Kayetan
Yoszovar, 5 years before the Rise
The tour through the wing of the manor dedicated to Magic is longer than I expected — and I expected quite something. It's not the number of rooms we wander through, really; it's the sheer amount of possibility in each and every one of them that overwhelms me in the best way imaginable. Master Iacopor leads us through rooms filled with Magical objects I want to examine thoroughly, like a flower pot that continuously sprouts flowers that wilt within seconds before another batch is pushed into existence, and a mirror that shows nothing but purple fog until one comes close enough to suddenly find all kinds of little scenes in the mist — scenes that appear to be stories of one's life. I can myself hugging Sylva and a hint of regret travels through me — she’ll never look that healthy, which makes my heart ache, and I’ve never given her a hug like this, which makes my heart ache even more. I immediately resolve to hug her as soon as I see her again.
Elrick is also mesmerized by this mirror. I hardly think he sees himself hugging his sister, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes me wonder what could be playing out in front of him. I’ve never seen him this distraught. Maybe I’m allowing myself to stoop to his level, but somehow it feels good to know that there is something that can shake Young Master Sufka. He recovers soon enough, though. This is the arrogant face I know so well, going along perfectly with the stick up his ass.
Master Iacopor pulls us both away sharply. “This mirror shows only what opportunities you have missed in life,” he says. “Best not to dwell on it.”
This makes me even more curious about what the mirror presented Elrick, but when Master Iacopor pulls a curtain in front of the reflective surface, I see him wince too. I can't imagine what missed opportunity could make a Grand Master wince, and suddenly I feel a bit queasy. What has possessed a Mage to make a mirror like this?
I have to let it go. As Master Iacopor said, I can’t dwell on what could have been. Or perhaps, should have been, like Sylva in blooming health — did I have anything to do with her falling ill? The thought pains me, and immediately I grasp why this mirror is a bad idea come to life. This guilt won’t be swallowed easily.
“Kayetan…” Master Iacopor softly says, his hand on my arm. “Let it go. Come. I think I have something that you’re going to love.”
He walks to yet another door and as I take the first step to follow him, Elrick touches my shoulder. “Saw something broken in there?” he whispers, and my breath hitches. I don’t want to show anything, so I throw him a dirty look, but my heart is racing. What did he see? Does he know I broke the Vorvalus symbol, and will he bide his time to spill the knowledge at the perfect time?
He walks past me with a satisfied smirk and I hate that I feel small again. With clenched fists, I follow him into a brightly lit room with just one wide window, furnished with a table, a few chairs, and a peculiar instrument resembling a round, bronze serving dish atop a bronze bowl. It’s sitting on top of a table with a book next to it. I hold my breath. I can feel the Magic lingering here, sparkling in the air without being seen or heard, but present nonetheless. Magic is not just practiced in this room; it is also being made here.
Elrick doesn’t sense it — I can tell from the disappointment he tries to hide behind a curious, open expression. Fool.
Master Iacopor closes the door behind us with a distinct click.
“Alright,” he says. “Time to reveal a bit of what we’ll be working on together. It’s a project I’m very excited about. I need both of you…” He looks both Elrick and me in the eye so earnestly that my heart starts pounding even faster, allowing the anticipation to win over any anxiety, “… to not breathe a word about this outside this wing. It’s not to be spoken about anywhere, not even at the dinner table. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Elrick says.
“Of course, Master,” I say, struggling to keep my voice under control. Elrick was always so adept at kissing up to the teachers. I can’t allow him to entrap Master Iacopor too. I have to prove my worth — and before they find out I broke the Vorvalus symbol, or after I’ve repaired it so well no one will ever know the difference. I should probably make something to prevent the thing from toppling over so easily too.
After a deep breath of resolution, I turn my attention to the device on the table. It simply begs for me to examine it, and Master Iacopor doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he suddenly stills, as if he’s waiting to see how we’ll react to whatever this is.
