Dave Luckett - The Girl The Dragon And The Wild Magic

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The Girl, The Dragon, And The Wild Magic

By Dave Luckett

Book One of The Rhianna Chronicles

Scholastic Inc.

New York, Toronto, London, Auckland, Sydney, Mexico City, New Delhi, Hong Kong, Buenos Aires

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was

reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received

any payment for this "stripped book."

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,

without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Permissions

Department, Scholastic Australia, P.O. Box 579, Lindfield, New South Wales, Australia 2070.

ISBN 0-439-41187-4

Originally published in Australia in 2000 by Omnibus Books under the title Rhianna and the Wild Magic.

arrangement with Omnibus Books, an imprint of Scholastic Australia.

SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

3 4 5 6 7 8/0 40

Printed in the U.S.A.

First American edition, October 2003

---

To the real Rhianna, who has her own magic

Chapter 1

"Think, Rhianna." Mrs. Greenapple leaned over the front of Rhianna Wildwood's desk and pointed to the

words in the spellbook. "It's just a simple rhyme to say over a sleeping potion. Now repeat after me,

Doremus dorema doremasa sleepy soppy dor mousey casa..."

The class at the Smallhaven village school was quiet except for the turning of pages, but Rhianna knew

that everyone was looking at her. She frowned and tried again: "Doremus dorema doremasa, sleepy

soapy..."

"Soppy, Rhianna."

Rory Spellwright, two seats to the right, sniggered and whispered something to his friend Fion Oldbuck.

Rhianna felt her chest grow tight. She hated giving Rory something to use against her, but it was so hard

to get spellcasting right. None of the words made any sense.

"Soppy... what does that mean, Miss?" she asked.

Rory sniggered again.

"Never mind what it means, Rhianna, just say it." Mrs. Greenapple was a little impatient this morning, and

her voice showed it.

"Yes, Rhianna, just say it, stupid," mimicked Rory, so low that Mrs. Greenapple didn't quite hear him.

"What was that, Rory?" she asked.

"Nothing, Miss," said Rory, virtuously. "Just going over the chant in my book."

Mrs. Greenapple nodded, and bent over Rhianna's desk again.

Rhianna hated being singled out like this. "Doremus dorema doremasa, sleepy soppy enormously..."

"Dormousey, Rhianna--oh, no! Stop! I didn't mean that!"

Too late. There was a sudden thump. Rhianna swung around in her seat, and there was Tom Bodger,

slumped forward over his desk. The thump had been his head hitting it. He was fast asleep, snoring like a

bulldog pup.

Mrs. Greenapple pressed a hand to her mouth. Then she glared at Rhianna. "Now look what you did,"

she said crossly.

"Me?" asked Rhianna.

"Yes, you." The teacher shook Tom's shoulder. He stayed asleep, snorting a little. "You said

'enormously.' You must have increased the power of the spell." She put her hand on Tom's head and said

something in a whisper. It made no difference. Tom was sound asleep.

"But you said the next word, the one that--" started Rhianna.

Mrs. Greenapple cut her off. "Never mind what I said. Just help me wake Tom up."

Just like always, Rhianna thought. First they tell you to listen to everything they say, and then they

tell you not to. It isn't fair.

Rory put on an expression of great concern. "Miss," he called, "has she killed Tom? Should I get my

uncle?"

Rory's uncle was the nearest thing the village had to a real wizard. Mr. Spellwright had a spell shop, just

down the street.

"No need, thank you, Rory," said Mrs. Greenapple, hauling Tom upright. "He's just asleep."

But Tom wouldn't wake up, not right away. They had to carry him out and put his head under the pump,

and all he did at first was blow happy little bubbles. It took twenty minutes and two buckets of water to

wake him up enough for him to go home.

The class giggled. Mrs. Greenapple fumed. "The magic shouldn't have gone that wrong," she said. The

school's spell wards must have run down again. Still, the lesson had been ruined, and it was all Rhianna's

fault.

