The Magic Menagerie

"I need a virgin, Mother Superior."

The abbess's headdress bobbed up and down in a faint nod. The crinkled face remained unperturbed, as though I were stating the obvious. She simply didn't understand.

"The problem is -" I began.

"The challenge," she corrected me softly. "The challenge, Sister Dragomira."

"The challenge, Mother Superior, lies in locating a suitable girl. The festival is in a fortnight."

Her calm face said I know and I shut my eyes so that she wouldn't see them roll with impatience. It was all my fault, of course. I simply didn't know how to work in the glamorous world of religion. I wasn't used to abbey politics, the lingo felt ridiculous to me, and I was not as yet skilled in the art of doing little while appearing indispensable. That's why I had no idea how to complete the task that lay ahead of me without making a fool of myself.

"Ours is The Order of Magic," I heard the old woman's voice. "You have the entire Magic Menagerie at your command. Do you remember our vision, Sister?"

"To be the first nunnery on the planet in terms of service excellence," I supplied dutifully.

"Very good. Keep the vision in mind, and the rest will follow."

There was only one answer to a pretentious slogan like that one.

"Yes, Mother Superior."

"You may go, child."

I closed the heavy door behind me and stood in the hot corridor, pondering my next step.

Sometimes I think I really hate my job. It's always been my dream to work with magic, but that was in my childhood, when magic had been, well, magical. It's hardly rare or special anymore.

Still, at least I get to serve the Dragons: arrange the flowers, polish the gold and keep the abbey clean. I've always worshipped the Dragons. Their magnificent shadows cast as they flew over my hometown always induced a thrilling sense of marvel and expectation.

Of course, that was still in the days when Dragons picked virgins off the streets. Before the abbey formalised the arrangement. Sometimes I wonder whether girls today respect and admire Dragons in the same way as I did. Do, I mean.

I can only hope that my younger sister is a good Dragon-fearing girl who will follow my footsteps to the abbey sometime. I save every Golden I earn for her admission dowry.

***

"Give me gold over a virgin any day," muttered the She-Dragon.

The He-Dragon stroked his upper-lip scales with a languid wingtip. "Oh, come off it. A girl is a girl. I've never had a bad one."

"But what am I supposed to do with one? Breathe fire on her? Give her a tour of the planet on my back? Share my gold with her perhaps?"

The He-Dragon smirked. "You can always give her to me, my dear. Quit your nagging now. I thought you got what you wanted when you established the abbey and limited the virgin sacrifice to the festival!"

"Yes, honey," murmured his wife. "I must say, you were truly wonderful, the way you thought up the rules and the rituals. That took real creativity."

The He-Dragon purred.

"And you're ever so good with the girls. So patient and gentle," she added. "A beast and a gentleman in one."

"Mind you," the He-Dragon's eyes had a far-away look, "one can't help but get tired of virgins after a while. I mean, they're so inexperienced… what can they possibly teach or offer when all is said and done?"

The She-Dragon batted her eyelashes, making sure she looked pretty. She decided to say nothing more - for the moment.

***

Everything in our abbey can be bullet-formatted. No, I don't mean gun bullets, silver bullets against werewolves or anything silly. What I mean is something even sillier: the bullet points we've had ever since word processors took over the office realm.

Our values are: unity, integrity and achievement. We worship the following gods: Dragons, Dragons, Dragons. In our magic menagerie, we keep: a Witch, a Sorceress and a Midwife.

It was to the menagerie office that I directed my steps.

"I need a virgin," I repeated like a mantra.

The Midwife gave me a disdainful snort. "Not my department, sweet'eart. When they come to me, they're well past that stage. But that reminds me. You know the memo we sent you last week hhhabout the memo last month hhhhabout -"

I knew which memos she meant. Flexibility in office hours, my foot!

"Not now," I said. Ok, perhaps I said it less politely than I'd intended. But there was no reason for the Witch to make a snapping jaw shape with her fingers. "What we need to do now, is concentrate on the hunt for virgins. Let us brainstorm. Mistress Sorceress?"

