by Melody Rose
Yavo and Irk scuttled in, but now that they were in the magical tailor’s domain, they settled into a respectful silence and simply watched as Everfour went to work. He grabbed me by the shoulders and twirled me around all while clicking his tongue with supreme disappointment.
“You told me that Abelard personally recruited her, but I am not detecting any inclination toward elemental magic, nor does she radiate any of the required energy for a specific cut of robe.” He pinched my shoulders severely, forcing me to bite back a complaint. “She hasn’t the slightest clue of the domain she wishes to pursue. Tragic, really.”
Aurelius’ pupils dilated as he pressed his paws to the ground and perked up his ears. Everfour’s condescension seemed to trigger his protectiveness, and I could feel him send an invisible yet unquestionably encouraging signal to me. A warmth blossomed in the pit of my stomach even though goosebumps had covered my arms as a reaction to Everfour’s insensitive remarks, almost as though I were allergic to his merciless standards.
“Now, now, boy,” Everfour tilted his head toward Aurelius, “I don’t make the rules here. It is the way of the cloth. Robes will not materialize until they resonate with a worthy candidate. We are calling in regalia from the astral plane, after all.”
He turned an eye to me as he explained further. “Since robes symbolize an initiate who has made an oath to a certain magical domain, they take on the appearance of the element or craft that a mage has sworn to. While I act as a conduit between this energy and the student, I have very little choice in the matter.”
Everfour paused and then poked me square in the chest, right over my heart. I was offended by his rough technique, but I was still certain he wasn’t trying to cop a feel. For all his elitism, he obviously took his job very seriously.
“Well, let’s wait for a tick,” he murmured. “Her awareness of her abilities is dim,” I resented that he refused to address me directly, but I was curious about his findings, “but she does have some latent artistry within the recesses of her heart.”
He didn’t seem overly impressed, although he was at least willing to match me with a robe instead of turning me away empty-handed.
“She’ll have to nurture this energy, of course, because it’s been weakened through years of concealment,” Everfour advised, “and I sincerely doubt she’ll be the top of her class anytime soon, but I think I can evoke a suitable smock.”
After his unsure tone, he stabbed his finger into my chest three more times and muttered with sternness, “J'appelle le cosmos pour le tissu. I call upon the cosmos for the cloth!”
I looked down to inspect his spellwork, and to my disgust, I was in a worse state than I have arrived. Every other robe I had seen a student or statue wear had some elegant filigree and an assortment of vibrant patterns that added to its character. On top of that, each garment seemed to be masterfully tailored to emphasize the figure of the student, such as highlighting a young man’s lankiness or complementing a woman’s pale blonde hair.
My designated robe, on the other hand, didn’t have a stitch of personality. It was plain, muddy-toned, and rough as a burlap sack. If Everfour was telling the truth, and I had no reason to believe he wasn’t, then this is what some unknown higher power thought was fitting for me. Talk about a cruel cosmic joke. My robe was basically the definition of a laughingstock and loudly announced that I stood out from the pack in the worst way imaginable.
“Maybe there’s been a mistake?” I blushed and tried to stuff down my anger, “This doesn’t look like any robe I’ve seen on school grounds. I don’t want to hold you up or anything, but maybe we can try just one more time?”
Everfour let out a hardened chuckle. “There is no mistake. It’s highly improper to question a centuries-old ritual, but if it is of any solace, you can harness your powers over the course of your studies. If you are successful,” he pointed out, “you may notice some uplifting changes.”
I smiled weakly and mumbled a hasty ‘thank you’ even as my eyes watered. For a moment, I could only see everyone through the sheen of hot tears.
“Yes, well. Judging by the looks of you, gratitude is entirely uncalled for.” Everfour shrugged dismissively. “Now, begone with you and your motley crew, lass. I still want my tea before the moon wanes!”
