A Little Taste of Poison by R. J. Anderson

Mistress Corto had. Why hadn’t she come?
    â€œSeffania said she didn’t make the invocation,” a girl piped up. “That must be why it went wrong.”
    There was a collective intake of breath, and then Paskin muttered, “Moshite.”
    â€œWhat? No!The school would never allow it.”
    â€œEven if she won the Glow-Mor scholarship?”
    Another pause, as everyone digested Paskin’s words. Then a flat voice spoke. “Well, that was a mistake, obviously. They must have felt sorry for her.”
    Anger sparked in Isaveth, filling her clammy skin with heat. She wanted to leap up and defend herself, but her body refused to obey. She was still lying helpless when the door to the workshop creaked open and Mistress Corto’s firm tread crossed the floor.
    â€œOut of the way,” she commanded, and the students shuffled back. Then someone who smelled of herbs was kneeling beside Isaveth, slipping a bony arm behind her shoulders and lifting her head up. The darkness behind her eyes whirled dizzily and she began to retch, but the healer tipped something against her lips that tasted like liquid sunshine, and she swallowed instead.
    It must have been a magical decoction, because the pounding in Isaveth’s head receded. Her strength flooded back, and the healer eased her into a sitting position as she opened her eyes.
    â€œYou’re a fortunate young woman, Miss Breck,” said Mistress Corto. “You could have done far worse than knock yourself out. Can you get up?”
    â€œI . . . think so,” said Isaveth, and the healer, anaristocratic-looking master with a wave of snowy hair and an impeccably trimmed beard, helped her to her feet. He guided Isaveth out to the classroom, and the spellmistress followed, shutting the door behind them.
    â€œUndermistress Kif admits that she did not give you proper instructions,” said Mistress Corto. “She was not expecting you to make such a powerful float-charm on your first effort, let alone behave so recklessly with it.”
    She had been reckless; Isaveth saw that now. She should have guessed that energetic charms were similar to spell-tablets: if you used sudden force to break them, they released sudden power in return. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” she began miserably, but the older woman held up a hand.
    â€œI have talked to Seffania,” she said. “She admits that she encouraged you to test the charm, but she insists she told you to step gently, not stamp with your full weight. Is that so?”
    She hadn’t actually said “gently,” but the rest was true enough. Isaveth nodded.
    Mistress Corto glanced at the healer. “Master Fetheridge, does Miss Breck require any further treatment?”
    â€œAt present, no. If she avoids strenuous activity for the rest of the day and gets plenty of rest this evening, she should be fine.” He patted Isaveth’s shoulder. “Take care, young lady.”
    As the outer door closed behind him, Isaveth braced herself for a tongue-lashing. But Mistress Corto only studied her thoughtfully. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I think you have learned your lesson. You will not test any charms in my class without permission again.”
    Isaveth’s heart leaped as she realized the woman was giving her a second chance. If she’d caused a commotion like that in Master Valstead’s class, he’d have marched her straight to the governor’s office. “No, Mistress,” she said fervently.
    â€œThen we will say no more about it,” said Mistress Corto. “Rest here until class ends, and then you may go.” She strode past Isaveth, heading for the workshop.
    â€œMistress?” asked Isaveth, and the older woman glanced back. “What happened to Eulalie?”
    â€œMiss Fairpont asked to be excused after the test, as she was feeling poorly. I told her she could make up the exercise