There’s another moment’s silence. I think everyone is afraid to mention the major, obvious restrictions. I raise my hand.

“Yes, Tallulah?”

“Malaina aren’t allowed to use the Portal Network,” I say, “without…” I try to remember the precise wording Electra used against that guard, “the authorisation of a suitably qualified person they’re travelling with, who… who agrees to take full responsibility.”

“Very true. And the purpose of that?”

“The destructive potential of an active episode in hyperspace. No-one wants a repeat of the Greyford disaster.”

Stars, I realise suddenly: I had an active episode in hyperspace, that day in the library. Granted, the first thing I did in its grasp was to get out of hyperspace as quickly as possible, but still…

I’m so distracted by that horrifying thought that I miss Sam ask me if I think this law is fair, and he has to repeat it.

I take a breath. First controversial statement of the debate it is, then. “No. Electra told me that she doesn’t believe it necessary because of the short duration of the travel by portal.”

There are, as I expected, several disagreements with that idea. “Active episodes can come on very quickly, though, can’t they? Without warning,” Aisha points out.

“In some cases,” says Elizabeth quietly. “It depends on the individual magician. Mine do. Not that I’ve had one in months,” she adds hastily.

“I just don’t think it’s worth the risk. I know individual freedom is important, but if you weigh something like that against the risk of a second Greyford – “

“There is no risk,” Edward says sharply. “There was research conducted before the establishment of the Portal Network. By my great-grandmother, actually; I’ve read her notes. She observed Malaina experiencing active episodes in a pocket of stabilised hyperspace, with no adverse influence on the hyperspace except due to damage sustained by the wardwork maintaining it. And the – “

“I think Tallulah wants to say something?” Sam interrupts.

My hand is indeed raised. “Don’t you think that experiments involving Malaina experiencing active episodes for the sake of science are…” utterly morally awful, I want to say, but I settle for “…somewhat unethical?”

“I thought that went without saying. But yes. I don’t condone her methods, but they were valid scientific experiments with valid results.”

I’m still a little uncomfortable with the idea, even if Edward is using it to support my point, but I keep my silence; it’s not the point right now.

“Anyway, as I was saying, there are extremely thorough countermeasures taken to protect the wardwork that maintains the Portal Network. And the Royal Magicians know exactly why the Greyford disaster happened and how to prevent it from happening again.”

“Why did it happen?” asks Jake.

“That’s classified.”

Of course it is. I don’t see why something like that has to be classified, unless – never mind, I’m stupid; making it public knowledge how to destroy one of the largest cities in Rasin and cripple the country’s infrastructure in one blow would be a disaster if we ever went to war.

“Do you know it?” asks Hannah, an edge to her voice. I shoot her a warning look.

“I don’t see why that’s relevant,” Edward replies evenly.

“No,” Hannah says. “I don’t suppose you would.”

I give her another look. She shuts up.

The class is split down the middle about whether these particular restrictions are necessary or not. Robin puts forward the argument that even if they’re not strictly necessary, it’s important to give the public confidence in the Portal Network, to which Elsie fires back something about encouraging the perception that Malaina are a threat to public safety.

I know what’s coming as soon as I hear that, and I know I’m not going to like it.

“Well,” says Daniel. “Aren’t they?”

Then several people are talking at once, and I can’t quite make out what’s being said: something about mala sia, something about one of the kindest people I know, something about statistics.

Sam holds up a hand for silence, and gets it. “Please don’t talk over each other, everyone. I know a lot of you feel strongly about this, but we want to have a calm and respectful discussion. Daniel, you’re proposing that Malaina are a threat to public safety. Why do you believe that?”

He’s staring at Sam as if he doesn’t see why he should have to explain something so obvious. “Well. They could turn into mala sia at any moment, couldn’t they? And even if they don’t… people die because of Malaina episodes. Uncontrolled destructive magic is dangerous.”

I’m not dangerous, I want to say, but he has a point. I could be. I could have seriously hurt Mildred that time if Electra hadn’t stopped me. I could have burnt far more than just half a tree to the ground when I Fell.

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“And I think a couple of you disagreed with that?”

Edward and Elsie both raise their hands. Sam calls on Elsie first.

“A couple of months ago, I would have agreed with Daniel,” she says. “Then I met Tallulah.”

I blink a few times.

“She’s Malaina, and she’s one of the kindest people I know. I realise there was the incident with Mildred, but I don’t think she was in any way to blame for that, and I can’t believe she would ever be a threat to public safety.”

“I never said she was,” Daniel protests. “I never said anyone in this room was.”

“You did,” Edward points out. “You said that Malaina are a threat to public safety, and there are three Malaina in this room. The second statement follows logically from the first, so unless your beliefs are logically inconsistent – “

I have to hold back laughter at that argument. He does have a point, but the pedantic way he presents it is never going to convince anyone who doesn’t think like he does.

“There’s nothing inconsistent about it. Malaina in general and the specific Malaina in this room don’t have to be the same thing.”

“So you believe that the sample of Malaina in this room isn’t representative of the general Malaina population?”

I need to intervene. “Edward,” I say, “would you like me to translate your arguments into something that a normal person could actually be convinced by?”

“If it would make you feel better,” he says.

