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said, flinching under Lady Barb’s gaze. The last time she had tried an unauthorized experiment, it had nearly got her expelled from Whitehall. If the Mimic hadn’t started its murder spree at the same time, she knew it would have been a great deal worse. “I won’t try anything without your presence.”
    “Good,” Lady Barb said. She tapped the table. “You can take the books to your room, if you like, but don’t try to remove them from the house. The wards will take exception to it.”
    She turned and marched out of the library. “There are three floors to this house,” she said, as Emily hurried after. “Don’t try to enter any locked doors; they’re rooms belonging to other members of my family and I can’t vouch for any wards or other unpleasant surprises they might have left behind. Your room is safe, but feel free to erect wards of your own – just remember to dismantle them before we leave the house for good.”
    Emily followed her into a smaller room. “This is the guestroom,” Lady Barb said, by way of explanation. She dismantled a set of stasis wards surrounding the bed, which was larger than Whitehall’s standardized beds but smaller than the beds Emily had enjoyed in Zangaria. “There’s a bathtub in the next room, beside the toilet. You’ll have to use magic to heat the water, I’m afraid.”
    “Ouch,” Emily said. Sergeant Miles had taught her a whole series of spells that would be useful on camping trips, starting with a simple spell to boil water, but he’d also warned her of the dangers. Making the spell too powerful was a good way to get burned. “No hot running water?”
    Lady Barb snorted. “This isn’t Whitehall, you know,” she said. “And everyone who lives here has magic.”
    Emily nodded. Running water was rare outside Whitehall and various aristocratic castles – and hot running water was even rarer. Imaiqah had told her once that she had fallen in love with Whitehall’s showers, even though they were weaker than showers on Earth. But, in many ways, Emily was the only student at Whitehall whose living conditions had actually worsened since coming to the school. Hot and cold running water was one of the things taken for granted on Earth.
    “Get a good night’s sleep,” Lady Barb said, as she turned and headed towards the door. “My room’s at the bottom of the corridor, but don’t disturb me unless it is truly urgent. I don’t like being disturbed at night.”
    “Me neither,” Emily said. She’d had to disturb Madame Razz more than once, when she’d had nightmares after the Mimic had been destroyed. The housemother had not been pleased at all. “And thank you.”
    Lady Barb smiled, rather coldly. “This is the easy part,” she said. “It will get harder – much harder – once we’re on our way.”
    She was right – again. Emily had done enough forced marches with the sergeants to know just how difficult it could be to walk from place to place carrying a bag. There were no cars in this world, no helicopters or airplanes. There was nothing more advanced than a horse and cart for the average non-magical citizen. And she still hadn’t learned how to teleport.
    Pity no one flies broomsticks here , she thought, ruefully. But it would be way too easy to knock them out of the sky .
    Emily watched Lady Barb go, closing the door behind her, before she turned to look around the room. It was bare, no more decorated than any of the other rooms, but there was a simplicity about it that appealed to her. She opened the door and walked down to the kitchen to pick up her bag, then walked back to the room, feeling the wards pressing in around her as she moved. The house felt far less friendly than Whitehall, no matter how much its mistress liked her guest. But the effect faded as soon as she was back in the guestroom.
    She undressed rapidly, then opened her bag and produced the nightgown. She’d never been able to sleep naked in her life, certainly not since her