“Whimsy! Come back here, you naughty cat!”

She was going to have that osta's burgundy hide when she caught her. Whimsy had already led her a merry chase through the gardens. She'd crawled through bushes, soiling her uniform ... not that it could get any uglier than it already was ... and fell face down in a flower bed trying to catch the cat off-guard. Whimsy had heard her mistress coming, though, and stepped daintily out of her reach.

It was a game for Whimsy, Stephanie knew, but it wasn't a game for her. She knew now she would most likely miss dinner. Even if she caught the kitten immediately, she would still have to clean herself up first. No one was going to let her in the cafeteria with a dirty uniform, leaves in her hair, and mud on her face. One of her hair ribbons had been torn when she yanked it away from a tree branch and her beautiful new boots were probably ruined forever.

Yes, she was definitely going to have that osta's hide. And to hell with that “no pet” rule. Whimsy was going straight back to her parent's estate as soon as she had a few days off. The kitten was starting to be more trouble than she was worth.

The young blonde stopped to catch her breath. Sensing that she was no longer being chased, Whimsy slowed, trotting happily toward the Church of the Moon and sniffing around the entrance. Stephanie smiled. She had the cat now. All she had to do was sneak up and grab her.

She crept forward, closer and closer. She was almost there. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled. All she had to do was reach out and ...

The door opened. A group of older students walked out. Whimsy slipped inside before the door was closed. The students laughed at the dirty, disheveled girl and stuck their noses in the air as they passed. She rose to her feet and stared after them, unable to resist the impulse to stick her tongue out at their retreating backs. Snobs!

With a long-suffering sigh, the girl brushed the dirt from her skirt as best as she could and opened the door. There were a few worshipers in the pews, but they didn't look up from their prayers. Whimsy was strolling leisurely along the far wall, apparently believing she was no longer being pursued.

Stephanie followed as quietly as she could, glancing around her as she walked. She loved the church. It was a beautiful and peaceful place. She especially liked to sing here. The acoustics were great and she often imagined her clear pure voice rising through the glass dome and all the way to the goddess Alioe. She also imagined that Alioe enjoyed her songs. Whether or not that was true, she always felt good about herself when she sang here, as if her life had purpose and meaning.

Now, however, she just wanted to catch her stupid osta before she got the both of them in trouble. As if knowing she was in her mistress's thoughts, Whimsy turned her little head sharply, her tail lashing from side to side. Seeing her pursuer, she broke into a run.

Stephanie ran after her, momentarily forgetting how she was supposed to act in such a sacred place. She followed her through a couple of hallways and finally to a rather forbidding set of doors. She knew where this was ... the crypts! She shivered just thinking about what lay behind those doors.

And where was Whimsy? The osta had completely disappeared. Peering closer, she noticed that the doors were very slightly ajar. The opening was just large enough for an enterprising kitten to slip through.

Stephanie opened the doors a bit more, until it was just wide enough for her, too, to slip inside. Sure enough, there was Whimsy, trotting down the stairs and into the room beyond.

The girl gulped. Dare she go down into the crypts? She had never been there herself, but she had heard the stories. Supposedly they were full of ghosts. Not that Stephanie believed in ghosts. Not really. Well ... maybe sort of. They probably existed. Too many people had seen them for her to believe otherwise. And they were most likely scary. But they couldn't harm you. They were just like mists or something. Insubstantial. And as for that whole possession thing ... well, if you believed they could possess you, they probably could. But if you didn't, then they couldn't. And Stephanie believed that they couldn't.

Who would want to possess her anyway? She wasn't smart, she wasn't pretty, and when she cast a spell, it only worked about half the time. Her life was boring and she had to force herself to eat. She was most definitely not prime possession material.

So she was safe.

She hoped.

It didn't really matter. She had to go down there. She couldn't leave her poor defenseless little kitty in the crypts all alone.

Taking a deep breath, she walked carefully down the staircase, trying not to make any noise. Could ghosts hear? She supposed they could if they had ears. But did they have ears? Did she want to find out?

She swallowed nervously as she entered the crypts. It was very dim down here. She could hardly see ... not that she really wanted to. She paused, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, afraid to look around her. Her breathing sounded very loud and the beating of her heart seemed to reverberate around the silent room. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she searched for a place a small kitten would be likely to hide.

“Whimsy,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “wherever you are ... please, please, please come out.”

There was nothing but quiet in the dark and dank crypts under the church. Stephanies voice echoed off the stone walls, before being swallowed up by the darkness. Somewhere, further ahead, down the hallway a small chirrup sounded. It seemed to be moving away from her.

