Chapter 13
Jane
As we trudged across the rubber mat, I hadn’t expected to find so many tutors waiting.
Five figures stood gathered, Cerridwen among them. She was speaking when we entered, her voice tapering off as she spun towards us. Her charcoal skirt fell in a line to her ankles, her blazer traced with pale runes almost too faint to see. White hair was coiled neatly atop her head.
“You’re here. Please, join us,” she greeted. “I have the pleasure of introducing you to a body of tutors who hold some of the most prestigious reputation in Mountheim, if not the whole country.”
“Speaking as someone from Vaelon, I can confirm that the whole country is correct,” said a man with bronze-gold skin, his smile flashing two white rows of teeth as he looked us over.
“The most prestigious, perhaps, but not the humblest,” said a petite woman with almond eyes the colour of an evening sky, wearing moss-green robes, the hem pooling around her shoes.
“Humility was never Kellan’s strongest suit,” Cerridwen said dryly, casting the man a look that told me they knew each other.
He fixed his gaze on me, dipping his head in a gesture that was, to my hidden startle, almost a bow.
“Kellan Barasa, pleased to meet the woman the Mage Lord spoke so highly about,” Kellan said, his tone warm, his silver goatee moving with his smile.
“Jane Darling. The pleasure’s mine,” I replied. “And Caedmon exaggerates.”
Their expressions shifted as though I’d said something unexpected. It dawned on me again that most people didn’t call him by his given name.
Their attention shifted to Joy, who remained still.
Kellan seemed to delight in her reluctance, his grin widening. “I’m a Potions and Alchemy Master, and your new tutor in the foundations of magecraft. I’ve heard remarkable things about you, Miss Darling.”
Joy’s eyes flicked up, curious but guarded.
“Potions Master? Like Cerridwen?” I asked.
“Yes, yes,” Cerridwen said, amusement tugging faintly at her mouth. “Kellan and I taught together once.”
“Once for you, dear,” he said, shooting her a sidelong glance. “I’m still shaping the future generations. You left me for politics, and I’m still wounded.”
When I turned to her, Cerridwen only shrugged, but she might have been amused. “I needed new challenges.”
“And a higher wage,” said the woman beside her, a few wrinkles softening her bronze skin, a purple-and-gold head scarf wound elegantly around her head, hiding any trace of hair. Her tone was as measured as her gaze.
“Seraphyn Evenwood,” Cerridwen introduced her. “Master of the spellcraft arts.”
Seraphyn’s steady gaze flicked from Joy to me. Her face betrayed nothing, so still she reminded me of Malory. “I was summoned by the Mage Lord to oversee your instruction and formation as Mage Lady.”
Her voice carried the poise of someone prideful, her eyes sweeping me from head to toe.
“Pleasure,” I managed, shifting my attention to the next tutor. The petite woman.
“I’m Laerune Xanthos. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Darling,” she said softly, dipping her head in a gesture that hovered too close to a curtsy.
It made no sense. They had to know I didn’t have the role yet.
“My lessons will be with you alone,” Laerune continued, facing me. “The Mage Lord mentioned your gift for divination, one that can be refined with practice.”
My lips curved, and I fought the urge to let my leg bounce.
“I believe I’m the last,” said an older man, roughly Barracus’s age, but of an entirely different sort.
He regarded us with a kind smile set against a paler face, his eyes a bright, shimmering pink. They caught the light, and it seemed to change to violet for a moment. Taller than the rest, he carried himself with quiet confidence, not like Seraphyn’s austerity.
“I’m Elaith Tarsis,” he said, “tutor in spellcraft and specialist in the healing arts.”
I blinked, fascinated by his remarkable eyes as I returned the greeting.
“Barracus will be overjoyed to have you here, Elaith,” Cerridwen said while Elaith inclined his head to Joy, who offered only a small nod.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
Elaith chuckled under his breath, folding his hands in front of his sage-green robe, reminding me faintly of Hildegard. “You and I both know that will not make a difference to him,” he said to Cerridwen with a knowing smile, then looked back at me. “Barracus and I are bonded partners.”
My jaw slackened before I caught myself. He noticed, of course. I just couldn’t imagine Barracus Crow having a romantic relationship. Or a romantic bone in his body.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just surprised. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“He spoke highly of you,” Elaith added.
“He did?”
His smile deepened, easy and disarming, the kind that came from someone entirely aware of its effect. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Barracus smile.
“I understand your surprise,” he said. “But he’s not as severe as he seems. Difficult to impress, yes, which is precisely why I was intrigued when I received the Mage Lord’s request.”
“You seem much nicer than him,” Joy said, matter-of-fact, her fingers fidgeting with the gemstone pendant hanging from her neck.
Elaith’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m glad to hear it. You and I will be spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Well,” Kellan interjected, stepping forward with theatrics, reclaiming the room’s attention, “it seems you’ve taken quite enough time from my class. You’ll begin with me, the fundamentals of magecraft, and soon you’ll meet your other, far less qualified tutors.”
