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student does. That’s why you must be cured of your perversion. It’s disgusting, dishonorable, the way mages can wreak havoc with normal folk!”
    No wonder the abbey atmosphere was crushing. Meekly, Tory asked, “Is it known why magic doesn’t work here, Mrs. Grice?”
    “The ancient monks found a way of blocking magical power so their prayers would not be corrupted.” The headmistress looked wistful. “Perhaps their method will be rediscovered someday so magic can be suppressed throughout all of Britain.”
    “How can magic be suppressed when it’s legal?” Tory asked, startled. “Common people use it regularly.”
    “Which is why they are common,” Mrs. Grice said with distaste. “Eliminating magic will make this a better, stronger, more refined nation. Our goal at Lackland is not just to cure young people of good birth, but in time to end magic everywhere.”
    The headmistress’s vehemence was downright scary. While Tory wanted to get rid of her magic, it seemed wrong to take the power away from people like Molly, who found it useful. “How does the abbey cure students, ma’am?”
    “You will receive lessons in magical control. When a student’s control becomes strong enough, her magic can be permanently suppressed.”
    “How is that done?”
    Mrs. Grice frowned. “Work hard and you will learn when the time is right.”
    A knock sounded on the door. After Mrs. Grice called admittance, a youngish woman entered. Her appearance was neutral to the point of invisibility. Average size, average face. Brown hair, brown dress, light brown eyes, a darker brown shawl. A wren, not a robin. Tory thought she might be around thirty, though it was hard to judge her age.
    “This is Miss Wheaton, teacher of magical control,” the headmistress said. “Miss Wheaton, this is our newest student, Victoria Mansfield. Prepare her.”
    The teacher said in a soft voice, “This won’t hurt, Miss Mansfield.”
    She put a light hand on Tory’s head, closed her eyes a moment—and Tory’s world changed again. Though her magic had diminished as soon as the carriage entered Lackland Abbey, she realized now that she’d retained some awareness.
    Now even that was gone. She felt as if she’d been struck blind and deaf. This stripping away of her remaining power had to be done by magic—yet how could Miss Wheaton do such a thing in the abbey, where magic was supposedly blocked? Miss Wheaton said reassuringly, “Being magically blocked feels very strange, but you’ll grow accustomed. Tomorrow your academic and magical abilities will be tested so we will know how best to cure you.” She inclined her head. “Good day, Mrs. Grice.”
    Miss Wheaton left, moving so quietly she probably wouldn’t leave footprints in mud. The headmistress said sternly, “Don’t waste time thinking about your former life, Miss Mansfield. Your future depends on how hard you are willing to work at being cured of your vile abilities.”
    Another knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Mrs. Grice called again.
    This time a young girl entered the office. With her slight build and flaxen hair spilling about her shoulders, she looked like a child, but her huge, pale green eyes were not young.
    “Miss Campbell will show you around the school, then take you to your room.” The headmistress pursed her lips. “There is only one empty bed available, so you must share Miss Stanton’s room. Work hard, Miss Mansfield, and Lackland Abbey will serve you well.” She looked down at her papers.
    Silently, Tory followed her guide from the room. Her prison sentence had begun.

 
    CHAPTER 6

    In the passage outside the headmistress’s office, Tory’s guide turned right, away from the front entrance. The other girl was shorter than Tory, who was not tall. As they fell into step together, Tory asked, “Do you work here, Miss Campbell?”
    “No, I’m a student also,” the other girl replied. “We usually use Christian names here. I’m Elspeth.”
    “My