Lucky Rabbit

The next day was much like the first, except that the students moved through the halls with more confidence. Fewer students could be seen staring at their notebooks or scribbled maps, and almost everyone was on time for breakfast. Like dinner, it was mostly the live-in students at breakfast, and there were only a few teachers to watch over the smaller number of children. It was far less formal than dinner, and consisted of only one course, with all of the food delivered at once.

The chancellor was there, and when he stood, his gaze lingered ever so briefly on the table under which Pandy sat, half of a lettuce leaf dangling from her mouth. “I hope that you all had a good first day, and that each succeeding one is better and better,” he said. “I do have a few notes, which I hope that you will take to heart going forward. First, when cleaning the classrooms, it is not acceptable to draw anatomically impossible images on the chalkboards. Each teacher handles this in their own way, so proceed if you must, but make certain the images reflect the education in biology you have received at this institution.

“Secondly, we do have a pool created through the joint efforts of Water and Earth Elementalists, and everyone will have an opportunity to learn to swim in that pool. Please do not attempt to get ahead of the planned curriculum by entering any other bodies of water you may find on school grounds. While we appreciate the enthusiasm, Mrs. Farrier would like to remind you that mud stains are quite difficult to remove. Anyone caught doing so in future will be assigned to Mrs. Farrier for chores until such time as she believes you properly understand the extra work you have created.”

Now the gray eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were definitely resting on their table, and the children’s feet shuffled uncomfortably. Thaniel’s wet, muddy clothing had gone into the basket in the hall that morning, along with Isidor’s much cleaner items. Pandy had winced when she saw them, having experienced the difficulty of washing such things for herself. Of course, Mrs. Farrier probably had magic to help, but on the other hand, she definitely didn’t have a washing machine or proper laundry detergent, so there was that.

Homeroom was reading, writing, math, history, and all the basics. Some of the first-years were still learning their numbers and letters, while others could already read polysyllabic words and do simple multiplication. Mr. Rowe divided them up into groups according to their abilities, assigning a more advanced student to lead each smaller group, and gave each group their own assignment. Somehow the teacher still managed to be wherever he was needed, and though Pandy spent most of the time watching birds fly in and out of the tree branches outside the window, she wondered if that was a skill or a Skill. Did Mr. Rowe have Blank Stare Alert at level eighteen?

All of the students were at lunch, and it was a rowdier affair than the day before. For the most part, the teachers taking their turn on Lunch Duty watched over it all with bemused and rather indulgent expressions, until a second- or third-year student launched a meatball toward another boy. A teacher lifted a hand, the meatball froze in midair, and a pair of fifth-years wearing armbands escorted the offender from the dining hall. He would probably spend chore time scooping horse manure, but no one actually looked either surprised or upset by his antics.

Sir Harriet assigned the boys in Combat Training to groups as well, and she was as good as Mr. Rowe at somehow always being in the right place at the right time. Only instead of answering questions about which direction the number three should face, or what year East and West Altheric split, she somehow always managed to catch a wooden weapon before it cracked someone’s skull, or pluck a flying sword from the air after it slipped free from a sweat-slick grip.

Thaniel was rather disappointed to find that he was in a group with the smallest, least prepossessing boys. That disappointment was significantly diminished when he realized that one of the boys hidden behind a helmet was Abbington. The other boy was of average height and had a solid build, but his stance and footwork were so bad that he was placed with the smaller boys. He was also far too diffident, and probably would have been pummelled by the students his own size.

Fortunately, while Thaniel was small, he was fast and learned quickly, so soon he was helping Abbington, while the other two boys in their group were sparring against each other. Sir Harriet came over, folded her arms across her chest and watched them critically for a moment, then nodded and walked off, leaving them to it.

Governance and Leadership was both the most boring and the most interesting of all the classes. Mrs. Lovett droned on for quite a while, throwing names and dates out like they were seeds for particularly indiscriminate birds, before someone knocked on the door. She went to answer it, and when she returned, she looked tight-lipped and upset.

“King Micah, would you please take over for the rest of the class?” she asked. “I have an emergency, and won’t be back today. Just begin discussing laws, taxes, and trade. Each town has a list of what they need in order to keep their populace fed and housed, as well as what they have to sell. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Micah had been sitting with his two ‘dukes’, while the ‘guards’ watched, looking bored and a little jealous. No one had really been listening to Mrs. Lovett anyway, but they were all shocked when she simply left, abandoning a room full of six-year-olds.

Everyone turned to stare at Micah, and judging by their expressions, Pandy guessed that this was the first time some of them had ever had so much freedom, even if they did have to stay in the room. Micah looked rather panicked, then glanced at the two dukes and the guards and began to grin.

“You guys can all talk to each other and figure out that trade stuff,” he said, waving at the rest of the students. “We’re going to come up with some laws.”

And for the most part, that was what they did. Unlike the children in Pandy’s world, they didn’t begin throwing spitballs, send each other texts, or take away anyone’s books or shoes. She’d been in a few classes where throwing desks or chairs wouldn’t have been out of the question, either, but these kids were so used to following the rules that it simply didn’t occur to them to do anything so destructive.

