Kayetan

Yoszovar, 5 years before the Rise

The figurine lies in my hand, the crystal glistening in the last rays of the sun filtering through the only window in the room. The window itself is enormous, adorned with stained glass, the Vorvalus emblem worked into a pattern with an elegance that shows that even the apprentice’s rooms have been given a lot of thought — and budget.

I feel out of place, and like I’m betraying Sylva by not being there for her. Even on my longest days of working and school, I always returned home. And now I’m here. In a room breathing wealth while she remains in a shabby attic under the care of a woman who thinks an outing to the market down the street is quite a journey.

It’s temporary, I want to tell myself, but then I remember the symbol I crashed and my throat tightens. Temporary is too risky a choice of words to cling to.

And if Elrick really knows…

The figurine in my hands gets almost slippery with my hands turning clammy. What if he does snitch and I’m out of here before I’ve even started?

I focus my attention on the figurine, as if to draw strength from it. It’s beautifully made, if I hadn’t seen Master Iacopor create it out of thin air, I would never have believed it was conjured up by Magic. Well, upon first look. There are small tell-tale signs of Magic, hardly noticeable. A faint smell of stale water. Something that feels like an echo of light simmering around the object — that won’t be visible for much longer, that effect wears off. Just like the smell, that will wear too.

And it’s a general vibration I cannot pick up with my senses. It’s more like an inner knowing than anything else. I take a deep breath. My teachers said I was fooling myself with this notion, and maybe they’re right. I saw Master Iacopor make this figurine, so I know it was created magically. It might well be that I’m tricking my mind into feeling something that isn’t there. But still… I think I can feel when Magic touched an item and when it was just the ordinary ‘magic’ a good artisan has brought into making it.

Whatever the case, it’s not something I have time to ponder. When I look up from the crystal, I am amazed once more at the beauty that surrounds me. Such a difference from when Sylva and I first came to Yoszovar, fleeing the town up north in the mountains because of the fevers and famine wreaking havoc there. We left a reasonably good home and had to make do in the cheapest of cheap housing upon our arrival here. I remember how Sylva and I had to huddle together beneath all the blankets we could find and we’d still be shivering from the cold that crept in from multiple cracks in the walls. I was so afraid she wouldn’t make it. Every sniffle sent me into a state of panic.

Never again. Never, ever again. I promised Sylva, I promised myself. From now on, we will never again want for the basic things in life, and soon, we won’t want for more luxury either. The figurine in my hand feels like this promise come to life. Sylva will love it — she likes cats anyway, and I know how much she loves the crystal necklace left to her by our mother. She wears it every single day.

The idea to give her this figurine comes easily — the way to do it even more so.

I focus on the figurine and speak the words to lift the obscuring spell, shaking off the last bits of unease about tripping over my words earlier. The flash of light coming off the crystal when it becomes fully visible again isn’t necessary to remind me of the beauty these words energetically hold; I can feel the vibration in my body now, and I allow myself to be fully immersed in the wonder. Those teachers have to be sensory challenged not to feel this.

Who knows, maybe they are. Chuckling to myself, I look at the wall in front of me. Next to an intricately ordained closet, there's enough space to make an access point to the safe I share with Sylva. I cast the spell and can’t help but wonder what this Magic will look like on the copper platter. The energy furls around the corners of a hatch in the wall that wasn’t there just a few heartbeats before. I sense the things inside the safe; some money and a few keepsakes of my old life that remind me of how far I’ve come. A little click tells me the work is done. I place the obscuring spell over the hatch before opening it. When I reach inside, I feel the tingling of fresh Magic — like the way a new book smells when you open it for the very first time, or when you put on a shirt that has been washed in flower-scented water — a subtle reminder of something wonderful that has been done. Yes, my teachers must really be thick if they can’t sense this.

I put the figurine inside with a certain reverence and then close the hatch. A letter to Sylva is something I’ll have to work on later — I’ll send it to her in the normal way so she’ll know that she needs to check our safe every once in a while.