“Whimsy?” Stephanie followed the sound of the osta's little chirp. Was it her imagination or did the kitten sound as scared as she was? Her earlier annoyance at Whimsy's antics was instantly replaced by concern. She had to save her poor defenseless little kitten from whatever dangers faced her here. She had to be brave ... for Whimsy's sake.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she walked down the hallway. Where were all the dead bodies anyway? She looked around her, but everything was shrouded in shadow. All she could see were mysterious dark shapes along the walls. They could be just about anything.

Maybe I could try casting Illumination. No, I better not. It probably wouldn't work, and if it did, it might scare Whimsy. It might also show her things she really didn't want to see.

“Whimsy,” she called a bit louder. “Come here, little kitty kitty.” She liked the way her voice echoed off the walls. This would be a great place to sing. It would be interesting to find out how she could use those echoes to her voice's advantage. Too bad the place was so scary, or she'd consider coming down again and giving it a try.

She stopped for a moment, tilting her head to the side. This doesn't have to be a scary place it I don't want it to be. She wasn't the only one who came down here. Several of her friends had told her they'd been to the crypts, and someone had to clean the place occasionally. Obviously, they all came out alive. Maybe the ghost stories were just lies to keep people out, or just simple rumors. Perhaps all that was down here were the dead bodies. Dead bodies couldn't hurt you because they were ... well ... dead.

The crypts weren't really frightening at all. Her imagination just made it seem that way.

She stood a bit taller and continued down the hallway, feeling much braver now that she had banished her overactive imagination to the back of her mind.

As Stephanie moved, she passed a wide open archway. It was simply a gaping black hole in the wall. Just as she passed by it, there was another chirrup. Somewhere deep inside the archway, there was another sound. A sort of slithery scrape. Like satin on stone. Slightly further along the crypt hallway, a single phosphorous lamp hung, giving off a very dim orange light. Inside the archway, Whimsy sounded again. But she didn't chirrup this time.

She hissed, a frightened and shocked sound.

Stephanie paused before the archway when she heard Whimsy's chirrup. She tried to see beyond it but there was nothing but black. It figured that if cats didn't want to be found, they would go someplace where it was dark. They wouldn't run into anything with their whiskers to guide them. Stephanie, however, didn't have that kind of protection.

She tilted her head to the side as she heard something else beyond the archway. It sounded kind of swishy, like a snake or something. Were there snakes down here? The girl shivered. She did not like snakes, not that she had ever seen one. But she knew she wouldn't like them. Whimsy probably would, though. She probably thought they were tasty.

The osta's sudden terrified hiss broke the nearly palpable silence. “Whimsy!” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the area. Was the snake too big for the kitten to catch? Was it something bigger than a snake? Whatever it was, Stephanie knew she had to go after her.

There's nothing to be afraid of if I don't think there is, she told herself, although she didn't quite believe it. She probably saw her own shadow in an old mirror or something. And if there is a snake, it's probably more scared of me than I am of it. Right. Sure it is.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the archway, moving slowly and cautiously, searching for her wayward kitten.

As the young galdor entered the darkened room, her eyes would adjust for the lack of light, the lamp from the hall casting a little dim orange glow inside the room. Just enough to make out silhouettes and shine on some surfaces. It looked like a high arched room, with a row of armor suits on either side, holding regal looking spears. They were very light weight suits, mostly consisting of shin guards, breastplates, arm guards and a helmet. The closest one seemed to have the Seventen Insignia etched into its breastplate. In the center of the room, six large stone tables sat in rows of two. As Stephanie moved forward, she would see a stone carving on each, as if someone had been laid to sleep on them. Further into the less lit cavern, the osta hissed again, and without warning shot out of the darkness and up one of Stephanie's legs. She was trembling all over and her hair stood on end. Deep in the darkness, the blonde would just be ale to make out one of the stone table carvings was broken, fallen into what was in fact a tomb.

There was the strange silken scrape again, only this time it was behind her, back at the entrance.

Stephanie 's heart leapt to her throat when she came across the row of armor suits. She froze in her tracks, staring at them, daring them to move. They didn't. Curious, she walked towards the closest one. Seventen? Did the Seventen wear armor? She didn't think so ... not armor like this anyway. She'd never really thought much about the Seventen. To her, they were just a part of the background, keeping galdori safe from ... from something. Humans, maybe. She didn't really know. Or care.

Maybe they wore it in the past though. Her gaze took in the tables with the person-carvings on top. I know what this is! It's a burial place for Seventen officers. They buried them here and then they set their armor up to ... to watch over them or something. As if unoccupied armor can watch over anything. Maybe they aren't unoccupied. She stepped back a few paces, her blue eyes wide. The armor just stood there. I'm letting my imagination run away with me again. I should know better. I'm fourteen ... it's not like I was born yesterday.