The bronze plate is completely smooth, the work of a master craftsman — whether Magical or not. A thin layer of sand covers the surface, and I frown as I see it must have been scattered in some pattern once, a pattern that has now been lost to airflows and maybe people touching the plate — the sand looks so fine that even the slightest of breaths might move it. I make an effort to barely breathe.
When I look up, my eyes find Master Iacopor looking at me. “I knew you’d like this,” he says. “Let me show you how it works.”
Elrick comes closer too, eager to see what the fuss must be all about.
Master Iacopor opens the book. I immediately realize it is a Magic notebook — probably some Mage’s life’s work. The spells look quite simple and primitive, reminiscent of the spells we learned in school. Surely a Mage as powerful as Master Iacopor would perform Magic of a higher level?
“Kayetan, pick something for us,” the Master says. I quickly step forward as he shoves the book my way. I’m leafing through, looking for something to catch my attention, as Master Iacopor flicks some kind of lever — the sand rustles softly for a few heartbeats.
This must be a Mage’s first book of Magic. It basically contains the spells our teachers made us all copy and learn. They build up in difficulty, and upon my first run-through, I recognize a lot of them. There are spells for changing the color of a rose — at least to the eyes of the observers, a spell for creating the scent of freshly baked apple pie, and an intricate piece of Magic that we'd all been required to master in our second year of school: how to obscure any belongings so that no thief would be able to find them, let alone steal them. I’ve always liked that spell. I’ve been playing with its limits and have even taught it to Sylva, after an accident with Magic killed one of our teachers and I had been very aware of my own mortality. I'd never leave her without the means to survive.
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It’s an easy choice. I let my fingers glide over the written words I know the taste of so well. “This one,” I say.
“Interesting choice,” Master Iacopor says. “I believe you both know exactly how to perform the spell, right?”
“Yes, Master,” I reply. Elrick’s “Yes, sir“ cuts right through my words.
“Interesting,” Master Iacopor repeats. “We might be able to make this a double experiment.” The next sentence leaving his lips tingles in my ears and makes the air light up with Magic, the sort of light that is only to be felt and not seen. Out of thin air, two small cat sculptures appear, carved out of a blue crystal that reflects the sunlight onto the wall, in flowing waves that remind me of the light that sometimes appeared in the night sky back home when I was a child. I remember my mother waking me up once to have a glance, and how mesmerized I’d been by the colorful glow in the night’s sky.
I can hardly believe Master Iacopor just pulled both of the figurines out of thin air — that requires both an astonishing level of mastery and an amount of energy that I can hardly fathom, but something has sparked my interest even more. As Elrick still looks at the figurines, I watch the bronze plate. On it, the sand has shifted into a pattern. I blink and step closer.
“Ah,” Master Iacopor says, as if he is quite pleased with himself. “I wondered which one of you would notice it first.” He throws me a hint of a smile, and I feel my insides glow. I belong here, with Master Iacopor, and right now I will learn all there is to know about the Magic behind the shifting sands. Elrick’s slightly annoyed stare is easily parried.
“What you see before you is the first way ever found to make Magic energy visible,” Master Iacopor says. “We know Magic is pure energy, but up till now we never had a means of showing it. With this device, we do.”
“How does it work?” I blurt out. I hastily close my mouth, but thankfully Master Iacopor simply raises the corner of his mouth just a little.
“The waves of Magic travel through the air,” the Master explains. I nod, but he hardly notices. “The bowl collects and enhances them, and the sand shifts accordingly. I’m working on creating a catalog of all syllables in the ancient tongue, to see what energy lies beneath the words of power.”
My heart is about ready to burst. “That’s…” I start. I don’t even know how to finish this sentence. Game-changing? Astonishing? A feat that will transform the very core of how we use Magic and will stretch it to its limits — safely?
Master Iacopor just gleams.
“But how?” Elrick asks.
“Let’s take a look, shall we? Now that we know what to look for.”
The Master shoves the book in Elrick’s direction. “Obscure your figurine, please. And watch the sand. I’ve only cast spells myself so far; I’m curious to see if different Mages make different patterns.”
