by Robin Wirth
agreed.
“I mean, how can they call themselves a
school when they didn’t even tell you that
Director Dervish McTavert lives high atop a
craggy hill, somewhere in the depths of
Scotland?” she complained. “I thought
everybody knew that.”
“So, Caracticus Snigget, then?” Felicity
prompted. “Who—or what—is that?”
Madame Grelda chuckled. “You might
well wonder ‘what’ he is, with a strange name
like that,” she commented dryly. “But anyway,
as I understand it, he is a very powerful wizard
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who lurks just inside the farthest border of the
Veil, somewhere within the lands of the Fae. He
keeps a very huge treasure hidden there within a
keep made entirely of quartz stones of every
conceivable color, and he is always on the look-
out to add new bits and bobbles to his
collection.”
“How
very
curious,”
Felicity
commented, wrinkling her nose for a moment as
she gave this some thought. “But why does he
not simply enjoy the things he’s already
amassed? Surely with such a big treasury, he’d
have no need for more.”
“Oh, my dear girl, there’s an easy
enough answer to that,” she said. “Greed, of
course. And a great thirst for power and
knowledge, to be sure. Why, I do believe that
Dervish McTavert has had more than one run-in
with the blighter over the last couple of
centuries. For you see, though you may not be
aware of this, old Dervish has a much greater
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importance within our world than you might
suppose. The Magical Museum is home to a vast
compendium of articles and items to do with
magics both fair and foul. It has been fortified to
keep covetous people like Caracticus well out of
it. It amazes me, my dear, that you were even
able to get inside the place at all. You must truly
have meant no harm to be able to accomplish
that.”
“Grelda, as I’ve told you many times
before, I was simply acting out in a political
capacity, or so Lancelot Jones called it.”
“Yes, and we simply must put great
stock into what Master Jones has to say,” the
witch smirked.
Blushing profusely at this, Felicity
turned back to the dishes without another word.
“Anyway, the point is that you managed
to get past some very strong magic,” Grelda
continued,
unperturbed
by
her
sudden
withdrawal. “For you see, Caracticus is able to
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turn himself into a dragon at any time he might
wish. Without those wards in place, he would
have surely gotten inside the Museum well
before now.”
“A dragon?” Felicity gasped with
interest. “I’ve dealt with a dragon once myself,
you know. My Aunt Beatrix, who is an inventor
and often has business beyond the Veil as a
result, has often taken me outside with her in
search of necessary parts, and apparently an
actual dragon had gotten beyond the Veil and
was out terrorizing all of Mundania. Of course,
the dragon simply tried to scorch the both of us,
but my aunt and I evaded death because I
suggested we jump on the creature’s tail so it
couldn’t reach us with its flames. He whipped
about something fierce, but we were not thrown
off, or I doubt very much I’d be here to tell the
tale.”
“A tale is very much what your words
smack of,” Grelda chuckled. “Never mind that
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all known dragons disappeared from our world
centuries ago, but do you really expect me to
believe a mere child would come up with such a
sophisticated plan?”
“Oh, but Madame, I come up with ideas
all the time,” Felicity assured her. “I’ve been
dubbed ‘the brainiac’ by some of my less
friendly fellow students, but those who care for
me a bit better prefer to call me ‘the professor’.
But I do understand your reasons to doubt me,
as I too believed every dragon in existence had
been snuffed out. My aunt explained that isn’t
quite the case, though. Apparently one or two
survived the banishment, though they usually
remain somewhere remote. But I suppose that’s
one adventure I should have kept to myself,
though. All of the other students don’t believe
it’s anything but a boast, and for the past four
years since I related the encounter, many of them
just won’t leave it alone.”
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“Yes, some children can be quite cruel,”
Grelda had to admit. “I’m sorry they did that to
you.”
“I’ve been trying to pass all of my testing
with one hundred percent efficiency, so that I
can become the class Valedictorian. It’s been a
dream of mine for a very long time, for as I
understand it, that distinction can open many
doors that would otherwise bar the way.”
