Lucky Rabbit

Mrs. Farrier looked up as the small group entered her workroom, a smile deepening the creases around her mouth and eyes. Those creases were well-worn and confident, as if they knew they were welcome, and their owner had no interest in wasting time and effort trying to be rid of them.

“There you are, children,” she said, lifting a finger capped with a little silver thimble. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

Everyone nodded, and her eyes twinkled. “Mr. Farrier loves pancake day. There’s just something about fluffy towers of pastry that can’t help but make you happy. Now,” she shook out the fabric she’d been sewing and held it up. “Does this look like it will work for you, Thaniel? I had to take it in a bit, but not much, really.”

Thaniel stepped forward, and the seamstress helped him into the jacket. It was still a little loose across the shoulders, but otherwise it could have been made for him. Mrs. Farrier smiled in satisfaction. “You’ll grow into it, no doubt,” she said, brushing her hand down one sleeve to tug gently at the cuff until it fell into place around his wrist.

Suzanne stepped forward, one hand delving into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. Pandy was quite certain that pocket wasn’t standard issue, since Geraldine would certainly have used pockets if she had them. The girl wasn’t as prone to picking up pinecones and broken bits of things as Thaniel, but she was like a colorful little raven, gathering up any shiny or pretty thing she came across.

“Tilly had to go home…suddenly,” Suzanne said. “But she gave me this skirt for Geraldine. She says it’s one from last year, and she’s almost outgrown it anyway, so there’s no need to give it back.” She smiled shyly. “I sewed pockets into all of her skirts, as well as my own.”

Geraldine looked suddenly tearful, and it was no wonder. The girl was in the same situation her sister would be in three years. While her family was comfortably well off, at least for country nobles, it would probably take a good amount of whatever funds they’d sent with their daughter to replace the expensive uniform. Everything cost more in the city, and there could be no cutting corners when it came to things required for school. The Reedsleys could probably send more money, but it was better if Geraldine didn’t have to ask.

“This will work,” Mrs. Farrier said. “Geraldine, do you have your torn skirt?”

Silently, Geraldine passed it over, her cheeks red, as if it was her fault the item had been torn. In fact, everyone was acting like the children were at least partially responsible for what had happened. Which, if you didn’t know Ms. Wellington had turned out to be a spy and a kidnapper, was…still kind of a stretch. That was the way of the world, though, wasn’t it? The blame had to be placed somewhere, and Ms. Wellington wasn’t available.

Mrs. Farrier looked at the ragged tear, clicking her tongue softly. Then she smiled and said, “We’ll have this fixed in no time. There are a few simple innate spells for mending, and I’ll teach them to you on Monday. They can be a bit tricky with Fire, but we’ll make it work. Now, boys.” She lifted her brows, and Thaniel gave her a hastily bundled shirt and pants, dirty parts mostly tucked inside, while Isidor handed over a neatly folded stack of tattered blue and white.

“Abbington?” she asked, laying the first two on a table next to her, but Abbington shook his head.

“A’readyfixit, naworry,” the Valley boy mumbled. “Hepm’mamallatime.”

The seamstress apparently had no difficulty understanding this, because she just nodded. “That’s excellent. Then you’ll be a great help on Tuesday.” Her faded eyes twinkled again. “P’raps you’ll tear sumin’ else an’ comeback? Could allays use a he’p.”

Abbington’s gaze lifted, widening. “YerValley, Missus?”

She chuckled. “Well, I was once, but Mr. Farrier carried me away many years ago. Now I’m just an old lady who sews and cleans.”

The boy looked like he wanted to say more, but uncharacteristically, Suzanne interrupted. “Oh, you’re much more than that!” Then she turned the color of a tourist after a sunny day in Hawaii and stared down at her toes.

With a soft sigh, Mrs. Farrier reached out and patted Suzanne’s hand. “It’s kind of you to say so, my dear. I hope I make a difference to at least some of those who pass through my door. Like you.” She smiled once more, then said, “And where is that project? I know you didn’t give up on it entirely.”

An answering smile said she was right, and then Suzanne drew a simple square of white fabric from her pocket. It didn’t look like much at first, but as she gently folded it open, they could see that it was edged with exquisite lace, and in the middle was the beginning of a beautifully embroidered fox. The ears and tail were clearly outlined, and the small, sharp-featured face looked like it might rise up from the fabric.

“I wanted to make a shawl,” Suzanne admitted shyly, “but I didn’t have enough material or time. Do you think she’ll like it?” She looked up, and the older woman nodded.