Again, my heart thumps with expectation. My first day, and already I'm diving deeper into the Magic than I've ever done before.
Elrick nods and takes one of the figurines Master Iacopor has just conjured up out of thin air. He doesn’t even look at the book — in his defense, it would have been quite a display of incompetence should he have done so — and clears his throat. The look he gives the figurine is one of concentration, but also a bit of contempt. As if he is used to obscuring items way more valuable than this, I think. Spoiled brat.
The syllables of the ancient tongue his lordship utters, bring the sensation of invisible light again, and the sand on the plate shifts with every single one of them. It’s an amazing spectacle, watching the most beautiful, intricate geometrical symbols dance over the surface of the disc, the sound of Elrick’s voice blending with the whispers of the sand moving along the metal. It gives me chills.
Elrick doesn’t really notice, or so it seems. He looks at the figurine and says the powerful words as if he’s learned them by heart but doesn’t pour his heart into them. There’s something missing — something I've noticed with others in my class. They keep the Magic superficial. Effective, but no more than that. But still, as I look at the symmetrical patterns that Elrick is creating with his voice, I can feel tears well up in my eyes. It’s going to be impossible to not weave your feelings into the Magic once you know how beautiful the words are. The patterns are beautiful, like the mandalas Sylva used to draw.
“Thank you,” Master Iacopor says. Clearly, Elrick has finished. And he’s done a good job because his figurine is nowhere to be seen. On any other occasion. I would have watched the Magic take hold of what is to be obscured with an almost childish glee, but the shapes that formed on the plateau have been too beautiful to care.
“Kayetan, your turn,” Master Iacopor says.
I step forward and take a deep breath in excited anticipation. I can’t wait to see the patterns that will form when I cast the spell, to watch what syllable will make what form exactly.
The figurine tingles in my hand; its Magic palpable and almost alive.
I squeeze the figurine and pour my energy into it. The ancient words themselves are easy enough to find and pronounce, so I say them clearly and confidently.
The sand reacts immediately. It dances, jumps, huddles together in the most stunning forms and then collapses again, only to find another way to string together in a harmonious pattern. I can’t take my eyes off them; I drink the images in and immediately start thinking about what this means, how to categorize the images, how to—
I stumble over a syllable. It comes out of my mouth all jumbled, and the pattern on the disc before me gets distorted too. It’s a mess; all symmetry has vanished, and the lines are crooked and uneven, as if the pattern is wounded.
My voice dies. I look up, my mouth dry, and fear suddenly clenching my heart. I stumbled on something I was supposed to have mastered years ago. Elrick’s look is one of derogatory ridicule, and I expect a similar look from Master Iacopor.
But the Master only nods. “Excellent,” he says. “Did you notice how different both your styles are? Elrick’s words drew a lot of long lines into the sand, whereas Kayetan’s way of using the magic made for more round patterns. Intriguing.”
He claps his hands. “Well, it’s about time for lunch. We’ll be spending hours and hours in this study, so let’s not overstay our welcome in the introduction. Haenar, will you please make sure there’s ample sketching paper and charcoal present?”
“Yes, Master,” Haenar replies. I hadn’t even been aware of his presence in the room. Master Iacopor and Elrick leave the room, and I'm on my way to follow them when my eye falls on the mangled pattern my mumbling produced. It taunts me, laughs at me. My face flushes with shame, and I'm about to tear my gaze away from it when I realize I’m still holding the figurine. A small part of it has been obscured, most of it has turned into something that looks like wet mold or slime, but still feels solid to the touch. Jaws clenched, I repeat the spell. Faster now, and with a certain doggedness.
The sand dances over the board as it did before, the patterns again round and beautiful. The figurine in my hand turns almost liquid translucent, and I grin. I see and feel it. To anybody else, it will have vanished from sight. And on the disc, a beautiful pattern of circles, curls, and gracious lines has appeared — a promise of all the beauty I'm here to make.