Cin Frost was having a strange morning. The night before, he dreamt that one of the toys he made flipped him off. And now as he stood outside his shop, he still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.

Two soggy looking young women had fallen asleep at his door. They were huddled together, softly snoring in sync. One clutched a silver toilet seat like it was the treasure of a century. He gently tapped them with his shoe.

“Hello? Yes?” cried the redheaded one. She bolted to her feet, leaving the dark haired to slump over and hit the cobblestones.

“Hello my name is Mace Perovay I need everything that’s shaped like a seal and I’ll give you this!” she rambled and shoved the toilet seat towards him.

The other girl rose clutching her head. “What she means is, we’re wizards and- actually she’s pretty much spot on. That toilet seat is plated in pure silver.”

“I’ll uh…see what I can do,” said Frost.

Ten minutes later, the ginger girl, or Mace as Tria called her, was piling as many seal shaped toys in a little red wagon as possible.

“It’s for a magic ritual. Town saving stuff, the usual,” shrugged Tria. The young woman was charming, and stood at the counter while her friend had a marine mammal themed psychotic breakdown. Stuffed animal seals, wind seals that bounced balls on their noses, puppet seals, small wooden seals that were part of zoo play sets. There were even some sea lions in there, but Frost wouldn’t correct anyone with that look in their eye.

Tria gave him a smile. “Thank you again Mr…Cinnamon Frost?” She read the name on the small plate attached to his counter.

“Just Cin or Frost is fine,” he said. Many people he met were either confused or turned off by his name, but none could be as upset about it as Cin himself. His mother and father, being toy owners, were very much the soppy sort. He was born during the autumn, so they thought Cinnamon would be appropriate for their cute baby boy. That baby boy grew into a very teased adolescent, who in turn became a bare knuckle boxing adult. His name was great kindling for his inner rage.

“Sounds like cereal,” commented Mace, not taking her eyes off of searching for seals.

“I’ve been told,” he growled.

“You’ll have to excuse Mace!” said Tria emphatically. “She’s very exhausted and erratic. Not really a people person.”

“I’d be a people person if other persons were a me people!” said Mace angrily. Her previous sentence seemed to sink into her brain. “Whatever, I'm sleepy!” she snapped.

“Anyway,” Tria turned back to him. “I never would have pinned you as-“

“As a man named Cinnamon?” he interrupted.

“I was going to say toy maker,” she said.

“I’ve been told that a lot too,” he sighed. Cin Frost was a short middle aged man with wiry muscles. Tattoos from his time in the army decorated his arms. The children who frequented his shop liked to hear about them, and he liked to tell them how painful and gruesome getting them was, much to the chagrin of the parents.

“Not all of them are mine,” he said, looking around the little shop. Every corner from wall to wall was stacked with toys of every variety. Marionettes dangled from the ceiling, wind up toys hopped along the shelves, stuffed animals lounged in big comfortable piles, and the occasional duck on wheels waited for its next victim to trip.

“Some go back to my grandparents’ grandparents. Others I trade for.” He let a small bit of pride crawl into his voice.

“By the way,” he said, looking down at the silvered toilet seat. “Is this thing clean?”

“We drowned it in alcohol,” replied Tria. “So it’s clean but not exactly sober.”

Life and death were funny, Mace thought. You could spend your whole life hating someone, then you both survive one near death experience, and suddenly you’re pulling a little red wagon full of toy seals together.

They strolled through the early morning streets of Cobpleton. The time of day when night workers could cut loose and day workers contemplated their life choices. The pair splashed through dewey puddles and they drew odd looks from early risers. To them, it appeared as though the local scouting chapter had taken a bizarre business turn from cookies to damp stuffed animals. Mace and Tria tried their best to ignore them, and realized that they were ignoring each other. They weren’t exactly friends, but they could be cordial now that they almost died together.

Tria was the first to speak. “You know, you took two hits of water from that worm and ripped a toilet seat right off its hinges. Are you sure you can’t use phlogiston?”

“Huh,” Mace grunted. “I just got a little overexcited.” If it had been any other time, she would have given anything to hear Tria say that, to hear her uncle say that. But her sleep deprived brain could only focus on sealing the portal.

“I’m serious Mace. I’ve heard that there are some monks who don’t use phlogiston like we do. They send it all to their muscles and are able to jump from roof to roof.”

Mace waved it away. “Fishing line and stage tricks,” she said. She was convinced of her own permanent ineptitude that her mind jumped to reasons why she couldn’t succeed.

“When you get down to it, muscles are fibers, and it all comes down to chemistry anyway. And it’s at least worth thinking about.”

