Lucky Rabbit

Pandy burst into the classroom, remembering too late that she was supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected Ms. Wellington. Dropping her skirts into place, she cleared her throat, attempting to level a disapproving glare at the students. This proved difficult, since they were just sitting in their chairs, not hanging out of windows or throwing paper at each other, the way the children in Pandy’s world would have been. At least she wasn’t panting after her short run, since she didn’t need to breathe.

“You may sit,” Pandy said, as if she was a judge entering a courtroom. The students exchanged confused glances, since they were already seated, and Pandy felt her cheeks grow so hot she thought she might actually burst into flames. “I mean,” she tried, “you should stand when a teacher enters the room. And then, um, sit…again.”

A few children started to get up, glanced at the others, and sat back down, clearly thoroughly confused about what part of the process they were meant to be in. That was only fair, since Pandy was also completely lost, but she lifted her chin and walked over to the desk, ignoring the quiet murmurs that followed her.

This desk was neither clean nor tidy, but one of the ubiquitous manila folders lay in the center of the mess, with ‘Ms. Wellington’ written across the front in the same neat handwriting as the note in her office. Opening it, Pandy saw that it contained several pieces of paper. The first was a seating chart, and after that came a brief list of things to do, starting with taking attendance. None of Thaniel’s teachers had ever bothered with this, but perhaps that was because they knew all of their students by sight, so they didn’t need to call on them individually.

With a rush of gratitude for the unknown Mr. Halliwell – Hollowbell? Holloway? – Pandy went down the list, checking names against the seating chart, pausing only when she reached the last table. Looking up, her gaze snagged on the top of a familiar dark head, and beside it, a pair of blue eyes that glared back as if daring her to step out of line. Suzanne and Matilda were here, and even if neither of them knew Pandy was Pandy, it was still a relief that she knew someone.

Not surprisingly, everyone was there, so Pandy moved on to the next task. ‘Collect homework.’ Sure, she could do that. Looking up again, she said, “Please pass your homework forward.”

Again with the confused looks, and finally a girl in front half-raised her hand and said, “We don’t have any homework, Ms. Wellington. We were just supposed to read chapters one through five of The Courteous Mage’s Guide to Elemental Balance.” She lifted the book sitting on the table in front of her, and Pandy saw a matching tome partially hidden by the manila folder on the teacher’s desk.

Then tell me that, Mr. Hollowleg, Pandy thought with what was probably an unnecessary amount of irritation. Pushing the folder aside, she lifted the book, opening it and flipping through the first few pages. Her eyes widened as she read a familiar passage.

While fire may be the element most favored by hot-headed duelists and overly dramatic children, it must be noted that a flame is not only a weapon. Fire is also the hearth, the candle, the tea kettle – civilized, contained, and properly channeled.

She’d read this before. Pandy flipped through a few more pages, taking heart as she realized that she knew almost every word. She couldn’t have quoted it exactly, but she certainly could have paraphrased it, and, with a great sense of relief, she set the book down again. She had less than forty-five minutes left. Surely she could keep a classroom full of polite young nobles from devolving into chaos for forty-five minutes.

Clearing her throat, Pandy said, “Who can tell me what The Mage’s Guide says about the most common uses of Earth elementals?”

A stocky boy in back raised his hand and said, “We’re all about strength.” He bent his arm, showing off what was probably a pretty impressive bicep for a ten-year-old, though it was hard to tell through his jacket sleeve.

She nodded. “But is there only one kind of strength?”

Another boy said, “We’re also good at defense. We can put up buildings in a day, or create a wall overnight.”

“That’s only if you have the right elementals. Your innate magic is only good for dusting and cleaning the mud off your boots,” a third boy threw in, not bothering to raise his hand first. “Fire mages can burn people and things without any help. That makes us the ones to bet on in a fight.”

“Unless you’re up against a Water mage,” a blonde girl interjected. “We’ll put your little flames out, and then drown you while you’re still trying to figure out what went wrong.”

More and more students threw in their own thoughts on why their elemental types were the best, all while Pandy watched with mounting desperation. This was not the way this was supposed to go. Soon it would be flying desks and spitballs, or, in this world, tiny firebombs and miniature rainclouds. What should she do? What would Ms. Wellington do?

And then she knew. Slamming her hands down against the desk, Pandy glared around. “Take a seat,” she snapped at a boy who had gotten up so he could properly glare at the girl next to him. He gave her a guilty look, dropping into his seat and slumping down.