The Sorceress pretended not to notice me.

"Mistress Sorceress," I said, assuming what I hoped was a commanding tone of voice. "Can you magic a virgin into this debauched society of ours?"

Her cold eyes met mine. "There is no thing on this planet that magic cannot procure."

As easy as that. Ha! Perhaps I was getting the hang of religion work, after all. "In that case, I need one by…" I did a quick mental calculation: two weeks to the festival, minus the proper preparation time… "in ten days' time at the very latest." Holy fire, I forgot the contingency, and the policy of always setting deadlines earlier than necessary. "Make that a week," I corrected. Even to my own ears, it sounded lame.

The cold eyes bore into the space somewhere above my right shoulder, as though I were invisible or detestable, or both. "I said I could. I did not say I would. I don't think it's a good idea to -"

"You work for us," I retorted. "You do as you're told. We're paying you to do magic, not to think. You are simply a resource. If you don't perform, we can replace you like that." I snapped my fingers. Ye dragons, it felt good to be in control. "Magic is cheap nowadays. Magic is aplenty -"

I broke off and watched the Sorceress collect her wand and hat. She hitched up the skirts of her starry robe to step over the threshold, and she was gone.

"Let it be a lesson to the rest of you," I said, hoping it sounded better than it felt. I now still had no more hope of a virgin than in the morning, plus my magic menagerie was down to two.

I didn't even bother to consult the Witch about my problem. What could she do, with her herbs and potions? No plant on the planet would repair a lost maidenhead. Unless….

"The flower maidenhead -" I began.

"A totally different thing," replied the Witch.

***

The He-Dragon circled the abbey slowly, watching and listening. Originally, he had planned to rest there and receive his due of praise, perhaps even a juicy sheep to take home. But the events in the abbey made him change his mind.

On his way back to the lair, he skirted the village: not so near that he might be observed, but close enough to sense the mood of the villagers.

"Wife," he said as soon as he returned. "I have dreadful news. The festival might not take place this season."

"Would that be the end of the world? I've been thinking, darling, about giving this whole virgin thing a break for a while. See how we like it when it's just the two of us -"

The He-Dragon hissed a curse in reply.

"As you wish, darling. I'll see what I can do."

***

The conference hall was full of green habits and gold wimples. The golden scales on the abbess's headdress shook with indignation, but the face below it was tranquil.

"Thank you for joining us, Sister Dragomira," she said in an affable tone. "I've called this meeting to discuss a business matter that arose earlier today. As you may be aware, Sister, our Sorceress has given her notice of leave. Effective immediately."

"She can't quit," I breathed. "I fired her!"

"You may find that what you did is threaten to fire her," the abbess corrected mildly. "From a legal perspective, we don't have recourse. But may I enquire why you chose to do a thing like that, barely a fortnight before our most important festival of the year?"

I knew it would have been suicide to argue my case. "No, Mother Superior," I said. "I mean," I amended hastily, upon hearing a surprised murmur of my fellow nuns, "yes, Mother Superior, but I have no adequate explanation. I apologise. What restitution can I make?"

The golden scales stopped shaking. They seemed to be thinking, evaluating possibilities.

"Let this unpleasant incident be a lesson to you, my child. Your second highest priority now is to find a new recruit for our menagerie. Of course, your highest priority is still to ensure a virgin offering can take place at the festival."

Her mien said clearly, "… but I doubt you can achieve the latter without the former."

"Yes, Mother Superior," I replied.

"The costs of this exercise will, of course, be taken into account when considering your festival bonus," she added.

Meaning that I'd be getting none.

"Yes, Mother Superior."

I waited to be dismissed.

"Sister Dragomira?"

I raised my eyes to hers.

"I presume you are a virgin?"

"As all nuns should -" I broke off as the meaning of her words hit me. "It would be an honour, Mother Superior," I said mechanically.

"You may go, child."

I marched straight to the Magic Menagerie's living quarters. By the time I was finished with them, my head hurt from all the things I'd shouted, but the rest of me felt heaps better.

