Havune and Thery were right about not having time to spare once classes have started. Not that classes are so terrible, nor yet studying for them -- in the simple truth I haven't studied a bit yet.
No. For the custom here is that, on the first day of classes, all students go to the buttery. We have a round of drinks; we summarize our class schedules in woe-bestruck terms; we have a round of drinks; we rip a page from each textbook and throw it in the fire; we have a round of drinks. (This is why all the textbooks had a blank page at the back.) Then, of course, the first-term students are educated with terrible stories about all their classes. Professor Urastra, for example, is a fierce giant scyanturge luring us into a trap; any resemblance with a pleasant Rassimel woman is simply a delusion brought about by a lack of liquor! Which is to be remedied by all her students buying a round for everyone... Three tots of consimmon brandy, a quarter-pint of hosh beer, a quarter-pint of celery beer, and a pot of hallucinogenic tea, over the evening, and I was ready to believe that Professor Urastra was a scyanturge -- or that I was.
Certain other points are worthy of mention by morning's flickering sunlight. Point the first: one's willingness to drink strong drink really ought to be tempered by one's awareness of one's own small body size. Point the second: Even if one is distinctly tipsy, it is advisable to get out of the fireplace before emptying one's stomach. Codicil to point the second: should one ignore Point the Second, one should clean the fireplace in short order rather than taking a brief nap. Point the third: Rassimel recover from all poisons quickly, and, as a consequence, the entire species deserves to be used as a shuttlecock in a game between Accanax and "Here". Point the fourth: spontaneous magic is made not one bit easier by the headache that comes from the remnants of strong drink. Point the fifth: botching a spontaneous Clean-Smelling Air can return the air to its state as of the middle of the night, with a less well-mellowed pungency. Point the sixth: if the thrice-accursed and hideously-healthy Rassimel chooses to complain or laugh, any form of vengeance is appropriate. Including looking pitiful enough so that she does the spell herself.
Dustweed, it may be noted, is just as healthy as Thery. Zie removed all the alcohol from zir beer before zie drank it. As least zie had the grace to slip out quietly before I woke up this morning, for which I will rhapsodize zir ten thousand years hence. Or at least talk zir into giving me that spell.
No rhapsodies now, though. Even the scratching of quill on smooth paper trickles through my head like daggersome icicles.