Chapter 3
M yth sipped at her tea, humming in appreciation over its cinnamon flavor. “This is fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” she said in Calnoric.
Blaise, Myth’s best friend, carefully nestled her teacup into a saucer. “I believe Wizard Edvin said it is an import from one of our neighboring countries.” She spoke in slow but careful Elvish, then looked at Myth for approval.
“Your pitch went up at the end of that sentence,” Myth said, still speaking in Calnoric. “It should have gone down.”
Blaise pushed a lock of her gorgeous russet colored hair out of her eyes. “I believe Wizard Edvin said it is an import from one of our neighboring countries,” she repeated, stressing the lower pitch at the end.
“Excellent. You spoke a little faster that time as well. You’re rapidly improving.”
“You are too kind,” Blaise said, stubbornly sticking to Elvish. “I can barely spoke.”
“Speak,” Myth corrected. “That was the wrong tense.”
“Speak. Goodness—I should have known that.” Blaise puffed out her cheeks in vexation, then grinned. “Thank you for always tutoring me.”
“Of course. It is an honor to my people that you wish to speak our language,” Myth said.
Blaise snorted. “Yes, I’m certain my incorrect intonation brings much honor. You sound so pretty when you speak Elvish. I sound like, like…” She pressed her lips together, visibly restraining herself from speaking in Calnoric. “Not a toad, but similar.”
“Frog?” Myth suggested in Elvish.
“Yes! That’s the word!”
Myth smiled as she set her saucer down on a small table placed between their comfortable but worn chairs.
As was their custom, they were taking tea together in the central chamber of the Wizards’ Tower. Blaise was an apprentice wizard, which meant she had free run of the place and could invite guests in whenever she liked.
Myth enjoyed visiting with Blaise in the tower.
The interior was unique, with a giant stone staircase spiraling all the way up the tower, cutting a clear path so Myth could see the glass windows that capped the top of the building.
Today they were fogged by the weather, giving the tower a misty feeling.
The chamber itself was very…golden. The walls were carved of stone—black, white, and gray, but all of it was veined with gold—the carpets were all gold, there was a statue of a surprisingly muscular and young wizard wielding a swordthat Myth suspected had been forged out of magic before it was covered with gold leafing.
All the stands for the copious candles and torches gleamed with gold, and the flooring was covered in a resinof some sort that was swirled with gold paint and magical designs.
It was a little too dazzling to be tasteful, but Myth found that it suited the good-hearted wizards who bustled through the chamber with great animation and smiled widely whenever they met her eye.
Myth picked up her teacup again and took another sip. “You do not sound as bad as a frog,” she said in Calnoric. “You are actually astoundingly good considering you’ve only been studying Elvish for a few years.”
“You’ve only been teaching me for a few years,” Blaise corrected, still speaking in slow, but painfully precise Elvish. “I started studying it right after I was made a wizard student, but my pronunciation was so horrid it didn’t matter how many words I memorized. It’s all thanks to you!”
“Hardly. Your perseverance is what did it. Have you had a chance to speak to any enchanters?”
“Not yet.” Blaise sighed. “I can speak niceties, but no matter how many books I read I can’t seem to fathom all the words I’d need to know to talk to any elf enchanter about magic.
” She raised her pointer finger and thrust it to the sky.
“But one day I will! I thought it would take me until I was fifty, but I am happy to report that under your tutelage I think I might be ready by the time I am approximately thirty-five.”
“You should have changed your pitch when you spoke the second ‘but’ in that sentence, due to the pause,” Myth gently corrected.
Blaise groaned and scrunched her eyes shut. “I’m never going to understand elven punctuation and how it affects intonation.”
Myth sipped her tea again. “You’re too hard on yourself.
I must repeat my earlier praise and remind you how far you’ve come.
” She paused and replayed the words in her mind, checking her own pronunciation.
Trade translators were typically better at writing and reading than speaking.
It was only due to her friendship with Blaise that Myth had become able to speak it with such informality and at such a fast rate—although that blasted lilt of hers occasionally persisted.
Myth and Blaise had become fast friends years ago when they were mere students.
They met at a joint social the human wizards and elven enchanters had thrown to celebrate the truly magical bond they had forged between Tarinthali Ringali and her bond partner—who had since become her husband—Sir Arion Herycian.
