Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Her face, tired and worn, still held a spark. “Jerrold,” she said. “Dare to hope.”
“Maybe,” he said. “We’ll see.”
Bercie nodded and smiled. “Go on, now. Go make sure Cirda scrapes all the tree sap off those clothes before he washes them. Then see what your son has learned.”
“I’m getting out of doing the dishes?” Jerrold rose.
“Don’t get used to it, young man.” Bercie rose stiffly. “You can show me this amazing knife move later, after the lad goes to bed.”
“Aye, Mother.”
Halithe crammed the last of her bread into her mouth. They were all summoned to Lord Orval’s “office,” and it wouldn’t do to arrive still chewing. She was sure the small room off the kitchen was really a pantry, but the Lord had claimed it as his own and put in benches and a small table.
It was a tight squeeze with everyone there: Ritathan, Aramal and Halithe on one bench, Lady Amari, Roth, and Rosalind on the other.
Orval sat at the head of the table. The twins lay on a blanket on the floor by the door, napping, curled around each other.
Yfin was out cutting firewood, waiting for Roth.
Orval cleared his throat. “I am expecting Jerrold this afternoon and the students—”
“Guards,” Roth muttered.
“—will be here shortly,” Orval nodded. “We assume they are the ears and eyes of the Black Hills and that everything we say and do is reported.” He gave Roth a pointed look. “They’re good kids,” he said. “And they need to learn.”
“Even if they turn on us?” Roth grumbled.
“Even so,” Orval said calmly. “Jerrold said he’d be out later, to go over the maps we found.”
“Wethe the healer is coming as well,” Amari said. “She wants to check me regularly as my date grows closer.”
“I want to be there,” Orval said. His voice was firm, though it held an odd quaver.
“Orval, there is no need,” Amari said. “I’m fine.” The Lady’s eyes narrowed. “What I really want is for her to show me the old medicinal herb garden hereabouts.”
“Now, as to scheduling.” Orval asked. “Rye, how much time do you need for Leeda’s lessons?”
“A quarter of an hour,” Ritathan said. “No more than a half, at best.”
Halithe stared at him, as did the others.
“That’s all it takes?” Rosalind asked. “To learn to be a mage?”
“No,” Rye said. “But that’s all the time we need for lessons.”
Orval sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind translating?”
“Yes, I would,” Rye smiled smugly, then repeated, “That is all the time we need.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to work into the mornings, out of sight of the others,” Amari said. “Chores are spread out, mornings, afternoon and evening. It will help to have extra hands.” She stared at Rye. “That includes you, you know.”
Rye raised an eyebrow.
“And we need to dress you in something besides black robes,” Rosalind said. “You can’t stalk about looking like death incarnate.”
Rye danced his eyebrows at her. Rosalind rolled her eyes.
The twins started to fuss, and Aari turned her attention to them.
“We also need to make sure you can defend yourselves,” Roth added.
Rye glared at him.
“Not you,” Roth snorted. “Them,” he said, nodding at Aramal and Halithe.
Aramal folded his arms over his chest. “I can take care of myself,” he offered.
“Oh?” Roth asked.
Aramal shrugged. “Sickles and staves.”
“Ah,” Roth said, with respect in his tone. “Fair enough.”
Orval sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind translating, please?”
Roth chuckled. “Many a warrior with a fine blade has underestimated a farm hand with a staff or sharp tool in their hands.” It was his turn to fold his arms over his chest. “But her, now,” he said, cocking his head to indicate Halithe.
Halithe blinked at the sudden attention.
“That is a bad idea,” Rye said.
“I insist,” Roth said. “This place is barely defensible. Even if all she learns are a few basics, and how to run and scream. To not freeze up.”
“We’ve all endured lessons,” Orval said. “She must too.”
Rye grunted, then shrugged. “So long as I can supervise.”
Aramal leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “There’s plenty needs fixing around here. Hearth Mother and I have a list.”
Amari smiled. “We do indeed.”
“Give me a few more days to sort out the workshop and then we can see what tools and supplies we need.” Aramal said.