“Thanks. What he’s trying to say is that… you have this idea of Malaina in general as a faceless, dangerous mass. And of the three of us as people, because you’ve met us and spent time with us and you can tell we’re human. But all Malaina are also human, even if you haven’t got to know them. So why would you assume that other Malaina aren’t like us?”

“…huh,” says Daniel slowly. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. You do have a point.”

I refrain, barely, from shooting Edward a triumphant glance. It is satisfying, though, knowing that there are still some things I can do better than he can.

“That doesn’t mean what Daniel said is wrong, though,” Hannah points out. “People have died because of Malaina, and more people will die because of Malaina.”

I can’t deny that, so I don’t try.

“A tiny minority of Malaina,” Edward says. “I’ve looked at statistics, and ninety percent of episodes involving serious damage to life or property are caused by less than five percent of the Malaina population.”

While no-one dares dispute Edward’s statistics, that leads to a new debate and one I think gets closer to the heart of the problem. Where should the line be drawn between restrictions to prevent that five percent from causing harm and restrictions that discriminate against the innocent, largely harmless remainder? Which laws fall into which of those categories?

Elizabeth talks about the fact that Malaina aren’t allowed to join half of the SMOs, and there are tight restrictions on their joining the Birds or Twelfth Division, which she argues is a mistake on the part of those running them: “It’s hard enough as it is to recruit magicians willing to dedicate their lives to such service. Why turn away so many possibilities?”

This is personal for her, I realise: she is one of those magicians willing to dedicate her life to it, and she doesn’t want Malaina to derail her ambitions any more than it already has.

But there are reasonable counterarguments to that point, which Robin puts forward: the work the SMOs do means their members will find themselves dealing with crises, emergencies, danger to their life. And we can’t expect them to have perfect self-control in a position like that.

Which I have to agree with. I remember the riot; I still don’t know what I would have chosen if Lord Blackthorn had been just a few seconds slower. Choose death, Electra insisted. How many people would be able to do that if it came to it?

Despite Elizabeth’s arguments that much of military training is designed to teach soldiers to remain calm and in control in exactly those situations, the majority of the class agrees with Robin on this one.

I’m pleasantly surprised by how well this debate is going. Since Daniel and Edward’s altercation no-one has said anything that could hurt anyone else, and the class are actually taking the time to listen to each other and try to understand each other’s perspectives. Why can’t more debates be like this one?

But maybe that’s because no-one dares mention the worst things. Instability. The asylums. Mala sia. What should be done about those five percent.

Maybe I should just say it. Even though I don’t want to, it doesn’t feel right to leave out the darker parts of the problem we’re discussing. When the talk about under what circumstances people should be required to reveal they’re Malaina concludes, I raise my hand to contribute the next point.

“Thank you for that, Elsie, and thank you to everyone who contributed. I’m very pleased with you all for the mature and respectful way you’ve handled this. Unfortunately we’re out of time for today’s lesson; we’ll continue on Wednesday.”

I blink. Has it been a whole hour already? It didn’t feel like an hour. I like it when lessons go this quickly; it reminds me of history back at Genford. I do miss studying history properly, having people to discuss it with.

“Study room?” Edward asks as we get up to leave.

I nod. We’ve been given two new homework assignments, and both of us like to have them completed as soon as possible. I’m not too tired after the day’s lessons, so it makes sense to get straight to work.

But Edward doesn’t want to work straight away. Instead, once the door shuts behind us, he says “So. Do you want to talk about the tests?”

Oh. Yes. That. I hang my satchel on the back of my chair. “I’m okay.”

“If you’re having passive episodes just because you know they exist… I’m not sure you are.”

“…yeah,” I admit. It’s only going to get worse as they get closer, as more time is taken up by revision and friendly reminders not to worry about how we do and everyone worrying about them nonetheless. “Bad memories.”

“From your old school?”

I nod. I don’t know if Edward will understand. But I have to trust him, after everything we’ve done together. “I was a scholarship girl,” I begin. “It meant, as long as I did well enough on the end-of-year exams, I could attend Genford without my family having to pay the full fees.”

Edward seems about to say something, but he keeps his silence and waits for me to continue.

“My family would never have been able to afford the full fees. So I had to get good grades or lose my place. What all the teachers said today – “ I make air quotes with my fingers – “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a way of seeing how much you’ve learnt. They always said that at Genford too, just before end-of-year exams. And for most students, it was.”

“But not for you,” says Edward.

“No. Not for me.”

“Always having to fight for your place somewhere you didn’t belong.”

I nod. He does understand, at least the parts that matter. “I…” It’s a struggle to get the words out; this is a secret I’ve never told anyone. “I did consider, a few times, just… not fighting. Getting an average grade. So then I wouldn’t have to go back.”

“But you didn’t.”

I shake my head. “It was my parents who stopped me. Imagining how disappointed they’d be, that I’d lost such a valuable opportunity. Now I wonder if I should have done it. I wouldn’t have Fallen if I had.”

“You wouldn’t be who you are now if you had,” Edward says.

“I wouldn’t have met you if I had,” I say.

He nods. “And now… now it feels as if you’re having to fight for your place here, where you do belong.”

“Yes,” I admit. “It does.”