Naturally, the translators’ presence had been required for the enchanters and wizards to properly communicate, which was why Myth was there, observing a few of the senior translators.
The duo had bonded over their desire to improve their language skills, and their visits to practice linguistics had swiftly blossomed into a true friendship.
Blaise, Myth knew, was her closest friend and companion.
Although the fiery haired girl was obsessed with trying to learn more about elven magic—a near impossibility since translators had never had the time to learn and assign all the necessary magic-related terms that were sure to come up in a conversation, thus birthing Blaise’s obsession with learning Elvish herself—Myth knew the apprentice wizard would throw down anyone who dared to harm Myth and cross Blaise.
Blaise had a brilliant disposition, but was mischievous by spades as well, which was why it wasn’t surprising to see one of the senior wizards shuffling in their direction.
“Good afternoon, Apprentice Mythlan.” The wizard slightly inclined his head to Myth, accenting the line of his craggy nose. “I hope our Blaise is minding her manners?” He set a hand on top of Blaise’s head, forcibly making her bow her head as well.
“Sir!” Blaise returned to speaking in Calnoric so she could complain as she pushed the wizard’s hand off her head. “I’ve told you before, Myth is my friend!”
The wizard seemed to hold his breath and squint in pain. “And I’ve always responded, Apprentice, that I recall your scheme when you were a mere student in which you sold completed essays to other students and then blackmailed them for cheating.”
Blaise shrugged. “They needed to be exposed for their misdeeds.”
The wizard ignored Blaise and returned his attention to Myth.
“On behalf of everyone here at the Wizards’ Tower, I thank you for your kindness to our Apprentice.
” He made Blaise bow her head again, but the hard lines around his eyes softened minutely when she scowled at him and tried to pat her hair back in place.
Myth enjoyed visiting Blaise in the Wizards’ Tower for this very reason—it was always heartwarming to see the more senior wizards simultaneously fret and preen over Blaise, who was mostly oblivious to their odd flavor of delight in her.
The Translators’ Circle wasn’t nearly so open or affectionate. Myth couldn’t recall any of her teachers or advisors acting with such affection. Myth was just one of a few apprentices. Sometimes she regretted it when watching Blaise and the other wizards, but it wasn’t in her power to change it.
“May you both enjoy your moment of peace.” The senior wizard smiled benevolently at Myth, then shook a finger at Blaise. “Do not attempt any more magic today. Wizard Edvin is still getting over his sneezing fit.”
“I didn’t know the elven Pep-pear fruit was so potent, or I wouldn’t have tried to use so much of it in my experiment,” Blaise said.
“It matters not. No more magic today—or your wretched experiments! I shall stop by Wizard Edvin’s workshop tomorrow to aid you instead.” He tucked his hands in the sleeves of his robe then swept off.
“That old troll,” Blaise huffed, returning to Elvish with his departure. “Always watching to make sure I can’t do anything interesting.”
Myth chuckled.“Such is the life of a genius.”
“Genius,” Blaise absent-mindedly corrected Myth’s pronunciation. “You’re just a hair off and need to stress the syllables a little more.”
“Genius,” Myth repeated.
“There you go. And I am not a genius.” Blaise fussed with the purple and white skirt of her apprentice uniform. “If I was, I’d pick up Elvish faster. And my teachers wouldn’t be constantly fretting that I’m going to blow the tower up!”
Myth merely shook her head—her friend had long denied her remarkable magic abilities, even though she was nearly a graduate of the wizard program, which would make her one of the youngest wizards in Calnor’s history.
“If we want to talk about geniuses, we should be talking about you,” Blaise said in Calnoric before switching back to Elvish. “How are your studies? What new language are you learning now?”
“I’m continuing to work on the written language of Calnor,” Myth said.
“But lately I’ve been studying the language of Finlay in the far west. It’s a fascinating language that is proving to be easier to learn, although they have a symbol-based writing system that will likely take me a decade to truly master. ”
Blaise shook her head. “Youhave got to be the only translator who picks up languages the way some people pick up hobbies.”
“It’s hardly something to be praised for. Linguistics interest me, and many of the languages I’m learning won’t further my career or be of help to anyone.”