She walked closer to the tables, curious as to what the person-carvings looked like up close. Were they all different? Did each of them look like the person they were meant to represent? Or were they all the same? Wait a minute! Something was wrong with the one in the back ....

The girl shrieked as a small, burgundy furball clawed its way up her leg. “Clock it, Whimsy! Ouch!”

She looked down. Her stockings had holes in them and a small trickle of blood ran down her leg and into her boot. I must really look a sight, she thought. I've got blood on my head and my leg. I probably look like a ghost myself. A strange picture formed in her mind ... a ghost screaming in horror and running from her.

She almost laughed, but this strange place wasn't really made for laughter. It was both creepy and fascinating at the same time. She pried Whimsy from her leg and held the shivering kitten close, crooning to her and smoothing down her fur. “It's ok, Whimsy. I don't know what you saw, but it's safe now. I won't let anything hurt you.”

Now that she had her osta back, she could satisfy her curiosity about this strange room. She moved closer to the tables. Yes, one of the tables in the back ... the person-carving was broken, falling partially inside the table, which appeared to be hollow. She was probably right about someone being buried inside it.

But why is it broken? Did ... did ... she gulped. Did its occupant escape?

She heard that strange slivery sound again, behind her this time. It didn't really sound like a snake. It didn't sound like anything she was familiar with. What if it was whatever used to be lying in that broken tomb?

Her instinct was to bolt out of there as fast as she could. That, however, would be stupid because the swishy thing was between her and the door. She would run right into it. Just bide your time, she told herself. Perhaps whatever it is will get bored and go away.

In case it didn't, though, she had better be prepared. Placing Whimsy across her shoulders, she walked back over to the suits of armor and pried the nearest spear from the gauntlet that held it. It clattered noisily to the floor, and she quickly grabbed it up. Ohhh! She hadn't expected it to be so heavy! It would do, though, for lack of any other weapon. If something attacked her, she would certainly be able to swing it and perhaps stab something with it. Although stabbing a ghost probably wouldn't do any good. Could you actually kill something that was already dead?

Shivering again, she crept back the way she had come, brandishing the heavy spear in front of her.

As the spear clattered to the floor, all other sounds ceased. As she picked it up and began to advance, the darkness around Stephanie suddenly whisked away and she found herself standing in a red velvet and gold trimmed theater. Rows and rows of chairs swept away from her, and if she looked down she would see she was standing on a hardwood stage. Cheering and applause came from the chairs, although if there were people there, the blonde couldn't see them for the bright light in her eyes. If she paid attention to her clothing, she would find she was dressed in a sparkling white and diamond aria dress, almost like it was made of ice and snow. Whimsy hissed and tensed on her shoulders, arching up, fur bristling on end.

It was a long stretch of the imagination to believe you could be standing onstage only a split second after you were creeping through the crypts, even for a child as fanciful as Stephanie. The gullible part of her longed to believe it ...What a fabulous dress! I wonder what my shoes look like? ... but her practical side reminded her that she was holding a heavy spear and blood was trickling into her boot. That spotlight shining in her eyes should be uncomfortably hot; why, then, was she uncomfortably cold? And the floor beneath her boots did not feel like it was made out of hardwood.

Still, the illusion was compelling, seeking to pull her into it despite her best intentions to the contrary. She felt herself losing the battle, so she did the only thing she knew to dispel it: she closed her eyes. Ahhh, that was better. No, actually it wasn't. Being onstage would be better. Wait a minute ... where had the illusion come from? And why had it been of something she was very familiar with?

Whimsy's hissing and spitting told her she was probably not the only entity in the room. Some .... thing ... was in here with her. And it could read her mind at least enough to know that she longed to sing opera and loved being onstage. That wasn't really much, but it was much more than the girl was comfortable with.

She started shaking uncontrollably. Once again, she had to quell the instinct to run. What if that was what the ... thing ... wanted her to do? What if it thrived on her fear? Well, then, she wouldn't be afraid anymore. Or at least she would act like she wasn't.

To act believably, you had to believe you weren't acting. You had to become whoever or whatever you were pretending to be. Stephanie took a few deep breaths to calm herself. I am a person who is not afraid of anything, she thought. Getting fully into character took longer than a few minutes, but a few minutes was all she thought she could spare. She forced down her fear and started thinking that she wasn't afraid. She let herself begin to believe it. Her heartbeat slowed. She stopped shaking. She reached up with a steady hand to pet her osta reassuringly.

