Legacies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,11

She could see that Loch was struggling to get up, too, and not having any success.

As the force continued to hold both of them down in their seats, Doctor Ambrosius got to his feet. “You don’t believe in magic, of course. And I am sure that in a few moments, you will have convinced yourselves that I am holding you in place with magnets, or some other such nonsense, and that some artifice moved those bookcases in front of the door.” Behind him, the fire in the fireplace suddenly flared up, only now the flames were blue and green. “And you will tell yourselves that chemicals—and not the exercise of Power—are the cause of what is happening behind me. But the world, young magicians, is a very, very dangerous place for our kind. That danger comes not from discovery by the ordinary, humdrum mortals we live and move among, but from others of our own kind. And I am going to show you just how dangerous a place it is for the unwary.”

Suddenly he spread his arms wide, and his eyes blazed as the fire behind him roared up, in blues and purples now. In seconds, he and his desk ballooned gigantically, and Spirit squeaked in dismay. And squeaked again in fear, as she realized it was not Doctor Ambrosius who’d grown, but she who had shrunk, and when she looked over frantically at the other chair where Loch had been, she didn’t see Loch—

She saw a small and very terrified white mouse.

He’s a mouse! That means I’m a mouse, too! Spirit squeaked again—this time in terror—and leaped without thinking toward the floor. But she wasn’t used to having four legs instead of two, or seeing the world this way—flat and with all the colors dimmed down, and seeing almost all the way behind her instead of just straight ahead—and her uncoordinated limbs went out from under her as she landed. She tumbled like a bit of trash, her nose assaulted by a thousand sharp intense smells from the carpet. She looked around in a frenzy of fear, trying to spot Doctor Ambrosius—

And the biggest owl she’d ever seen in her life dropped down on top of her and seized her in its talons. They were several feet long and sharp as razors. She went limp with terror as pain burned down her—arm?—foreleg. She heard strangled squeaking, and saw that the owl had the other mouse—Loch!—under its other foot.

The bird’s beak opened, and a kind of hooting, hissing speech came from it. “You see, young magicians, just how unprepared you are for the ones that would eat you alive, just as quickly and easily as an owl would eat a mouse.”

The owl flapped its wings, carrying them upward, and as it got over the chair that Spirit had been in, it opened its talons and dropped her into it. She landed on the cushion, bounced once or twice, the breath driven out of her and seeing stars, and then—

Then she was herself again, sprawled over the chair in an awkward and uncomfortable pose, her long blonde hair a tangled mess. She scrambled around into a sitting position, pushing it out of her eyes. Everything hurt.

“Son of a—” Loch held onto one of the arms of his chair with both hands for a moment.

Doctor Ambrosius was standing behind his desk again just as if nothing had happened. He cleared his throat, and they both swiveled their heads to stare at him. “Now you see why you were brought here, and why it is inadvisable for you to leave before you are properly trained.” He made another of those little gestures, and the bookcases slid back from the door. The fire in the fireplace shrank, and turned from purple to blue to green and then to the normal yellow. “I trust that now I have your full attention.” Doctor Ambrosius sat back in his chair.

Spirit nodded.

“Yes sir,” Loch said in a shaky voice.

Doctor Ambrosius did not smile. “There are all manner of magicians,” he said. “The power expresses itself in many ways. We won’t know just what you can do until we have finished testing you. Once we know, you can begin your training in the Arcane Arts. But regardless of your powers, there is a great, wide world out there into which you must fit and remain undetected—and to that end, Oakhurst is as much the school you saw in the brochure as it is a school of Grammery.” The way