Lucky Rabbit

“Zery?” Augustus asked, a frown of concentration creasing his brow. “Why does that sound familiar? Beeswick?” He turned to the librarian, who was already surrounded by a dozen hovering books.

Pandy was back at Falconet. Once Isidor returned with so much food that his thin body bent beneath it like a sapling bowing to winter snow, the living members of the new Avington household fell on him like starving wolves. Nyssa and Nox had been tasked to watch over them, and Pandy flew back to school in the gathering dusk. There she found Thaniel waiting anxiously for her, and spent a very long night desperately hoping no one was being eaten, murdered, or abducted from her house.

At six a.m. exactly, she shifted to her human shape and placed a green tile on Thaniel’s desk so he’d know she intended to be right back. Then she hopped off to wake up Augustus. Not surprisingly, he was still in bed, once again looking exhausted in spite of supposedly getting most of a night’s sleep, but he got dressed and headed for the library as soon as he heard Pandy’s garbled account of her chat with Aglaea.

Professor Beeswick shook his head, flicking a finger so a particularly thick green tome slid around in front of his eyes. “I have no idea,” he said rather waspishly. Apparently Dragons Did Not Appreciate being woken early, no matter how urgent the matter was. “Look, here’s a list of gods and goddesses followed before Ismara became the dominant deity. Light, Earth, and Water were roughly equal for a long time, but when the Demons rose, Light was the best defense, so most people abandoned the other gods.”

“I doubt they liked that,” Pandy said, making both men turn to look at her as if they’d forgotten she was even there.

Augustus nodded and said, “After a while, even the most devoted followers of the other gods reported that they no longer heard from their deities. Some still cling to their ancestral ways, but by now, most people know that if they have any hope for an answer to their prayers, Ismara’s theology is the best choice.”

Pandy stared at him, turning that over and applying the bits and pieces of god-lore she’d picked up from talking to Keros. Was that when Ismara became the world god? Did the others just move on, relinquishing their claim, or was one of them at the heart of all of this? She knew gods had rules and laws, the same way humans did, and Keros was in trouble because Ismara had apparently wandered off, leaving her world unattended, so he couldn’t get her permission for Pandy to reincarnate there. Which wouldn’t have mattered except that someone else – ‘Zery-wery’ – thought that meant they had an equal claim to the planet.

“If we’re talking god-battles, then should we focus on Dark gods?” Pandy asked, only to have Professor Beeswick give her a look that said he would appreciate it if she’d stop saying obvious things.

“There weren’t very many,” Augustus said, plucking a book from the spinning flurry. The Dragon glared at him but was ignored. Holding out the book, the chancellor pointed to a short list written in a language Pandy couldn’t read. “Dark magic is far more versatile than most people give it credit for, but it is easier to turn to evil than others. Worse, because of the Mind mages, people quickly learned to mistrust even the appearance of honesty and good. By Nora’s time, only a few isolated villages still worshipped them, mostly because almost everyone there was a Dark mage of some sort, and thus able to detect its use.”

“There may still be some that are dominant among distant lands and peoples,” Professor Beeswick said, taking back the book. “But we’re unlikely to find note of them here. If this god rules on the other side of the world, we’ll have no record.”

Pandy frowned. “I don’t think they can be entirely unknown here. Someone definitely said Zery fought – or at least came into conflict with – Ismara before, which ended in a stalemate. Ismara then took control for some reason – maybe because she had more worshippers? – but now that she’s gone, they’re claiming that means they should be in charge instead.”

Really, where was Keros? He could have answered all of this easily. He might even recognize the other god’s name, now that they knew at least part of it. It really was too bad Aglaea hadn’t been able to say the whole thing. Presumably that would have drawn more attention than just saying his nickname, which was bad enough, given the goddess’s reaction.

The Dragon huffed, and the air pressure rose, making Pandy’s ears ring and then pop as she shook her head. “I’m going to focus on records from Old Altheric. Certain areas of East Altheric still worship some of these gods, so they seem the most likely to be causing problems. Maybe they have some older names that I don’t recognize.”

Augustus nodded, tapping his fingers on a nearby shelf as he thought. Turning to Pandy, he said, “Are you certain she said ‘Zery’? ‘Zzzz’, that sound?” He made a buzzing noise, and Pandy barely managed to choke back a nervous snort of laughter. This was obviously a serious question.

“I guess it could have been ‘sss’, but I don’t think so,” Pandy said after a moment. She’d been very close to Aglaea’s lips at the time, and she remembered the shape they’d taken – it wasn’t the half-smile of an ‘ess’ sound.

But Beeswick was staring at Augustus now, and he said, “Not ‘sss’, but ‘Zh’. Look,” he turned the book toward Pandy. “This is the letter for ‘zzz’, and this one,” he moved the tip of one claw from one letter to another, “is ‘zhhh’.” He drew it out, making sure Pandy heard the difference.

