Her lips quirked faintly. “Secondly, any sign of inappropriate inter-student fraternization shall be punished to the fullest extent of our capabilities and, I hasten to inform you, our capabilities extend further than you can imagine.” She turned on her heel, pacing back the other way. “And thirdly, females are not allowed on Underfae’s grounds until three months have passed and we are sure you can control yourself while not under supervision.”

She turned, then, hearing something, and frowned right at...

Of course.

Right at Katarina.

“Is this amusing to you, Miss Wolfe?” Professor Stevenson asked. Her voice was cold enough to heat Minerva’s cheeks and make her glance over to see if Katarina was taking this seriously. To her shock, Katarina actually backed down.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Very good,” she said. “You have all had a long day’s travel through the astral, a banquet is being prepared and the Headmaster will have a few words before your Trials.” She turned on her heel again and began to walk forward, her high heels clicking and her hips swaying.

“She’s a fire breather all right,” Selene said, then sighed. “I wish I was like her.”

“O-Old and crotchety?” Minerva whispered as she tore her eyes away from Professor Stevenson’s rump.

“A Wilder Girl!” Selene said, her voice pitched low. “During the War, they had to make a tearing number of magical weapons and munitions for the big fights, since they burned so much of it up. She must have been working in the munition factories, since, well, ladies have smaller fingers and all. The exposure to the alchemical reagents changes people, she changed so she had those ears and that tail!” She clutched her hands to her chest as they walked through the front gate and under ominously dark murder holes that stretched over the entryway. Minerva tried to not think of pikemen and crushing rocks.

“You want to have a magical contagion like that?” Minerva asked.

“Yes,” Selene said. “I hope for wolf ears and a tail. Maybe enhanced senses.”

Professor Stevenson glanced back and gave Selene a severe look.

“She heard me!” Selene sounded delighted.

They came into a large courtyard that seemed significantly larger than the narrow walls had indicated - something that didn’t even provoke a shocked look from Minerva at this point - and towards a large feast hall that was made of stone and carved wood in the center of the castle, right before the towering keep that made up the heart of Hexgramatica. Minerva did notice that the clearing within the center of the place did have some side areas - she spotted what looked like an archery range, a pair of doors that led into the walls, where a fae carrying a large bubbling pot ducked into darkness. Then she was in the feasthall itself, which was lit by dozens, if not hundreds, of floating candles that flickered and glowed and cast their warm light across tables that were already thronging with students. The students were dressed in various house colors, and stood at attention, quietly, waiting for everyone else to arrive. They ranged in age from only a year older to nearly on the cusp of their thirties, as far as Minerva could tell.

The far end of the room had a tall table. Sitting there were the ... well, the professors.

They...

They were not what she had expected.

At the farthest end of the table was a lantern jawed man with black hair and smoldering eyes, who had features that Mienrva once would have described as ‘being from hewn stone’ but these days such a description would be all too literal rather than figurative. His face had been marred by a triple ranked scar across his face - a claw swipe that had nearly taken out one of his eyes and left a notch in his lips. His left hand appeared to be only ... half there. It was like a limb made of smoked glass, glittering and translucent.

Next to him was a woman who appeared to be cast entirely in colors of silver and chalk white. Her skin was white, her hair was silver, her eyes were pale white without pupils to show where she looked. Her clothing, too, was impossibly old fashioned, in a flowing dress that rippled around her body as if she was in some kind of a constant low level breeze. When she shifted, Minerva realized she could see hints of the chair behind her through her face and neck.

Next to her was an empty space, claimed within a few moments by Professor Stevenson.

Next to Stevenson was a fellow who seemed to be short and stout as a barrel, his face bristling with a heavy beard that curled and snarled in the air like it itself was carved out of solid stone. His eyebrows were bushy and his eyes were flint gray. His arms were bared and covered in glowing tattoos of intricate and clearly arcane design.

Next to him? In the heart of the table was the most devastatingly beautiful man that Minerva had ever seen in her life; it was strangely assuring. His skin was cherry red, his eyes were smoldering black pits with red dots for irises, and a spade tipped tail twitched behind him. He was lean and strong and had a wicked smile - even as he whispered something to his right, to the woman there. She was raven black in coloration and ... pumage. Her hair was ruffed with feathers and her eyes were gold and her features were concealed by a small shawl that wrapped around her lower jaw. She laughed at whatever the devilish man had whispered to her.