In abbey language, it's called "passing the buck".

***

I visited the village the next morning. First of all, I placed an advertisement in the "Positions Vacant" section of the Dragon Times, having been assured that it would reach the inhabitants' screens within the hour. Next, I directed my steps to the local inn.

"Tell me," I bent towards the barmaid after the second mug of red ale and I slipped her one of my hard-earned Goldens, "what is the latest gossip around the village?"

I listened attentively to who'd been seen emerging from whose hay shed looking dishevelled and pleased, who had taken rooms at the inn payable by the hour, who… and I mentally crossed the potential sacrificial candidates off my rapidly shortening list.

"And you yourself?" I asked eventually. "You are a bar-maid, are you not?"

The girl coloured deeply. "It would be an honour to be considered for the festival, Ma'am," she said earnestly. "But with all the village boys partying here every Saturday night… I mean, how could I resist?"

The village is a curious place in that respect. While officially all dwellers revere virgins (which is understandable for a village under Dragon rule), the society is puzzlingly promiscuous. It's almost as though they're spoiling their maidenheads on purpose. As though they don't want the honour of being a Dragon's Sacrifice. Haven't they heard Dragons don't kill people anymore?

"Do you know of any girl of age who -" I began.

The barmaid simply shook her head.

The ale made me unusually gloomy, so it was with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders that I walked back towards the abbey. I didn't even register when a shadow fell across my path.

"Sister," boomed a voice before me. If it weren't for the breath of sulphur that enveloped me like a blanket, I wouldn't even have noticed her. Her shape and size were that of a human, her wings folded out of sight, her tail obscured by her broad shoulders.

I bowed in silence.

"Would you like me to fly you back to the abbey?" the voice enquired.

I panicked. It was bad enough dealing with my co-nuns and Mother Superior, never knowing the right thing to say nor the right way to say it. What was I supposed to do now that I met one of the big bosses? Accepting her offer seemed cheeky. Rejecting it seemed worse.

"Please," I whispered.

It was only when we were gliding through the clouds that I realised why I should have refused, for the She-Dragon immediately started her interrogation: how were the festival preparations, what colour was this year's virgin's hair, what was the rumour about the magic menagerie rebelling against the abbey?

She was asking so gently, like a friend, not like a god, that I was tempted to unburden all my troubles. Fortunately, the abbess' angry headdress loomed in my imagination just in time.

"Everything is under control," I produced a professionally smooth smile. "Mother Superior should be communicating the final proposal to you shortly."

I was proud of my glibness. The She-Dragon, however, looked less pleased. She dropped me off at the front gates in a billow of bitter smoke and refused my invitation to come in.

"I hear, Sister," she said as I bowed, "that you have a younger sister back home. Is she of age?"

I nodded, too shocked to speak. If she were offered at the festival, she would never be able to become a nun.

"Very good. I'll keep it in mind. So, would you like to tell me exactly what's going on then?"

***

"I don't care," said the Midwife. "Virgin or no virgin, nobody is gonna say that the Festival fell flat on account of my slackin' off."

"But Goody Midwife -"

"But nothin', Mistress Witch. I 'ave my magic to prepare, and you 'ave yours."

"It's pointless," the Witch's idle hands looked dejected without the potion shaker. "Even the Dragons know. It's all over the village. The Sorceress made quite sure of that. The abbey is failing -"

"And we will do everythin' in our power to prevent that."

"What can we do, Goody Midwife? Our magic is weakening every moon. It's not like the good old days. We're neither revered nor feared. Every child with access to the Web can learn our tricks. And as to our working conditions -"

The Midwife stood up and brushed the gingerbread crumbs off her apron. "Come, the tea break is hhover. And don't look so glum, I 'ave a plan. It'll need a few changes in your ingredient list, but it'll work perfectly."

"Which potions?"

"Let's see. The Virginity Confirmer, of course. The Hhenticement Scent. The Mind Clouder. The -"

***

"Next," I shouted.