“Yes, you might even land yourself a
good husband with a lofty title like that,” Grelda
said with a smirk. “Would that I could have been
the Valedictorian myself!”
“You don’t believe that witches should
hold equal importance with wizards?” asked
Felicity, somewhat disgusted by the reticent
nature of such a thought. “Every witch has as
much potential to be great as her wizardly
counterpart. I should not need to have a husband
to make my way.”
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“You must be kidding,” Grelda laughed.
“Where in our world have you seen a woman in
the seat of power?”
“But what about the witch’s auxiliary?
Surely they must count for something.”
“Auxiliary being the operative word, my
dear,” she pointed out. “That gaggle of geese
would have no power at all if it wasn’t for their
husbands insisting upon their concerns being
heard. Even you, once you’ve graduated, will
have no say as to where you’ll be sent for your
six years of finishing.”
“That, at least, is true,” Felicity agreed.
“I think it’s the outside of enough that the
Council selects the jobs of every graduating
student, and we have no recourse to do as we
wish until we reach the age of twenty-four—the
so-called age of maturation. I think I’m perfectly
mature already.”
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“You, mature?” Grelda giggled. “Have
you ever even taken your nose out of your books
long enough to kiss a boy?”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
asked Felicity as her face went crimson.
“Women are not just sex objects, you know. We
have other uses as well.”
“Well, of course we do,” she said. “We
also cook and clean and care for our children,
and some of us even become secretaries or
assistants occasionally.”
“There’s simply no talking to you about
this, is there, Grelda?” said Felicity with
resignation. “I would be better off trying to swap
recipes with you than attempting to modernize
your backward mindset.”
“Oh? Have you got any that I might like
to try out?”
“I was teasing you, witch, as well you
know,” Felicity grumbled.
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“Well, my dear girl, you’ve done enough
for the day,” she said. “And, as graduation is in
one week, I believe you need to be studying
more than you need to be cooking and cleaning
with me. I’m going to give you the week off.
“Now, I highly doubt that the council
would choose to apprentice someone as brilliant
as you with me, so if they don’t, you must still
come to see me upon occasion, else I will miss
you greatly.”
“Oh, Grelda, don’t go all weepy on me,”
Felicity said as she kissed her cheek. “I promise
you, I’ll come as often as I can. Life would
become quite dull without all your stories to
sustain me.”
“You’re such a dear young lady,” she
said as she gave her a hug. “I cannot fathom how
such a polite, unassuming miss would ever have
broken the law to begin with.”
“Neither can I, to tell you the truth,”
Felicity admitted. “However, I’m a firm believer
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that everything happens for a purpose. Perhaps I
broke the law so that I’d have the honor of
becoming friends with you.”
“Get out of here, imp, and mind you go
straight back to the Academie,” she said. “Some
of the young wizards have been up to no good
ever since that silly law was appealed.”
“Don’t remind me,” Felicity grumbled.
“I may as well have done nothing at all, for all
the attention my words received.”
“It’s all to the good, dearie,” Grelda said.
“You know that law would never have worked
out to our advantage.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she
answered just to be agreeable. “I’ll see you again
soon.”
Felicity stepped outside and raised her
wand high in the air, floating back to the
Academie like a rapid beacon in the evening sky.
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NINE
It had been quite a while since Felicity
had enough free time to frequent the massive
library that filled one entire tower of the
Academie Magica. She spent as much time
inside its walls as possible during the week of
finals, just in case she would never get the
opportunity again. The day before the
graduation ceremony Felicity received the
happy news that she had, indeed, missed
absolutely no questions on her final tests, and
that she would be the Valedictorian. Though she
had always expected to be thrilled by such news,
she found that she had mixed emotions about it,
now that the hope had become a reality.