I turned from the blunt tailor to cover my shame and my trembling lips. With shaky steps, I saw myself out while Aurelius made sure to keep up with my pace and lovingly brush his fluffy tail against my shins for comfort. Despite the kind pup’s gesture, I could not restrain myself from crying, and slick trails of salty tears dripped down my cheeks. As if on cue, my pint-sized companions each took one of my hands and did their best to match my pace.
“It’s not the robe that makes the witch, mademoiselle,” Yavo soothingly pointed out. “You will find your bearings in time, and you will find this but a temporary setback. You are inarguably lovely, even in garb you are less than pleased with. Please don’t fret.”
Irk frowned peevishly as he turned his head towards the closed door. “If you ask me, he wasn’t trying nearly as hard as he should have,” he commented and squeezed my hand. “Anyway, even with his botched incantation, you’ll set your robe right with some old-fashioned persistence.”
I picked some dust off my frumpy robe and frowned at the injustice of the situation. I mean, it wasn’t enough that I had to look like the human equivalent of a janitor’s closet with my soulless and sterile get-up, but it wasn’t even clean and instead was covered with dust. The worst of both worlds. Were there some seriously deranged and mean-spirited entities laughing at my expense, or was it just some crappy luck of the draw?
“I really appreciate all your help,” I managed to say after I was sure I wouldn’t blubber stupidly in the hallway, “but why are you sticking around while I make an embarrassment out of myself? I feel like such a lost cause right now.”
I felt marginally better considering I wasn’t totally abandoned, no thanks to Theo, but I couldn’t make sense of their sensitivity. My eyes stung, and I was at a loss for what to do next.
Irk blinked in confusion and tilted his head sideways. “I think you are a fine specimen of a human, and you’re hardly what I’d call ‘uninitiated’ now that you have your robe.” His voice rose with accusation. “It’s not your fault that it’s rubbish!”
“Besides…” Irk’s voice trailed off, and Yavo’s eyes seemed to dampen with shared pain. The dour goblin cleared his throat, and his more soft-spoken comrade completed his sentence.
“Lemuria runs amuck with unsavory tales about our kind despite many testaments to the contrary, so we find ourselves occupying the days with each other. It must have been decades since we’ve been treated to quality company.”
“Unless,” Irk finally found his voice again, “Theo is barking orders at us and setting us to some idiotically menial task.”
I nodded while I listened to their grievances, and as my heart ached with compassion, Aurelius nudged his wet nose into Irk’s forearm. The goblin didn’t seem put off by the gesture at all and instead seemed even more endeared to the well-meaning animal.
“Well, I don’t know much about Lemuria,” I admitted, “but whoever gave you a bad rap seems wildly mistaken. You two have been the most decent people… I mean… creatures that I’ve met since this entire odd and exhausting adventure.”
Their faces brightened, and even I felt my gloominess dissipate. I couldn’t help but continue praising them. “Now that Aurelius has joined my cause, whatever it is exactly, I think it’s time to open up a bit more. Yavo, Irk, you’ve been more than a lost and confused girl could ever ask for, so I would be happy to call you my friends.”
Aurelius broke out in a wide canine grin, while Yavo and Irk quickly followed suit. Between the three of them, that was more fangs than I had ever seen at once in my life, even counting examinations at Evergreen. If it weren’t for the previous positive experiences, I probably would have been pretty unnerved.
“Ah!” Yavo excl
aimed with uncharacteristic loudness, as though struck by the shock of my offer. “Friend! What a novel term that I hadn’t heard before. Abelard uses polite honorifics, but certainly not ones that include such warmth and,” his lips spread into a satisfied smile, “sentiment.”
Irk raised himself up on his tip-toes and puffed his chest out, his pointy ears twitching so that the gold hoops on them jangled. “We won’t let you down, friend!” he guaranteed as he projected his voice. “You won’t regret your decision, and we’ll stop at nothing to make sure you are treated the way you deserve!”