She was still terrified, but it didn't show. With any luck, the ghost, or whatever had given her the illusion, would believe her little act, as long as she was able to keep believing it herself.

She took another deep breath, and opened her eyes.

The illusion remained when she opened her eyes. It flickered slightly, as though under water, but it didn't break. Whimsy was backing away from the space ahead of them, clawing her way half way down Stephanie's back, hissing still. The theater applause got louder, mingling into what sort of sounded like an open mouthed exhale. Each painful claw in the galdor's back caused the illusion to ripple, like it was drawing her concentration away. For one brief millisecond, the kitten dug her nails in painfully and swiped at the air, and the illusion flickered, giving the girl a glimpse of darkness, cold rock and...teeth. The illusion returned.

What the bloody hell was that?

Her carefully concocted fearlessness fled. She could hardly breathe. The shaking returned. But with her nearly mindless terror came a bit of anger and a lot of determination. Whatever that teeth-thing was, it was not going to eat Stephanie Melisande Trafalgar!

The blonde galdor swung the spear in the direction of whatever owned those teeth, completely ignoring the illusion. She knew where she really was. Stomping her boots, she felt the stone floor beneath her feet, felt the coldness of the air. The entrance was over there, beyond the teeth-thing, and behind her was the armor and the person-carvings. She concentrated on what was, rather than what was not.

It wasn't all that difficult. While acting, she often had to pretend something was there when it was not, especially in the case of scenery and props, which sometimes were only finished a day or two before opening night. She might have to walk through a door that wasn't there or pick up an object that didn't yet exist. That ability served her well now, as she focused her senses on the reality around her rather than what she saw before her eyes.

Aware that the pain in her back caused the illusion to waver, she concentrated on that as well. She turned and ran back into the room, still wildly swinging the spear. This caused Whimsy to dig her claws in deeper in order to keep her precarious perch on her mistress's back. Clocking shit, that hurts! Her back felt like it was on fire. But she didn't try to tune it out; instead she embraced it, relished it, became the pain.

The spear clinked against something. The armor! Noise! That might help. Reaching out, her fingers touched cool metal, further ensconcing her in reality. She placed both hands ... the spear enclosed in one fist ... on the side of it and shoved, putting the entirety of her weight behind the push. She felt it give beneath her fingers and then heard the satisfying clatter as it fell away from her and hit the hard stone floor.

The pain in her back and the violent clatter of the armor broke the illusion like smoke from a fire. It whispered away, leaving Stephanie in the cold darkness of the tomb. As her eyes adjusted, she would see a figure standing near the entrance. A man it seemed. He was hunched slightly, arms and legs unnaturally long. As she watched, the figure shuddered and a sound came from it. A soft high pitched whooping, like insane laughter. The man figure moved then, a jerky, fast sort of straightening. With a crack, the face turned to her, head tilted like it was confused.

The lower half of his face was almost entirely mouth and teeth, pulled into a hideous grin. Long lank hair hung down around its face and wide rolling eyes looked at her with hunger. It began to approach her, arms outstretched, in the same jerky sort of movement. The silky slither started again, and Stephanie would see it came from the torn and rotting pants he wore, half a leg dragging out behind him. The insane whooping escaped him again as he moved, Whimsy had finally had enough. She lept off Stephanie's back and darted out the archway, up the hall and back into the church.

It seemed the girl was in a lot of trouble. She would have to do something else.

People react differently when faced with their fears. Some faint, some scream and run, some freeze in their tracks. And some grow quiet and clear-headed, sometimes able to think better in a crisis than they do in normal situations.

Stephanie was one of the latter. She tried her best not to stare at the horrible man-thing in front of her. She looked around it instead, viewing it from the corners of her eyes. It was quite hideous, but she didn't know if what scared her most was its rolling eyes and gaping mouth or the fact that it needed a major fashion makeover. Was that why he wanted to eat her ... so she could give him some good clothing tips? Could it be that because of her fashion sense, she really was prime possession material that any self-respecting ghost would love to get its hands ... or its teeth ... on?

Tossing those frivolous thoughts aside, she ran through her options as the man-thing moved steadily closer. It pretty much has me backed against the wall. I can try to run past it ... I'm sure I can run faster than it can ... but those long arms might reach out and grab me before I can get away. The armor is between us. If I push the rest of it down, it will slow him, or at least I think it will. He doesn't look like he can fly. And he seems pretty solid, not insubstantial at all. Maybe I can hack off his body parts with the spear, but he has to get a little bit too close for that. There's also a chance that Whimsy's appearance in the church might bring help, but I can't count on that. I can only rely on myself.