Thaniel went back and forth between his two ‘towns’, neither of whom were allowed to speak to each other directly. They were supposed to be so far apart that travel between them took three days, and since they were small, poor towns, no one who lived there had the time or ability to make such a journey. That left them open to exploitation by the trader, but Thaniel just tried to find out what each one needed, and get it from the other one. One was a farming town, while the other had a quarry and an iron mine, so for the most part, this worked out.

Micah and his cronies didn’t finish their discussion before the bell rang for the end of class, but Pandy heard a little of what they were whispering among themselves, and none of it sounded good for their ‘country’. Still, she thought she knew what Mrs. Lovett was up to, and she was curious to see how it would work out.

That left small group, and Thaniel and Pandy met the other four children on the stairs up to their classroom. They exchanged determined nods, and when they entered the room, they did it together. That ended almost immediately as Ms. Wellington split them up, sending Thaniel, Abbington, Geraldine, and Isidor to the four corners of the room, while Eleanor was placed in the middle. A shaft of sunlight shone in through the window, illuminating the princess, almost like a spotlight, while the other students were cast in shadow.

“Today, we’re going to attempt to use innate magic again,” Ms. Wellington said, her tight lips parting just enough to enunciate carefully, as if the children were three years old, rather than six to almost seven. She lifted a small potted plant from the windowsill and brought it over to Eleanor.

“Now, normally, a Nature or Earth affinity would be best for working with a living plant or animal. However, Ellie’s innate magic does not yet have an elemental affinity, so I’m quite certain that she will be able to use her magic to help this poor flower.” She lifted the pot, and sure enough, the daisy growing in it was drooping sadly, its head and leaves lowered in a limp curtsey.

Eleanor’s eyes widened as she saw it properly, and she reached out, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. As soon as her fingers got close to the plant, it perked up, the blossom turning toward the girl as if she was the sun. The green of its stem and leaves deepened, the petals began to glisten, and the yellow center brightened into its own kind of sunshine.

“Excellent!” Ms. Wellington said, holding up the plant so everyone could see. “As easy as that. When you have talent, it always finds a way.” She tittered, lifting one hand to cover her mouth, and Eleanor cringed, though she still looked like she wanted to snatch the flower from the teacher’s hands.

Crossing to Thaniel, Ms. Wellington shoved the plant into his face and snapped, “Burn it.”

Thaniel recoiled, glancing at Eleanor. “I can’t-”

“Of course you can,” the woman said. “Fire is one of the elements, and innate magic can do anything, so long as you try hard enough. Perhaps you can even influence your own element, given sufficient effort.”

At this, Thaniel bit his lip, but looked a little bit hopeful. Pandy could understand why. After all, she knew he had Dark magic, and while she wasn’t certain if he’d admitted it to himself yet, she was certain that that was the one elemental alignment he didn’t want. Ms. Wellington, therefore, was dangling something very tempting in front of him. What if he could change his magic, and before anyone knew what he was? Just because no one had ever done it before didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

“Well?” Ms. Wellington asked, moving the pot a little closer.

Cautiously, Thaniel reached out, closing his eyes, his hand shaking as he touched the tip of his finger to the stem of the plant. “Fire,” he muttered. “Just make…it…hot…” His brow furrowed as he concentrated.

A black spot appeared on the stem beneath his fingertip. The stain grew outward, and wherever it passed, the vibrant green faded back to dullness, then further still, until the once-lovely flower bent in on itself, curling into a gray, then black mass, and finally crumbled into ash that slumped into the dry, brown soil in the pot.

Ms. Wellington had her back to the others, and as the dust that was once a flower swirled in something like the final sigh of a corpse, her eyes widened. For the first time, Pandy could see that they were a green and bronze color, framed by lashes almost as thick and curly as Thaniel’s. If they weren’t always narrowed in distaste or anger, they would have been pretty.

Pandy pressed herself against Thaniel’s ankles as the boy opened his eyes, desperate hope and a deep fear warring on his face. She fully expected Ms. Wellington to call him out or ridicule him in front of the others, but instead the woman yanked the pot down, hiding it in her skirts as she turned. She crossed to the window and shoved it behind a stack of sheet music, then turned and plucked two more pots from the windowsill. Each of them contained a sad little plant, though not all were flowers.

“Each of you come and take one,” she said, not looking at Thaniel, whose face was filled with confusion. “I want you to spend the rest of the period attempting to bring the plant back to full health. You may do this via whatever technique you like, but I expect results.”

She swept her gaze over the children, who were already returning to the center of the room. “You are not allowed to assist each other,” she said sternly. “Each of us must stand on our own merits in life. If you are weak, you will fail. If you fail, no one will help you back up.”

If that was truly how she felt, it went a long way to explain why she always looked so angry and unhappy. Not that anyone had ever helped Pandy, either, and she didn’t decide to become a mean, bitter dragon hoarding nothing but grudges.

Not surprisingly, Eleanor was easily able to help a second plant, which gave off the deep, rich scent of sage as it stretched out its tiny, quivering branches gratefully. Abbington was moderately successful as well, providing his plant with the water it so obviously needed, though its recovery wasn’t nearly as miraculous as Eleanor’s. Neither Isidor nor Geraldine could help their plants, though the girl did manage to do what Thaniel didn’t, and set her plant on fire, something which caused both her and Eleanor a fair amount of distress. Thaniel wasn’t given another plant, and just watched the others, looking lost.