She completely ran past the only thing anyone said that day that mattered. Could she not see the value?

“To create a spell, you need to understand a variety of languages. The fundamental problem new magicians face when starting is a limited vocabulary. Spells take orders with strict semantics. The slightest variation in wording can be the difference between snowfall or hail storms,” Beth said.

She went on and on, but my anticipation kept me awake.

She continued to say, “Each language has its own sentence structure and patterns. If you learn to mix them, you’ll be able to command magic with the firm guiding hand that it needs.”

“Isn’t English enough?” I asked.

“English is a new language. Magic is linked to the past. Spells are tied to old languages, many of which are long forgotten. Mastering a plethora of dialects will better your odds of finding roots to the ancient.”

“So, the key to being a magician is being bilingual?”

“Language, creativity, trial and error. Determination is critical as well. This art is comparable to science in that way. We may fail to find an answer a hundred times, but we only need one success to change everything,” she said.

“Ok, all of this is informative and all, but about that cure?”

I made an effort to be both polite and patient for as long as possible. Playing the situation calmly rather than demanding was my best bet. It occurred to me that acting aggressively or losing my temper could have gotten me thrown out. But I couldn’t wait any longer.

“What of it?” She asked.

Was Beth blind to my being a human-rabbit half-breed?

“I need it, obviously. I mean, look at me,” I stuttered, seemingly without aim.

“Then cure yourself.”

“If I could do that, don’t you think I would?”

“My services aren’t free,” she stated.

She wanted money. Of course, she wanted money. I wouldn't have had the means to pay for Beth, who was touted as a big deal.

“Are you serious? I wrote the spell. All I’m asking for,” I explained before she cut me off.

“What you are asking for is a service, a service that you can not perform.”

“So, you won’t help me?” I asked rhetorically.

I already knew her answer.

“Not without a price,” she said.

Everything went silent. My stance was defensive, almost aggressive. I didn't want to start a fight, but she didn't seem to care at all. From her perspective, I must have resembled a four-year-old about to have a meltdown. I took a breath to collect myself and fix my demeanor, but my fur was still standing on end.

“Fuck this,” I resolved before abruptly walking off the stage.

She didn’t say anything for a long while. I didn’t expect her to. Even as I walked down the long rows of empty seats, there was nothing uttered. She let me get to the exit doors before speaking a single syllable.

“Your spell is some of the most dangerous magic I’ve seen in decades,” she shouted out to me.

I stopped just short of opening the door. My hand was about to push it open as she continued.

“Military contractors are willing to pay more than handsomely for spells of that caliber. If you stay, I can teach you to become great,” she said.

I could tell I was going to have a headache by the end of the day. With an exhausted sigh, I turned back around and nearly jumped out of my skin at the realization that she was standing right behind me. She probably used some kind of teleportation spell, but it still caught me off guard. I tried to play it off.

“But you won’t give me the cure,” I asked.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’ll give you your cure if, and only if, you agree to stay and continue the internship as my assistant,” she said.

“That’s your price?” I questioned in disbelief.

I didn’t know Lady Beth. How could I have been sure her word was worth anything?

“That is my price. I’m not so cruel to not see your plight, but it would be a waste of potential to have you leave so soon,” she said.

“You sound like someone I know.”

“Someone of wisdom, I hope,” she said in what I believe may have been a joking manner for the first time.

“Fine,” I said.

There was a twinge of embarrassment I had to overcome after deciding to stay. She never said anything to belittle me verbally, but her more professional attitude next to my more anxiety-ridden agitation was unmistakable.

Lady Beth owned the theater. She even had an office backstage where we spent most of the remainder of that time together. It was a big office, big enough to fit four desks if she wanted. There were several shelves holding books she probably wrote, as well as awards and trophies.

“So, am I supposed to find a Spanish class or something? I thought we’d do something more exciting,” I questioned.

“You’ll be more than busy during your time here. You can work to learn your other languages later. While you’re with me, you will shadow my daily duties as a magician, and provide aid when necessary or requested,” she said as she took a seat behind her glass desk.

“What exactly will I be doing as your ‘assistant’?”

“Today, I need my dry cleaning picked up,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. That didn’t have anything to do with magic at all.

“That’s all?” I asked.

“I also have an order of chapter 12 spell books. I need them delivered across town.”

Did she want an assistant or an errand boy?

“Ok...,” I said sarcastically.

“Then I need you back here so we can begin rehearsing for my performance.”

“Performance? I thought you did battle magic?” I said.

“All magicians, no matter their specialty, have to showcase their magic. Shows before the public are perfect ways of displaying new spells.”

“Alright,” I reluctantly responded.

“Starting tomorrow, I expect you to dress with class and panache if you intend to share a stage with me,” she added.

“Wait. What?”

“You’re my new assistant, on and off the stage.”

“I didn’t sign up to be a stagehand,” I exclaimed.

“I’m sure we can ‘cure’ you of any stage fright you carry,” she said.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Wonderful. Then I expect to see you back by noon.”

She caught me at a verbal dead end. Rather than trying to pull myself back, I resolved to leave with what little dignity and pride I had left. There wasn’t much.

I was less than pleased, less than enthusiastic, or happy by most standards.

As I left the theater, I noticed BJ was already outside. She was scribbling something in her usual spell book when I walked up.

“How is Young Prince treating you?” I asked, and it got her attention.

“He’s... he’s... an ass, but a brilliant ass if nothing else,” she said, closing her book.

“That kid can’t be much older than us. How is he a mentor?” I questioned.

“He knows his stuff. Trust me. But how is Lady Beth?”

“She wants me to pick up her dry cleaning. I didn’t know this town had dry cleaning.”

I’m sure BJ saw it in my face. I wasn’t having fun. I felt toyed with.

“I’m not sure any of this is worth it. It feels like a lot of hoops to jump through if I stick around,” I said.

“It’s the first day,” BJ persuaded me.

“A long first day,” I added.

“Keep going. Knowing that you’re here makes it a little less intimidating. If you leave, it’ll just be me.”

“There’s the elf and the other girl. I’m sure you could make new friends here, better ones than me at this stuff.”

“It’ll be more fun together with you... and I may need your help with something.”

I face-palmed myself. I should have known.

“This ought to be good,” I said sarcastically.

“Prince wants me to bring him five wild animals from The Dead Woods.”

“And you think I can help how?”

“Can’t you talk to animals? You are a rabbit.”

“I’m half-rabbit. Besides, Wes is the one who talks to animals. I get attacked by them,” I retorted.

“All you have to do is lure them in, and I’ll handle catching them,” she debated.

“What exactly does Prince want with a bunch of wild animals, anyway?” I asked as we started walking.

“Something to do with a new spell, but will you help me?” BJ asked, pleading for my assistance.

“Sure, why not? Might as well load up the rest of my day. Not like I wanted to eat lunch or anything.”

“Thank you, Pitch.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said.