Stephanie's stomach growled, reminding her that she was missing dinner. Great. Everyone else is sitting nice and safe in the cafeteria happily eating their food, and here I am down in the crypts trying to avoid becoming dinner myself. He does look quite ravenous. Hmmmm .... maybe, just maybe ...

She closed her eyes, took a deep calming breath, let it out slowly, and then opened them again. Concentrating completely on the task at hand and believing in it with every fiber of her being, she spoke the words of the Satiety spell in a clear, pure voice, politely imploring the mona to react favorably toward her and remove the ghost's hunger so that it would no longer be interested in eating/possessing her.

The mona responded with urgency for the girl, wanting to help her out. The spell went off without a problem, but the ghost wasn't a living being. It had an unnatural hunger, one that couldn't be sated. The well cast spell did nothing to the creature, who whooped again, reaching out to the girl as he advanced.

A sudden crackling field invaded the room, and Stephanie felt the unusually dry and bland taste of a strong Barrier being cast. Before she could even have a moment to contemplate the source, she was Pulled through the room, towards the entrance. The grinning ghosts laugh became a hideous scream and he struggled against an invisible wall, horrid wide eyes rolling after her. The girl found herself in someones arms, being dragged upstairs. The door was slammed shut behind her and she was spun around gently to face a tall completely robed Everine.

"Are you harmed, child?" The female voice asked softly. Somewhere around her feet, Whimsy had appeared, chirruping and trembling.

Being pulled out of the room by an invisible force was unnerving, but not near as frightening as facing that horrible whooping ghost. She tried to keep up with the longer stride of whoever was dragging her upstairs, all the while wondering why the ghost had not turned away when she cast the Satiety spell. She had felt it working, but the ghost had been unaffected. Why? What had she done wrong this time? Why had she not been able to escape from the ghost herself instead of having to be rescued like a silly little baby? It wasn't fair. She wanted to have an exciting story to regale her friends with, and now she had nothing.

All such thoughts fled when she finally faced her rescuer. Her mouth dropped to the floor and her blue eyes widened. An Everine! She had never seen one up close before. To her, they were mysterious, powerful, and completely unapproachable. And a bit scary, all covered up as they were.

She'd never known one to associate with a lowly student before. And she had just been rescued by one. Maybe she would have that exciting story, after all.



And ... it spoke! Ummm ...she spoke! To her!

“I ... I think I'm ok,” she said. “Just some scratches from my osta. “ She picked Whimsy up and cuddled her, rubbing her face against the kitten's burgundy fur before setting her down again. “My ... my back is ...”

She had ignored the pain during her encounter with the man-thing, but now it returned in full force, shattering the calm feeling that had seen her through the horrible experience. She started shaking uncontrollably as the reality of her situation set in. It probably wouldn't have mattered what she did. She could have cast all the spells she knew and it wouldn't have mattered. That ghost was too strong for her to defeat on her own. If the Everine had not intervened with her powerful spell, it would have eaten Stephanie alive!

Without thinking, she threw her arms around the Everine and hugged her. “Thank you,” she said simply.

The Everine gasped and pulled back slightly from the hug, pushing the girl away so she could look at her through the covering of her face.

"What in Alioe's name were you doing in the crypts? It is a dangerous place, reserved for those who know how to keep its secrets where they should be. Did Herbie hurt you?" Her voice was very soft and melodic, as if she were singing instead of talking. She sounded genuinely concerned about the girl, and not very old.

Herbie? The ghost had a name? He didn't look like a Herbie. He looked like a ... oh, she'd never had much luck coming up with names. Deciding on a name for Whimsy had taken her days.

Whimsy! Should she tell the Everine the truth, that she'd wound up in the crypts because she'd been chasing her kitten? If she did, there was probably no chance that the osta would be allowed to stay with her. If necessary, she could leave her with her parents, but she really wanted to keep her here. Caring for Whimsy helped keep her mind off food, and watching the kitten eat brought home the fact that Stephanie needed to eat too.

If she lied, though, her rescuer would probably know. She was a good enough actress to fool almost anybody, but what if the Everine could read minds? She really didn't know much about them, other than she liked to hear them sing.

She should probably stick to the truth, or at least a version of it. “My ... my kitten ran into the crypts,” she said, stuttering just a little. “I ... I guess someone left the door open. I went down there to get her, and ... well ... there's a great echo down there.” Her voice strengthened as she warmed to her favorite subject. “I sing, you know. I'm going to be a famous opera singer when I grow up. I wanted to see what the echoes would do to my voice. But then, the ghost ... uhhh ... Herbie ... he showed up and tried to eat me. Whimsy ran off. I cast Satiety on Herbie, but for some reason, it didn't work. Then you came and rescued me.

