Do you know these walls are a thousand years old?
There are spirits moving through them who speak languages no one is left to understand. But it doesn’t matter, I guess. Nobody hears them.
The walls are the same as when I walked them. The Chapel. The Tower. The drawbridge.
The wolves are new. The fish-beasts. Where did Davy find them, I wonder? What spell did he cast to bring them here? And what does he think they’ll prevent?
“Paranoid,” Mit always said. “He thinks everyone’s out to get him.”
“I think a few people might actually be out to get him,” I argued.
“Only because he’s such a spiteful git,” she said.
“He cares too much.”
“About himself? Agreed.”
“About everything,” I said. “He can’t let any of it go.”
“You’ve been listening to him for too long, Lucy.”
“I feel sorry for him… And if you’d listen to him, you’d realize that he’s making sense. Whycan’tpixies and centaurs with mage heritage come to Watford? And why did my brother have to stay home? Just because he isn’t powerful?”
“Your brother’s an idiot,” she said. “All he cares about is Def Leppard.”
“You know how much it hurt my mother when he was rejected. He has a wand, and he doesn’t even know how to use it. My parents almost got a divorce over it.”
“I know.” Mitali softened. “I’m sorry. But the school’s only so big. It can’t take everyone.”
“We could make it bigger, Davy says so. Or we could build a new school. Imagine that—schools all over the country for anyone with magic.”
She frowned. “But the point of Watford is that it’s the best. The best education for the best magicians.”
“Isthat the point of Watford? Then Davy’s right. It is elitist.”
Mit sighed.
“Davy says we’re getting weaker,” I said. “As a society. That the wild, dark things will wipe us from the earth and let it reclaim our magic.”
“Does he tell you that they live under your bed?”
“I’m being serious,” I said.
“I know,” she said sadly. “I wish you weren’t. What does Davy expect you to do? What does he expect from any of us?”
I leaned towards her and whispered my answer—“Revolution.”
***
I’ve been wandering.
Trying to find my way to you.
The walls are the same. And the Chapel. And the Tower.
The neckties are thinner. The skirts are shorter. But the colours are the same…
I can’t help but feel proud of Davy now—you’ll think that’s funny coming from me, but I can’thelpbut feel proud of him.
