“Right…” Magdala peered at her roommate, who’d plonked down into her seat at the Commissary table like a sack of cokop root. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Francesca picked up her glass of water. “Stop asking.”

When Magdala glanced at Mei, the hunter shrugged. They both knew Francesca had spent lunch telling them about Dwayne’s impressive feat at the practical to distract them, but neither of them knew why.

“I have a free period coming up?” ventured Magdala. That was courtesy of getting kicked out of Bruce College. “We could talk then.”

“I’m fine.” Francesca got up. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She stomped off.

“She is not fine,” said Mei. “Why does she say so?”

Magdala sighed. “I don’t know, but when she’s like this, you can only wait.” Which was too bad because she really needed to talk about yesterday. “Are you free?”

“No.” Mei got to her feet. “Dwayne and I have something.”

“Oh.” Everyone had something with Dwayne. Except Magdala. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you.”

And just like that, Magdala was alone.

In all honesty, a free afternoon should have been a blessing. Magdala needed to study for winter finals, but, unlike running experiments, studying didn’t fully absorb her attention, allowing her to escape the memory of Dwayne’s rejection. Nevertheless, she made her way to the Archives, following a flock of first years chatting about what they would do after examinations, the food they’d eat, the cousins they’d talk to. Then she was on the threshold of Lees, the college Magdala’s mother had hoped she’d enter.

Back during the Golden Ages, the college building had probably been a nobleman’s manor, its stone walls and doak doors a solid bulwark against invaders, but Magdala knew a certain mage who could blowing it all up, allowing whatever troops with him to enter. After that, Mei and a selection of soldiers would find it easy to defend against-

Magdala blinked. What was she doing?

Oh, she was dreaming of a world where she used her magic to fight instead of studying. It was a foolish dream. Even her Offering to Her Majesty wasn’t enough to make her forget that. However, maybe she needed an opportunity to let her fantasies, well one of them at least, run wild. She knew just the place. In between attending class and mucking out stables, she’d dug through Tarpan’s old records and located a reference to a certain college, which, after listening to her grandma’s many many stories of her youth, led her to a thirty-year old map of the Magisterium.

Getting there was easy, she’d grown up at the heels of her mother after all, and even a badly maintained forest path couldn’t stop her. Soon, she reached a wide clearing, a small pond, and a rough wooden cabin.

“Huh.” She’d expected the first two but not the last. Was this the wrong place? Bruce College had been started after this one and its building was far grander.

“Disappointed?”

Magdala jumped. “Wh- Lady Pol? What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting my old college.” Lady Pol passed her as she walked towards the cabin. “Why are you here?”

Magdala followed. “I wanted to see it, the only college where mages learned to fight.”

“In that case, welcome to Duelists’ College.” Lady Pol paused to gaze at the cabin. “It’s smaller than I remember.”

Magdala stepped around an old well. “Why didn’t you take Bruce College’s building?”

“Idealism mainly. We wanted to forge our own way.” Lady Pol stepped up to the cabin and shook her head. “That was nonsense, of course. We were Magisterium graduates, on Magisterium land, using our parents’ money to pay to have a cabin built.”

She brushed ivy off a steel plaque covered in names. “We argued about it at the time.” She snorted. “We were a contentious lot. Your lady mother and I were rivals, your lord uncle liked to nitpick about rules he made, Boyle and his friends called the rest of us pretentious gits, and it didn’t help that half the college was infatuated with Rionutte.”

“Rionutte was in the college too?” Magdala found her name at the top of the plaque. “Who was she?”

“Our college founder and a pirate.” Lady Pol chuckled. “If you ever find our official records, they list your lady mother and I as founders, but the college wouldn’t have been existed without Rionutte.”

Magdala looked over the rest of the list. “Dean Bruce said that you, my mother, and my lord uncle are the last surviving members.”

“Yes,” Lady Pol’s eyes went distant, “I suppose we are.”

“What happened?”

“It’s not my story to tell.” Lady Pol pushed past Magdala.

Then whose was it? Magdala bit down on that question. “Well, at least you got to fight.”

“Not fight, duel.” Lady Pol leaned against the cabin door. “Not combat, sport, and only your lady mother and myself were any good.”