Mace thought about it. She pictured herself as some muscle-bound wuxia monk like in those acrobatic plays back in the city. It wasn’t an unappealing thought.

She smirked at Tria. “What kind of wizard would that make me? Some protein shake brewing muscle-mancer?”

Tria shrugged. “Could be,” she smiled. “You could Mace Perovay, first wizard-monk, uniting east and west, with the personality of bear mace to boot.”

It was probably her exhaustion, but she felt a little pride at Tria’s small jab. It had a bit of sincerity to it. Mace filed Tria's suggestion away for later. For now, all she could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other.

Mace could barely put one foot in front of the other. Not ten minutes had passed since she fell into the snow and sprained her ankle. Wasn’t her brain supposed to pump her blood full of chemicals to make sure she wouldn’t feel this pain? Chemistry someone made up everything yet you still couldn’t rely on it.

She was being taken directly to her uncle’s office, very literally. Professor Whelmiam Stour was carrying her there. It wasn’t too difficult for the giant, but Mace was starting to get red hairs in her mouth. They turned down the hall to the office as she began to silently pray. It’s not that Mace believed in the gods, but it helped to hedge your spiritual bets. There was a dwarf sitting outside the large double doors.

Professor Stour laid her down on the waiting sofa, he and the dwarf gave each other a curt nod. If dwarves could be described as ape-like, giants would be ape squared. They were related to orangutans but much smarter. Like all intelligent apes, humans included, they had become more clever about their instinctual rage. They replaced wanton murder with courts and lawsuits. Killing for resources and territory had become killing for money and territory, much more civilized.

Stour was big and quiet even by giant standards. Most giants averaged about ten feet tall while Stour was pushing nearly twelve. His resonant chambers were so loud that he had to give his lectures in mezzo-piano. He rarely yelled, but that might’ve been worse. To prevent his shouting voice being heard all the way in Shamdal, he perfected the disciplinary stare. Mace would later find out that he had nothing on Thistle, but for now, all she worried about was the discipline from her uncle.

The dwarf slid a chair up beside the couch and appraised her ankle.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked

The dwarf looked thoughtful, then said, “In a manner of speaking.”

Mace rolled her eyes. “I mean the real kind of doctor, not a Ph.D.”

He chuckled at that. “True, I wouldn’t be useful in a hospital, but I have learned some tricks.” He whispered something to her ankle while putting some leaves in her sock..

“What’s with the whisper?” she asked. “You don’t have to say anything when doing magic.”

“Helps me focus,” he shrugged. “Like a staff or wand or crystal ball.”

Mace felt her ankle start to cool and her sock tighten. “What did you do?”

“Those are peppermint leaves to reduce the swelling. I concentrated the menthol in them, so you’ll feel a gentle cooling. As for your sock, I just tightened the fibers to keep everything compressed.”

“Ooo, magic,” said Mace sarcastically. “I could’ve gotten the same treatment at the nurse’s office.”

“True again, but I find it difficult to find nurses in the depths of an old god’s temple. Or in the hot desert. Or even in some alley in Amoz.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll probably find myself in some alley after my uncle gets through with me. He’s never going to let me live down this embarrassment.”

“I think you may be surprised where embarrassment can lead you.”

He slid his chair back to the other wall and relaxed.

“So you’re one of those traditional wizards.” Mace stated.

“Yep,” replied the dwarf. “Dispenser of vague wisdom and prophecy.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mace tried to actively avoid his judgemental gaze like every other teacher, but was too surprised to see that he wasn’t looking at her. Maybe he hadn’t found out yet? The dwarf had his head back, and was idly whistling to himself.

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“He’s ready for you,” came the voice of her uncle’s assistant. Theassitant helped her to her feet and into the office. Before the double doors closed, she gave one last look to the dwarf and to the academy.

Dr. Hickory didn’t face her. Instead, he elected to gaze out the huge window, his tall silhouette outlined in the overcast light. Even when she was about to be yelled at she couldn’t escape a wizard’s flair for the dramatic. He was a tall man, well over six feet. His snowy white beard and hair fell below his waist. On most days, he had a twinkling, almost childlike look in his eye. His students loved him for that look, but Mace saw the bad days, where the twinkle was replaced with seething. This was one of those days.

“Sit down,” he said softly.

“Uncle Yufe, I-”

“Sit. Down.” he said less softly.

She stood there, reluctant to sit down. She was indignant, so she resolved to see who caved first. Her ankle made the decision for her. She sat.

It was silent for a painfully long minute until Hickory spoke again.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before we get started?”

Mace’s fingers dug into her chair.

“Like what?” she blurted out. “I’m sorry for not being the perfect Tria Durana? Orphan extraordinaire?”