“Did Whimsy find you?” She scooped the cat up again and held her close. “If so, then I guess she's a hero. If it wasn't for her, I'd be Herbie's dinner. Ohhhhh....” Her dizziness returned and she felt more than a bit nauseous. Holding Whimsy to her with one hand, she steadied herself with the other by grabbing one of the Everine's arms. When the worst was over, she quickly let go, blushing a little.

The young galdor really didn't know how to act around the Everine. “Ummmm ... sorry,” she said. “I ... think that what happened is starting to catch up with me. I also hit my head today. That might be part of it. Would Herbie have possessed me if you hadn't come? Was there any way I could have stopped him myself?”

The Everine shook her head, as though she was trying to clear a blocked ear. Running through the story a little slower in her head, she squeezed the girls shoulder.

"First and foremost. That door should not have been open. Either someone did not shut it properly - which I doubt - or Herbert has been tampering again. I will inform my brothers and sisters of this grave and nearly fatal error. Perhaps a lock should be installed. Secondly, Herbie isn't a living creature. He is the trapped soul of a long past galdor. Satiety wouldn't work on a rock anymore than it would work on a ghost. You must think more of ghosts like substances than people child."



The woman shook her head, waiting as the young blonde regained herself. She was concerned for the child.

"No, your kitten didn't find me, but thats another matter..."



The woman laughed very softly and brushed Stephanie's hair out of her face.

"No child. Herbert is not a possessive type. He probably wouldn't have eaten you either. Probably. You might call him the mischief maker, but don't let that fool you. He and the others are still very very dangerous. You could have tried to cast Wall or Counterspell. But in reality, first forms are not quite strong enough to withstand a ghost for long." Grabbing her shoulders again, she shook her gently like a worried mother.

"Please, do not go down there again. I felt your field down there when you cast, and I heard the crashing. But its not uncommon to hear noises. If I hadn't been in the Church main, I may have not felt you-" A throat clearing in the center aisle turned her head, and she let go of the girl, bowing slightly. The person in the center nodded her grey haired head and peered at Stephanie through thin framed glasses, yellow eyes stern. Beside her stood another Everine.

"Thankyou for rescuing the child, but I believe I should take her now. You've been subjected to enough stress as it is." Professor Dallium said respectfully. The Everine woman nodded, still bowed and backed away. Dallium turned to the one beside her and nodded.

"I am grateful you summoned me Holy Everine." The one beside her bowed slowly and too moved away, leaving the little blonde standing alone with her chirruping osta. The professor looked at her in silence, before glancing at the cat.

"Follow me young lady." She said in a soft but stern voice, turning on her heel and striding down the aisle, waiting for the girl at the doors.

Oh, so that's why it didn't work! She had indeed thought of him as living, because he was hungry, and substances didn't eat ... not that she knew of anyway. The girl sighed. If she couldn't even figure out what spells worked on what, she would never be good at magic.

She also did not like being called “child.” She was not one; she was fourteen. And even though she knew she looked a bit younger than she really was, her huge bosom should proclaim loud and clear that she was not a child. She couldn't say that to an Everine, though. She would probably get zapped or something.



They're going to take my Whimsy away. Stephanie held the kitten closer, a bit too close for Whimsy. The osta squirmed out of her arms and climbed up to her shoulder, draping herself around the girl's neck like a fur stole.



The girl found the Everine's touch comforting, and her shivering lessened a bit.



Stephanie turned as well at the sound of someone's throat clearing. Ooooh, another Everine, and ... she gulped ... a professor, one who didn't look too happy to see her. Clocking hell! I've been here only a few hours and I'm already in trouble!

For the first time since her ordeal, she realized how disheveled she must look. Appearances were quite important to the fashion-conscious Stephanie. Her stockings were torn, her leg and head bloody, her uniform and face smeared with dirt. Her back was probably bloody too, and she knew that the kitten's claws had torn her uniform because she felt the air on her back. She certainly did not look like the model Brunnhold student. A bit ashamed at her appearance, she looked down at the floor.



Stephanie lifted her head to watch the two Everine walk away, still a bit awed at the fact that one had actually spoken to her. But when she looked at the professor, and saw that her stern gaze was on Whimsy, the awe turned to fear. She gulped again and turned her eyes back to the floor.



"Young lady" was much better than "child. She had to admit, though, that she liked the Everine's tone of voice when she said "child" a lot more than the professor's when she said "young lady."

“Yes, ma'am,” she said meekly, remembering her manners. With a sullen and slightly spoiled expression on her face, she followed the woman to the doors, knowing she had a lot to answer for and dreading whatever punishment she was sure to receive.

