I stared at the Transmutation Professor's blonde beehive for a long, confused moment, and then, suddenly aware of my awkwardness, jumped to immediate attention. As comedic as the professor looked, she could turn me into a wombat at the blink of an eye should she so choose.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder and ran out the door, nonstop apologies spilling from my mouth.
Once the classroom door shut with a solid thump, Professor Pomello turned to me. "Inanna," she said, and then paused, "it has been almost a year since you graduated from the Academy, yes?"
"Er...yes--yes, Professor," I stammered, not sure where this conversation was going.
"You have graduated with documents that state your proficiency in certain areas of magiks." She tapped her fingers together in impatience. "Why are you still here?"
"Madam, well--I ah...my degree pertains to cooking and culinary arts, but I haven't yet had the chance to--"
"Do you think this is a common trade school?" Professor Pomello hissed. "This is the famed Academy of Magikal Arts. Your degree is in Thaumaturgy!" She interjected, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Just because you choose to direct your magiks in the area of Culinary Arts does not mean you are not proficient in the ancient ways and practices of your magikal crafting."
I hung my head in embarrassment, blushing to the roots of my muddy brown hair. Not even evoking a soufflé at this moment would have proven my case.
The problem with having any type of discussion about my so-called 'achievements' with the professors at the Academy is that they all knew but danced around the unfortunate fact that for a graduate mage, I had almost no powers of which to speak.
Ignoring my obvious discomfort, she began rambling at me in her lecturing voice.
"It is the springtime of your youth. You should spread your wings. Fly far and wide. Take what we have taught you and make good use of it. I do not want to see twelve years of grueling magikal studies wasted on a child who will spend the rest of her days at my school, running small errands and making a fool of herself."
She motioned as if to shoo me away. "Go! Leave this place and be like the Mages of old. Find your quest. Do something useful. Do something fun!" And with that, she went back into the classroom, the door thudding behind her in solid finality.
Sighing with disgust, I straightened my bag and yanked down my dress, which had started to ride up my waist from all the running around.
I was mad that I had to use my uncoordinated left hand instead of my wounded right hand so that I wouldn't leave bloody prints all over myself, but seriously, what difference did it make any way?
I stood there with my eyes closed.
Even if I left the Academy, what kind of fun did the professor think I would be able to have? The only kind of work that I could possibly do would be of the menial labor sort, the kind where no magik was needed.
It was not random; my choice of a burger-flipping degree. I didn't need much magik to do it. All I needed was a healthy body and hands that still worked.
Speaking of which...I looked down at my fingers. I needed to find a place and wash all this blood off.
It was starting to dry and congeal, making a bit of a sticky mess. Worse yet, my wound was starting to throb with pain, now that the momentary excitement of the morning was behind me.
With only half an hour left before the noon lunch bell and my belly growling like an angry bear, I pulled out my checklist from a side pocket.
My next assignment looked fairly straightforward; yet another easy task for those who were of the magikally-challenged sort.
I was suppose to deliver a box of books to a classroom, and it looked like the books were located at the Academy's bookshop, which was around the corner, at the far side of the courtyard.
No time to wash my bloody hand. If I hurried, I could get it done before the lunch bell.
In less than five minutes, I was standing in front of the bookshop, panting and wheezing with exertion. I had run all the way there, taking advantage of the fact that it was downhill and I didn't have to exert too much energy.
The MB (or Magik Bookshop to the unbaptized) was a circular, dome-shaped stucco building with a tall spindly turret and a cheerful arched top blue door. The door was flanked by two round windows which gave it the effect of being perpetually surprised.
It was at the central nexus of the kidney-bean-shaped inner courtyard, across from the more dignified monastic-looking dining hall with its tall arched entryway and its distinctive belfry.
A white and blue sign mounted perpendicular to the MB's stucco wall swung in the gentle breeze proclaiming its 'OPEN' status.
I entered the bookshop, glad to be out of the hot mid-day sun.
