Oracle (Book I)

Prospective Pupils

Stunned, outraged, Karrigan Whitehare said, "You can't be serious. They are servants. They've no right attending school and learning. And how wastefully frivolous! As if they could."

Caprice's heart skipped as Professor Earithean regarded Karrigan levelly and unflinchingly.

"I am perfectly serious. At Oracle they do have that right. Oracle does not recognize Caprice Bilberry or Thierry Bilberry as your property or the property of the Whitehare Estate. Nor does Oracle hold itself accountable to the current laws of your village. Furthermore, these two are, at this moment, your fellow prospective students here: Witches equal to you. They may come or go as they please."

Cheeks pinkening, Karrigan stamped her heel. Caprice jumped, even as her hand curled up and an emotion she'd never allowed to trickle through to the surface plucked her nerve: Irritation.

"We shall see about this once I've spoken with my father!" Karrigan sent them a glare.

Rank fear constricted Caprice's chest but Earithean didn't bat an eyelash.

"If you will follow me."

There was a brief, stunned silence. Karrigan flicked a bit of invisible lint from her cape. Caprice started breathing again.

"Cappy, Thatch. The bags. Now," she turned up her nose and strode after the professor.

Bossa pursed her lips and cocked a brow at the two of them. Caprice looked at Thierry. Still wide-eyed, her brother shrugged. Together, bags left but likely not forgotten, they followed in Professor Earithean's wake. Stopping, Caprice jogged back and put the travel bag on the floor with the rest of the Whitehares' belongings, arms aching to dump it there.

Caprice eyed Earithean's beautiful, flowing robes and absorbed her no-nonsense presence. Never in her life had Caprice seen her kinfolk dressed so finely before. Earithean alone is as impressive and terrifying as Bossa pointing a wand at the Whitehares, Caprice thought as she glanced surreptitiously at the other girl. Maybe more so, in a way. After all, she had just told the Whitehares that they were free. That they were equals. She looked at Thierry. Can it be true? Her brother eyes were still wide and he didn't say anything. Surely speaking would shatter the dream.

Alastair studied the corridor like the only thing that could make it all better was silver pouring out of the walls. "Professor Earithean, what was that? Before you came in?"

"Yes, is your school also haunted in addition to" —Karrigan looked pointedly at the professor and it was much like the look she had given Bossa while demanding her surname— "substandard hiring practices."

A tendril of anger licked to life in Caprice's chest, joining the irritation. Another emotion she had learned through pain to check carefully. Even if she had wanted to say something to Miss Karrigan, the words weren't there. She had never once talked back to the girl.

"I beg your pardon?" Earithean's reply was said in the same practical tone as most everything else she had said thus far despite Karrigan's obvious slight.

"Now, now, Karri." To the professor, Alastair explained, "Before you arrived in the Main Hall, just before, there was a ghostly woman. She vanished when you appeared. You walked right into whatever it was."

Earithean glanced over her shoulder. "I don't know what you're talking about, Master Whitehare. There were only the four of you and Miss Bossa." She faced forward and strode on down the corridor. "Keep up."

This hall was cool, dark and rich with plush carpeting and carved columns. Though it did have the same burning crystal sconces as the previous room, it was elegant but looked more like something that belonged in an old castle. They walked towards the door at the end of the hall. Upon reaching the door, Professor Earithean opened it and gestured them inside with the sweep of a chartreuse sleeve.

Caprice squinted as they entered a large chamber that was abruptly as bright and white as the Main Hall. It's so quiet here, Caprice thought as she was suddenly aware of her own racing heart again. If a pin dropped, they would certainly all hear it. A still figure in a white robe and mask sat at the head of the room behind a desk made from the same marble as the chamber. On the desk was an inkwell and a sheaf of parchment. The figure's dark hair, the lines of its clothes, and the molding of the desk were the only things distinguishing them from the rest of the hall. Like the Grand Hall, the room was lined in heavy wooden doors, polished but otherwise as rectangular and unremarkable as any door. In the center of the room was a large stone dais that stood up to Caprice's waist. As they approached, Caprice saw that a map engraved the dais. Glinting red rubies were set in dozens of spots on the map, some large as walnuts and others small marbles.

"This is the Hall of Halls. No doubt you will become familiar with it since it's a shortcut through the entirety of Oracle's campus," said Professor Earithean.

"Shortcut," Alastair said.

"Yes, Master Whitehare. Oracle is quite vast, as you'll soon learn."

One of the doors opened and a slender, pale woman in sky blue robes appeared. She was blond, like the Whitehares, only not platinum but a sunny flaxen color styled in loose curls around her shoulders.

"Good afternoon, I am Professor Skyla."

"Now, you do look familiar, Professor," Karrigan frowned curiously. "Skyla... Lady Nobles... Sorceress Skyla Nobles!" Pale eyes flashing with excitement, she stepped closer. "Why, you haven't aged a day! And you've been missing for about one hundred years." She picked up her dove gray skirts and curtsied. "I have read all of your written works. You are the admiration of generations of young witches. An honor, such an honor, my Lady."

Caprice, Bossa, and Thierry looked at each other...and all shrugged. Earithean drew a quiet breath and looked on with mild curiosity that was likely feigned. Caprice looked at the woman's face and didn't recognize her at all. Rather than studying the faces of pureblood aristocrats, she had found her concentrations on watching the floor until they commanded her to look at them or sent her on some manner of errand. It was entirely possible that she didn't recognize this white woman because she had never looked at her face.

"Am I in the history books now?" Skyla was still smiling, as she had when she'd come through the door on the other side of the room, but it didn't reach her eyes anymore.

Sweeping his cape aside, Alastair strode forward, took Professor Skyla's hand, and bowed over it.

"Sorceress Nobles, it is an honor." To everyone else, he snappily flapped his hand. "Bow. This witch is a member of one of our oldest and most prominent pureblood wizarding families. I must say, your descendants have looked for you for all these years. Is Oracle where you disappeared to?"

"Please, as a student here, I insist you call me Professor Skyla." Apologetically but resolutely, she extracted her hand. "I teach Basic Spells and the Enchanted Travels course."

Karrigan's gaze melted and she touched a hand to her cheek. "Detailing your travels around the world, correct? To exotic locales--Indian Lands, the Ivory Coast, the Silk Roads, oohh!"

Skyla's smile brightened again and she smoothed her pretty blue robes. "Well, yes." With a bit of pride, she added, "But Enchanted Travels is an upper level course. Decide if you want to enroll first and, if so, consider it for the future. Which leads me back to our tour. If you will follow me." Over her shoulder, she said, "A tour of the astronomy wing's observatorium should most definitely convince you more than any course I teach."

As Professor Skyla led the Whitehares to one of the doors behind her, Professor Earithean said to the remaining two prospectives, "Afterward, we will meet in my office and discuss your official enrollment. You may come along for the tour if you like, Pupil Bossa. No doubt you and Miss Bilberry will make fast friends and Master Bilberry may have questions a junior student like yourself can answer."

"I'm a senior," Bossa muttered, pursing her lips.

"Until you pass my lessons, you're not. Come along."