Chapter Four
Near the end of the second week, Lady Arazniros approached me as I gathered my things at the end of our Basic Magic Constructs class. Most of the class had filtered out, and she stood stiffly in front of me, hands clasped together in front of her waist. “Do you have a moment?”
I packed the last of my tools in a satchel, trying to suppress a reaction as thoughts raced between hopeful and gloomy outcomes. Would her tone soften from earlier brusqueness? Maybe she wanted to explain what I’d done to bother her. “What may I do for you?” I managed to keep my tone even.
“I…” She stared down at me, jaw clenched, eyes blinking slowly. “I would request your assistance, Mister Thistlewood.”
I tapped my thumbs lightly on the desk as I gazed at her.
This was beyond unexpected. On the one hand, oddly welcome.
I wanted to help… but maybe she would ask to search my possessions for whatever it was that those damn nobles thought I had.
Though that too might tell me something.
My brother had taught me elves worked in layers upon layers. “Would you?”
She thinned her lips to a line.
I raised a hand. “Stop.” Drawing a long breath, I wished I was better at verbal games. No. I wished I didn’t have to play them with her. “Not to belabor past animosities, but you haven’t embraced my assistance before. It simply surprised me.”
She maintained her posture, fidgeting clasped hands slightly. “You are not incorrect. I do not wish to discuss the incident aboard my ship further, if you please. However, you are apparently the most gifted student in our class in basic woodworking.”
I sucked in half a breath as an odd warmth washed over me. She said I’m the most… “Woodworking?” Many simple constructs were made of wood; in fact, wooden housings were one of the foundations of constructing a magical device. “I thought students were supposed to…”
“Have experience with basic constructs prior to admittance? Yes.” Her posture stiffened so much that my own back hurt, her face stifling a flood of emotion.
“I most certainly do. However, I focused on magically active components, and used prefabricated housings and armatures. I did not realize we would be expected to construct a complete device.”
“Oh.” I blinked. I should have had something more profound to say.
She pursed her lips, jaw clenched.
“Wouldn’t the instructor be a better choice to give you a few pointers?” I do not believe I just said that. I waved both hands in front of me. “I mean, I’m happy to assist, I really am, I just…”
She pressed her eyes shut, her expression that of a person preparing to have a limb amputated with a dull saw and no anesthetic. “I require more than ‘a few pointers.’ The academy does not offer any remedial woodworking courses. I would need to seek out a trade school, which—”
“I’ll help. I’ll help however I can.” Words gushed out as I stumbled to my feet.
I caught myself and nodded politely.
“Thank you, Mister Thistlewood.”
Please call me Theo.
? ? ?
We met late morning that weekend in an empty crafting room on campus, with Sephimara arriving almost to the minute of the agreed time. We may not have been friends, but I now allowed myself the liberty of at least mentally being on a first-name basis with her.
“Good morning, Mister Thistlewood.” She wore her uniform, which was not required when class was not in session.
“Good morning, Lady Arazniros.” I motioned to a long maple wood workbench with many decades of scuffs and dings. I’d set out tools and a few practice pieces of wood. “I am not a skilled instructor, but I remember my initial lessons, and thought perhaps I could replicate them.”
“That sounds most reasonable.”
“And while you’re practicing, I could work on some of my own homework. I feel a bit overwhelmed in geomagic.”
“As I recall, you scored adequately on both quizzes last week.”
She remembered?
I nodded. “What was it that Master Arel said our first day?”
“Anything less than excellence will incur consequences.” The hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Which I thought was unduly ominous.”
We held each other’s gaze a moment.
“So, I spent the morning procuring a few things.” I laid a pair of old chisels on the workbench. “It was not easy to find them, I might add.”
She inspected the tools without touching them, glaring as if they were venomous insects. “I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but they do not appear to be in especially pristine condition.”
I grinned. “Correct. In a wealthy city like Halamar, it wasn’t easy to find something this shabby.”
She furrowed her eyebrows ever so slightly. “Did your first lessons involve some sort of hazing ritual?”
“Not at all. The first lesson was how to properly sharpen your tools.” I handed her a sharpening stone, explaining cutting angles and such, and when she seemed to have grasped it, cracked open a text and notebook to begin my own homework.
“It is curious.” Sephimara held up the smaller of the two chisels to the light as she inspected it. “Even if I were to have taken lessons, I would wager that I would have been provided with a set of immaculate tools.”
“And the sharpening relegated to an assistant?” I added.
She nodded.
I shrugged. “Who knows if this is the best instruction technique. I thought it was… interesting. In retrospect, anyway. At the time, I thought it was tedious as hell.” I should not have let the curse word slip.
She let it slide.
She spoke a few minutes later. “What made you decide to enroll in the mage specialization, Mister Thistlewood?”
I set down my textbook. “It’s called a specialization, but it’s the most general course of study that deals with magic.
Sure, you learn some magic with something like botany.
The way certain plants have magical characteristics, how magic influences their growth.
” I inspected the edge she put on the larger chisel.
“Not bad. Nice edge. But while I liked botany, I didn’t want to be a botanist. The one thing common to everything I was interested in was magic. ”
She tipped her head, uttering a ‘hmm,’ her lips relaxed.
“How about you?” I asked.
“I am afraid my motivations are rather more romantic than yours.”
Romantic?
“I had traveled, of course, but never to any of the far-flung provinces of the former Empire. I sought adventure. This academy, with its newly created mage specialization, located at the former frontier, was…” She glanced at me.
That kind of romantic. I frowned a little.
“It was not a whim, Mister Thistlewood.” Her expression stiffened. “I realize how my own performance will affect the rest of the class. I would never contribute anything less than my utmost to my studies.”
I raised my hands. “You’re here on a weekend. That says something.”
With her chisels sharpened, I demonstrated a few basic cutting strokes on a block of poplar wood.
We continued in silence for over an hour before my stomach growled. “Did you want to get lunch? The cafeteria will be open for another half hour. They don’t have much selection on weekends, but it’s something.”
“Thank you, but no. I am afraid I have another engagement.”
My heart sank. “Oh, well, perhaps some other time.”
She stood and packed up her notebook. “But I would not wish to keep you from your midday meal. I believe I can practice on my own.”
Nice going, Theo! You’ve just managed to cut the meeting short.
“Ah. Well, you can keep the tools and blocks of wood if you like… and perhaps next weekend if you…”
“If you are willing, I would like that very much, Mister Thistlewood.”
That hint of softness she showed felt like it was for me alone. A gentle warmth flowed through my chest, and my own expression was probably the sweetest of smiles.
We chatted as I walked her along the corridor to the side entrance of the academy. “So what is your next… engagement?” The word felt odd on my tongue.
“Dance instruction together with Count Greanderal’s son, Halfar.”
A chill pierced my gut. “Ahh… that’s interesting.” Why did I care? It wasn’t as if she’d given me any clue there could ever be more to it than simply helping her with classwork. I forced a smile through a clenched jaw.
“He attends a different university and asked me to their winter ball.”
“Winter ball?” Dancing. Balls. I knew there were a few, select, social events at the academy, but they seemed like a distant mirage. “When exactly is…”
“Several months. But he seems to believe the local variation on the Ashryn Waltz to be different than the way we dance in Drach-Principalis.”
“Ah-ha.” I slid both hands behind my back to hide clenched fists.
“I thank you for your assistance, Mister Thistlewood. Good day.” She bowed slightly.
“Good day to you, Lady Arazniros.”
She departed.
And the distant mirage shimmered and grew more distant.