I should be saying?”
“She's not some secret door in a children's story,” Dagmar said.
Ben cleared his throat, which suddenly felt constricted. He had a fleeting thought: what if this is some sort of preliminary test? It would be highly embarrassing to fail before the actual test had even begun. Ben cast the thought aside and focused on the big green eye.
“Please open your door, Phyliss.”
The eyelid lowered slowly until it looked like Phyliss was again inspecting him. The green pigment swirled within its huge iris and the colour shifted slightly. Ben met the green-eyed stare without batting an eyelid.
The mighty stone door creaked and swung open slowly. The space inside was at least ten feet high, but only just deep enough to put his backpack in. Had he anything else he would have had to stack it on top.
“Your locker space increases with your position in the Institute,” Dagmar said, seeing Ben's look.
Ben placed his bag inside and then stepped back. “How do I shut the door?”
“By using your hands.”
“Fair enough.” He sized up the door; it looked as though it would need three men to move it. But when pushed, he found it surprisingly light and shut with a soft click. The green eye was now closed.
“It must be 10am,” Dagmar noted. “She has gone to sleep. We got here just in time.”
Dagmar turned to Charlie, who was looking a little pale, and introduced him to Ayla. Upon describing her character, Charlie's pale face turned red and, when she had finished, he had only one question.
“Can I have someone – anyone – else?”
“No, you may not. You were chosen by Ayla,” Dagmar said, in that mildly reproachful tone that Ben was starting to find extremely effective.
Charlie's shoulders sagged. He faced up to Ayla and in a timid voice ordered the door to open. Nothing happened.
Charlie stood there awkwardly, before turning to Dagmar.
“Don't break eye contact,” she said sharply. Her voice was like a whip and Charlie span back to face the locker.
“I don't think she likes me,” Charlie said.
“Ask again, and give your voice more authority. You sounded like a mouse.”
Charlie's second attempt was far better, but it still took a good twenty seconds before the door finally creaked open. Charlie sighed and placed his bag inside. He shut the door as hastily as possible and jumped back, out of harm’s way.
They left the cloakroom considerably lighter and continued their way round the hallway.
“Can I store my stuff with you?” Charlie whispered, leaning into Ben.
“What's wrong with yours?” Ben asked, with a little smile.
“Are you serious? Didn't you hear what Ayla is like? I don't want to fear for my life every time I try to go to store my bag.”
“Sharing lockers is not allowed for apprentices,” Dagmar said from ahead. Her ears were as sharp as her voice.
Charlie's eyes narrowed and shot daggers at Dagmar's back, but he said nothing. His anger was quickly replaced with anxiety the moment he spotted the door they were approaching.
The Initiation Test.
The wooden door with its panelled sign looked just like all the others, but this one made Ben's heart motor. They had absolutely no clue what lay inside the door. Would the test require physical exertion? Ben was now wishing he'd eaten a bit more for breakfast in case he needed the energy.
“So if we fail this, we're out?” Charlie asked.
“Technically you were never in,” Dagmar replied, without looking round.
The three of them stopped by the door. Dagmar turned to them. Her face, which had been serious so far, looked more so now.
“The only information I can tell you is that blood will be spilled,” she said, giving them both extended looks.
Both Ben and Charlie waited, in the hope that she would keep talking.
“That's it?” Charlie asked, his voice rising. “You want us to take a test we know nothing about, except that we could potentially face some sort of blood bath?” He started breathing very quickly and took his handkerchief out, dabbing his cheeks and forehead.
“You can choose not to take the test. You will then be escorted out of the Institute and onto the Dragonway, back home,” Dagmar said.
“No,” Ben said immediately. “I'm ready.”
Charlie gave a wistful look down the hallway, the way they had come, and sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I'm not even close to ready, but I'll do it. I just hope you have some first aid spells in your spellshooter, because I'm sure I'll need them.”
“Who will go first?” Dagmar asked.
Ben raised a hand. “I will.”
—