I broke out in laughter, not because I thought that the two sweet-hearted but strange-looking creatures were a joke, but rather because I felt that I could finally let loose and release some tension. I had really felt like a fish out of water before this, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be ruthlessly mocked by every single student here due to my background and my obvious differences. Three partners in crime were more than enough to feel a sense of security. These were already better odds than what I was dealt in my hometown, where I was both overworked and underappreciated.
“Then it’s settled. And right back at you, Irk and Yavo. If you’re ever in need, you can count on me. You too, Aurelius. Speaking of which,” I mused, “we should probably get food in your stomachs sometime soon. It’s been a long day. Still, I feel as though I’m missing something.”
Yavo beamed and nodded with enthusiasm. “As always, a bright young woman who catches on to a new bend in the river! There is one other essential element to a mage beginning her journey.”
“That’s right!” Irk gladly interjected, “A broom new as a baby griffin just starting to spread its wings! You’ll need it if you intend to get around and boost your Spell Point Average for a robe as fetching as you!”
“It can’t any more of a disaster than my ‘fitting’ with Everfour, and I can’t imagine that brooms can be that different from one another,” I reasoned, “so maybe I’ll be safe from being picked on this time.”
“What’s more,” the now upbeat goblin pointed out, “you aren’t at the mercy of some stuffy and stale ritual. Choosing a broom is very personal.”
Yavo graciously agreed, “Your heart will steer you true.”
10
Theo
I had given that insufferable lamb’s blood multiple opportunities to acclimate to my world, and she turned her uncultured nose up every step of the way. I allowed her to explore the many facets of enchantment in the safety of an opulent carriage, but she insisted on resisting my good graces and hospitality. Finally, when I had provided her with the judicious advice to fix the rat’s nest she called her hair, Joan snippily threatened that she would reduce me in the eyes of my peers by refusing to put herself in order. That was truly the last straw because I intended to protect her from the inevitable shame that would result from her ill-advised sloppiness.
While accompanying her would have put an unfortunate dent into my consistently elegant presentation, that was beside the point. I would have been able to save face quite easily, and no one would have seriously associated her slovenliness with my impeccable sense of taste. I could have easily played off the day as one of Nascha’s charity cases. That bleeding-heart woman was always chasing after strays and orphans even though I firmly believed that her questionable choices diluted the pristine quality I had sought for Bouclier. Everyone would have just believed that I had been dragged into the tedious handout festival because my father had such a soft spot for the dean.
No, the real crux of the matter would arise when Joan did not have me to shepherd her and her cowardly Cavallian pup through the vicious halls of this academy. While I did treat myself to a satisfied smirk at the vision of her muscles locking up in shock at my disappearing spell, I abandoned her to instill in her the virtue of listening to a man that was clearly wiser and more well-versed in the ways of Lemuria.
Like denying a wounded child a healing spell in order to encourage caution in the future, Joan would have to endure the barbs and taunts of the more brutal students to realize that I possessed the answers she needed to survive the trials of Bouclier relatively unscathed. After all, I had never been uniformly cruel or needlessly callous. There was always a dose of benevolence in my designs.
Lydia, however, had none of my nuance nor my patience. The moment she laid eyes on a specimen she’d convinced herself was inferior, she was downright unmerciful. The girl could really stand to select her battles with more impulse control. Not every meager annoyance was worth waging war over. I shuddered to think of what she would do to Joan if the two crossed paths, especially if the lamb’s blood didn’t even make an earnest attempt to fix her appearance beforehand.
I heaved a sigh and sat on my upholstered chair, lost in contemplation. Normally, I would have liked to rehearse incantations, run through a set of wand flourishes, rearrange my dormitory’s apothecary, or otherwise hone my crafts as a mage. However, worrying over the hapless nitwit kept me inexplicably occupied with thoughts of how her day had gone. Her perplexed doe eyes and utterly wayward demeanor left me curious to know how she was faring.
