Class Dis-Mythed

The little Sear dashed up and back in front of Jinetta like a duck in a shooting gallery. The tall Pervect dithered until I thought I was going to go insane from frustration.

Her friends offered endless advice.

"How about a Haley's Capture Spell?" said Pologne.

"No! That's for non-physical images. Just work up a Sticky-Floor Charm," Freezia suggested.

"I keep telling you, that's an indoor spell."

"Quiet," I said. "You're confusing her. Let her work it out."

"But I can't," Jinetta said. "What if I get it wrong? What if when I throw it he runs out of reach?"

I groaned. "Just throw something at him. He won't even leave the yard. Your intent is to capture him. Improvise. Don't overdo it."

"But our professor said there's one ideal spell for every situation," Jinetta complained, also for about the millionth time.

"That's right," Freezia said. "He hammered it into us: 'one problem, one perfect solution."'

I was starting to dislike their professor, and I'd never met him. "And what happens if the problem gets worse while you're trying to figure out what that perfect solution is?"

"Then I need to choose a different spell," Jinetta said. "Magik's not for wimps, you know. I can do it. I just haven't figured out the right one yet."

"There isn't just one right answer to any problem," I said. Inspiration dawned, and I could hardly keep myself from grinning. I threw up a hand, and the Sear stopped running back and forth. "I'll prove it. Class dismissed. See you at dinner."

Chapter Nine

"One man's feast is another man's toxic dump."

IRON CHEF

I rearranged seating at the broad, rough-hewn wooden rectangular dinner table, setting a seemingly random pattern of boy-girl-boy-girl all the way around along the big wooden benches. I wanted plenty of elbow room in between the students in case things got messy. With the Pervects' help, Bunny served dinner. As before, the Pervects supplied all the food, though they prepared only their own courses. Bunny made the rest. Normally we shared cooking duties. She and I had agreed that for the duration I wouldn't have to cook, in order to maintain my high status as Lord High Professor, a position above such 'menial' tasks.

What I could only describe as 'mixed' aromas came from the kitchen as Bee and Tolk served the food: three bowls of noisome wriggling goo for the Pervects; Klahdish food for three of us; a bowl of pale gray, faintly moldy-smelling cereal for Melvine; and raw green meat for Tolk. Even after years of living with Aahz, it was hard to look at or smell Pervish food, but the others' preferred choices didn't look that much better to me. I'd tapped one of the massive kegs in the cellar, since beer was one of the few things we could all agree on, and floated two huge foaming pitchers to the table.

"Terrific!" I said cheerfully as I invited everyone to sit down. "Everything looks good. Thanks, Bunny."

"A pleasure, Skeeve," Bunny smiled. She shimmied onto the bench at the head of the table next to me.

"Smells terrific, ma'am," Bee said.

"Thank you!" The beam Bunny bestowed upon the skinny corporal made him blush out to his prominent ears. Hastily, he took his place.

"And now," I began as everyone picked up his or her cutlery, "before you eat, I want everyone to pick up his or her bowl, and hand it to the person on your left."

"What????" they demanded.

"Just do it," I said. "As your tutor in practical magik, I want you to take Tolk's food, and hand yours to Melvine." Trying not to grin wickedly, I politely handed my plate to Bunny, who passed her steaming bowl of broccabbage and brined meat to Tolk. I accepted a bowl of writhing purple goo. "Everyone got some? Now, eat up!"

"No way!" Melvine whined, pushing the struggling entree as far away from him as he could. "I want my mush!"

"Not tonight," I said. "What you get tonight is in that bowl, and only in that bowl."

"No!" he howled, beginning to pound on the table with his fists. "I want my mush! I want my mush!"

"Melvine," I said ominously, "do you want me to go get your aunt?"

He looked up at me, his lower lip stuck out, tantrum forgotten. "No-ooo."

"Then try it," I said. "You might like it. You never know."

He wrinkled up his little pug nose. "It's icky!

Privately, I agreed with him. I would rather eat my bowl than what was in it, but I had a plan for getting around the 'ugh' factor. I was happy to offer clues to the students to achieve the same end for themselves.

"If you can't stand it in that form, change it in some way. You know plenty of magik. Something in what you learned in Elemental School ought to work. Give it a try."

"Well—" The big baby poked at the creepy-crawlies with a spoon. "But they stink."

"True," I agreed. "Try deodorizing them. Or change the smell. Pour gravy on them. Freeze them. Cover them in cheese dip. I don't care. Just as long as, by the end of the meal, the contents of that dish are in your stomach."

"Ewwwwwwwww." Melvine might protest, but he was intelligent enough to know I meant business. He couldn't