“It’s lovely. Better than I could do,” Mrs. Farrier said, not slowing as Suzanne began to protest. “No, my dear. I simply haven’t the patience for projects like this. You should be truly proud of yourself. Will you give it to her at Midwinter?”

Suzanne nodded. “I’m going to work on it this weekend, while she’s at home, and then I think I can find time to finish it over festival week.”

“It’s hard when you live with the person you’re making the gift for. I know you can do it, though,” Mrs. Farrier said with another encouraging pat.

“Is it for Matilda?” Thaniel asked, brightening. “It’s really pretty. I wish I could make something that nice for,” he hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Farrier, “my brother.”

“My sister would love that, too,” Geraldine said wistfully, leaning in to look at the dark little eyes. Somehow the fox managed to look sly, even though it was only made of thread.

“I could…teach you?” Suzanne asked. She was obviously surprised when Thaniel nodded as enthusiastically as Geraldine, but her cheeks were a pleased pink as she said, “I don’t have much homework yet, so I could teach you after chores, at least for a little while.”

“And young Matilda will find somewhere else to be while you do,” Mrs. Farrier chortled. “I’ve never met a child so bad at sewing. I think that’s why she’s so fastidious with her things. That way she never has to spend time with me, trying to fix them.”

She and Suzanne shared a smile, and then Mrs. Farrier patted the stacks of cloth beside her. “Well, this will give me something to do today. I’ll take a look at them and see what we’ll need to do to get them back into shape.” She lifted her silvery brows at Isidor. “Do you have another shirt?”

He nodded. “I have everything I need, ma’am.”

The seamstress blinked, then gave a burst of laughter. “Don’t ma’am me, lad. I’m just Mrs. Farrier to you. I’m glad you’re set, but it won’t get you out of chores. Everyone ends up with me eventually. You might as well get it out of the way early.”

The children exchanged glances, and then Thaniel said, “You mean when we’re doing chores?”

Mrs. Farrier shook her head, then leaned in, giving Suzanne a conspiratorial smile that the girl returned. “I mean that Chancellor Blackwood likes all of our students to graduate truly knowing how to take care of themselves. Most of you will never have to, but he believes it builds character and empathy to learn.” Seeing the boy’s blank look, she sat back again, shaking her head. “Never you mind, lad. Just go on, now, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Oh,” Geraldine said, “can you tell me where the infirmary is?”

“I’ll show you,” Suzanne said, carefully tucking the lovely handkerchief back into her pocket. Geraldine nodded gratefully, and there was a flurry of farewells as the children left the seamstress behind, already staring at the gaping hole in Thaniel’s britches. Pandy wasn’t even sure when that had happened, but it must have been quite drafty.

Suzanne led the group up the stairs, laying a finger over her lips as she said, “This is where the teachers live, as well as where their offices are. It’s best to be as quiet as possible. That’s why the infirmary is up here, rather than down below with the stillroom.”

“Stillroom?” Thaniel asked, but Geraldine was nodding.

“It’s where medicines are made and kept,” the girl whispered. “Mama has one, but she mostly just grows and dries herbs to sell to the doctor or give to her friends.”

“Like a laboratory?” Thaniel asked, starting to look a bit nervous.

Geraldine shook her head, but Suzanne gave a sort of half-shrug, half-nod. “Mistress Rose does craft medicines and do experiments there,” the older girl said. “Every year she accepts a few fifth-years who are assigned exclusively to her for chores. Many of the teachers have students like that. Children who show particular promise and interest in something get to spend their last year at Falconet assisting whoever teaches that thing.”

That made sense. Something similar happened at Condor, where third-year students could have an advisor and get specialized training in some particular field. Clara, of course, was a first-year, but all of the love-interests were third-years, and would periodically go off on special excursions.

The Affection stat played a role here, too, and if Clara encouraged a boy who liked her before he left, he would grow stronger while he was away. Ten-year-olds probably weren’t sent out to battle in dungeons or gain wisdom through training with a hidden sage, but just working regularly with the teachers was enough. Was that how Bastian had gotten so good at cooking?

“Here,” Suzanne said, stopping outside a door that looked like every other one that lined the hallway, except that the plaque set into the middle of it read, INFIRMARY, followed by the doctor’s name. Gently, she rapped at the door, making such a quiet sound that Pandy wouldn’t have believed anyone could hear it if the door hadn’t opened almost before she lifted her knuckles away.