Sounds came from the courtyard, loud, eager voices greeting Yfin. “To work, then,” Amari scooped up Lara and Rosalind did the same with Dalan. “Honestly, Orval, you need a proper office,” she said as she swooped out of the room.
The others filed out, scraping the benches on the stone floor and shifting the table. Halithe was last; she paused in the doorway, suddenly curious. “Hearth Father, why here? There are empty rooms aplenty.”
Orval looked up and a slow smile crossed his face. He held one fingers up, asking for silence.
Halithe waited. In the quiet, she heard sounds from the kitchen. Babies cooing, Lady Amari humming softly as she rattled pans.
“Hearth sounds,” Orval murmured. “Soft bits of peace in a turbulent world.”
“Leeda!” Rye barked from outside.
Halithe jumped and hurried to the courtyard.
Roth and Yfin were out in the yard with the others, handing out wooden swords and shields and starting drills. They were all grins and it looked like fun. She’d never been allowed to even hold a sword.
Rye gave them a wide berth as he started around the courtyard. “I see what Roth means. No walls, no real security.” Rye shrugged. “Work with what we have.”
“What do you mean, only a half-hour for lessons?” Halithe asked as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.
Rye raised an eyebrow. “Back in Edenrich, how long were our sessions?”
“About an hour,” she said.
“And most of the lesson was?” he asked.
“History,” she said.
“Exactly,” Rye said. “Then about a quarter of an hour with me telling you how to focus—”
“And a quarter of an hour of me staring at a flame,” Halithe finished.
“Exactly.” Rye was staring at the stone walls of the manor, frowning. “I can teach you the concepts, but I can’t learn it for you,” he said absently. “You must assert your will, train your focus.”
“That’s it?” She tried to keep her disbelief out of her voice. “There has to be more to it.”
Ritathan tilted his head as if thinking. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I have told you how to do it and now you need to do it.”
Halithe shook her head. “It should be more complicated than that,” she protested.
“It is,” Ritathan lifted an eyebrow. “You thought it would be easy? You thought perhaps a few gestures and a short dance and you would wield awesome power? Not how it works. The hard truth is that power comes from wanting, but also from doing. You would not be the first to want it, but not work for it.” Ritathan looked over her shoulder.
“The same is true for many things in life.”
Halithe glanced back to see Aramal crossing from the workshop to the kitchens with the mended chair. Ritathan looked vulnerable, lost for a moment, then his gaze snapped back to her.
“We make sacrifices for our power,” he said. “In truth, everyone does. Magic is everywhere, Leeda, and any can wield it to a degree. They call it a talent or a gift or a ‘way with things.’ But for those of us that walk this path, we impose our will on the world, bend it to our call.”
“But what about the rituals, the gestures, the—” Halithe waved her arms in the air.
Ritathan shrugged. “Some use those to focus,” he explained.
“Everyone is different. Old Centrix used to burn sweet grasses until it made your eyes water. Quite the stink, to be honest.” Rithathan snorted.
“Atula claims her cats are familiars, but Forterran put his foot down when she amassed twelve of the creatures.”
“But what about, I mean, I’ve heard about sacred sands and crushed diamonds and—”
Ritathan nodded, as he stared up at the manor house.
“They make a great show, and in truth, they are used in blood magic. Shortcuts, really, a way to control the power.” He shook his head.
“Such mages rely on ritual and materials to control and channel the power found in blood. Then, the wrong word in a chant, any fly in the ointment, so to speak, and your ritual is blown or worse, warped, and the power of the blood is dissipated and lost.” He grimaced.
“Any power wielded in that fashion is tainted.” He paused.
“Well, marked. In certain faiths, blood sacrifice is a normal, approved practice and—
“So it’s all like scrying?” Halithe whined, trying to bring him back to subject. “That will take for-ev-er.”
“And that’s the difference between the wanting and the doing—the work.” Ritathan nodded. “No one ever wants to hear about the effort behind the expertise.” The sound of horses drew both their attentions to the road.
“Ah, Jerrold, and it looks like the healer is with him.” Ritathan took her elbow. “Let’s walk around to the other side of the house. No need to strain his credulity any further.”