A knock on the door has me jolting upright. It’s time to go to dinner. And then my throat goes dry. I’ve avoided the subject as best I could for the past couple of hours, but… I won’t just meet the family, I'll meet Master Iacopor’s daughter. The one with the glistening eyes and the long black curls I want to run my fingers through.

Wait, did I really just think that?

Yes, I did. I’d better obscure that thought just like the hatch in my luxurious bedroom wall. Right. I can do this. I leave the room with my head held high, pretending nothing’s amiss, when I find not only Haenar waiting for me, but Elrick as well. His lordship looks at me funny, his smirk lands a blow to my confidence.

But he doesn’t say a word, and upon entering the dining room — bigger than the whole of Moppa Verin’s attic and then some — I realize why. Everybody inside is dressed to the nines. Dresses of the finest silk, jackets made of thick velvet and lined with colorful silks as well. Every button is shining and not a stitch of embroidery seems amiss.

And here I am, with dust on my pants, a jacket that must be wrinkled after all that I’ve done today and colors so dull they almost absorb the light. It’s too late to perform any spells on my appearance — they’ve all seen me like this now. Besides, they’d probably tell I altered my appearance and mock me for it.

Elrick’s smirk only feeds my shame — I've been a fool to think it was about the statue and be done with it. So stupid. And now there's nothing I can do but take the looks the Vorvalus family gives me; the pity on Master Iacopor’s wife’s face and the hint of mockery on his eldest daughter’s, and the mixture of both of these in the amazing emerald green eyes the girl with the black curls. Those eyes still sparkle, even now that her anger has worn off — or at least I think it has.

There's so much to be seen in her gaze. Our eyes lock for the briefest of moments, and I spontaneously forget how to breathe. I can only wish she feels the same; a timelessness, a seeing into each other’s souls, a connection that’s instantly forged between us. How can it be that I’ve remembered her beauty, but that the memory pales in comparison to the real girl? And how can my resolve not get to distracted by her crumble so easily? Just looking at her is enough to send me spiraling into hopes and dreams that I shouldn’t even consider harboring. Man, I feel like the biggest doofus in the world for not changing into something more appropriate for our first meeting.

Well, not that I have anything appropriate — I'm actually wearing my finest clothes to date. But I have a jacket that has a better cut, which even has some embroidery on it. A few lines of yarn have snapped, though, making for a disturbance in the pattern, so maybe it’s better to fix that first.

But at the very least I could have knocked some of the dust off my pants.

Too late. Way too late. And the initial pity and scoff have gone, dissipating into something… Could it be… interest? I stand a little taller, hoping she’ll be focused on me instead of my clothes.

Then, she breaks off the eye contact and lowers her gaze to the empty wine glass in front of her. I have to keep myself from being overtly disappointed in that.

Master Iacopor doesn’t seem to notice any of this, to my relief. He walks over, welcoming us to the dining room. I nod just as gracefully as Elrick does — or at least I come as close as I can — and since even I have to admit that Elrick knows more about etiquette than me, I decide to follow his example as I'm introduced to the Vorvalus family.

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“This is my wife, the lovely Arceli,” Master Iacopor says, looking at the tall, slender woman wearing a delicate bronze-colored dress with a smile that displays his deep adoration for her. “My love, these are Elrick and Kayetan, the apprentices I’ve told you about.”

For once, I don't mind that Elrick has been named first.

“Told us about?” Arceli Vorvalus gives her husband an incredulous huff. “You haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.” She smiles at Elrick as he bows to her. In my mind, I repeat the gesture.

Then, Arceli’s gaze falls on me. Her eyes are not the usual green, but tending towards a blue like the eye color of most people I’ve known back home. I wonder if we might share a common ancestry one way or another — I know the Vorvalus family goes way back in the history of Yoszovar, but it's possible that Mistress Arceli’s lineage extends all the way to the north.

I bow to her just like Elrick has done, and she smiles at me as well. “You must be Kayetan,” she says. It might be wishful thinking, but it seems as though she can wrap her tongue around my name a bit easier than most people in Yoszovar.

“Yes, madam.” I smile back. Her voice has been warm and gentle, welcoming even. “How lovely to meet you.”

Her smile widens. “Thank you. You must tell me all about your first day here.”