I was sitting in the little interview room, just off the reception. The festival was a mere week away, and I had neither a Sorceress nor a virgin.

Over the last six days, I had interviewed a score of females: young sorcery fledglings, old hags, middle-aged professionals with hats as sharp as their tongues. The magic market was indeed depressed judging by the vast number of CVs that had crossed my desk. None of the applicants, however, was willing to accept the terms of our contract.

"How much?" they would ask in that incredulous voice that indicated they had heard perfectly. Or, "Working how long?” Or just a derisive laughter fading with the interviewee in a puff of fog.

"Next," I repeated.

"Sister, about that memo? To do with allowing flexible hours?"

I snarled. Such impudence! "This is not the time, Mistress Witch."

"I have an infant at home, Sister. And two toddlers. Sometimes they get ill -"

"Go away," I hissed. "I'm busy with important meetings here."

I waited for her to leave.

"Next!" I shouted.

The door opened under another hopeful hand. I didn't even look up.

"Years of experience?"

"None."

It was the deep voice, not the answer that made me turn my eyes towards him.

"We're looking for a Sorceress," I said.

"Gender discrimination?" His face was covered with curly hair, but I would have sworn a smile was hiding behind the beard.

"Just abbey policy. Next!"

"There is no 'next', Sister. You've seen them all."

I sighed. "Where is your CV?"

He didn't have one. His references came from his mother. His mother, for Dragon's sake. But he accepted the long hours (with no flexibility), the bitchy colleagues and the pay. So I signed him on.

"Your first project," I told him, "your only project, in fact, is to procure a virgin in time for the Festival. There are three things this abbey won't tolerate: missed deadlines, non-adherence to specs and inferior quality."

As I spoke, I felt the power rush in my brain, then the high subsided. Honestly, what had I become? His eyes bore into mine and I felt something stir inside my chest. Heat poured into my cheeks; my hands started a fluttery dance that served no purpose.

"Good luck," I added softly.

***

"To summarise," said the Midwife. "You're a Sorcerer but your sorcery can't conjure up a virgin. You've never seen a Dragon. You don't 'ave a single idea 'ow to save the festival."

The Sorcerer shook his head. "I have indeed seen a Dragon. She came to me in my dreams. She told me to come to this abbey and offer my services…" He trailed off uncertainly when he saw the women's expressions.

"I see," the Midwife's tone was sceptical. "And what skills can you hhoffer the abbey?"

"I can sing, Goody Midwife. Like a siren, I can seduce girls with my voice. I can summon them to the abbey and put them under my command."

"That's nice. But 'ow many virgins do you think there are in these parts? Sister Dragomira is probably the hhonly one within the reach of your voice."

The bits of the Sorcerer's skin that weren't covered with hair turned a gentle shade of crimson.

The Midwife regarded him reflectively. Suddenly she flashed him a smile.

"Well, no matter. Hhhat least you're a man, and that makes a welcome change," she said, her eyes watchful while her fingers loosened the shirt laces at his throat. "Things can get very… borin'… in an abbey, if you know what I mean."

"I - I - I -" he stammered. "I'm sorry - very flattered - of course - sorry. It's just that Sister Dragomira - well -"

"She is special, ain't she?" asked the Midwife gently.

The Sorcerer nodded.

"I hhhunderstand completely." The Midwife motioned to the other woman. "The potion, if you please, Mistress Witch..."

***

The night before the festival, the magic menagerie submitted their high-level project plan. Yes, they can provide a virgin in time for the main event. On time, on spec and under budget. The managers needed to sign here…

"Nothing unusual," Mother Superior said to me as she glanced through the neat tables and graphs. "Nothing unreasonable anyway. Sister Dragomira, take the signed agreement back to them. Oh, and congratulations on a job well done."

I should have wondered why she had resealed the document with her personal holy stamp. But I didn't. And even if I had, how could I have changed the course of events? And - would I have wanted to at the time?

The Sorcerer smiled when he saw me. This time I could see the smile despite his beard. It made my knees wobbly. Honestly, I must stop thinking about that man. I'm a Bride of the Dragons, after all.

