Interruptions 

“I want all of you to make your own cards with each letter of the alphabet drawn on one side. Quiz yourselves in preparation for the test next week. Are there any questions?”

Mildred’s hawk-like eyes scanned the classroom, catching a movement in the corner near the door. Council Member Porter slipped into the room, eyebrows pulled low. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t exactly asked permission to hold classes again for the servants. Her evening reading class was so full it nearly burst out the window of her old classroom in the servants’ quarters. It was a surly summer evening. So many witches had come that half of them had to stand in the sticky heat.

“Don’t forget to bring a quill if you have one,” she continued as if she hadn’t noticed Porter lurking in the back. “I’ll provide as many as I can, but if we’re this full, I can’t guarantee you’ll have your own. Thank you for coming. You’re dismissed.”

The class hesitated.

“Well?” she cried. “What are you waiting for? Leave! I have another class in twenty minutes.”

Porter pressed himself against the wall as witches filed by, greeting them by name. Mildred watched the servants carefully, noticing their easy smiles and warm affection toward the Council Member. The fact that a busy Council Member—a member of the upper class—would know the individual names of the workers eased her fears. She hadn’t even told her friends about her push for servant education. Knowing Evelyn’s views on the poor, and uncertain that Stella could keep a secret from Evelyn’s shrewd mind, Mildred had simply said nothing.

“We aren’t doing anything wrong!” Lavinia squeaked when she passed Porter, her hair pasted to the sides of her neck from the damp heat. “We aren’t breaking any rules, Council Member! Please don’t get mad at Miss Mildred!”

He smiled to reassure her. “Of course not, Lavinia. Miss Mildred is not in trouble.”

Though she wouldn’t admit to uneasy discomfort in the first place, Mildred breathed a bit better after his promise. The eraser cleaned off the chalkboard in the meantime. Chairs and long tables slid back in order of their own accord. Textbooks flew over to her desk from the tables and stacked themselves in a neat pile. Mildred orchestrated the cleanup without much thought. Teaching had increased her own magical powers, as if sharing knowledge expanded her abilities. Being around so many witches didn’t exhaust her the way it used to, either. Standing behind the desk put her in a different frame of mind, like a barrier preventing her hatred of social events from taking over. In fact, she looked forward to seeing her pupils.

“Do you mind if I talk with you a minute?” Porter asked once the last student had gone. He wore a freshly pressed white shirt that brought attention to the white hues of his gray hair.

“I have a few minutes to spare.”

With the absence of bodies, the temperature of the room fell several degrees. Mildred motioned for him to take a seat, but he opted to lean against a table instead. She didn’t know him well but doubted he would have been so genial if he’d come to shut the operation down.

“Is something wrong, Council Member?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’ve been hearing rumors that education for the servants had started back up again and wanted to find out who was running it. How long has this been going on?”

“Since I started as librarian, really. It was smaller then but has grown.”

“Over a year now?”

“Yes. I run classes every evening and during the day.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“On top of your work in the library?”

“Yes.”

“How many classes?”

“At least six per day.”

“I had no idea you were educating so many. What subjects?”

“Many,” she said. “Most of them need the basics since they can’t read or write. Mrs. F asked me to teach some of the younger cooks incantations that will help them in the kitchen because she doesn’t have the time to critique all of them.”

“And you know all the kitchen spells?” he asked in surprise.

“I do now. Mrs. F taught them to me one night, and now I’m teaching the rest of the kitchen staff at a slower pace. It’s helping efficiency, although many of them are still learning.”

“Impressive,” he murmured, glancing around.

“Do you have any objections?” she asked when the silence became unbearable.

“No,” he said. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I can’t offer to pay you more because of what you’re doing—”

“I’m not doing it for the currency.”

Porter smiled. “I never thought you were. Since I can’t give you currency, please accept my appreciation. It’s not every librarian that would set up something so expansive. I hated firing the teacher that taught the servants and their children. Resources have been very tight.” His eyes grew distant. “They’ll never really succeed in life without an education, and I would never willingly doom them to servitude for the rest of their lives. Do you mind if I ask . . . that is . . . why are you doing it?”

“Education doesn’t belong to one witch.”

He seemed to digest that for a moment, then smiled. “Well, Mildred. Carry on.” He paused halfway to the door before spinning back around on his heel. “Let me know if you have any problems, will you? If anyone approaches you about it, send them to me. I’ll take care of it.”

The queer look in his eyes unsettled her, but he left the room before she could ask what he meant. Problems? Who would approach me?

Mildred stared at the door, then sat in the chair with a sigh. What a strange experience working as a librarian had become. She remained only a moment longer before gaining her feet and preparing for her next class, Beginning Potions.

“I have a new idea, Lavinia,” Mildred said one morning during the second month of Fall, setting an old grimoire on the rough-hewn table top between them. “Look at what I’ve found.”

