Bri’s face. Cheeks burning, I turn away. No matter my best intentions, I always end up ruining everything I touch, one of the reasons I never keep any friends.
A tall, burly man enters the room, the light from the chandeliers reflecting off his shining pate. He eyes us, his long mustache hanging severely low like the tusks of a walrus.
“All rise,” says a surly girl at the front. “And bow.”
At once, the class obeys and says, loud and clear, “Good morning, Sir Boris.”
The teacher’s gait is slow and uneven as he makes his way to the lectern, his clothes clanking and clinking with every step.
“I don’t like how you talk to my sister,” Owen whispers to me over his shoulder. I try to ignore him as he turns around. “And for your information, she
did
say Fey didn’t all look like us.”
Sir Boris clears his throat. “Mr. Vaughan,” he says, setting a large book down on his desk.
Owen spins around.
“Considering class has started, you may share what you have to say with the rest of us.”
“I was just telling her some Fey look like us,” Owen says, sheepish. “Sir.”
“So they can,” the teacher says, nodding so his mustache comes to rest on his large stomach. “So how can you distinguish them from us?”
“Uh…pointy ears?” Owen ventures.
The class bursts out laughing. “Always ready to entertain, aren’t you, Mr. Vaughan,” Sir Boris says. “But perhaps your neighbor will once again enlighten you?”
“The Fey don’t like iron, sir,” Jack answers automatically, and I see Owen slap his hand to his forehead. “So anyone who wears it is human. It’s also how we identify ourselves.”
“Right,” Sir Boris says. “Now everyone sit and put your books away. We’re having a quiz.”
A collective groan rises from the seats, but the teacher makes his slow way from desk to desk unfazed, distributing his sheets.
When he arrives besides me, he hands me a test as well, but adds, “No need to worry, Pendragon. This time I’ll let you find the answers in your book.”
“Thank you, Professor,” I say.
“It’s ‘sir,’” the large man says, moving on to the next desk.
While everyone’s writing away madly under the pressure of a ticking grandfather clock, I open the book in question:
A Field Guide to Elementals.
With trembling fingers, I flip the pages to the introduction and start reading.
Many believe that, being the simplest form of elvins one can find, elementals are also the easiest to tame, but that is not so. This field guide was created with the intent to discuss the four major families and their sixteen genera, their strengths and weaknesses, and the best methods to subdue them. This edition also has an extra section on the maintenance of the creatures once captured.
I pause, take a deep breath, then turn the page. The first chapter talks about the classification of various elementals with four main branches linked to the four elements: gnomes for earth, undines or nymphs for water, sylphs for air, and salamanders for fire. I pause at the last illustration—a drawing of the incandescent lizard that lit up my dorm room! And now I wish my high-tech nuclear version was correct.
I hide my face in my book, on the verge of tears again. What have I done to deserve this? This, there’s no doubt about it, is abook of witchcraft. And the Bible’s clear on its stance on anything related to sorcery—it’s the same as transacting with the Devil himself! I cross myself at the thought, but…
Surely having a quick look isn’t going to be enough to send me to Hell, is it? And, unable to resist my curiosity, I resume my reading.
This is, by far, the strangest class I’ve ever taken, and the more I read, the more I realize the world is a lot more vast and unfathomable than I’ve ever realized. Which I find both terrifying and…a little exciting. Sister Marie-Clémence wouldn’t have recognized me if she’d seen the avidity with which I peruse the book, or
A tall, burly man enters the room, the light from the chandeliers reflecting off his shining pate. He eyes us, his long mustache hanging severely low like the tusks of a walrus.
“All rise,” says a surly girl at the front. “And bow.”
At once, the class obeys and says, loud and clear, “Good morning, Sir Boris.”
The teacher’s gait is slow and uneven as he makes his way to the lectern, his clothes clanking and clinking with every step.
“I don’t like how you talk to my sister,” Owen whispers to me over his shoulder. I try to ignore him as he turns around. “And for your information, she
did
say Fey didn’t all look like us.”
Sir Boris clears his throat. “Mr. Vaughan,” he says, setting a large book down on his desk.
Owen spins around.
“Considering class has started, you may share what you have to say with the rest of us.”
“I was just telling her some Fey look like us,” Owen says, sheepish. “Sir.”
“So they can,” the teacher says, nodding so his mustache comes to rest on his large stomach. “So how can you distinguish them from us?”
“Uh…pointy ears?” Owen ventures.
The class bursts out laughing. “Always ready to entertain, aren’t you, Mr. Vaughan,” Sir Boris says. “But perhaps your neighbor will once again enlighten you?”
“The Fey don’t like iron, sir,” Jack answers automatically, and I see Owen slap his hand to his forehead. “So anyone who wears it is human. It’s also how we identify ourselves.”
“Right,” Sir Boris says. “Now everyone sit and put your books away. We’re having a quiz.”
A collective groan rises from the seats, but the teacher makes his slow way from desk to desk unfazed, distributing his sheets.
When he arrives besides me, he hands me a test as well, but adds, “No need to worry, Pendragon. This time I’ll let you find the answers in your book.”
“Thank you, Professor,” I say.
“It’s ‘sir,’” the large man says, moving on to the next desk.
While everyone’s writing away madly under the pressure of a ticking grandfather clock, I open the book in question:
A Field Guide to Elementals.
With trembling fingers, I flip the pages to the introduction and start reading.
Many believe that, being the simplest form of elvins one can find, elementals are also the easiest to tame, but that is not so. This field guide was created with the intent to discuss the four major families and their sixteen genera, their strengths and weaknesses, and the best methods to subdue them. This edition also has an extra section on the maintenance of the creatures once captured.
I pause, take a deep breath, then turn the page. The first chapter talks about the classification of various elementals with four main branches linked to the four elements: gnomes for earth, undines or nymphs for water, sylphs for air, and salamanders for fire. I pause at the last illustration—a drawing of the incandescent lizard that lit up my dorm room! And now I wish my high-tech nuclear version was correct.
I hide my face in my book, on the verge of tears again. What have I done to deserve this? This, there’s no doubt about it, is abook of witchcraft. And the Bible’s clear on its stance on anything related to sorcery—it’s the same as transacting with the Devil himself! I cross myself at the thought, but…
Surely having a quick look isn’t going to be enough to send me to Hell, is it? And, unable to resist my curiosity, I resume my reading.
This is, by far, the strangest class I’ve ever taken, and the more I read, the more I realize the world is a lot more vast and unfathomable than I’ve ever realized. Which I find both terrifying and…a little exciting. Sister Marie-Clémence wouldn’t have recognized me if she’d seen the avidity with which I peruse the book, or
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