For ten years, from age seven to
seventeen, her only true purpose in life had been
to achieve this one goal. She had known, at the
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core of her very being, that she was going to do
so. And now that she had, she almost felt a
hollowness deep inside her, like she’d suddenly
lost her direction completely. What was her
purpose in life to be now that she’d obtained her
lifelong goal? What new achievement should
she strive for, when she didn’t even know to
which profession she was about to be assigned?
A moment of dread passed over her
when she had the uncomfortable thought that she
would be relegated to a kitchen for six more
years. If they did that, she’d be tearing her
already unruly hair out by its never-ending roots.
She couldn’t do it—she wouldn’t do it, if they
tried to place her there.
That was not to say she disliked Grelda
in any way, of course, she just didn’t think doing
dishes was the place where she would be the
most useful. Surely with so much learning and a
mind filled with innovative ideas, she ought to
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be sent somewhere they could make better use
of her skills than that.
As Felicity continued to speculate on her
future, she suddenly felt the pull of some unseen
force tug at the back of her mind. It persisted for
a few minutes before she was certain it was not
going away.
Curious, she followed it to its source, and
found a most unusual book hidden in the farthest
corner of the library on a dusty old shelf. It
looked as though no one had even come back
here for ages, for her footprints were clearly the
only ones to have disturbed the heavy coating of
dust that covered the dark tiles.
“Why would some book compel me to
come back here?” she mumbled as she stepped
forward to pick it up. It looked as though it
would weigh a ton, yet somehow it seemed
almost as light as a feather in her grasp.
She wiped off the thick layer of grime so
that she could read the cover. Engraved deeply
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into a leather background, the lettering etched
the following words: ‘The Lore and Magic of
Dragons.’ Realizing that Grelda’s mention of
dragons had struck a chord within her before,
Felicity was certain that finding this book could
be no coincidence.
She finished removing the filth, then
surreptitiously slipped the book into her bag,
promising herself that someday she would return
it, after she’d figured out its purpose in her life.
For as she well knew, nothing of a magical
nature happened without a purpose.
Once she returned to the main floor of
the library, Felicity headed casually toward the
exit, fingering books here and there along the
way. She didn’t want to appear as though
anything was out of the ordinary—especially
since if the librarian happened to catch her
sneaking out the book it would either extend her
sentence or land her back in another jail cell—
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neither of which occurrences she had any desire
to endure.
“Ah, Miss Lake, I heard you were named
the class Valedictorian,” said the librarian, Miss
Gilwalter, with an enigmatic smile. “I was so
happy for you when I heard. I know it’s what
you’ve always wanted.”
“Indeed, yes,” said Felicity with as
pleased a smile as she could muster. “I was
certain that I could do it.”
“Were you working on your speech just
now?” she asked curiously. “You seemed to
have disappeared for quite a while.”
“Really?” she asked, genuinely curious
herself now. “It didn’t seem very long; only a
moment or two.”
“Oh, no, I’m sure it was almost an hour,”
she told her. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d
gotten lost somewhere.”
“Not at all,” Felicity chuckled. “I was
just saying good-bye to this dear old library. I’m
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certain that wherever life takes me, I won’t be
seeing it again anytime soon, for I won’t have
time tomorrow to return.”
“I’ll be sad to see you go,” said Miss
Gilwalter with a melancholy little sigh. “You’ve
become a bit of a fixture around this old place.”
Felicity’s nerves were starting to get the
better of her as she stood chatting with the witch,
who obviously was hoping to have a long
conversation to make up for her loss. She grew
even more upset when she could swear she heard
the inside of her bag begin to hum.
“Miss Lake? Are you quite all right? I’ve
asked you three times already?”
“What? I’m sorry,” Felicity said with a
shake of her head. “Just a bit of nerves, I guess.”
“Nerves? You?” she laughed. “You’ve
never batted an eye a day in your life.”
Felicity snorted at this. “Of course I
have, I just didn’t let anyone know about it.”
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“Well, I’ve never seen you batting them
at any of the boys around here, either,” she