I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. His jab landed smoothly, if Seraphyn’s eye roll was any indication. She turned on her heel and started toward the doorway.
Kellan was not at all what I’d imagined when Caedmon mentioned tutors, but, to my relief, he seemed like the best possible place to start.
“I do want to clarify one thing,” Cerridwen said to the five of us. Seraphyn had already left. “You’ll each be assessed by your tutors. They’ll determine which of you requires more attention in certain disciplines. It’s common to show aptitude in some areas and not others.”
“You’re stepping into my class, my dear,” Kellan drawled.
Cerridwen arched a thin brow. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck.”
Kellan gestured us toward a dark wood table by the window as Cerridwen and the other tutors left. Four chairs with black padding stood neatly arranged, two on each side. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Today’s lesson will be mostly introductory, so you can ask whatever questions arise.”
Joy and I took our seats across from him, who rested his forearms on the table.
“So, no practice today?” I asked.
Kellan ran his knotted hands across the carved grain of the desk. At his touch, the wood shifted with a faint sigh, and from it rose a thick, weathered tome. Summoning.
“Your access,” he began, “is the first thing you must understand before you can truly wield mana, before it becomes your essence, your personal strain of power. Every mageborn perceives their access differently. My task is to help you find yours.”
I remembered skimming through books on magecraft, but I had always focused on what a human could wield. Anything about wielding myself had seemed too distant to bother with.
“When younglings begin their studies,” he went on, “one of their first challenges is to visualise their access. They describe what they see, though it can take years for some to glimpse it at all. You’ll begin the same exercise.
” He opened the tome. “The access of all power lies in the oldest stones, the soil, the air, the water. It is everywhere. But the ability to draw from it is not for all, as you know. When you do, the mana shapes itself according to your strengths, your temperament. It takes a form in your mind, a creature. What you envision becomes your familiar.”
He smiled faintly. “Mine is a parrot. A majestic red-and-gold one. I’m a social man, you see, highly intelligent, regardless of what others might claim.”
A small laugh caught in my throat.
“The familiar reflects you,” he went on, “though some say it’s the other way around. It’s also the most practical form of communication, and any mageborn can easily tell who a familiar belongs to.”
Kellan’s mouth twitched as he faced Joy, who had her arms folded over her chest. “Did you see your familiar when you entered a flux, Miss Darling?”
Perhaps he’d seen a tell. She hesitated.
“It looks nebulous at first,” he explained, “but as you gain control, the shape becomes more detailed.”
“Can you explain what a flux is?” I asked.
“A flux occurs when your power reacts to your emotions without your command,” he said. “The greater your access to mana, the harder it becomes to control. It can take years to master, especially for adults, but it can be done. Our power is mighty, yes, but remember: we draw from it, not it from us.
“You can only wield so much mana in a day before you risk depleting yourself. Children begin wielding roughly their body weight as it grows. An average mageborn wields about one and a half times their weight. When you enter a flux, it’s normal to wield almost all of your capacity.”
He paused, eyes settling on me. “The majority of lords and ladies are trained early, so their range can be anywhere from eight to fourteen times their body weight. But that level of wielding takes time to reach, and it must be achieved with caution. Sustained too long, it can burn the wielder from the inside out.”
My stomach dipped. My own measurement was zero point three. Less than a child’s, less than the manifestation threshold.
He likely already knew that, judging by how he’d spoken with Joy.
My sister frowned. “Why so much higher?”
“They practise a lot from childhood as preparation for their roles, and some of them are already predisposed for stronger accesses,” Kellan explained, flipping through the book until he paused at a page crowded with inked beasts.
“In time, you’ll find some abilities come easier than others.
That’s how we’ll discern your aptitudes, the ways your access leans, the kind of work it answers best. The shape it takes will tell you much about yourself. ”
Curiosity and unease warred inside me. And with them came a memory, of an animal with feathered wings and a curved beak.
“Do you know if Caedmon’s shape…is a bird?” I asked.
He looked mildly surprised by the question. “I’m fairly certain it’s close to a wolf. It delivered my recent invite to the Hall. Wolves are natural protectors. Leaders, loyal, with sharp intuition. Why?”
I pursed my mouth. It couldn’t have been his familiar that I’d seen. I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d seen that day or if I’d imagined it. “I don’t want to assume.”
Kellan leaned forward. “What did you see, Jane?”
The spike of curiosity in his expression was encouraging. “I think I saw something once. A bird. Curved beak, feathered wings.”
He leaned back, studying me. “Ah. A robin, perhaps?”
I shook my head. “No. Larger. White.”
“An eagle, then?”
“I… I think so,” I murmured. “It looked like an eagle.”
His smile widened. “An air creature. Perceptive, free-spirited. Blessed with keen eyesight.”