Mary walked out of the class thoroughly exhausted and sore. However weird it may sound, it turned out that shooting fireballs from your hands wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The professor made it look easy when he was showing off, but to actually get the angle between fingers right, pronounce that thing, which definitely wasn’t a real word by the way, with enough tone and cadence…

And that was the easy part. Then there was aiming. After the third time Mary had to throw herself down on the floor to avoid one of her colleagues turning her into a bonfire, her jeans lost their natural blueness in favour of the brownish-grey of dust. Apparently, no one bothered to clean the rough stones with rolling all over them in mind. She wondered if this was just an honest oversight, or a brutal apathy directed towards lesser creatures such as her.

Still… that was magic. She consciously made a gesture, said a word, and instead of feeling stupid, she conjured a freaking fireball. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as the one professor’s, she heard no screams of tormented souls as it zipped through the air, and it barely scorched the wall in a place she was not aiming for, but...

“That went well,” Margaret said cheerfully. Somehow, though Mary would have never bet it possible, the girl managed to split her mini-skirt on the stones in a way that revealed even more of her skin without the entire thing falling apart. By then, Mary seriously suspected that some sorcery came into play.

“That’s what you call well?” Mary asked. She could definitely classify the experience as the worst she had lived through so far. Okay, no, the registration office of the Adolescent Division of the Heroes Department trip was still worse. Well, and the registration for the dormitory wasn’t too pleasant either. And…

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point was, that in no way Mary would call that going ‘well’.

“Why, of course,” Hans said, wiping soot from his mail shirt. This action seemed to be doomed for failure, seeing as he covered more and more surface in black smears with each stroke. Maybe that was the point, though - Mary couldn’t help but find the idea of a knight in black armour cool. “Most students got off with just first degree burns. And I’ve actually expected that girl to stay on fire long enough for it to leave more permanent marks. Right now, I think that she’ll end up with just a few weeks of medical leave.”

The girl he talked about was Melanie. Poor child, she got too eager after successfully casting her first spell and took one of the stray wild ones straight to the face. Mary shuddered - that scream... And she cast one of her spells in roughly the same time - she was fairly sure that hers went flying the other way, but… It was a really disconcerting thought. It well may had been her spell, and it still may be one day - if not this, then another. She could have accidentally scarred an innocent kid for the rest of their life.

She pondered on the other spell she knew for a moment. Margaret told her that it was way easier, and it looked so, but… what if she messed that one up?

“Few weeks?” Mary asked. “Don’t you guys have healers? Heck, you’re a healer yourself - can’t you heal her like, instantly?”

“Oh, I’m not good enough at the stuff to pull off something like this without a sacrifice, honey,” Margaret said. “Of course, the academy has some less mundane medical support - seriously, after what you’ve seen today, could you imagine this place running without it for long?”

“The thing is,” Hans sighed, “using it isn’t that easy. Right now, the burned girl is only out for two, maybe three weeks - tops. If she’d gone for the magical healing, though, she’d have been bound to the desk filling papers for months, or worse.”

“And it’s risky, too. If you miss your deadline, you have to write just as much in apologies and corrections.” Margaret shook her head. “And those have deadlines as well - shorter ones.”

“Then just ignore all that. I mean, it’s just a bunch of papers - what’s the worst that could happen?” Mary asked.

Mossie started spinning and making various whirling noises above her shoulder. She’d almost forgotten about the moneysucker by now - it was a while since it so much as buzzed at her.

“Penalty! Bip! Five hundred dollars penalty! Bip! A thousand dollars penalty! Bip! Bip! Bip...”

Papers with fine confirmations flew out of its rollers one by one, each nicking herself as they passed by her. She yelped and tried to shield her eyes, which earned her quite a few cuts on the arms.

Hans tripped and fell over, coating his almost-black mail shirt with sand and dirt. Margaret gasped, and raised a hand to her mouth. The very sun seemed to dim a bit, and a wave of chill swept made Mary shiver despite the desert’s heat. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that some other students, far too far to have heard what she’d said, started to look around themselves as if searching for someone. Looking for her.

Shaking herself, Margaret pulled Hans to his feet, and both of them ushered Mary into a narrow street between the nearby academy buildings. It was anyone’s guess who thought that a medieval castle would look well next to a glass-covered office skyscraper, but one thing was sure - they were wrong. The glorified saucer flew after them, still beeping and showering her with papers.

“Don’t even talk about stuff like this!” Margaret said calmly. “You do not question bureaucracy. You do not suggest ignoring bureaucracy. You do not hint at thinking that you could break the rules. You’ve even got your own SJW, for crying out loud. Why would you say such a thing at all, let alone in front of it?”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Mary looked towards Hans, who stood at the exit of the street, and apparently tried to make sure no one came within hearing distance. He sent her a single disappointed look before going back to the guard duty. Mary blinked away a tear - where had that come from? Well, ok, she knew that, of course, but… in the more general sense, how hadn’t she noticed it earlier?

“I’m…,” she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I…, I won’t do it again, I….”

Margaret stared at her. “How could you not know? It’s the most basic thing. The young ones learn it before they can count up to forty-two!”

“My mentor only taught me for a couple days, if you could call it that, and…,” Mary tried to stain her memory. Did he mention that to her? Had she forgotten it already? Those were quite busy days...

Margaret sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I got carried away - if you didn’t know, then it’s not your fault, but… For heck’s sake, honey, you could have gotten all of us killed. Or worse - expelled.” She shivered as if someone teleported her to a glacier without allowing her to change from the… frugal… clothing.

They walked the rest of their way to the canteen in silence, except for Mossie, who still buzzed and whizzed at Mary in annoyance - although it finally stopped trying to hurt her, at least.