“I’m sure they won’t shut up about it,” somebody mutters. Arceli’s gaze immediately shoots towards her second daughter. “Melena,” she hisses.

“I apologize,” Melena says in a tone that is sincere enough, but her eyes have the same defiance they carried this morning. “It slipped out before I could help myself.”

Master Iacopor purses his lips together. “We’ll make sure other subjects will be entering the conversation, my dear,” he says, clearly mastering the same skill as his daughter — using a tone of voice that doesn’t come close to matching the expression in his eyes. He ignores his daughter’s scowl and goes on to introduce her older sister, Ralonda, whose eyes are a cold green without much light in them. Her whole demeanor is quite reserved — I wonder if it's her character or upbringing that has her acting so timidly and poised. Upon meeting Elrick, her mother inclined her head. Ralonda makes a proper bow, though not a deep one. Elrick simply acknowledges it with a courteous nod.

Then Ralonda looks at me, and I bow for her.

She pulls up the corner of her mouth ever so slightly and makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. Restrained amusement on my behalf is thick in the air, I’m expecting a wave of laughter to crackle through at any moment.

Nobody says a word, though, and Master Iacopor shoots Melena a sharp look before he says: “And my second daughter, who has already made her presence here quite clear. Melena, I’d like you to meet Kayetan and Elrick.”

Oh dear, I’ve come first. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Melena. How do you do,” I mumble, resisting the urge to bow like I’ve done for Ralonda since that was clearly something they’ll laugh about behind my back.

Melena raises both her eyebrows at me, blinks, and then turns to Elrick, to whom she bows. I'm left aghast. Surely, I haven’t insulted her by saying how pleased I am to meet her? I can't imagine anyone being offended by those words — and they're more true than I hope she’ll ever find out. What's happening here?

Confused, I look away — especially since she smiles the prettiest of smiles at Elrick and laughs sweetly at a lame joke that Elrick butchers. What have I done wrong not to get such a smile from Melena? Is there any hope of rescuing this situation, and… Well, in a way life would be simpler if she hated me. I’m here for Magic, not for a beautiful girl that won’t even smile at me.

But why does it feel like I’ve been stabbed in the middle of my chest?

I catch a servant’s gaze — Haenar looks at me as if he’s straining himself not to tell me all that I’m doing wrong. He shakes his head ever so slightly, eying Melena first and then bows without moving much at all. Oh no. Should I do bow for her now?

But the moment has passed, and there’s nothing I can do to make up for my incivility. I'm introduced to another daughter, Eilyn. She's a fair bit younger than Ralonda and Melena, probably two years younger than Sylva, though nobody would tell the difference since Sylva’s so frail. Eilyn has eyes that sparkle in a similar way as Melena’s do, only her sparkle is one of pure joy. She bows to Elrick, and I take advantage of that moment to look at Haenar again. He bows ever so shallowly, and when Eilyn looks at me, I bow just as gracefully as I’ve done for her mother. Eilyn beams, and Melena looks even more cross. She quickly engages her mother in conversation and ignores me so blatantly that I have to take a deep breath to let the nausea fade.

I remind myself that it’s good that she’s not interested in me whatsoever. Why do I keep harboring these thoughts of getting closer to her, running my fingers through those beautiful curls, kissing those perfect lips… I would do anything to make her like me, and that thought scares me so much that another wave of nausea hits.

“Sit, sit,” Master Iacopor says, as if he doesn’t sense the unease flying across the table. He gestures for Elrick to sit down next to Melena. She seems very pleased with that, which sends another sting through my chest. The last set place on the table is next to Eilyn, so I sit down beside her, happy that I can relax a bit next to the youngest Vorvalus daughter.

That turns out to be a misconception, as she turns to me straight away and looks at me with sincere interest. “Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Yes, I am,” I answer. “Aren’t you?”

She nods. “Yes. I am always hungry around dinnertime. But then they fill my plate with more than I can eat, and there’s a lot left, and I have to eat all of it because it’s unfair to those who are hungry, mommy says, and then I’m too full and it hurts real bad.” She leans over conspiratorially. “If I’m full, can I give you what doesn’t fit into my tummy anymore?’