Professor Dallium opened the door and led the girl out, not saying a word. They crossed soundlessly over the courtyard towards a tall building. It seemed to be the Perspective Magic quadrant. Walking at a rather brisk pace, the Professor opened the door and led Stephanie inside, up the first set of stairs and into a small office. It was a very plain office, with red mahogany wall panels and a nice tidy redwood desk. There were nothing but bookshelves lining the walls on either side and a large open window on the other, looking down on the courtyard, the Church, and the Lawn way off in the distance.

Taking a seat behind her desk, Dallium gestured for Stephanie to take the one situated in front of it.

"Sit down and tell me your name please." It was a no-nonsense sort of please.

Stephanie had to nearly run to keep up with the professor's longer stride. She did not know this particular professor, and she seemed a bit rude to the girl. She remembered a line from a play she'd once been in: “I don't have to respect you if you don't respect me.” Plays were fantasy, though, and what worked in a play generally didn't work in real life. If she said that line to the professor, she'd probably be sentenced to cleaning out toilets for a year.

She looked around curiously inside the professor's office. It was quite austere, nothing much to hold a young girl's attention. It probably said a lot about its resident's personality, which meant Stephanie was most likely in deep trouble indeed. Austere people were usually unimaginative and not impressed by creative means.



The blonde galdor sat on the edge of the chair, partly because she was nervous and partly because her back was still burning. Whimsy's paws were twitching against the girl's shoulder. The kitten was fast asleep.

She folded her hands on her lap and looked straight into the professor's eyes. The request sounded more like a demand and Stephanie did not like demands. Being polite was going to take some serious acting. “My name is Stephanie Trafalgar,” she said, hoping the insolence she felt did not show through her voice. “Might I ask yours?”

Professor Dallium gave the girl a slow look.

"Ahh, I know that name. You've only just returned to us, if I recall correctly. I am Professor Doreen Dallium, and I am your Perceptive Magic teacher, when you start attending class, Miss Trafalgar." Resting a hand over a small crystal ball, the Professor lazily scryed up the location of Stephanie's Dorm Matron. A middle aged woman with black cropped hair looked back at her.

"Mrs Dressote? I would like you to come to my office please. We have an issue do discuss." The black haired woman bowed slightly.

"Of course Professor. I shall come right now." Cutting off the spell, Dallium's yellow eyes stared at Stephanie again.

"I won't even begin to go into just how incredibly dangerous your little stroll under the church was. The sheer...stupidity of your act overwhelms me. If you were a first form, I would understand. But you have been here before, for three years at least. I believe our Holy Everine have spoken to you, and perhaps she explained some. But truly young lady, if they hadn't found you, what do you think would have happened?" The woman paused, letting the thought sink in, before continuing.

"But thats not the main reason your here. I believe you should know the rules by now, Miss Trafalgar. Pets are not allowed on campus except for the older students. And by older, I do not mean fourteen." Just then there came a knock on the door, before Mrs Dessone entered.

"Professor-Oh! Stephanie?" She appeared shocked the girl was here too. Looking over at the Professor's face, she frowned.

"Whats going on?" Dallium gave her a stern look.

"This student was found in the Crypts, with Herbert. Luckily the Eve-"

"Oh my Gods! Are you okay? Did he get you?! Oh Alioe look at you! Goddess be thankful your here!" The woman burst into chatter, patting Stephanie on the head and looking her over. Dallium cleared her throat and the woman stopped.

"As I said, the Everine found her. But she has been spoken to about that. What I am more concerned about is that." She pointed to Whimsy. The woman looked at the osta, back at the Professor and frowned.

"A stole?" Dallium was loosing her temper.

"No, a pet you silly woman! It's an osta. A living breathing animal and she should not have it!" Dessone bit her lip.

"Oh..."

So that is why she did not know Professor Dallium. She had not been to class since the new term had started. If she could keep up with the other students her age, she would be able to stay with them. If not, she would have to go back and repeat the fourth form. She had done a lot of the academic work she had missed at home, but her ability to cast a spell had only returned recently, after she had built up her self-esteem. She would have to pay special attention to perceptive magic from now on. She had a feeling that after the mess she had gotten herself into today, Professor Dallium would be extra hard on her.

She squirmed a bit as the professor scryed into her crystal ball. She was very uncomfortable with scrying; it seemed to Stephanie that it was an invasion of privacy. Thinking that someone might be spying on her through scrying was almost more frightening than the encounter with Herbert the ghost.



