Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel, Cat Kimbriel

contained
their own pumps!
    One thing I noticed immediately, as soon as we crossed into
the second floor of the south wing. It was much warmer in this hallway, warm
enough that I did not need my shawl.
    “ Is
the house being worked on?” I asked as I examined a large window at the end of
the second floor. I could not feel any draft from the window or its frame.
    “ No,
why do you ask?” Margaret said quickly.
    “ This
side seems much better insulated than the main house.”
    Margaret smiled. It was a nice smile, revealing dimples and
adding sparkle to her smooth English features. “It’s a spell, of course. The
Livingstons have created a way to link various power sources into the wings, so
the rooms are quite comfortable. They don’t heat the parlor, dining areas or
the entryway, except from the fireplaces. In case people who are frightened of
magic come to the house.”
    “ My
room seemed cold this morning,” I ventured.
    “ Professor
Livingston had guests this week who were surveying the facilities with a mind
to sending their children here for school. The wings are warmer than most other
people’s homes even without magic. They are very well . . . chinked,
I think the word is. There are few places in the walls for air to sneak in. The
Livingstons want the parents to feel comfortable sending their children here.”
    “ Do
children without Talent go to school here?” That opened up all kinds of
possibilities. I wondered if this privilege was limited to family members of
practitioners.
    “Yes, they are welcome here. They may even attend classes
discussing magic. It is limited to children who have a parent or other family
members who do have talent. What if they should have a talented child?
Sometimes the power sleeps for a generation or two. Something needs to be in the
family lore—a letter in a family Bible. Something.”
    Margaret seemed a bit upset with this conversation, so I
quickly said: “Shall we go get our coats and see the gardens? What I can see
out my window is wonderful, even in winter!”
    Margaret laughed. “Yes, there are barely words for it! Two
labyrinths, one planted for women, and the other for men, and a huge maze!
There are even greenhouses for fruits and vegetables. Let’s go get our coats.”
    She led the way out the school door onto a cobbled, covered
walkway free of snow. Once inside again, we threaded ourselves up the staircase
closest to Professor Livingston’s room, and found ourselves on the second
floor. This time I saw huge doors to my right, and also looked over the
entrance hall below.
    “This is? . . . ” I gestured as we passed the
doors.
    “A moment.” Margaret tilted toward the doors, listening. “Unoccupied.
They are supposed to put up a warning if it’s being used, but sometimes they
forget.” Margaret opened the door.
    “Here is our ballroom, used for big lecture classes, and for
dances! You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
    “I know many country dances,” I replied. “I know there are
new dances, but there was no one at home to teach me.”
    “We have a class on dancing and deportment,” Margaret said
as she pulled the door closed. “Also we learn about all sorts of manners from
around the world. It is very useful, since students come from many different
countries. Some cultures have rules that dictate manners. For example, you
cannot offer wine to a Jew without making sure you have a bottle a rabbi has
approved. Neither Jews nor Mohammedans will eat pork. Chinese shopkeepers will
never say ‘no’ to you directly, but you can tell that you’re never going to get
an answer—much less the answer you want—by how flowery their phrases of regret
are.”
    Continuing to walk down the hall, Margaret gestured above
and said, “The area above the ballroom is the dome room. It has been shielded
to protect us from any spell casting that goes wrong. We practice ritual and
transformation magic up there.”
    Another large oak door—and where was