Magdala perked up at this. “Were you better?”

Lady Pol smirked. “Yes, but only because she spent her free time courting your father. If she’d applied herself, she’d have beaten me six times out of ten.”

“What about my lord uncle?” Maybe Magdala could get information about Rionutte by coming at it sidelong.

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“Ha!” Lady Pol shook her head. “He was hopeless. Always had a good opening move, especially after wheedling tips out of Rionutte, but dodge that and you’d already won.”

“And the others?”

Lady Pol gestured at the plaque. “Only Boyle is worth mentioning, but he was more passion than sense; he kept getting disqualified. No one else cared. They were only here because the apprentices of Sobol or the allure of Rionutte.”

Magdala saw her chance. “Why did she found the college?”

Lady Pol’s amusement evaporated. “No. Not my story to tell.”

Magdala sighed. “Whose is it?”

“Hers and your lord uncle.” Lady Pol shrugged. “Maybe Dwayne’s.”

Why him? “What if I dueled you for it?”

“What?”

Magdala shrugged. “Isn’t that why people dueled? For stakes?”

Lady Pol gave her a look. “People dueled for all sorts of reasons.”

Magdala waved that off. “Still.”

“Hmm.” Lady Pol peered at Magdala. “Is this about Dwayne?”

Magdala’s face flushed. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Although, wouldn’t it be fun to talk with him about it later?

“Hmm.” Lady Pol began to walk away. Then she stopped and glanced back at Magdala. “Are you coming?”

“What? Yes. Yes!”

Magdala followed Lady Pol to the other side of the cabin, where an oval with two squares drawn at either end had been delineated in stone.

“You’ll stand here.” Lady Pol pointed at one square. “I’ll go there.” She strode over to the other. “We’ll do this properly, although without most of the rules your lord uncle made because I can’t be bothered to remember them. The main thing is this: the duel continues until one of us is pushed out of our square, is forced to yield, or can’t cast. Understand?”

Magdala nodded.

“Good. Now, normally we’d raise rapiers to signal ready, but in lieu of that, we’ll raise our hands. When we drop them, we start.”

Magdala’s eyes widened. “You have a rapier too?”

“Somewhere.” Lady Pol raised her hand. “Ready?”

“There aren’t any other rules?” Magdala asked.

“Like I said, I can’t be bothered to remember the others. Ready?”

Finally, doubt snuck its way into Magdala’s mind. She was about to duel the one mage who could credibly claim to be a better duelist than her mother and could fling lightning bolts as easily as she could transmute fluids. Unfortunately for doubt, that was all the more reason to be excited because despite only having a Qe core, a rudimentary grasp of Qe spells, and extensive knowledge of nQe spells, victory was still visible. She had to strike first.

Slipping her left hand into her pocket, Magdala took hold of the Qe core and raised her other hand. “Ready.”

Lady Pol smiled. “Good, now-”

Magdala dropped her hand. “Qescreenutchim!”

Pond water rushed to her side and pooled at her feet, making it easy for her to drop down and thrust her hands into the water. “nQe-”

“Qemilo!”

Wind blasted Magdala out of her square, depositing her near the cabin.

“I suspect that would have been quite impressive,” Lady Pol was inspecting her nails, “but I had no reason to wait to find out. You do know how to prep spells, right? Dwayne said you’re quite good at it.”

Heat flooded Magdala’s face. Dwayne had told her that? “You didn’t use a prepped spell.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Magdala stood up. “Again.”

“What’s in it for me?” Lady Pol crossed her arms. “What stakes are you offering? One does not duel for amusement.” Her stance loosened as she planted her feet wide. “Traditionally one duels for love, pride, or vengeance. Which do pick, young Gallus?”

“I told you.” Magdala returned to her square. “I want you to tell me about Rionutte.”

“Why?”

Why did she care? “She made her own way. I want to as well.”

“Ah, I see.” Lady Pol lifted her chin. “And? What’s in it for me?”

Good question. Honor? This duel was frivolous. Money? Lady Pol was rich. Pride? “You can say you beat the Water Sage’s daughter in a duel?”

Lady Pol laughed. “Oh, neither of us wants your lady mother to hear about this. No, I’ll take an answer to a question.”

