//------------------------------// // Extra Credit // Story: Three Tail Hairs // by Georg //------------------------------// Extra Credit Mages preferred to encourage the generally held view that they were more resilient to injury than normal mortals in order to discourage the application of things like pitchforks, flaming torches, and overdue tax liens to their persons. While some of that favorable rumor was true, most of the credit should have gone to a small but dedicated collection of rather quiet specialized mages who preferred not to violently disassemble complicated subjects such as their fellow mages, but to put them back together again. Sometimes, with a few improvements. Raindolph was one of the lucky students to have spent considerable time in the university without leaving it in a small urn, mostly because the staff at the infirmary liked him, and had a mistaken idea that if they treated him with care on his frequent visits, he would give them permission to add a few extra body parts later. Or maybe donate a few that he was not using too much. It was difficult to tell with all the lisping. Normally, the physicians would have been keeping fairly close to Raindolph in the infirmary, but ever since he had regained consciousness alive and in mostly one piece, the room full of nearly empty beds had been also empty of hunchbacked nurses and lurking surgeons. There was the traditional folder with organ donor forms on the stand by the bed, of course, and a bell to ring in case of dire emergency, but other than the snoring form of Dean Plaigiosphere several beds over and his complaining ferret next to him, Raindolph was alone. And in remarkably good health for having been so close to an explosion he had caused. His dark gem-decorated robe from the strange Unicorn seamstress had weathered the explosion and resulting flames well, although one of the sleeves was rolled all the way up to accommodate the cast on his broken arm. It made him a little relieved that he had turned down Rarity’s offer of a hat to go with the outfit, because it most certainly would have been lost somewhere from the buffeting he had received. And the ferret, of course, was fine due to his normal tendency of curling up in the bottom of a pocket whenever Raindolph was about to cast a spell while muttering something on the order of expecting complete and total doom from the experience. Raindolph was never going to live this one down if he survived to the century mark. Even if the ferret died first, he would most certainly haunt his former master just to rub it in. It was difficult enough to convince him to do the things normal mage familiars did anyway, but the recent experience was not making the task any easier. For some reason, being in the general vicinity of the Ranged Test Range’s destruction by flames had made the ferret a little jumpy. “All I want you to do is go upstairs and listen to the University Council,” said Raindolph in a normal tone of voice, since nothing short of an earthquake was going to wake up the only other patient in the infirmary. “You’re not hurt that bad, and I want to know where I’ll be assigned after graduation.” “Can’t hear you,” murmured the ferret. “Everything’s going dark. I see a light…” “You singed your tail,” said Raindolph. “A mortal wound,” groaned the ferret. “Okay.” Raindolph scratched under the edge of the cast on his arm and thought. “I’ll give you half of a chicken drumstick tonight to celebrate. But only if you go right now.” “A whole one,” countered the ferret before the sound of the infirmary door being opened made him scurry for cover under the blanket. The cheerful dean who came into the infirmary did not look dangerous at first glance, but as usual with mages, looks could be deceiving. “Hello, Student Raindolph,” said the somewhat pudgy dean, reading off one of the notecards he always carried everywhere. “Only have ten minutes. Make sure he listens. Don’t step on the ferret.” With a single motion of his fingers, the top notecard flicked up into the air and flared into ashes. “Hello, Dean Mnemosyne.” Raindolph was very careful not to move quickly, even if he could, because the dean was a master of memory spells and their abrupt use, not to mention somewhat liberal with their application. Occasionally, a very powerful student might be tempted to challenge an instructor, but the slightly overweight and somewhat distracted dean had never been injured by a student even by accident. Or at least none that anybody could recall. “Did you come here to tell me where I’m being assigned after graduation?” “I thought we were going to have tea,” muttered the dean’s doormouse, who popped his head up out of a vest pocket and blinked sleepy eyes in the bright lights of the infirmary. “Actually…” Dean Mnemosyne looked down at his next card, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a very familiar wand, holding it by the middle as one might treat an aggressive snake. “I’ve been sent to put your wand in the Vault. The Council didn’t want it around during their discussions. Made them nervous.” “Really?” The itching around Raindolph’s broken arm seemed to break out in a horde of invisible ants, crawling all over his body and biting. “I wonder why.” "Do you mind?" asked Dean Mnemosyne, which would have been a greater comfort to Raindolph if the elderly teacher had actually paused to get a response before pointing the wand at the other end of the room. Both the ferret and the dean's dormouse launched themselves across the room in the opposite direction, diving behind one of the infirmary's unused beds before Menemosyne jabbed the wand forward with his lips moving to the mnemonics of a minor fire spell. Raindolph