The interior was cool and darkened. Thick carpeting on the floor masked the sounds of footfalls and dampened any stray noise that might be a distraction to the browsing customer. There was a gentle tinkling of mage-induced harp music in the air.
I could tell it was mage-induced because the music was not coming from any speakers, hidden or otherwise. The music was everywhere in equal measures, rather than being loud nearer to the speakers and then barely audible once a person moved away from the speakers' locations.
Near the front, I could hear the trickling of a tiny fountain. A sculpted stone imp sat on the blade of a stone leaf spitting water from its mouth into the flower-shaped basin below.
"Welcome," it greeted me and then resumed its water spitting activity.
The fountain also used magik to power its water pump, which was, for all practical purposes, not a bad thing since a pump running on electricity would hum and make more noise than the trickling water sounds it was suppose to be producing.
My nose picked up that familiar scent that made the MB such a magikal place for me.
Mixed in with the smell of leather binding and new paper was also the musky floral overtones of incense smoke wafting from the back area where the incense was sold. Above all that was the wonderful woody scent of papyrus from the huge collection of magik scrolls that lined the walls of the MB.
It was a dangerous place, this MB. If I did not focus on what I was trying to do, the books would reach out their invisible tentacles and ensnare me with their fascinating titles.
I have been known to lose myself for hours amongst the shelves, my nose between the covers of various books. It was a great equalizer because when I delved into a book, I always felt as if I had the same abilities as everyone else.
On this day, I did not have the luxury of such elastic time.
Ignoring the display table loaded down with the latest magik scrolls and fiction books, I made my resolute way to the front desk.
"Pardon me," I called out to the front desk clerk, who had to have been hired for the summer session because I had never seen him before.
He was a short thin man of indeterminate age, with pale blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a big smile. Those blue eyes were currently fixated on me with a strange and curious stare which I found somewhat creepy, but he was friendly enough.
"Well, hello there! What can I do for you?"
"I need to pick up an order of books for room 142 in Alder Alley." I pulled out the order slip and handed it to the clerk.
"Ah, these. I know exactly where they are. Give me a moment." He rose from behind the desk and levitated upward to the top of the turret.
Once he located the box from one of the niches near the roof gables of the turret, he floated back down with it.
The box, looking as if it easily weighed a hundred pounds, slid to the floor at my feet and settled with a gentle thump. I pursed my lips as I tried to figure out how to lift it without slipping a disc.
"What's wrong?" the clerk asked, seeing my discomfiture. "Are these not the books you were needing to pick up?"
"Hmm?" I looked up. "Oh, no. This is the correct order. It's just...I didn't think there were that many books."
Well, here goes nothing.
I blew out a puff of air, dislodging stray strands of hair from my eyes, and squatted on my haunches in a very unladylike manner. Reaching out, I wrapped my skinny arms around the box--or at least I tried.
It was a very big box and my arms were not long enough to circle around it, which meant I could not get a decent grip.
"Oh man!" I grunted. "Why so heavy?" Straining and stretching, I put all my efforts into moving the box. First I tried pushing, and then I tried pulling.
It did not even budge.
After a few minutes of huffing and puffing, I gave up and plopped my butt on the floor. I needed to come up with a new plan.
"Good gods." The clerk shook his head. "Lemme guess. You still haven't mastered Basic Levitation, am I correct?"
I looked up at him, my eyes daggers.
"Really? Hmm." The clerk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I could work a bit of magik to help you transport that box, at least to the classroom."
I stood up, feeling as I always did when faced with my overwhelming lack of abilities.
I felt like shit.
In a world filled with gods and goddesses who had the power to move mountains and transform seas, I was a deformed gimp, a freak of nature, a magikally challenged, physically handicapped, defective girl.
"Cheer up." He smiled. "Things will work out. They always do." He waved his fingers in the air, sending a silent Command out into the air between us.
"Here ya go!" And he threw something black into the air which split into four identical fluttering pieces.
Bats!