Closing her eyes, Pandy shaped the letters with her own mouth, trying to remember what Aglaea said, and the way she looked when she said it. “Yes,” she finally said, “it definitely could have been ‘Zh’. Why?”

The Dragon Librarian flicked half the books away, ending up with a few that were noticeably smaller than most of the others. “That particular sound didn’t occur at the beginning of words in Old Altheric,” he said. “In the middle, yes, but not the beginning.”

“Which means it’s not Altherican,” Augustus said, stepping over next to the Dragon, who stood nearly a foot shorter, but lost nothing in sheer personal impact. “And that’s why I remember it. Look up the name of the chief of the desert nomads when King Lawrence got married. It should be on the tax records.”

Professor Beeswick nodded, already staring into the riffling pages of a book that looked like it had been through at least one fire. The edges were distinctly blackened, and even though the Dragon was using magic to carefully turn the pages, a few tiny fragments were falling, only to be caught up in the constant breeze.

“There were actually many tribes in the desert,” Augustus said absently, apparently just to fill the time while they waited. “But one particular one served as the intermediary between the nomads and the rest of Altheric. In fact, most people believe that Lawrence’s wife was a member of that tribe. There’s no doubt that the majority of the people she lifted to the nobility came from among them. It’s all in the tax records.”

“Death and taxes,” Pandy muttered. Except even death wasn’t assured any longer, was it? Not for her, anyway. “But why don’t you ever say the queen’s name? I mean, I know she was a Demon and all, but if she’s dead-”

Both men froze, and one of the books fell to the ground, lying spine-up, pages curled under, ignored. “A Demon?” Augustus asked. “Why would you say that?”

She blinked. “It said so. In my game. Lawrence met his queen at a ball, ignoring the fact that she had no family or friends. They got married, he went evil, she summoned an army of Demons…” She trailed off. Why did this sound so familiar? And how had she failed to notice before? Or not failed to notice, exactly, but failed to place any importance on it. It was right there, smacking her in the face. But that was lore, and Gacha Love was a romance, and-

“Asparagus,” Pandy whispered. “It was Asparagus all along.”

“What?” Now the confusion in their expressions was a different kind, and Pandy grimaced. Yes, maybe she should have given the Demon Queen a non-vegetative nickname.

“As Clara progresses through the game, she finds these books. They’re not important, and most players ignore them after a while. It’s just background, you know? To give the story depth. Edgar really likes it if you read books, but Dorian actively doesn’t. The other two don’t really care either way, so usually other than a few that give you skills or boons, people don’t bother reading them. But there’s an achievement for reading them all, and it’s the only achievement that allows you to carry bonuses through to a new game, so of course I-” Pandy broke off, seeing that Professor Beeswick had sent all but one book over to form a tidy stack on the table, while Augustus leaned forward, staring intently at Pandy.

“What, exactly, did these books say about the war?” Augustus asked, and Pandy thought about it, trying to put all the bits and pieces together in her mind. She hadn’t played in months now, and while she’d gone through the game dozens of times, it changed depending on what path you took, and she only started reading the books in the last six months or so. It really didn’t take long to do a playthrough once you knew all the ins and outs, and she was there for the beauty and sense of refuge it gave her more than the-

Yes, but they were waiting, so she started telling them what she knew. Lawrence’s naive and arrogant belief that the woman with whom he’d fallen in love would be an excellent queen simply because he’d chosen her. Books and books about how he’d slowly fallen into evil, filled with anecdotes about hunting parties and farmers who’d failed to pay what they owed to their noble masters.

“Honestly, it was so cliche it was boring. And there were so many of them, of course most people didn’t bother to read them. It was only after the murders started that Clara even found books about the Demon army, but by then people were figuring out there was Dark magic at play in the current time, so those just seemed like another cliche. Oh, yes, we failed to learn the lessons of the past, so they were bound to repeat, you know,” Pandy finished, waving away the end.

“But if Nora said you couldn’t use the queen’s name, she definitely knew she was a Demon, and also that she was still around, because when you say the name of a very powerful being, you can attract their attention.” Both men nodded, and Pandy nodded back. This, at least, was not news.

“But what if it’s more literal than that? If there’s really only one Demon Queen, and she corrupted both Lawrence and-” Pandy bit her tongue, holding back Lian’s name, but Augustus shook his head. 

“We know it had to be a Dark mage, Pandora,” he said gently. “And there’s only one Dark mage of the right age and temperament that you both recognized and clearly disliked. We’ve had a constant watch on Cora Treadway since you identified her, but I need you to tell us everything now.”

Pandy stared at him, and then she began to laugh. Because of all people, Cora? Cora, who was just a minor villainess on the path of Pandy’s least favorite love interest? Cora, who scribbled ‘Lady Cora Griffin’ on her notes and circled them with hearts, and tried to scare Clara off but did it so incompetently that Dorian actually saved her instead? That Cora?

