Free Schooled in Magic by Christopher Nuttall Page B

pictures of Medusa from the role-playing games, the ones that had been modeled on the legends of Ancient Greece.
    “She’s a Gorgon,” Imaiqah explained, when Emily asked. “It’s very rare for a Gorgon to attend Whitehall, or so we’ve been told. Their society prefers to have nothing to do with the Allied Lands.”
    Emily actually felt her head spin as she tried to wrap her mind around the concept. Classes with a Gorgon? Could she turn people into stone? Wouldn’t her classmates be afraid of her?
    They left the Gorgon behind and, eventually, reached a huge doorway which led into a massive dining room. There were tables everywhere, all crammed with students who were stuffing their faces with all sorts of food, served on giant platters. Bright balls of fire hung high overhead, casting warm light over the dining hall. Emily looked towards the raised table at the front of the room and saw a dozen tutors–they had to be tutors–eating with more dignity, looking up between every bite to make sure that their students weren’t getting into mischief. They seemed a varied lot; a handful looked like traditional wizards, complete with robes and pointy hats, while others looked even stranger. One even looked like a wicked witch, gimlet eyes flashing as she stroked her cat and eyed her students sardonically. Another looked alarmingly like Red Sonja.
    At least none of them look like Professor Snape , Emily told herself.
    Imaiqah pointed her towards the line of pupils waiting for food, jostling one another as the line slowly advanced towards a hole in the wall. A pair of cooks were serving plates of food, something that looked like a hot stew with boiled potatoes and some vegetables she didn’t recognize. One of the cooks smiled at Emily, reminding her of one of her stepfather’s favorite sayings. Never trust a thin cook, he’d said; the cook was fat enough to pass for two people. Clearly, she’d been eating her own cooking.
    “This way,” Imaiqah said, once they had been served. The food smelled strange to Emily, but it was from another universe. “The first-years sit at the rear of the room...”
    “So, the mouse has found a friend,” a new voice said, interrupting Imaiqah.
    Emily looked around and saw a tall girl sneering at them. The speaker had long white-blonde hair, surrounding a china doll face that could only be described as patrician.
    Before she could think of anything to say, the strange new girl went on. “I trust that you will soon learn the folly of your choice.”
    Emily had endured school psychologists and far too many cheerleaders who were ridiculously full of themselves, but she’d never been spoken to in such a condescending manner. But because she was new here, she swallowed the response that came to mind and attempted to ignore the newcomer. It wasn’t easy.
    Finally, she ventured a question. “Umm...who are you?”
    “We are Alassa, Heir to the Throne of Zangaria,” the girl replied. She had the regal dignity act down pat, Emily had to admit, even if she did seem a little surprised. Had she thought that Emily would know her? “You will give us due honor, as we deserve.”
    Emily stared at her–and then started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Maybe a genuine monarch, with years on the throne of her country, could have pulled off the regal act, but Alassa sounded more like she was posturing rather than actually being dignified.
    Alassa’s face clouded rapidly and one hand reached for the wand at her belt. But before she could do anything, Imaiqah caught Emily’s hand and dragged her off towards the tables. Emily would have preferred to stay and exchange barbs–it was her experience that bullies needed to be fought–but her new roommate didn’t give her any choice. Besides, the self-styled Heir to the Throne of Zangaria probably knew much more magic than Emily.
    “She’s a pain in the posterior,” Imaiqah muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot. “If you’re not one of her