Lavinia, who sat studiously straight and proper the way Mildred insisted, glanced up from a book of poetry. Her eyes skimmed over the page Mildred showed her, but she didn’t seem to comprehend the tight writing and ancient words.

“What is it, Miss Mildred?”

“That,” Mildred said, pointing to a collection of words in the middle of the page, “is a spell I think we can use to communicate with most of the students. They wouldn’t have to worry about writing letters or sneaking to the library during work to ask me a question.”

Lavinia’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You and I will be the first to try it. What do you think?”

“Of course!”

Mildred placed her hand, palm down, on the table by Lavinia and studied the book for several quiet moments.

“I think I’ve got it,” she said. “Now pay attention and watch my middle finger. I’m not sure this will work on my first attempt, but let’s try.”

Mildred whispered the spell under her breath. A warm tingle started at the bottom of her palm, then radiated through her nerves and into the tips of her fingers. Within a flash, her hand felt hot. A thousand prickles developed under her skin in a swirl. As quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared, leaving a faint light around her middle finger between the second and third knuckle in the shape of a ring. Specks of light appeared above it, one at a time, until Lavinia had to glance away from the brightness. Once it faded, two light gray tattoos remained behind. A whirling ring around her finger sat below the head of a lioness and between the two knuckles closest to her palm.

“What is it?” Lavinia asked, breathless. Mildred opened and closed her hand in a fist. The tingling lingered like the discomfort of plunging a cold hand into very warm water.

“It’s called a silenda,” Mildred said, staring at it with a furrowed brow. She certainly hadn’t intended to put a lioness on her hand. “It’s a communication spell.”

“What is the lioness?”

“My personal symbol, I suppose,” she said, lifting her hand to inspect it. “The grimoire said that every witch’s symbol would be different, based on their personality and magic. I suppose I’m a lioness. Now give me your hand.”

Lavinia hesitated. “Does it hurt?”

“Felt like a very warm bee sting.”

Lavinia rolled her eyes and dropped her hand in Mildred’s. “Father used to take the belt to my back when I got in trouble stealing, so a bee sting’s nothing.”

Mildred skimmed the grimoire again, finding a different spell for extending the silenda to another witch. She pressed their palms together and entwined their fingers.

“I have to bind you to the magic of my silenda,” she said, translating the directions. “Whenever you use this spell to communicate, it will draw from my power.”

Lavinia recoiled in horror. “I can’t take from your magic, Miss Mildred! What if I drain it all?”

“I doubt you could if you tried,” Mildred said with a droll smile. “It doesn’t sound like it requires much magic. I won’t even notice it, I think. The grimoire says, if I’m reading it correctly, that it can be used with hundreds of witches depending on the power of the witch giving it.”

Lavinia didn’t say a word throughout the process; she just stared with intense concentration at the light swirling on her middle finger. When it finished, she pulled away and inspected her hand.

“My symbol is a quill!” Her face scrunched in confusion. “Why do you think it’s a quill?”

“Perhaps it’s something you have to learn about yourself.”

Lavinia drifted into thought until Mildred brought her back to the present.

“Now I’ll teach you how it works on a basic level, although it can be quite complicated if you want more organization,” she said. “Don’t worry about the deeper levels; that’s something I’ll figure out later when we have more students involved. This magic is really quite simple, which is why I chose it. You repeat the incantation and state whatever message you want to send. The shorter, the better. The silenda will transfer the message to my hand. Let me show you.”

Mildred used silent magic for the incantation and sent a message. The quill on Lavinia’s hand rearranged itself into the shape of Mildred’s growling lioness, and the words, Don’t forget your homework, appeared where the ring had once been. They faded after ten seconds, leaving the ring and Lavinia’s quill behind. Lavinia cracked a wide grin.

“It worked!” she breathed. “Oh, Miss Mildred, this is simply wonderful! It will be so easy now.”

Lavinia practiced the incantation, and a careful pronunciation of her words, until she was correct every time.

“Thank you, Miss Mildred!”

“I’ll need to extend the silenda to the rest of the students,” Mildred said, already mapping out a plan. “We’ll do it during class, I suppose. That will be easiest. For those who can’t read, I’ll send a message through the silenda an hour before class starts as a reminder. They can at least recognize my picture. Or I’ll send the homework assignment. There are many possibilities, and this will prevent the flood of letters and the streams of students leaving work to ask questions.”

“Of course, Miss Mildred!” Lavinia said, beaming. “I’m honored that you would trust me to be the first to receive it.”

The shuffle of approaching feet recalled Mildred to her feet and her job. No doubt there were annoyed library patrons trying to find her.

“Thank you, Lavinia,” she said. “I shall see you later this weekend.”

Mildred slipped between the bookshelves, disappearing into the bowels of the library without another word.