Hickory didn’t respond.

“Or that all my life I’ve had to prove over and over again that I’m worthy of…of…anything?!”

He still didn’t respond. Fine, she could get him to answer.

“Or what about, ‘I’m so sorry uncle Yufi for being a failure’ I’d try harder, but you banned me from learning something I’m actually good at because spirits are so scawwy,” she mocked.

He was still quiet, which struck her nerves. He was silent until an exasperated Mace finally said “Well?”

“First of all,” he said, turning to her. “You and I both know that undergraduates cannot study goetics for the safety of all, I cannot play favorites. Second, you don’t get to blame your problems on everyone else, only you can control your life. And third, I’m not mad that you’ve failed. We’ve all failed, I still fail. What I’m angry about is the mockery you’ve made of the school and of my time. You not only cheated on the entrance exam, but have been cheating this entire time!”

“I didn’t cheat!” she shouted back, but she knew it was a lie. She would say anything to protect her pride.

“Enough with the lies!” his voice began to rise. “Do you think I’m so foolish to not know what goes on in this school?”

Mace leveled her gaze at him. How did he know? She looked to where he had placed his hand on the desk. Inlaid into his desk was an obscured band of copper. She followed the line to the wall. Clever, she realized. He must have a whole listening network around the school.

“And not just the cheating!” he yelled. “But the stolen book, on a restricted subject no less. The bullying of another student, who, by the way, you dragged into serious danger tonight!”

Bully? Was that how he saw her and Tria’s rivalry? Was that how everyone saw it? It suddenly dawned on her that even she didn;t know who the bully was in that relationship.

“Do you have any idea what this will do to the school’s reputation? To our family’s reputation? To your reputation?”

“Of course that’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it?” argued Mace. “That’s all that matters to the illustrious headmaster Hickory. He’d trade all the magic in the world for a less embarrassing niece!”

“It’s not. About. Us,” he told her. “With your cheating you’ve managed to disgrace the entire school for years to come. You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. Can you imagine if the headmaster was giving special treatment to his cheating niece? That’s practically the definition of nepotism!”

“Nepotism refers to nephews, but whatever,” she grumbled.

“And you continue with your little snide comments even when being reprimanded. Do you take anything seriously?”

“Yes! Goetics!” she threw up her hand. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”

“You know perfectly well how dangerous it is to cavort with gods and spirits. And maybe you could’ve gotten to that level if you hadn't screwed up your future. Have you thought about your career? Who would hire a cheating wizard?”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a wizard.” she growled.

“Then why enroll here?” he shot back.

“Because maybe I just wanted you to at least like me!” she shouted.

Silence fell in the office. Hickory’s assistant, who was up until that point very interested in their paperwork, got up and sidled out of the room. The panda had opened the box. This was an expression on Munth, it meant things said couldn’t be unsaid. No one knew how the expression and the meaning were related. Perhaps some things were just lost in translation, perhaps a curious panda had unleashed all the pain and suffering onto the world before going right back to its bamboo. Either way, the lid was off, and every corner of Mace’s psyche was on display.

Hickory sighed, plunked down into his chair, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. A habit that Mace regrettably picked up.

“I’m expelled, aren’t I?” she said. It wasn’t a question and more of a fact.

“Lucky for you, not exactly,” he looked up at her. “You are ‘encouraged’ to drop out, which wouldn’t look as bad as an expulsion. You would be able to continue your education elsewhere, if you so choose. Despite what you think, I do want you to succeed.”

Mace recognized the thinly veiled ultimatum.

“In the meantime,” he continued. “A wizard has been selected to tutor you until you are accepted at another institution…if you are accepted at another institution.”

“You hired a wizard to babysit me?” she asked incredulously.

“Hired?” he chuckled. “When word got around that my niece was a cheating bully, no one would even respond to my letters, much less my financial offers.”

Mace gritted her teeth at the ‘cheating bully’ comment. So that’s where she got her wit from, if you could call it wit. That’s how he was. He could be a silly old man with hidden depths then dish out subtle jabs to those who deserved it. Did she deserve it?

“Again, very lucky for you, this wizard volunteered. He’ll meet you later tonight to discuss your curriculum and future housing arrangements.”

Mace sat there in silence for a long while. Hickory just looked at her with a calm expression.

“Is that all?” she asked with venom.

“That is all,” he said. He was fired up just moments ago, and now he was back to wise old sage. Mace still wanted to fight. To scream, to cry, to beg, to claw his office up, to do anything to make him understand how she felt. Instead, she got up and walked to the door.

“Mace,” called her uncle.