I suppress a smile — she's just as forward and open as Sylva and even smiles in a similar way. “But what if I’m full too?”

“You can’t be,” Eilyn says. “You’re poor, and mommy says poor people are always hungry.”

I try my best to hide how sharp her words have inadvertently stung me behind a smile. “Well, I used to be poor. But now that I’m here, I’m not poor anymore.”

“You’re not?” Eilyn frowns and pouts her lips just a bit, as if she needs to contemplate this very, very deeply. “Right. I guess that makes sense. But how come your clothes are still poor?”

Another sting. I can’t be mad at her; she doesn’t even judge me for being poor but jumps to conclusions entirely of her own. But as honest and nonjudgmental as Eilyn is, her sisters and maybe even her mother secretly think the same and they probably do judge me for it. I look at her and move a bit closer. Eilyn leans in some more, as if I’m about to tell her a big secret.

“I’m still adjusting,” I say. “I just moved here, my clothes still have to get used to the new situation.”

Eilyn snorts a cute laugh. “You’re silly. Clothes don’t need to get used to things, they’re just clothes.”

“Oh, clothes are quite capable of more than you think,” I assure her. “Mine are still processing the fact that I’m here. They’re a bit overwhelmed.”

Another snorted laugh, and a head shake. “But you can do Magic,” she says. “All you have to do is put a spell on your clothes, and they’ll look wonderful. Daddy did that for Rally’s clothes once. They sparkled all night and even into the morning.”

“Did he now?”

“It was so pretty,” Eilyn says. “I asked if he would do the same for me, but he said I needed to be older. I just turned ten, so it’s a year less now, but I’m still going to have to wait at least five years.”

“Five.” I whistle as if I’m impressed. “That’s quite a number of years.”

“Uncountable minutes,” Eilyn sighs dramatically. She must be more than two years younger than Sylva. I swallow away the discomfort when I think about how she compares to a healthy, well-fed noble girl, and about the image I saw in that mirror. Eilyn doesn’t notice, thankfully. She looks at me in earnest. “I tried to do the numbers, but I ran out of fingers.”

I nod as if I understand how horrible it is to run out of fingers to count on. “Well,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe if you finish your plate every time, you’ll grow to be fifteen faster.”

“No way.”

“If you grow up, get nice and strong, and tall, and even prettier than you already are, then maybe you get to have a sparkling Magical dress too.”

“You think?”

“Don’t you?”

Eilyn’s face contorts again into a thoughtful frown. “Hm,” she says. “You might be right.”

“And even if you don’t turn fifteen sooner, you’ll be stronger, taller, and prettier by the time you will.”

Eilyn now nods. Then her eyes get big. “But what about you?” she says.

“What about me?”

“If you don’t finish my plate, what about your hunger? If your clothes are still adjusting, then your tummy must be too.”

“My tummy will be fine.”

“Oh.” She looks at me, her expression still worried. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“Oh. Good. Because I want to finish my plate now.”

As if the servants have been waiting for that confession, they swoop in with plates filled with all kinds of vegetables, meats, and sauces. Of course, Master Iacopor has summoned them — the conversations of a young girl and a poor boy aren’t exactly noteworthy. Yet when I look up, I see that Arceli is looking at me with a smile that expresses both satisfaction and a certain surprise, while Melena looks at me as if I’m filth that clings to a dog’s paws. I open my mouth to say something, but I know no word could ever make those sparkling green eyes look at me without seeing anything but a poor boy working his way up the Magical ranks. I am nobody to her, and when Elrick makes a remark about one of the dishes, even her laugh says she’d never laugh as freely or vividly about anything I could ever say.

I need to forget about her completely, focus on my studies and the amazing things I’m going to learn here. Yes, I’m a poor kid working his way up. But I have talent, I have ideas, and… I have broken the statue, and I need to get my skills up to speed to fix that mess and make sure Elrick, now talking to Melena as if they’re old friends, can’t use it to get me kicked out.

And maybe, just maybe, Melena will talk to me like that once too.

Oh dear. I would melt on the spot.