Oracle (Book I)

The Oracle Ballaire

Lessons ended and Caprice immediately went back to her room. The messy sheets and semi-soft mattress rushed up to meet her face as she collapsed face-down on her bed and groaned. The sharp edge of a book jabbed her thigh from inside the schoolbag at her side. Somehow, she thought, lessons are more challenging than running around cleaning and waiting on the snakes. Not that I want to return to any of that. Nearly floating a candlestick into another student's eye while practicing levitation today wasn't anything to celebrate though. My sans wand method needs work, she though distractedly.

"Caprice what are you doing? Get ready," came Bossa's voice.

"For what?" she groaned.

"The ball downstairs. I told you the other day."

"The Ballaire," Nezzle said.

"I'm exhausted." A warm, chirping weight leapt onto Caprice's head. Little claw tips pricked her scalp. "Ow...Fritter—off!"

"What?" Bossa sucked her teeth. "I expect to see you downstairs in fifteen minutes and looking like a Black goddess."

Clothes rustled as the other two changed. "I don't know what to wear," Caprice said. She unpinned the giving pin from the collar of her robes. Whether temporarily provided with livery or clothed in careworn rags as a "charming" touch to the privileged scenery in the "civilized" world of the white witches, none of that was the same as attending a ceremony in her own honor, which she had never done before. Where she could go where she wanted. Dressed the way she wanted. Eat what she wanted. Speak to whoever she wished. Dance. Laugh. Waiting only on herself. Caprice bit her lip anxiously.

"Wear what pleases you. We'll get out of your way so you can get changed in peace. Let's go, Bohs," said Nezzle

"Why? I wanna see what Preece gets up to."

"Anticipation is everything. Come on."

She heard footsteps and scraping. Before she dared to look to see if Bossa was in fact getting dragged out of the room, the door closed.

Caprice put the pin on the bed in front of her face and propped her chin on her hand. Leaning in close, she whispered, "It's for the welcome ceremony. That's permissible isn't it? I can't show my face there in regular school clothes, now can I?"

The pin shined at her.

Within the next fifteen or twenty minutes later, Bossa came back three times in a row, shouting and knocking on the door.

"Are you really wizzing out on us? Dressed or not, you'd better come out or I'm breaking this door DOWN!" she threatened.

Swimming in an ever mounting pile of satin, Caprice shouted, "Bossa, get away from the door!"

"No!"

During one episode, Caprice heard her hooting, stomping, and shouting about celebrating. Sometime after that, Nezzle knocked once, only to tell her that Bossa wouldn't be bothering her anymore. ("Caprice, it's Nezzle. I'm taking Bossa downstairs. Take your time. We'll be waiting.") There was some scuffling on the other side of the door then there was only the steady, quiet buzzing of excitement that radiated through the Dragon's Roost and the school as night approached.

In any event, it took an hour for Caprice to get ready.

Cracking open the door, she toed out of the room, shimmering, deep mauve heeled slippers clicking on the stone floor. As she passed other students, their eyes studied her from head to toe and she heard whistling and whispers but didn't look at anyone. In the tunnel leading to the Main Hall, she watched her shadow on the wall in the crystal light, a graceful silhouette that twinkled where the fabric of her dress clung to her and flared into trumpet skirting around her legs. Her hair was arranged high on her head and trailing down her back. With a deep breath, raising her chin, she made her way to the grand staircase.