“No,” Pandy managed finally, but she knew he was right. Besides, Lian hadn’t shown any sign of going bad, and he shouldn’t, not unless something happened to Thaniel. Even if Thaniel died now, it was incredibly unlikely that Lian would blame Captain Reedsley for it, and he’d even shown signs of opening up to those around him. Surely he wouldn’t sink into hatred and a mad search for power at this point anyway.

“It was Lian,” she said. “Thaniel’s brother. He blamed Clara’s father for Thaniel’s death, and somehow corrupted his magic, changing it from Light to Dark.”

“You must be mistaken,” Professor Beeswick said, frowning. “One’s affinity is set at birth. It can’t be changed.”

Pandy shrugged. “Maybe that was something Kappa’s magic was going to force. He did say this world was just the closest he could find. I’ve noticed a few differences, so this could be another one.”

“A big one,” Augustus told her. “One that would change our fundamental understanding of magic and how it works.” He glanced at the Dragon, then back to Pandy. “Not that I’m doubting you, but it’s well-known that Lawrence was a Dark mage. Him summoning and contracting Demons was horrible, but possible. A Light mage turning to Dark is… not.”

“What if that Light mage had a stone filled with Dark magic?” Pandy asked, thinking of Keros’s guess that Captain Reedsley sent Killian the black stone found on Thaniel’s corpse, and that was what began Lian’s corruption.

“You mean Thaniel’s heartstone?” Professor Beeswick asked. “Why would… No, let’s just say you’re right, and Killian would have gotten that stone somehow. It wouldn’t matter. Every being has a single affinity, and that affinity is immutable.”

Pandy gritted her teeth. She was used to people not believing her. It happened all the time. Who just believed someone when they came running in, covered in chocolate sauce and pumpernickel, and claimed a drunk elephant was chasing her down the street? In the eyes of most people, the mimes were more credible witnesses than Pandy.

But not here. Here, she’d gotten used to being believed. Which didn’t mean she couldn’t be wrong. Of course she could. But these two had believed her when she told them she’d been reincarnated in the body of a rabbit after dying in her own world. Oh, and by the way, this world was practically identical to a game she used to play. A game.

“Killian was the murderer, and a Light mage who’d been corrupted to Dark,” Pandy said, setting her jaw. How ironic was it that she’d avoided telling them this in order to protect Lian, and now, when she finally did tell them, they didn’t believe her?

Augustus looked down, closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and looked back up. What she saw in his face made Pandy want to cry. He’d made his choice, and his choice was to believe in Pandy. “All right,” he said, “so this Asparagus, who may or may not also be Lawrence’s queen, somehow uses Thaniel’s heartstone to change Lian’s magic from Light to Dark. Why does it matter? Thaniel is alive, Lian has nothing to do with Demons or heartstones, and our goal at this point is to prevent another Demon war as well as, and possibly even more important, find our own missing goddess.”

Professor Beeswick’s head reared back, his neck flexing in a way that Pandy was absolutely certain human – or human-seeming – necks shouldn’t flex. His wings spread, flapped once, then settled against his back as he, too, nodded. “All right, then. If this heartstone somehow has the power to alter a human’s essence, then the only one currently at risk from it is Thaniel. Except that he’s already a Dark mage, so-”

“Unless he isn’t,” Pandy said, eyes going wide.

Augustus nodded. “He was too young to have had a revelation when Lord Conroy used the stone to heal him. If we say the stone has this power, then Thaniel may be the first to be, as you say, corrupted, at least this time around.”

“And if your god’s magic is trying to force our world to mimic the path of your game, is it adaptable enough to use Thaniel as its villain, rather than his brother?” Professor Beeswick asked.

“I can’t even remember the last time it tried to kill him,” Pandy said, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“It doesn’t need to. It already has a Light mage with corrupted power,” Augustus said.

“But Thaniel has no reason to hurt anyone,” Pandy protested. “He wouldn’t!”

“He’s a child,” the Dragon said. “A child someone has tried to kidnap at least twice.”

She shook her head. “Still. Thaniel is good. I don’t believe there’s anything anyone could do to change that.”

Both men looked at her, half-pitying and half-envious. Obviously they had no problem imagining how someone might go about doing exactly that, so Pandy hurried on. “And none of that helps us find Ismara, much less Kappa.”

“No, but this might,” Professor Beeswick said, raising the book he was holding. “I found the tax records, and they do indeed list the name of the leader of the nomads.” He shook his head at Augustus. “Even I didn’t remember that. How in the world did you?”

Augustus gave the librarian a wry grin. “Remember when I was twelve and I lost a book? You assigned me a fifty-page essay about the Altherican war, focusing on the social and economic impact of taxation without representation.”

The Dragon bared his teeth in amusement. “I very much do remember that. You were only given such a minor punishment because you managed to find a replacement for the book in question.”

Augustus snorted a laugh. “Half of that paper was just copies of tax records. Practically the same thing, over and over, all with the same signature at the bottom. Zheraphona. Which is a title given to the chief of that tribe, and literally translates to ‘Child of Zheraphon’.”