Rhianna sighed. It was always the same, she thought.

But there was worse to come before lunch.

"Wands down. Look at me. No talking." Mrs. Greenapple took up a pile of papers. "Here are your

results from last week's test of Spell Ingredients. Quite good, and I'm pleased. Mostly." She began to

send the papers skimming through the air, using a fly-and-find spell. Each one landed neatly on the right

desk, and the fly part of the spell was turned off by each student with a flick of the fingers. "Ariadne...

Gloriana... Ingold... Isembard... Fion--much better this week, Fion... oh, and Rhianna."

Rhianna's paper landed in front of her. She saw the big red marks on it and almost forgot to turn off the

spell. When she did remember to flick her fingers, the piece of paper fell off the desk. It crashed to the

floor like a sheet of metal, making a noise that echoed around the classroom. Everyone turned and

stared.

Rhianna turned scarlet. Mrs. Greenapple took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if

she had a headache. "I think you had better see me afterwards, Rhianna," she said.

Rhianna picked up the paper and looked at it. If anything, this test seemed worse than the last one. And

she had studied for it, she really had. She peeked at the total, just lifting a corner of the paper off the

desk, so no one else would see it.

Oh, no! F! Even worse than the D-minus she'd got for Recitation last week. And Spell Ingredients was

her best subject, too. That was because it had measures and numbers in it, and they made sense. Not

like spells.

Rhianna sat in silent dismay as her teacher called out the names of all the rest of the class, one by one.

The dismay was made worse when nobody else was told to wait behind.

The bell rang for lunchtime as Mrs. Greenapple finished handing out the papers. "Look at your marks

later. And talk about them outside, if you please, Morgana Hedger. Books away. Make sure your

wands are properly laid east--west. Who's ready to go?"

Rhianna was ready to go, all right, but there was no chance of being able to get away. Mrs. Greenapple

dismissed the class, row by row, line by line, making sure that Rhianna was among the last. There was no

way to sneak out past her. She hadn't forgotten.

Rhianna waited, standing by her desk. Her friend Rose Treesong gave her a concerned look as she left

the classroom, but Rhianna was too sunk in gloom to notice. The door closed, the sounds of play were

hushed, and the bright sunlight outside made the room seem darker still.

"Well, Rhianna." Mrs. Greenapple folded her arms and leaned against her desk. "What's to be done? It

seems you didn't take in a thing I said all last week. Or anything in the book, either."

Rhianna stared at the floor and said nothing.

Her teacher sighed. "I must admit, I can't understand it. Your work is neat and clear. You understand all

the amounts... look, three-and-a-half scruples of butterfly-wing dust plus three quarters of a drachm of

thistledown sap makes just about a pinch..."

"It makes exactly a pinch!" Rhianna was stung. The table showing the amounts had been clear in the

book. Difficult, mind you. She wished all the measures could go evenly into each other, but all the

same.... She looked up. Mrs. Greenapple was shaking her head.

"How many times must we go over this, Rhianna?" she asked. "There is no such thing as 'exactly a pinch.'

Nothing is exact in magic! Everyone's pinch is different. Far more important than the pinch is what it's a

pinch of. That's what you were asked about. This is the base for a simple flying ointment. And what did

you say it was? 'One pinch of gray goo.' Really!"

"Well, that's what it looked like," muttered Rhianna.

Mrs. Greenapple's face became grim. "Since when," she asked carefully, "has anything ever been what it

looks like in magic?"

Rhianna looked down again. There was something about that question that set her teeth on edge. Why

shouldn't things be what they looked like? Why should everything be vague and fuzzy and not exact?

But it was no use scowling. Mrs. Greenapple shook her head again. "Well," she said, "I think we need to

talk to your parents, Rhianna. I wouldn't mind so much if you just forgot things. Still less if you just got a

few of the words wrong or left out a gesture when working a spell. But this is far worse. It's as if you had

everything around the wrong way, as if you... as if you didn't think magic was real. As if you thought

there was some other way to make things work." She watched Rhianna's face, what she could see of it.