***

The Dragons circled the square three times before they landed, which was unusual.

"For a festival, the people are rather un-festive," whispered the She-Dragon as her wing skirted that of her mate's in flight.

"I can see the altar and the virgin, but there is something unfamiliar about the setup," agreed her mate. "Let's loop around once more to get our bearings."

"I think I can smell something different. If only the abbey didn’t insist on all those unguents and aromatic magic potions…"

The virgin was standing at the altar. The ceremonial binds around the wrists and ankles were made into decorative knots. The ends were left unattached to symbolise the offering's free will to be sacrificed.

"Nothing unusual there," observed the He-Dragon on their third round. "Although they seem to have changed the Enchantment Scent this time. And I must say - not that I know much about fashion - that the robe seems different to anything I've seen on a girl… ooooh!" The He-Dragon roared with disappointment.

"Come, darling," said his wife gently, a smile hiding in the corners of her maw. "It's not polite to keep the people waiting."

***

"That's what happens when you let men into our midst," lamented Mother Superior. "We are disgraced, I tell you, disgraced!"

"The festival went very well," I protested. "The She-Dragon took me aside to thank me especially -"

"Of what use is that, my child? I've just received a missive from - above," she raised her eyes devotedly. "The directive is very clear: no more virgins. Especially no more male ones."

"But that's wonderful!" I couldn't understand why her headdress looked so depressed. "Virgins are such a rare commodity nowadays, surely it's a blessing -"

Mother Superior wasn't listening. "The entire abbey is geared towards virginity and offerings," she muttered, her headdress quivering with resentment. "The decorations, the rules, the history. The hymns and the holy books. Even our magic menagerie. This is our way. We can't go a-changing with our gods. Whom can we serve now that the Dragons have decided to give marital monogamy a go? Whom can we serve, I ask? Vampires? They would like the offerings, to be sure, but I hear they're not that fussy when it comes to purity…"

"Unicorns," I suggested without thinking. Then I bit my tongue. I love Dragons, I serve Dragons, and I want no other masters.

The headdress pointed in my direction. "Hmm. That's a consideration. Very good, Sister Dragomira, very good. The abbey must go on. We must serve our purpose. It's - expected. And while we're on the topic of sacrificing virgins…" she trailed off.

I waited.

"The magic menagerie requested you as their performance bonus for the overtime work that went into the festival preparations. You, Sister. Our virgin offering to them. I agreed, as you will recall. You may go get ready, my child."

***

I entered the menagerie dressed in bridal gold, as befits an ex Bride of the Dragons. It was him, the Sorcerer, who had asked for me. I just knew it. He'd fallen in love with me and now we were going to be married and…

The Witch and the Midwife were waiting for me. I looked around for my groom.

"'E was sacrificed this mornin', Sister," said the Midwife, as though she'd read my thoughts.

I gasped.

"But don't you worry, Sister. The She-Dragon had a jolly good time with 'im before she dropped 'im off at 'is mother's."

"Where did you think we found a virgin, especially a male one?" added the Witch. "Not in that cesspool of sexuality, the village, surely? With all the girls giving out like there's no tomorrow -"

"Mind you, it was fun to check whether the Sorcerer was hhhindeed a virgin," interrupted the Midwife. Her words turned the hyperbolic dagger that was already pierced through my heart. "'Is eyes almost popped out when 'e saw what sweets I 'ad on hhoffer.

"It took both of us to prevent him from giving me his, um, 'maidenhead', ha-ha," sneered the Witch. "And when he went back home, he seemed very pleased with himself. I daresay the She-Dragon must know a trick or two."

"Please," I whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Oh, my dear Sister, don't look so frightened. It's not as though we're going to throw you to the Dragons."

"Or take your maiden'ead."

"It's just that people don't like to be bossed around, you know. Or rather, you don't know. But you will. And who knows? One day, you may even pass that lesson up the chain."

"And while we're hhat it, Sister, hhhabout that flexible hours' memo…"