“I’m glad you’re all feeling so energetic today,” Pandy said, trying to keep her voice level and stern as she frowned around at the class. “I have a special project for you all. First, we’re going to count off by fours.”

She pointed to the first girl, who had the unfortunate name of Millicent, at least according to the seating chart. The girl blinked, then said, “One?” Pandy nodded, shifting her finger to the next boy, who said, “Two,” with a great deal more confidence. They continued around the room until the class of twenty-four students had been divided into smaller groups of six. Unfortunately, this split up Matilda and Suzanne, but hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Now, each group should divide into two teams of three, and decide what elemental affinity you want. It can’t be the same as the other team, but otherwise, you can choose anything. You have three minutes to decide, and then I’ll do it for you,” Pandy told them.

The students immediately fell into animated discussions. There were a few who looked unhappy, but after a glance at Pandy, who was watching the clock that hung above the classroom door, they settled down to their task. After exactly one hundred and eighty seconds, Pandy held up her hand, then pointed to the nearest group.

“What element do you have?” she asked.

Not surprisingly, most of the groups had ended up picking either Air or Fire. Fire was easy, since, as the Mage’s Guide noted, it was flashy and caused a lot of damage. Air, of course, was the element of the royal family, and thus carried a certain prestige and romance, since anyone who bore it could be descended from or marry into royalty.

Once everyone had chosen, Pandy said, “It’s the year 1825. There has been a drought for almost two years, resulting in massive crop failures. The wealthy are able to import food and hire water elementalists, but everyone else is hungry and thirsty. Diseases due to unclean living conditions and contaminated water sources are beginning to take their toll on the population. What do you do?”

The children all looked at each other. They had clearly been expecting to ‘fight’ each other, and some had even begun formulating battle strategies. They certainly weren’t ready to deal with a drought. King Julius hadn’t been, either, and if they’d read just a little ahead in the book, they’d know what his solution was.

Pandy waved her hand. “You have thirty minutes. Each group will present their solution at that time.” Grinning internally, she sat down at the desk, picked up The Mage’s Guide, and proceeded to read, though she kept a covert eye on the students and the clock the whole time.

For the most part, the students tackled the task with admirable sincerity. Pandy heard a few suggestions that the Air elementalists just blow in clouds from elsewhere, but this was quickly shut down, since stealing someone else’s rain would probably be considered an act of war. The time passed quickly, and the only real problem Pandy noticed was that no one on Suzanne’s team spoke to her at all. The girl just sat nearby, head down and silent, as the other two children talked animatedly.

When the thirty minutes were up, Pandy stood, waiting until all eyes were on her. Pointing to the first team, she said, “How are you solving the drought?”

“We’re Fire, so we can’t do anything ourselves,” a girl said. “But we’d offer to pay Water elementalists to go around and water the farmer’s fields.”

Pandy nodded, then pointed to the second half of their group. “And how would you stop them?”

A boy blinked. “Stop them?”

Pandy snapped her fingers. “Yes. Quickly. How do you keep them from hiring Water elementalists?”

The trio exchanged glances. “We’d…pay the elementalists even more? I guess? Or attack them. We’re Air, so-”

“Fine,” Pandy said, cutting her off. “So, if you’re Air, how do you solve the drought? Not the elementalists you’re hiring away from them,” she flicked a dismissive hand at the other team, “but you.”

“Shifting storms across borders is a violation of international treaties,” A red-haired girl said, giving the boy beside her an arch look. “So we’d…um….blow wet air from rivers?”

Pandy didn’t critique the suggestion, just asked the first three students how they would keep the Air elementalists from succeeding.

“We’d just make it hotter,” the first boy said, clearly glad to get what he considered an easy question. “Any water would evaporate before it could reach the fields.”

Pandy gave a noncommittal nod, going around the room, first having a team say what they would do to solve the problem, then having their ‘opponents’ unsolve it. When everyone had had a chance, Pandy said, “Now, does anyone know what actually happened?”

They all looked at each other, and shook their heads. All but one. Suzanne was still sitting with her nose in her book, and since she was halfway through the text, there was no way she’d missed the answer.

“In 1825, West Altheric was falling apart,” Pandy said. “Up to then, it had been led by the descendants of Queen Nora, and no one doubted their right or ability to rule. But Spencer Aeris became king when he married the last daughter of Nora’s line, and their twin sons were already dividing the country. The one known as Clayton had Fire magic, while the one known as Wentworth had Air magic. Unfortunately, while ‘Clayton’,” Pandy gave the name air quotes, which only made the students look more confused, “was theoretically the oldest, and the heir, he and Wentworth had been mixed up so many times in their childhood that no one knew which boy was the real Clayton any longer.”