looked on with fascinated horror, certain that the sight of the elderly dean holding his terrifying wand would be the last thing he would ever see before being turned into component atoms and distributed around the university as semi-energized plasma, if not turned into a ghost and made to haunt less-studious students for an eternity as an example of what not to do in the university. The wand gave out a brief splutter and a thread of smoke much as a mis-struck match might do against some damp kindling. "I thought so," said the teacher once he had placed the smoldering wand on the bedside table and checked the next card in his stack. With a flick of the elderly mage's wrist, the card labeled 'test wand' vanished into a puff of ashes and Dean Mnemosyne gave a brief nod. "There's almost no thaumatological resonance, which means the attunement you did, and quite foolishly I might add, was fully self-contained." "And that means..." said Raindolph before noticing the wand had begun to roll in his direction. He made to reach for the wand before it could hit the floor, then recoiled to the back of his bed at the thought of touching it again. Dean Mnemosyne did not grab the wand, as Raindolph feared to, but placed his chubby hands against the metal bedstand table and tilted it away from Raindolph. It took a few moments for the absence of the sound a wand might make hitting the floor to soak in, and Raindolph raised himself up on the bed, being careful of his broken arm. The wand was stuck quite firmly on the surface of the bedstand table despite the sharp angle Dean Mnemosyne was holding it. “Twenty-four degrees,” mused the old mage. “Fully and exclusively attuned to you, just as I never would have guessed. I don't suppose—” Setting the bedstand back upright, Dean Mnemosyne scooped up the wand before it could roll away and jammed it into the metal drawer. After several strong slams that almost made Raindolph recoil out of bed, the dean held the undamaged wand up to the infirmary's bright lights. "You even got the unbreakability charm correct. Quite astounding work for such a young lad." "Are we done trying to get us all killed?" called out the ferret from the other side of the infirmary. "Is it tea time?" called out the dormouse. "I distinctly remember we were going to have tea." “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Mister—” Dean Mnemosyne checked his cards “—Raindolph. You see, with this particular wand fully attuned to you and unbreakable, the only way for another mage to use it is to disrupt your natural harmonic you have with it.” “That doesn’t sound too bad,” hazarded Raindolph. “Do I need to do that before you store the wand in the Vault?” “Normally a full disruption of harmonic resonance entails gross dismemberment and complete exsanguination with immersion of the device in the blood of the attuned,” chirped Dean Mnemosyne as if he were describing the ingredients of a particularly tasty pudding. “It’s a fascinating process.” It certainly had Raindolph’s attention, although fascinating was not the word he would have preferred to use. Particularly after his mind traced through the rather short list of options remaining. “The True Ownership spell?” he hazarded. “Excellent idea!” The middle-aged mage fairly beamed with joy while stuffing the wand under a pillow of a nearby bed. “If you made even the slightest mistake on that enchantment, the wand will not be able to seek its owner through whatever transdimensional barrier or cosmic distance separates you, much like an ex-wife looking for alimony. And…” Mnemosyne lifted the pillow, and to Raindolph’s intense disappointment, did not reveal a wand. There was one under his own pillow, and the smiling dean pulled it out and inspected it carefully much as if it were a key to a vault full of gold sovereigns. “Amazing work,” he murmured. “You should get top marks for this. Well, before one of your fellow students or the faculty take it.” “Not you?” asked Raindolph hesitantly. “Heavens forbid!” exclaimed the pudgy teacher. “Why, a mage with a wand like this would be hunted like a dog, with other mages lined up beside every bush and tree to fight over it. I would estimate you have until about twenty minutes after the Council meeting adjourns.” He placed the wand down on the bedstand with a faint click audible through the whole room, despite Dean Plaigiosphere’s snoring. Raindolph considered the wand, which kept trying to roll toward him on the hospital table. "How long do you think will the Vault hold it?” “Against the True Ownership spell?” Dean Mnemosyne checked his cards. “Five minutes, tops.” “And I can't destroy it,” said Randolph. "Not without killing yourself," said Dean Mnemosyne. “And I can't give it away,” continued Raindolph, “because it won't work for anybody but me.” “Unless they bathe it in the blood of your defeated corpse,” added Dean Mnemosyne in a cheerful tone which he certainly would not have used if it had been his corpse they were talking about. “So what am I supposed to do with it?” asked Raindolph. “My boy, that's not my problem at all,” said Mnemosyne with a chuckle as he got up to leave. “This is a University. What kind of teachers would we be if we provided answers to all of your questions?” For one brief moment, Raindolph considered un-making the wand, but discarded the idea almost immediately. It was a minor miracle he had managed to follow the exhaustive and complicated directions for the wand’s creation without miswriting a rune or making some subtle error that would have unwound the entire process in an explosive fashion. There had been no instructions at all for reversing the process, so to un-do it he would have to make a long string of