Mistress Rose’s assistant, Timon, stared out at them, a streak of something green across his cheek. Scratching at it irritably, he said, “Come in, then. She’s back here.” He turned and led them past two neatly made beds with curtain dividers between them. The third little cubicle was closed, he said, “You have guests,” in a tone that was actually quite kind.

“Oh!” came Eleanor’s familiar voice, and something rustled behind the curtain before she added, “Come in!”

Timon held the curtain aside, and they crowded into the small space, circling the pale-faced girl on the narrow bed. She was in her ‘Ellie’ persona, with frizzy brown hair and tired hazel eyes. There were dark circles beneath those eyes, and Geraldine caught one of her slender hands in her own sturdy, tanned ones. Lord Winston lay curled up at the princess’ feet, looking even more like a furry puddle and less like a dog than usual.

“They said you’d be at breakfast,” Geraldine said rather with a great deal of accusation in her voice. “But you still look sick!”

Eleanor sighed, tugging the blanket up with her free hand. She was wearing a surprisingly simple white nightgown, which only served to make her look even paler. “Everyone is always telling me I have a weak constitution,” she admitted. “I suppose they must be right. I do seem to take longer to get better than people think I should.”

“Will you be well soon?” Thaniel asked, his eyes flicking from the little bottle of pills sitting on the table beside Eleanor to the girl’s face, which was almost as white as her nightgown.

Eleanor smiled wanly, tugging her hand free from Geraldine’s so she could pick up the bottle and shake a little pill into her palm. She tossed it into her mouth, swallowing it with the ease of long practice.

Pandy winced at the sight. The only person she’d known who was that nonchalant about medication was one of her foster mothers, who took thirty different supplements and powders every day, and became very upset if anyone so much as touched the neatly arrayed bottles, much less tripped over a possum who was playing dead in the middle of the kitchen and scattered thousands of pills across the floor. That wasn’t even Pandy’s fault. How was she supposed to know that the creatures liked cat food and could fit through the pet door?

“Mistress Rose says I should be able to have a light lunch in the dining room,” Eleanor assured her worried friend.

“So you can sleep at home – in our room – tonight?” Geraldine asked.

Eleanor nodded, then yawned, her blue-tinged eyelids fluttering. “I just need…a bit more…sleep,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand as she sank back in her pillows.

Thaniel and Geraldine exchanged glances, then stepped back toward the rest of the group, who were gathered just beyond the curtain. The princess looked like she was already asleep as Timon glanced up from the book he was glaring at while grinding away at a deep green powder with a mortar and pestle.

“Done already?” the boy grunted, laying the rounded stone rod against the side of the bowl. He rubbed his eyes, then grimaced as more fine green powder transferred to his eyelids.

A door opened at the end of the narrow, curtained space. Pandy could just make out some stairs descending toward the first floor before the doctor closed the door again. She glanced at her assistant, shook her head, then smiled at the rest of the children.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, casting a look at her small patient as she urged them back out of the infirmary. Only when that door also closed behind her, leaving them standing back out in the hall, did she speak again.

“She had a bad reaction to the Drowseberries, I’m afraid,” Mistress Rose said quietly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The berries are used in a number of medications precisely because they’re so safe.”

She shook her head, erasing the small frown forming between her brows. She offered a practiced smile and said, “She’ll be fine after a bit more rest. I would like you to keep an eye on her, though. Just make sure she sits down if she looks tired, and gets to sleep on time.” The doctor lifted her brows at Geraldine, who first looked a bit overwhelmed, then proud that an adult was asking her for help.

“I’ll take care of her,” Geraldine assured the doctor, and Thaniel nodded agreement. Abbington and Isidor nodded as well, though with a bit less enthusiasm.

Mistress Rose smiled, patting Geraldine gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad she has such good friends.” Thaniel got another smile, and then, just for the briefest of moments, the doctor’s attention settled on Pandy, her brown eyes disconcertingly sharp. Fortunately, the moment only lasted for a second, and then the doctor’s gaze was on the space beside Geraldine’s feet.

“Where is your cat this morning?” Mistress Rose asked, sounding only vaguely curious. “Did she stay in your room?”

Everyone turned to look at the space where Miss Cupcakes very definitely wasn’t. Even Pandy had become so used to the kitten trailing her mistress like a particularly well-trained dog that she hadn’t noticed the feline’s absence. She’d been there for breakfast, Pandy was certain of that, but somewhere between the dining hall and the infirmary, the kitten had vanished.