The red-haired girl raised her hand, frowning. “What does that have to do with the assignment?”

Pandy smiled at her. “Their father told them that whichever one managed to end the terrible drought that had been plaguing the country would be declared his heir. But neither of them could come up with any good ideas that didn’t involve encroaching on or begging for help from neighboring kingdoms. There were very few Water elementalists at the time, so the obvious solution was impossible. So, rather than attempting to actually end the drought, they both focused on undermining the other. Worse, factions formed among the nobles, leading to infighting that eventually became a very, very short civil war.”

Turning to Suzanne, Pandy asked, “And what happened then?”

Suzanne lifted her face from her book, blinking. Seeing that everyone was staring at her, she stammered, “Wh- What?”

“What happened after Clayton and Wentworth caused a war?” Pandy asked. She watched the other students, ready to back off and draw the attention back to herself if they showed any jealousy or anger. If Suzanne was really being bullied, then reminding everyone of her existence could easily backfire. Fortunately, while several people looked surprised, and a few showed mild disdain, nobody looked actively resentful. Well, other than Matilda, who was glaring at Pandy.

“I…,” Suzanne started to sink down in her chair, but Pandy gave her the warmest, most encouraging smile she could manage. This was very un-Ms. Wellington-like behavior, but there were no adults here, so it would be fine, wouldn’t it?

Seeming to take heart, Suzanne straightened just a bit, and said, “There was a third brother. Emerson. He was Air too, and he had the idea to use low-lying fog to reduce evaporation and keep moisture near the ground. Of course, this blocked the sunlight, so he also used airflow to draw moisture from the remaining lakes and rivers, pushing the moist air up into clouds over farmland, creating small rain showers.”

Pandy smiled again, releasing Suzanne, who slumped back in relief. “That’s not all he did, though,” Pandy said, looking around at the rest of the class. She was fairly certain that the next part wasn’t in the Courteous Mage’s Guide, but she knew she’d read it somewhere, and she couldn’t resist adding it.

“Emerson had a good friend who was a Dark mage,” Pandy told them, seeing the way Suzanne flinched, and several noses wrinkled as if someone had just produced a block of limburger cheese. “Dark magic was even more restricted then than it is now, with most Dark mages not even being allowed to form bonds with tier one elementals. But Emerson’s friend had managed to form a contract with a tier four elemental, and Emerson knew it.

“Together, they worked out a way to transfer decay from stores of food to compost heaps. In the dry heat, the fields had been growing less fertile, but the rich soil formed this way was perfect for growing new crops. So while only small, localized areas could produce food, that food could be shipped wherever it was needed, and would stay fresh until the containers were opened. It was enough to get them through until the drought broke.”

Pandy looked around at the class, focusing on the stinky-cheese children. “That was the first time people realized that Dark magic could be helpful, and King Emerson reformed the entire system surrounding Dark mages. Now, they hold off infection in wounds, get rid of pests, and even dry food and herbs.”

A boy with ears that stuck almost straight out said, “Earth elementalists, Nature elementalists, and Water elementalists can do those things, too.” He slid a sidelong look at Suzanne as he spoke.

Pandy remembered him as one of the students who liked Fire, so she said, “Light elementalists can create lamps that don’t burn people, while Water elementalists can create steam to cook food, and Earth elementalists can cause the ground to open up and swallow your foes, so why do we need Fire? There are many ways to achieve the same goal, and intelligent, determined people can succeed where those who only desire power will fail again and again. It’s not about the type of magic, it’s about the person wielding it.”

The boy opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking thoughtful. Everyone looked up as the bell rang, letting them know the class was over, and children scattered, grabbing their abandoned books and stuffing them into their bags. Pandy returned to the desk and sat down, lifting a hand to wave as a few students offered her awkward thanks, though she wasn’t sure what for. Only when the door closed behind the last of them did she allow herself to fall forward over the desk, face down and arms extended.

It was over! She’d done it! Pandy rolled her head to the side, calling up her stats – and with almost fifteen minutes to spare. She reached up and patted herself on the back. Well done, me. That was a piece of-

The door opened, and Pandy lifted her head just enough to see the chancellor, Isidor, and the dragon librarian enter the room, all staring straight at her.

Uh-oh.