Free Wheel of Misfortune by Kate McMullan

Chapter 1
    “ Y ou three!” Frypot called, hurrying into the Dragon Slayers’ Academy kitchen.
    Wiglaf, Angus, and Erica looked up from the soapsuds in the kitchen sink. They had been in Scrubbing Class all afternoon, scouring greasy pots and pans.
    “Us three?” they asked together.
    “You are the only three here,” Frypot pointed out. “Who else could I mean? Mordred wants to see you. Put down your scrub brushes—”
    Three scrub brushes splashed into the suds.
    “And get yourselves to Mordred’s office,” Frypot said. “On the double!”
    The three raced out of the DSA kitchen.
    “Angus,” Wiglaf said as they ran, “what do you think your uncle Mordred wants?”
    Angus shrugged. “Most likely he wants us to scrub the privy.”
    “Or clean out the henhouse,” suggested Erica.
    Wiglaf feared his friends were right. The headmaster of Dragon Slayers’ Academy never sent for his students to give them good jobs. Maybe he had more scrubbing for them. Or maybe something worse.
    Wiglaf wondered how Angus felt about his uncle Mordred never giving him a break on the chores. He also wondered what Erica thought of so much scrubbing. Nobody but Wiglaf knew that she was really Princess Erica, daughter of Queen Barb and King Ken. Erica longed to be a dragon slayer, so she disguised herself as a boy and went by the name of Eric. She fooled Mordred. He had let her into the all-boys DSA. Surely at home in the palace, Erica never had to scrub anything. Yet she never complained.
    The three reached the headmaster’s office. Angus knocked on the heavy wooden door.
    “Enter!” cried Mordred.
    They walked inside. Wiglaf was surprised to see three stools lined up facing Mordred’s big desk.
    “Come in.” Mordred waved them into his office. “Sit down.”
    They sat. Wiglaf saw that three small pots of ink had been placed on Mordred’s desk. A writing quill lay across each pot.
    What is Mordred up to? Wiglaf wondered.
    “The three of you are always in that laboratory,” Mordred began as he picked up some parchment sheets from his desk
    “What laboratory, Uncle?” asked Angus.
    “The one in the North Tower,” Mordred said. “The one with all the books.”
    “Do you mean the library, sir?” Erica asked.
    “Library, laboratory.” Mordred shrugged. “My point is that you seem to like books. Perhaps you have even read one?”
    “A good many of them, sir,” Wiglaf said.
    “Fine!” Mordred boomed. “For I have heard it said that reading can add to one’s knowledge.”
    “That is true, sir,” Erica told him. “I have read seven books about Sir Lancelot and—”
    “Good, good. Now let’s see what else you know,” Mordred cut in. He began handing out the parchment. “These are your answer sheets.”
    Wiglaf took a sheet. It had numbers on it and circles filled with tiny letters a, b, c, and d.
    “Here are your test booklets,” Mordred added. He put one on each desk. A blob of sealing wax kept the students from peeking inside.
    “What test are we taking, sir?” Erica asked.
    “Shhhh!” Mordred said. “No talking! This is the S.A.T.—M.E.”
    “What does that stand for, sir?” Wiglaf asked.
    “Some Awful Test, Medieval Edition,” Mordred answered. “It is an all-day test. But I haven’t got all day. So work fast, lads. The test will tell me how smart you are.”
    “Why do you need to know that, Uncle?” Angus asked.
    “No more questions!” Mordred said. “When I say ‘begin,’ begin. And make no mistakes,” he added. “Erasers have not yet been invented. Ready?” Mordred’s violet eyes swept from Wiglaf to Angus to Erica. “Begin!”
    Wiglaf broke the sealing wax. He opened his test booklet to:

Section 1: Reading Comprehension
MOLD: OUR FUNGUS FRIEND
    What is mold exactly? Scholars in Toenail tell us that mold starts out as dust from mouse droppings. Scholars in East Armpittsia argue that mold begins as droplets of troll sweat. Scholars in West Upchuckia say that mold comes from a