She paused and turned slightly. He took his glasses off. Great, he was shifting into caring uncle mode. She preferred real stern headmaster over fake love.

“Your mother and I are very proud of you. All we want is for you to be happy in whatever you choose to do. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t respond and shut the door behind her. He had told her the truth, he would be there for her worst days.

She stormed halfway down the hall before a voice stopped her.

“Quitting school?” asked the dwarf. She forgot he was there.

“I’ve been ‘encouraged to quit’” she retorted.

“Wonderful! I always say you have to quit school before you can start learning.”

Mace rolled her eyes and turned to him. It was a very traditional wizard thing for him to say.

“What’s it to you?” she called back.

“I take an interest in the education of all my students.”

It only took her a moment to put the pieces together. “You’re my new tutor?”

“Master, actually. And yes. Harkimus Turpenwile, Wizard of the 18th Level. Have a seat,” he gestured to the sofa.

Mace rifled through a number of excuses but quickly realized she had nothing better to do. She sat down.

“Now,” leaned in Turpenwile. “I’ve been briefed on the situation, and I’ve volunteered to mentor you.”

“And what? You pity me? Is that why you volunteered?”

“Pity you?” he laughed. “No, you’re my ticket to level nineteen!”

She looked at him confused. He sat back in his chair, and returned her look with a smile.

“Do know how many people have cheated on Aethowix Academy’s entrance exam?”

“I didn’t cheat,” she said coldly.

“Just throw me a number.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, trying to do some rough math in her head. “Has to be a couple hundred at least.”

“Fourteen thousand eight hundred and twelve,” he said. “And do you know why we have an exact number?”

Mace thought about it for a moment. “Because they’ve all been caught?” she hazarded a guess.

“Exactly! You know your uncle told me you had a smart mouth, but he failed to mention that clever brain.”

“Ugh, thanks Uncle Yufe. I bet he has a picture of me in his wallet with ‘disappointment’ scratched under it.” She didn’t mean it as a joke, but it garnered a laugh from Turpenwile regardless.

“I’m glad he wasn’t my uncle when I went here. ‘Course back in those days you would’ve been forced to babysit the experiments in the basement if you even thought about cheating.” He lit a pipe and took a long drag before speaking again.

“But you…you managed to game the whole system. Five high level proctors, seven seals from the spirits of honesty, and a basin of water that wasn’t out of sight all morning. You’re my ticket to level nineteen because you fooled them all.”

Mace set her jaw. “So I’m just some experiment to you? A pawn in your high level games?”

“Experiment? No. High level game? Not how I would describe it. You’re more of a…” his expression twisted as he searched for a less offensive word. She was going to be indignant anyway.

“A bet,” he said finally.

“A bet?” she repeated.

“In the same way a merchant bets on a ship returning his investment.”

“Well I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not exactly a ‘bull market’ at the moment,” she slumped in her chair.

“Yeah I’ve seen you grade,” he said through puffs of pipe smoke. “But the fact that you’ve managed a passing grade without phlogiston…well that’s a rare gift. You have a thousand times the tricks up your sleeve all of wizardom combined.”

“Oh yeah? And you’re going to teach me to become the greatest stage magician of all time?”

“More or less,” he admitted. “But fooling a crowd is no different from fooling a god.”

That caught her ear. Gods didn’t think like mortals. You couldn’t appeal to their greed with gold and jewels, only with real things like adoration or suffering. Triskaideka had tricked her, could she do the same?

“What exactly is your specialty, Mr. Turpenwile?” she asked. The world of magic was so broad that you couldn’t learn it all. So wizards tended to specialize in particular fields. Though, like grassy fields, some were so close together that they overlapped. Wizards were ornery about their specializations and hated when a neighbor trimmed the hedges that was their doctoral thesis.

“I’m a bit of a generalist who specializes in the special.” he said.

“So a generalist with an ego,” she groaned. Wizards looked down on generalists in the same way homeowners looked down on the neighbor who took turns parking on everyone’s lawn.

“Oo, harsh,” chuckled the dwarf. “I travel around looking for bits of esoteric magic. Snippets of legends, strange happenings. Any odds and ends that catch my attention.”

“So which am I?” she smirked up at him. “An odd or an end?” She was actually beginning to like Turpenwile.

“Hopefully not and ‘end’ if I have anything to say about it. Let’s discuss your apprenticeship over dinner. I know a good corvey restaurant where they have a great shepherd’s pie, how about it?”

“Anything’s fine.” Mace was surprised that she was following him. She felt something strike a cord deep within. This was a wizard who believed in her.

“By the way,” he said as they walked. “How did you cheat on the entrance exam?”