When nothing more happened after a few moments, she sighed. "All right, Rhianna. I don't think there is

anything more to be said now. I'll be sending a letter home. Go and have your lunch."

Rhianna trudged out, still scowling.

Rose was waiting for her in their usual place. Rhianna plumped herself down and opened her lunch

basket.

"How bad was it?" asked Rose.

"The usual," said Rhianna, trying to look unconcerned. "You know, 'Rhianna, you have to remember

that nothing is what it seems to be. Nothing adds up. Nothing is right.' Why can't things say what

they mean, and mean what they say?"

"Well," said Rose, considering, "I suppose it's because they don't in magic."

"Don't you start."

"I'm not starting. You asked me, I told you."

This was so true that Rhianna had nothing to say to it. Her pie was suddenly tasteless, though it was kept

fresh by her mother's own spell. She dropped it back in her basket.

Mrs. Greenapple would be writing that letter already, and the sending spell would have it at Rhianna's

house by this afternoon. She would have to face her mother and father over dinner.

That was enough to cause any amount of gloom. She'd be sent to her room after school every day for a

week, most likely. Told to study. Study! As if it ever made any difference whether she studied or not!

The things in the books didn't make any sense at all. Why should a finding charm work if you walked

around a circle one way, but not if you walked around it the other? Why? Rhianna always wanted to

know why. Mrs. Greenapple was always telling her it didn't matter why. Just do it, Rhianna.

"Just do it, Rhianna," she said out loud, and there was a rude laugh just behind her. Rory Spellwright's

laugh.

It was Rory, all right. "Yeah, just do it, Rhianna. Why can't you? What's wrong with you? I can do it. All

the other kids can do it, even the little ones. Even Rose here can do it, and she's nearly as dumb as--"

Rose whipped her head around, her eyes sparkling dangerously. She whispered a find spell and tossed a

squashberry in the air. Up it went, gently, and then it curved in flight as if it had wings, flew faster and

faster, and went splat! right in the middle of Rory's forehead. Purple juice trickled into his eyes, and he

touched his fingers to his face in disbelief.

"Dumb, am I?" asked Rose. "Well, I've got a mean find spell and a basket full of squashberries. Get out

of here, Rory, or you'll be so purple you'll think you're a grape."

Rory looked down at his purple fingers. His mouth opened and closed. "You wait," he raged. "You wait.

I'll tell. I'll tell Mrs. Greenapple," and he ran towards the school building, his voice working up into a howl

as he went.

Rhianna sighed. "You shouldn't have done that," she said. "He'll do it, for sure."

Rose nodded. "It'll be worth it," she said comfortably. "I should have used the whole bunch on him."

"Waste of good squashberries," said Rhianna. She sighed again. "Why does he have to be such a

sneak?"

Rose shrugged. "Could be because he doesn't have much power, no matter how right he gets the spell,

and he hates that. He couldn't have done that with the squashberry, for instance. Could be because

nobody takes any notice of him unless he's acting like he does. But the main reason is just Rory. He just

likes himself that way, I suppose." She glanced across the meadow. "Here we go."

Mrs. Greenapple was coming towards them. Rory walked behind her, looking woeful when she glanced

at him, and poking his tongue out the rest of the time.

"I'll probably be kept in," said Rose. "You'll have to walk home by yourself."

Rhianna nodded. It was so unfair.

---

When school was over, Rhianna slouched up the village street towards home. The worst of it was that

she had to stop at Mr. Spellwright's shop. Her mother had asked her to pick up some amber for a

preserving spell.

Mr. Spellwright was standing at the shop door, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. Rhianna's mother

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Dave Luckett - The Girl The Dragon And The Wild Magic

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