The last two at the table, occupying the right side, was a gangly, skinny man who looked to be barely older than some of the students, who wore a complex apparatus on his head made of gearing and clockwork, holding several glowing lenses before eyes that seemed to be more empty pit than flesh and blood. When he turned his head to his partner at the right corner, Minerva saw clearly that her first impression was, indeed, true and that his eyes looked like some brutal man had hacked at it with a small ax, leaving behind nothing but ruin.

The eyeless man’s comrade was the most normal of the lot, with sandy brown hair, a warm smile, freckles, and a strong jaw. The only thing that made Minerva arch an eyebrow was that he had ... a crutch precisely like Petunia’s leaning against the wall behind him. She wondered at what injury lurked beneath the table.

Minerva and the other unsorted took the only table that had open seats, and before they took their seats, the devilish man stood. “Welcome,” he said, his voice melodious - like a set of chimes. “I’m sure you’re all quite tired from your long trip, and so, I will be brief.”

He took a seat once more and the entire place burst into quiet laughter, students sitting down as fae emerged, bearing with them food on trays.

“Who is he?” Minerva whispered to Selene.

“Oh,” Selene said. “He’s the Headmaster.”

“Yes, but-” Minerva cut herself off, then realized with some relief that Gina had managed to squeak close to her and sat merely one seat away from her. Then that relief became mild mortification as the boy in that seat, frowning, was ousted from his chair by Gina, who beamed at Minerva as she claimed the seat.

“Hey!” she said, happily.

“Who is the headmaster!?” Minerva whispered.

“Oh him?” Gina asked, then laughed. “Right, I forgot, you don’t know. He’s Headmaster Merlin. Now! Let’s dig in!”

The food was delicious, but the sight of the house fae bringing them in, not to mention knowing that her Trial was ahead of her, made Minerva feel as if every bite was like ashes. If she hadn’t been so damn hungry, she might have nibbled, but instead, she managed to pack it away.

As she ate, conversation flew back and forth, with laughter and the occasional cry of ‘hear hear’ from every table. The only disturbance that drew her attention away from her plate was when a male voice, high and shrill, exclaimed.

“You take that back!”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Perkins.”

The first male who had spoken was from the Purple and Gold clad Harrierette House table, and he was standing, glaring at his companion. He was thin, with a beaky nose and a nervous temperament. His opponent looked as powerfully built as someone who should step onto the gridiron, not sitting in house robes. He was rolling a scone back and forth across the dish, while everyone silenced and craned their heads. The teachers were frowning, but Merlin had lifted one hand - as if allowing this to continue for a moment.

“I’ve had enough of your ... your ... your intimations!” Perkins spluttered.

“I just said that if Bigsly here needed a loan...” The scone-man said, smirking cruelly.

Perkins’ entire face went red as he realized just how much attention he was getting. “Lionel, I ... I...”

“Yes, Perkins?” The more assured boy asked. “What is it, Perkins?”

“ ... nothing, I retract my statement,” Perkins said, his voice stiff. Something that Minerva hadn’t seen had passed between them. He took a seat.

“That’s Perkin Cadfell-Mallard,” Gina whispered to Minerva. “And I think that’s Lionel Gawain.”

“He seems like a bit of a prig,” Minerva muttered. “What do you think he was needling Perkins about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” The boy that Gina had displaced asked. He was the same boy, Minerva noticed, that had retreated from Selene’s oddness. “Perkin’s family has taken on some poor buggers fleeing the continent, you see, Jewish wizards if you can believe it, and everyone suspects there’s a family connection, right? Can someone pass the salt?”

“Oh!” Selene said, brightly. “Minerva’s a Jew too!”

Everyone looked at her. Minerva, who was buttering her own bread, didn’t change facial expressions at all. The awkward stillness continued for a beat, before the black haired boy coughed.

“N-Not that ... well, there’s nothing ... I mean, you’re also a Schross-Sableknight, right?” he asked. “I’m Sean, by the way.”

“A pleasure,” Minerva said, her voice dry.

The conversation seemed to have hit a rock at that point. Well, for everyone but Selene, who seemed to be utterly transfixed with regaling Minerva with everything she had ever learned about the mystical mutations that could be inflicted on someone for working in a factory. It was as if Selene had devoured book on book on book on the subject and found it all endlessly fascinating, and spoke about it with such frank and eager earnestness that Minerva felt rather like interrupting her would be akin to kicking a puppy. Gina did manage to find a place to say, in the edges: “Cor, and they made ladies do this?”

“Well, it was a war against the Germans,” Selene said, cheerfully. “We had to ... to...”

She frowned.

“Why did we fight the War of Shadows again?”