guesses. Prospective dismemberment would be a much more humane death. “Well, I must be going. Excuse self, put wand in pocket, pick up familiar, and head for the door,” read Dean Mnemosyne from the top card on his stack. Once he pocketed the wand, it took only a few steps for him to pick up the sleeping dormouse and turn to leave, but before he walked out of the doorway, he looked down at the top card on his stack with a frown. “Stop at doorway and say something compassionate. After all, Student Raindolph is going to be facing certain death, with nowhere in this world he can possibly hide before one of the faculty tracks him down. Use memory spell on self after leaving room to avoid being called as a witness.” The pudgy dean flicked the card into the air where it vanished in a puff of smoke, made a quick pass of a memory spell, then still standing in the open doorway, he read from the next card on the stack. “Head to Vault, but unlock third floor storeroom on way. Stand in Vault for five minutes, then use memory spell on self and familiar to eliminate recollection of reason for trip and all steps after leaving the Council Chambers. Ah, very well.” The sounds of the dean’s footsteps had not died out by the time Raindolph was out of bed and heading for the door. - - ★ - - “Why am I involved in this?” hissed the ferret. “You’re the one your fellow students will want to dismember.” “Hush,” hissed Raindolph back, peering around the corner of the corridor and thanking his lucky stars that the rest of the students were out in town, most likely swilling away as fast as they could raise a tankard. The pudgy form of Dean Mnemosyne vanished around a distant corridor corner and Raindolph scurried over to the hopefully unlocked door and the key to his surviving the next hour. He didn’t say anything else until they both were inside and the door closed behind them. “You’re in this just as deep as I am,” said Raindolph, still with a firm grip on his slippery familiar. “If I vanish, they’ll use you to get to me.” “You mean bribes?” asked the ferret while his eyes lit up. “No.” Raindolph drew a finger across his throat. “Probably sacrifice you to draw out that little fraction of our shared essences. Either that or chop off a body part like a limb or an eye and use it as a transdimensional compass. They’ll be a lot of them needing little ferret parts, if Dean Mnemosyne is right. Little ferret toes and—” “All right!” The ferret shuddered and looked at the magic mirror, which had been covered back up after their last trip. “So, where are you planning on taking us? You do have a plan, right? You did get the mirror coordinates of some ferret-friendly dimension where they don’t sacrifice little harmless fuzzy—” “The same place I got the hairs from,” said Raindolph. “It makes perfect sense. If the world with Rarity in it was a normally traveled world, there’s not a mage out there who would not have brought back a whole fistful of tail hairs, particularly with how powerful they are. All I need to do is remember which runes I used…” The ferret fidgeted and cast nervous glances around the room, even though he was still being held rather firmly. “It’s going to be pretty obvious where we went once they start searching this room,” he whispered. “This is going to be the only mirror without a dust cover.” “I think…” Raindolph touched the last rune on the mirror and watched as the surface became milky and luminescent. “The dust covers have a damping spell on them, so none of the transit devices under them fire off unexpectedly. If I hold the cover up while going through, it will fall over the mirror after we pass through and turn off the spell.” “That… might work,” admitted the ferret. “If it wasn’t you holding the dust cover with one arm in a cast, and you being you.” “It’s either that or ferret chunks.” Raindolph picked up the dust cover and tried to balance the floppy thing over the mirror so it would fall down once they had left, and nearly jumped out of his robe when the ferret climbed up on his shoulder to add two paws to the effort. In several short motions, it untucked several places where the wrinkled cover would bind instead of falling into place behind them, then looked the project over with a faint whine of protest. “You so owe me,” muttered the ferret. “Two chickens, minimum. Stewed, with garlic. Got the death-stick?” Raindolph checked a pocket and patted the slim stick of wood inside it. “True Ownership. It’s a wonderful thing.” “Quick prayer before we go?” asked the ferret. “Oh, God. Let us not screw up.” Raindolph braced himself to jump. “Amen,” said the ferret. “On three. One. Two. Thr—” - - Ω - - It was daytime in the pony world when Raindolph came tumbling through the glass mirror into the cluttered room from before. Once he had staggered upright, it took very little effort to recognize the changes which had occurred in the few hours since their last trip across the dimensional portal. For starters, Rarity the Unicorn had been entertaining company, because the room had six ponies in it, all staring in shocked amazement at their unexpected guest. Secondly, the mirror they had just emerged from shattered behind them, spraying little bits of reflective glass across the whole room, thus demonstrating just what happened to the far end of a mirror portal when the magic was turned off abruptly. Thirdly, his familiar had not even touched the ground and started rolling before one of the watching ponies swooped in and scooped him up, fluttering up to the ceiling with her wings. And fourthly… He stared at the rigid hoof which had replaced his hand. And his other hand. And his feet. And the tail sticking out from behind his robe. “Uh, oh.” Ω Ω Ω Ω