An Exit I Was Not Told About

Wednesday. I have learned that the sanctum has a way out. Not for the formula. For the students.

Any one of them may press a button at any moment, and the door opens and out they go, while the rest of the class carries on without them. The whole hour is watched, too, by gamesmasters with screens, who see everything and drink a great deal of tea.

I had always pictured the sanctum as a cramped little cell, the sort of place a sorcerer keeps a prisoner. It is not. There is no crawling about on hands and knees, no squeezing through gaps, nothing tight or close. And the potions on the shelf bubble in the story only: there is not a wisp of smoke in the place. A girl with a puffer in her pocket went in today without a second thought.

I asked whether there was a button for sorcerers who would like to be let in. They said no. I asked whether they would consider one. They said no again, more kindly.