I would have been fine, she thought. The Everine said that Herbie wasn't dangerous. Therefore, I could have just taken Whimsy and left. Now that the incident was over, the danger of the situation was pushed to the back of the child's mind. Pushed to the front was the common youthful belief that nothing truly horrible would ever happen to her. The echoes in the crypts haunted her more than the ghosts did. She knew that eventually she was going back down there to sing.



Stephanie endured Mrs. Dessone's ministrations with a grimace. Once again, she was treated like a child. She kept her mouth shut, though. Being patted on the head, close to her recent head injury, sent waves of pain straight to her brain, and her vision blurred. Blinkng her eyes cleared it a bit, but not completely.

As the women talked, the girl considered her options where Whimsy was concerned. Her argument for keeping the cat with her was a bit compromised by the fact that the osta had actually caused her little misadventure. She had to try, though, not just for herself but for all of the other younger students who wanted to have pets.



“It's not Mrs. Dessone's fault,” Stephanie spoke up, her voice a bit meeker than she had intended. “I haven't seen her since I arrived. And it isn't mine, either. I was told the rule was new and not in affect before I left.” She had only been told by another student, but she had no reason to doubt that Gertrude had been telling the truth. “I do wish I had been here, though, because I would have done my best to fight it.”

She stood up, her voice now strong. She paced back and forth in front of the desk, pausing every now and then to look at her audience as if she were speaking a monologue on stage. “The rule is unfair. Your age has nothing to do with your ability to care for a pet. Some adults even mistreat their animals. Caring for a pet teaches responsibility. I would think you would want us students to learn that. We would get in less trouble and there would be fewer pranks if we had pets to occupy our time. And that newfound maturity would carry over to our studies and make us more responsible when casting spells.

“I understand the problem with keeping pets in the dorms but I have a solution for that. It would take a bit of reorganization but I think, in the end, we would all be a lot happier. Those who like cats can room with those who have cats. The same with birds. Hingles and rabbits and other caged creatures can be kept in special pens outdoors. And don't say it's a problem to build them. I'll bet all the students who wish to have caged pets will happily volunteer.

“And I'll bet they'll help with the room reorganization as well. I know I would volunteer.”

As her speech reached its denouement, she placed her hands on Professor Dallium's desk for effect, her ice-blue eyes shining with enthusiasm. “I really think if you review the advantages and disadvantages of allowing us to have pets, the good would far outweigh the bad. Think about it.”

She was a bit surprised at herself for presenting her argument with such vehemence. If her politician father could see her now, she'd bet he'd be proud of her.

The professor watched the girl pace back and forth, spilling out her idea of pet-like rooming. It was a novel idea, but beside the point.

"Sit down, young lady." The woman said crisply, yellow eyes locked on the girls blue ones.

"Whilst I understand why students want and have pets, the rules are in place for a reason. It's not whether your hingle gets eaten by another students osta or not, its the fact you are sharing a room with others. The older students have their own dorms, so they can keep a pet without mess, fuss or issues. Having so many students and so many pets in one room is just not feasible. I'm sorry Miss Trafalgar, but you will have to send your osta back home. If you have an issue with it, I suggest putting in a complaint with the Headmistresses secretary. In the meantime, until you can arrange to have the osta removed, it shall stay in the dorm room at all times. Do I make myself clear?" She glanced at the dorm matron.

"Oh, yes Professor." Miss Dessone stammered, bowing slightly.

Stephanie sat, but reluctantly, insolently. How could the professor be so ... so clocking stupid? Her plan would work. She knew it would.

She listened to the rest of Professor Dallium's diatribe with barely-suppressed indignation. So she was going to have to send Whimsy back home. She reached up and petted the osta's soft fur, tears forming in her eyes which she quickly blinked away.



She'd do one better than that ... she would ask for an appointment with the headmistress herself. Professor Dallium could only follow the rules; the headmistress could change them. And she had heard the woman was quite approachable. Perhaps she would actually listen to Stephanie, instead of simply dismissing a well-thought out argument as the misguided ramblings of a child.



At least she would be able to keep Whimsy with her for a little while. The kitten would not mind staying in the dorm, and at least it would keep her out of trouble. Perhaps she could ask her new roommates if they minded having Whimsy there. If they would all sign a paper saying that it was all right, and she also obtained Miss Dessone's approval, then perhaps the kitten would be able to stay. There was more than one way to get around that rule, and Stephanie was not going to give it up without one hell of a fight.

She didn't say anything in response to Professor Dallium's question. Miss Dessone had already said it all. Instead, she turned her eyes downward and stared at her ruined boots. At least the Professor had not mentioned her unruly appearance ... unless that was coming next.