Well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped. I would have to look into what stupidity she had gotten entangled into. Then I would assess whether it was worth intervening or if she’d have to continue being pummeled by difficulties until she surrendered and admitted to her ignorance.
“Montre-moi les décisions de Joan,” I leisurely ordered the stately gold mirror of Renaissance design that stood in front of me. It had been enchanted to carry out my bidding and keep me informed of the academy’s happenings. “Show me the decisions of Joan.”
The polished glass rippled like a mirage until the enchantment narrowed its focus upon Joan and her companions. Yavo and Irk had brought her to sanctuaire de choix, the sanctum of choice, otherwise known as the den of brooding.
While I appreciated the sentiment behind the chamber, very few students had lived up to or fulfilled its original purpose. Instead of channeling the core of their will and seeking the broom that would be most reliable for their craft and undertakings, students rushed headlong to the instruments they deemed the most ornate or massive. True mastery wasn’t about brandishing a broom about in order to knock mages over the head with its glory. In fact, the best brooms were deceptively subtle to evade suspicion or avoid conflicts. The Baba Yaga and traveling wise women could even wander past the portal of Lemuria to convene with trickster fairies or lost maidens in the world of the uninitiated with a harmless looking broom.
I wonder where Joan’s inclinations would take her. If she just threw her arms up and reached for the first broom she laid eyes on, I may really have to abandon my quest periodically to help her. There were far more noble journeys than to watch over baffled damsels.
I kept my lips shut and cast a sonic spell so I could distinguish more of Joan’s words.
“I’ve never been able to have much of a say in any matter,” Joan divulged, “and even though a lot is happening all at once, I’d like to actually take a crack at figuring out what might be best for me.” She looked to her companions. “Before I begin, though, is there any advice you can give me?”
Irk’s eyes darted around guiltily, and he bit his lip as though he was ashamed that he could not come to Joan’s aid in this matter. Yavo solemnly shook his head and laced his small fingers together.
“Mademoiselle, I am afraid that it is forbidden. In fact, we must take leave for the moment so that you may concentrate on the task at hand. It is the custom, but we wish you the very best of luck.”
Yavo planted a respectful kiss on the top of Joan’s hand, and Irk hastened to repeat the gesture, though his execution was much more awkward. I was pleased to see that Joan did not shiver or grimace at their good-natured affection. While goblins and trolls certainly weren’t the most becoming creatures nor the most cultivated, the fact that Joan took to the two of them so well meant that she could embrace all manner of beasts in Lemuria.
This was ult
imately what we sought at Bouclier, even though I believed that my father was fixated on this one craft at the expense of other noteworthy endeavors. As Yavo and Irk turned and walked away, Aurelius treated Joan to a deep and prolonged look before departing out the door with its two newly acquired friends. So, boggarts were off the table, but the Cavallian pup warmed up to this duo?
I supposed that Joan could be a decent influence after all, although I would reserve my judgment about how worthy a mage she was until I witnessed her handle full-grown beasts. I smirked with mildly impressed amusement as Joan shut the door behind her.
“Well, then…” Joan said as she clapped her hands to buy time while she paced back and forth in front of the assorted brooms lined up before her, “I guess it’s down to the wire, huh? Time to make some important decisions.”
I rolled my eyes. Surely, she didn’t actually believe we had talking brooms at Bouclier? I couldn’t imagine having to tolerate any more chatter than I already had to.
“What little I know about brooms is that… they are multipurpose, I guess!” she said to herself. “Humans can use them to tidy up, and witches can fly with them if this world is anything like what Halloween decorations have told me.”
Again, Joan left me positively astounded with her powers of deduction.
“You know what I’d like, though?” She posed her question to a silent room, “I’d like a broom that has the capability of sweeping away ‘negative energy’ as the New Agers would say. I’m sick of all the bullshit I’ve been through, and I’m tired of people judging me and cramping my style.”
An interesting attribute to seek, and while her language fell short of poetic, I could detect a modicum of sense in her rationale.