“W-Well, an Archduke of Austria was blown up by a Serb,” Minerva said. “And we were allies with Belgium and, well, the Germans invaded France through Belgium.”

“Yes, but why did we wizards get involved?” Selene asked, cocking her head to the side, her brow furrowing. “That was the part I never did understand, since my father died during the war.”

“Oh ... I’m sorry,” Minerva said, quietly.

“It’s okay,” Selene said. “I was too young to remember it. Also, mother had to raise his shade to have me in the first place.”

Gina choked on her wine. “Selene!” she exclaimed. “You can’t talk about that kind of thing at the dinner table!”

After the meals were removed and everyone started to stand up, Gina whispered to Minerva. “Do you think that Selena’s touched in the head because she’s half a ghost?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

“No...” Minerva said, firmly. “I’ve met girls just like her back in the mundane world. They’re just...” She considered her options. “They’re just like that.”

Minerva was not the first called to the trials - she actually saw Katarina go ahead of her, the blond, buff girl flashing her a wicked grin, followed by a half-dozen other students. It seemed to take somewhere between a few minutes and, at one point, nearly half an hour, to process each one. But she was not the last.

“Minerva Schross-Sableknight,” a school official who hadn’t been on the table at the front of the feasthall called out over the waiting room where students whiled away their time before the test. It was a barren stone room with nothing but an out of place grandfather clock that ticked and tocked while men and women sat about, conversing quietly, and waiting for their name to be called by the same orderly.

Minerva stood, caught Gina’s eye, and saw Gina giving her a cheerful smile and thumbs up. Next to her, Selene clapped her hands and smiled at her. It seemed she had well wishers at least. Minerva followed the orderly through a narrow corridor that grew increasingly cold and chilly. Minerva felt the cold seeping into her bones as the orderly reached a door that led into a stairwell that seemed to go straight into the earth.

“You will walk down to the Trial Temporalus,” the orderly said. “In the antechamber, remove your clothing. Afterwards, you will be given something for modesty. Then, you will complete the trial before the professors. Remember everything, trust nothing and...” His lips quirked slightly. “Good luck.”

Minerva gulped.

She started down the stairs. They curved sharply around a pillar in the center of the construction, with guttering, flickering torches in sconces. Each one she passed made her feel as if she was going deeper into some dark, forgotten past. The chill made her breath fog into the air and she continued down and down. She lost count of the steps she had made, and lost count of the flickering torches. She simply continued down, winding around and around and around...

After an eternity, she came to a roughly hewn corridor that seemed more natural than artificial, widening away from the final step and the final torch. Silvery light drew her forward. The air was so cold that she felt as if she could touch it with her fingers, feeling it tingle along her nose, her throat. Her fingers worked at the collar of her blouse as she came to the source of the light and saw that there was a vast, swirling pool of silvery liquid. Looking down at it, she saw glints. Flashes. She could see her own reflection in it ... but in one second, her reflection was...

Well...

It changed.

The water rippled. There she was, her hair shorter and curlier, her lips skinned back in a cheerful smile, her teeth glittering with the awful dental contraption she had worn in her youth. Then, it rippled once more and now, she saw herself. She looked as she did now, her face smeared with black char. She held something in her hand and leaned against a wall. Something puffed from the wall, an explosion of plaster, and she jerked away from the impact, then stepped around, hefting the-

Ripple.

She saw herself, laying back in a bed, beaconing someone, something forward.

Ripple.

She saw a baby, squalling and screaming. Faintly, she heard a shushing voice. Soft. Feminine. “Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l’chayavim tovot she-g’malani kol tov...” Minerva frowned, the words ... familiar. They were a prayer, but she hadn’t heard it often. It sounded like someone calling out for good health - or thanking God for good health. Then, she heard a soft shshing. The baby quieted and the same voice murmured. “My little Minerva. Shh.”

“M ... Mama...” Minerva whispered.

She...

She couldn’t remember her mother’s voice.

The water rippled. An image of her, sitting bored in the underground.

Minerva squared her shoulders. She took hold of her blouse, then tugged it off her body. Her skirts followed. The cold bit even more. She shivered, breathed in, then leaped into the pool with a splash.

Warmth and silver light surrounded her.

In the silvery forest, Minerva ran. Her feet pounded as she sprinted, her red cape fluttering behind her. She thumped into a tree, clutched it, panting. Behind her, she could hear growling and snarling. Paws thumped along the ground and when she looked back, she saw the hounds. They were wrong shaped and when they spoke, they spoke in nonsense words - their elongated snouts opening and gnashing as they let rushed after her. They fanned out, and their collars glittered with red and black and gold.