“What’s the question?”

“Lose two more times, and you’ll find out.” Lady Pol raised her hand. “Ready?”

The rule was they both had to put their hands up, and this time Magdala wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. She prepared two spells, one to pull at the water still pooled at her feet and another to transform it.

After letting them settle in her mind, she raised her hand. “Rea-”

Wait, what about Qemilo? She wasn’t fast enough to stop it. Change of plan. She dropped her hand. “‘rut!”

When the water at her feet rushed upwards, she thrust her hands into it. “ ‘em!”

“Qemilo!”

Lady Pol’s spell slammed against a solid wall of warm ice, which gave Magdala enough time to think of her next move. What if she-

“‘amde.” Another second gust of wind blew in from Magdala’s left and sent her tumbling out of the ring and towards the forest.

“Better,” Lady Pol watched Magdala make her way back into the oval, “but surely the daughter of the Lord Commander can think more than one step ahead.”

Magdala winced as she returned to her square. It wasn’t fair. Every inch of the oval was Lady Pol’s to manipulate while Magdala only had a little bit of water, and speed wasn’t working, which meant shock-and-awe was impossible. Dwayne could probably deal with the wind, she’d seen him block dragon’s fire, but she wasn’t him and he wasn’t here. Although, Dwayne had described what he’d done to fight off those bandits who’d attacked Sanford. That was an idea.

“Hmm.” Lady Pol tapped her chin with her fingers. “I might as well ask the question now. What do you, young Magdala Gallus, want?”

Magdala finished prepping her spells. “I thought you were going to ask when I lost?”

“I’m just saving time.” Lady Pol raised her hand. “Ready?”

Hopefully. Magdala raised her hand. “Rea-”

“Qemilo!”

Before the wall of air hit her, Magdala had already dropped to the ground. “‘em!”

nQerikwem liquefied the muddy ground and she sank into it, her new position giving her the leverage she needed to weather Lady Pol’s attack. Then she slapped the ground. “‘em!”

nQerm shifted the water in the mud to mist, hiding her from view.

“‘Qetork’!”

Why only half a spell? Whatever. Lady Pol’s mistake gave Magdala time to scoop up two balls of mud, form them into bowls, and fill them with muddy water and wet pond reeds. After two quick applications of nQerm, she now had two sleep bombs. One, she immediately tossed in Lady Pol’s direction, the other she threw up high.

“Cups, what is that? Qemilo!”

The spell blew away Magdala’s foggy cover, revealing that Lady Pol had taken one step to the right to avoid Magdala’s first bomb.

That meant she’d won.

The other bomb hit the ground in front of Lady Pol and burst, releasing its soporific contents.

The older mage didn’t even flinch. “Qemilo.” The fumes dissipated. “‘aerotem!”

The air above Magdala crackled and roared into a tiny tempest, the result of the spell Lady Pol had used to strike down a giant mantis down in the bowels of Yumma. Earlier, she’d been setting up this spell and now Magdala had no way to block it.

She threw her hands up. “Yield. Yield!”

“Good. You’re not as stubborn as your lady mother. Qeit.” As her tempest faded, Lady Pol crossed the field to peer down at Magdala. “I believe rules twelve, fifteen, and twenty-one forbid this exact thing,” her eyes twinkled, “because your lord uncle kept burrowing like a talpa. Need help?”

“He did?” Magdala took Lady Pol’s hand and allowed herself to be pulled out of the muck. “I thought you said he was bad at this.”

“He was terrible at dueling but great at breaking the rules. So,” Lady Pol slapped Magdala on the back, “you feel any better?”

“I…” Magdala’s eyes widened. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. I figured a little exercise would help. A born fighter like you must hate the classroom.”

“Fighter?” Magdala frowned. “Not a duelist?”

“Oh, you’re a terrible duelist.” Lady Pol laughed. “Just like your lord uncle, we’d have to add rule addendum after addendum to contain you. Trying to knock me out was great fighting instinct and definitely illegal.”

“Thank you?” Magdala flushed. “So do you want your answer now or…”

“Not yet. ‘em.” Wind gathered under Lady Pol’s cloak. “Think about it first.”

Then she was gone.