Legacies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,83
of crafts in Art Class and Ms. Holland was willing to let them have stuff for special projects. Some of the other girls had seen her working and offered to trade for some to give as gifts, so Spirit was doing that, too, since it would look odd if she didn’t.
She didn’t dare do anything that would look odd.
The most frustrating thing about the so-called vacation was that everyone got extra-heavy homework assignments and “special projects” to do during their week off, just as if they weren’t already snowed under with homework all the rest of the year. That at least Spirit could ignore—there’d be time enough after the twenty-first to do it. Memorizing this spell was more important. Because if she didn’t memorize it perfectly, it wouldn’t matter whether she’d done her homework or not.
And Oakhurst seemed determined to present her with the whitest of White Christmases; because it hadn’t stopped snowing once in the past seven days.
How are we going to get out of the school without being noticed? Spirit thought, staring out her window in anguish. She thought she knew now why so many kids preferred second floor rooms—the windblown snow had already drifted as high as her windowsill. Even if they could manage to walk through it, they’d leave footprints that would be visible for miles.
Someone else is going to have to come up with a solution for that one. I’ve got enough to do with this, she thought grimly. Jaw set, she reached under her mattress and pulled out the sheet of paper that held the written-out spell.
Today was December eighteenth.
She had three more days.
From the end of the day on Friday—when classes were over for an entire week—the entire student body took to the great (and cold) outdoors. Even kids who’d loudly complained about the weather from the fall of the first snowflake spoke excitedly of their plans. And no wonder: winter at a school for magicians was a whole different season from winter anywhere else.
The first inkling Spirit had of that fact was when she looked up from her study of the spell on Saturday to discover that the snowdrift outside her window had vanished.
It hadn’t melted. It had been removed. The snow looked as if someone had come along with a giant ice-cream scoop and just scooped it all away. What the heck?
Maybe the snow’s demonic, she thought, faintly dazed. She’d certainly been doing the Spell of Dismissal enough times to banish every demon in the entire state of Montana. But there wasn’t any time to really ponder the question. It was nearly lunchtime, and she couldn’t skip going to the Refectory, no matter how little she felt like eating. It wasn’t that anybody would actually care if she skipped a meal, but Kelly would be sure to ask her if anything was wrong, and . . . Spirit wasn’t sure she could survive anybody being nice to her. Not right now.
It was just as well she did decide on lunch in the Refectory, because she received her answer to the puzzle of the missing snowdrift.
“—not enough snow yet to make a proper rink,” Burke was saying to Loch as she arrived, “but everyone’s impatient, so the Jaunting Mages are grabbing it from everywhere.”
“You wouldn’t think you’d need any Ice Mages in this weather,” Loch said. His skin was red with cold. He must have been outside all morning, Spirit thought, and repressed a flash of irritation. Why shouldn’t he goof off? Loch doesn’t have a whole spell to learn by heart!
“But the water just won’t freeze fast enough—no matter how cold it is out there,” Addie said. “So the Jaunting Mages help the Air Mages pile up a big snowdrift, and the Fire Witches turn it into water. Then a Water Witch—or two—holds it steady until an Ice Mage can turn it into ice.”
“Presto—instant skating rink!” Loch said. “Wow, that’s some trick!”
“Not quite ‘presto,’ Loch,” Addie said, smiling. “But they built the rim for the rink this morning and filled in a lot of it. Once there’s a solid block of ice, it won’t matter if it warms up outside—and a Fire Mage can just melt the top when the surface gets too cut up.”
“Better than a Zamboni,” Burke added lamely.
“Not that I’d call fifteen below zero warm,” Muirin muttered, shivering ostentatiously. She darted a questioning look at Spirit.
“Me, either,” Spirit said unconvincingly. How could they all sit here and talk about ice skating rinks when in a few days they’d