Chapter Seven Riela
Chapter Seven
Riela
Garrick had disappeared into the scullery without a backward glance. I got the feeling that he was even worse at interacting
with people than I was, so I decided to give him some time before I pestered him again, even if every reluctant answer just
brought more questions.
I glanced at the darkening forest. Part of me wanted to march across the bridge and into the trees just to prove that I could.
But a larger part of me was used to surviving against all odds, and that part urged patience. I didn’t want to face the forest
alone, especially if more monsters roamed its depths, but I would if I had to.
Just not right now.
I followed Garrick inside and latched the door behind me. The smell of stew and freshly baked bread set my stomach rumbling,
but the only food I could see was the steaming bowl in front of the mage.
Perhaps he would allow just one more question. Or maybe two.
“Is the water in the pipes safe to drink? I couldn’t find a well.”
Garrick stilled, then turned to me with an unreadable look that made the hair on my arms stand on end. “You were outside looking
for water?”
I swallowed and nodded. “And a kitchen. I was going to cook dinner, to make up for eating your breakfast.”
Emotion flickered across his face, too fast to identify. He climbed to his feet and gestured to the washbasin. “The water
is safe to drink, and this is the kitchen.”
“But there isn’t any food—”
Magic pulsed and a cup appeared in Garrick’s hand. He offered it to me. It felt real, and when I put it under the stream of water from the pipe, it filled up just as I would expect. The water was cool and refreshing. Suddenly parched, I drank two full cups.
Hunger cramped my belly, but I’d quieted it with water before, and I feared the mage’s patience had run out.
Grim growled from his place in the corner, and Garrick ran a tired hand down his face. “Your magic is untrained.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “I only manifested last year, and there was no one in the village to teach me.”
“How did you manifest?”
“A glacier dam broke in the mountains. The water would’ve destroyed the village. I saw it coming and refused to die. It felt
like something inside of me cracked open, and then magic poured out. I still don’t know how I controlled it, or even if I
did, but the water parted around the village and immediate fields. I didn’t—or couldn’t—save the crops and livestock in the
farther fields.”
“You diverted a flood with untrained magic?” Garrick asked with a combination of respect and suspicion.
I chuckled bitterly. “Yes, and then I passed out for three days.” Most of the villagers had been grateful, but some had never
quite forgiven me for not doing more. Last winter had been difficult.
“You are lucky you didn’t die.” He took the empty cup from me and held it up. “The castle wants to help, but it needs magic
and direction.” Dark liquid filled the cup, and I caught the faint scent of wine.
I envied his easy control. After the flood, I’d learned a few simple tricks, but my magic mostly refused to obey.
Magic sparked again, and a shiny, golden apple appeared in Garrick’s other hand. He tossed it to Grim, and the wolf happily
crunched the fruit between his gleaming fangs. I swallowed and asked, “Does your magic create the food?”
Garrick shook his head. “The castle produces the food. I just help it along.”
“Can you make anything?”
“No, the castle can only do so much. I have to be able to clearly picture what I’m asking for, and it helps if it’s something simple or something I know how to make.”
I pictured the sweet, sticky buns I’d helped the village baker make every spring. “Now what do I do?”
“Give the castle some magic and will it into being.”
I huffed out a breath. “I’m going to need a little more direction than that.”
Garrick’s scowl returned, but he asked, “Can you feel the castle?”
I pushed out my magic, feeling for the castle, but all I felt was the deep, silvery pool I’d felt from a distance. “Is it
silvery?”
“Yes. Give it some of your magic while picturing what you want.”
“I don’t know how to give it magic.”
Garrick muttered something under his breath, but his warm hand closed around my chilled fingers. “Watch. Feel.”
Moonlight magic rose, shimmering between us. My magic mirrored his, cool blue in my mind’s eye. “Good,” he murmured. “Now
offer it to the castle, in return for what you want.” The moonlight magic merged with the silver pool surrounding us, and
once again my magic mirrored his.
A single, perfect sticky bun appeared in my palm, warm and gooey. I started in surprise and if it weren’t for Garrick’s grip,
I would’ve dropped it.
“Perhaps envision a plate next time,” he murmured, but his eyes were glued to the treat.
I offered it to him. “You can have it as thanks for showing me how to use my magic.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You knew how to make these?”
“I helped the village baker prepare them for the spring festival, when even his assistant needed assistance. The buns are
one of the primary festival delicacies, and he generally paid me by giving me the ones that weren’t good enough to sell.”
Magic rose and a plate appeared in Garrick’s hand. He set the wine aside and lifted the sweet treat from my palm with careful fingers. I rinsed my hands using the water spigot in the basin, marveling once again at the ability to get water without going to a well.
When I turned back around, Garrick had vanished—but he’d left a fresh bowl of stew behind.