Chapter 28
The late afternoon sun shone through the window of Gwendoline's classroom, casting the whole room in a rosy yellow hue. It illuminated the two young women sat in its centre, making Gwendoline's hair look like spun gold and causing Constance's pale skin to gain a pearlescent glow. To the external observer, it might have appeared an unremarkable event as they steadily and calmly prepared ingredients for the next day's potions classes. But both Gwendoline and Constance were absorbed in their own thoughts and reeling from Constance's latest discovery.
For Constance it had been a day of extreme contrasts. Less than twelve hours earlier, she had made a discovery which had caused her whole existence at the college to crumble around her, and yet her day had continued with a frustratingly steady normality. If this were in a novel, such an enormous revelation would be followed by shouting, and explosions of magic as the oppressed burst forth to challenge their oppressor. But Constance had no choice but to continue as normal so as not to rouse Mistress Broomhead's suspicion. It was only after an ever-familiar pattern of teaching classes and hours in the library that Constance even managed to speak to Gwendoline. She had deliberately caught Gwendoline's eye during evening meal in the refectory and the quick-witted Gwendoline had casually made her way over to her after her meal to ask her to assist with prepping for her potions class the next day.
The whole experience was making Constance appreciate just how trapped she was. The college walls loomed around her in a way they never had before, marking the boundaries of her choices and future. Again, and again, the words which Mistress Broomhead had first written to describe her rang clear in her mind "she is of no consequence to anyone". Who could Constance turn to for help, who would believe her word over Mistress Broomhead? Her tutor controlled the currents in her life, pushing Constance to flow in the direction she dictated. Now, after all this time, the crossroads in the route ahead where far less frequent, and it was difficult to see what other path she could follow. Her only real option seemed to be to try and keep going until the end of term, when she could then persuade the Great Wizard's research department to allow her to start her fellowship earlier. But even this plan was dotted with holes – where would she live; would Mistress Chant still want her after her recent conversation with Mistress Broomhead and would she be able to resist Mistress Broomhead's power over her until then?
Gwendoline was experiencing less turmoil than Constance. After the initial shock of Constance's latest discovery, she had remained calmly resolute. She was silently vowing that she would find a method of getting Constance's away from the college as soon as possible. She had been gently and secretly working to develop a plan for some weeks and now it was time to put it into motion.
The golden glow which was illuminating their work bench was suddenly doused in shadow. Both women were roused from their silent contemplation to find Mistress Broomhead looming over them.
"Of course, you are both together. How convenient" Mistress Broomhead said sardonically fixing Constance with a steely stare
"In what way Mistress Broomhead?" Gwendoline kept her tone light and innocent as she drew Mistress Broomhead's gaze away from Constance momentarily
Mistress Broomhead gave no reply. She merely glared silently at Gwendoline for a short time, before bringing her attention back to Constance.
"Come with me, Constance" she ordered
Constance did not have time to react before Mistress Broomhead seized her upper arm in a vice like grip and vanished them both in an instant.
Having grown so accustomed to magically transporting herself, the shock of being the accessory to someone else's spell took Constance by surprise. The dark flagstone floor of Mistress Broomhead's office loomed up beneath Constance's feet and the whole room seemed to tilt and shift as Constance tried to regain her breath and orientation. She steadied herself to find herself staring directly into Mistress Broomhead's unforgiving eyes.
"Tell me Constance, have you recently been in my office without my permission" Mistress Broomhead still hadn't released her firm grip on Constance's upper arm. Constance winced slightly.
"Answer me girl" Mistress Broomhead demanded, using her hold to shake Constance harshly.
"No" Constance replied, the word broken slightly by the movement.
"You are telling me you have not been in here at night. You have not looked at things you should not?"
"What kind of things?" Constance was very aware that Mistress Broomhead both physically and metaphorically held the upper hand and so she chose her words carefully, trying not to reveal too much.
"I believe you know what I am referring to Constance" came the biting reply
Constance took a moment to consider. If Mistress Broomhead was certain that Constance had read the papers in her drawer, then wouldn't she accuse her outright? Demand to hear what she knew? If Mistress Broomhead was staying vague in her accusations, it suggested that she was unsure how much Constance had seen. It seemed Mistress Broomhead merely suspected Constance but was not certain.
"No, I don't" Constance replied firmly.
"I do not understand, Constance" Mistress Broomhead shook her head "why you must always choose the most difficult path. You must understand by now, that I will find out if you are lying to me"
Mistress Broomhead's grey eyes met Constance's own for a split second before Constance realised her tutor was once again attempting to intrude into her thoughts. Reacting as quickly as she could, Constance silently uttered now well-known spell from the Almanac to keep the truth from prying eyes. As soon as the spell was complete, Constance felt the strong grip on her arm release, and Mistress Broomhead's head jerked with a look of frustrated surprise as she was forced to take a step back away from Constance. In her panic, Constance realised she must have underestimated the strength of her spell.
"I see you didn't take your potion last night" this time Mistress Broomhead's words were less of a question and more of a thinly veiled threat. "Well, we shall just have to double the dose"
This time Mistress Broomhead was too quick for Constance. Mistress Broomhead made a deft and barely visible movement of her fingers and Constance felt a cool wave of spell wash over her, sending a shiver down her thin spine. The spell took effect at once and Constance found herself completely immobilised from the neck down. Constance tried to move, but beyond her head she was completely rooted in place. The sensation was uncomfortable and mildly alarming. It reminded Constance of dreams she had as a child, when she knew something was chasing her, but her body seemed to have forgotten how to run.
Mistress Broomhead had now produced a familiar small green bottle from thin air and approached Constance with it.
"Drink" she ordered, raising the lip of the bottle to Constance's lips.
Constance kept her lips tightly closed, using the little movement she had to turn her face away from the proffered potion. Mistress Broomhead reached out and seized Constance's immobile wrist. It was an unnerving feeling for Constance, the only thing which came vaguely similar was the occasions when she'd had to physically move her own arm after she fallen asleep on it and lost all sensation. With a menacing look, Mistress Broomhead slowly began to twist Constance's wrist. Unhurriedly but deliberately she forced Constance's arm to twist round on itself. Constance felt the tendons and delicate bones in her wrist strain and heard a creaking sound in her joint as the bones came close to snapping. She could bear the twisting no longer and let out a cry of pain. Seeking the opportunity, Mistress Broomhead tilted the contents of the green bottle into Constance's mouth.
The potion had its usual bitter taste of herbs, but it was so strong that it caught at the back of Constance's throat causing her to cough. Constance had only a moment to register the grimly triumphant look on Mistress Broomhead's face through her watering eyes before the potion took effect and she felt the darkness descend on her like a dropped curtain. The hard-stone flags of the office floor loomed towards her as her still immobilised body lurched forward rigidly and then everything went black.
