To ensure she wouldn’t arrive last, on her first day of lessons Saphienne set out for the wizard’s abode even earlier, still yawning as she made her way through the outskirts of the village. Her lingering tiredness vanished the instant she came within sight of the towering tree — seeing another girl in apprentice’s robes, reaching for the door.

“Celaena!”

Celaena stopped on the doorstep, surprised by the shout so early in the day, and she gasped in astonished delight as she beheld Saphienne sprinting toward her. Her fingertips withdrew from the handle as she turned around, her grin growing as she stepped a few paces forward and opened her arms. “Saphienne! You made it!”

Saphienne had not intended to hug Celaena… but her panic at being too late through the door had made her cry out, and the other girl had mistaken alarm for excitement, so what else was there to do? She closed the distance and embraced her fellow apprentice, delicately. “It’s… good to see you again!”

Celaena let go and looked her up and down. “And you! I had no idea my– our master accepted you. He only mentioned Iolas.” She was shaking her head. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you?”

Embarrassed by her growth spurt, Saphienne looked away. “It’s just the robes. Jorildyn tailored them to make me look more… adult.”

“No,” Celaena disagreed, “you’re definitely taller. And that’s a good thing.” She was still smiling. “How did you talk him into it?”

Saphienne blinked. “Well, you’ll remember I studied with Jorildyn for a short time–”

“Not him.” Celaena giggled. “Our master. How did you talk him into it? He looked ready to murder you.”

“Oh.” Still faintly blushing, Saphienne tried to pretend it hadn’t been a struggle, and brushed her fingers through her hair. “What can I say? He knows talent when he sees it.”

That made Celaena grin even more broadly, mistaking her conceit for an indirect compliment. “He does, doesn’t he? Though — poor Faylar. Speaking of which,” she changed topics, “I’ve not seen much of him since that night. I heard he’s been spending a lot of time with you, and I assumed that meant…”

“…That I failed.” Saphienne shrugged. “Faylar made the same assumption, the day he was rejected. He came looking for me, wanting to commiserate. Instead, we ended up… well, we’ve been studying together. He’s going to try again, one day.”

Celaena was quick to catch why they hadn’t commiserated, along with its significance to herself. “Wait.” She leaned back. “You mean, our master accepted you first, on the same night you made him lose his temper?”

“Well, yes.”

“…Oh.” She wilted under the confirmation.

Saphienne realised that Celaena was more invested in Almon’s opinion than anyone ought to be, and she opened her mouth to say so, but then wondered whether speaking poorly of the wizard on his doorstep was wise, and pursed her lips. “I don’t think he selected us by talent,” she said, “but by urgency? I was more of an immediate problem.”

Without quite understanding why they did, Saphienne saw her words made the other girl smile again. “I’ve heard you called a problematic child,” Celaena teased, “so I suppose that fits.”

Saphienne blinked again. “Problematic?”

Celaena shook her head. “Not you, yourself, more that…” She trailed off as she studied Saphienne’s expression. “…That other people can be judgemental.”

“Well.” Saphienne folded her arms. “They can judge all they like. Who cares what they have to say? Wizards should be above such stupidity.”

The other apprentice laughed, loudly, and glanced toward the door. “That we should! Or should be, one day.” She offered her arm. “Shall we go in?”

Not quite sure what the older girl expected, Saphienne held her own arm out in the same way. “Let’s.”

Celaena smiled and slipped her arm around Saphienne’s, and the pair walked together into the foyer — into their classroom.

* * *

Saphienne needn’t have worried: Iolas hadn’t arrived.

Almon was waiting for them, however, and they found him in the process of laying out a third writing board in a semi-circle around his high-backed chair. “About as early as I expected,” he noted as they separated and bowed to him. “In future, you may wait a further hour before attending.”

Saphienne was not impressed, and answered him with anger that she sweetened with polite irony. “We only wished to be diligent and punctual students, Master.”

Almon’s lips twitched. “As you say.” He gestured to the places next to the writing boards. “Since you’re both here before Iolas,” he continued, “you may sit and meditate while we await him.”

Celaena sat directly opposite his chair, smoothing out her robes as she lowered herself down. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to set a time, Master?”

Taking the space to her left, furthest from where the wizard stood, Saphienne answered for Almon. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Surprising her, the wizard nodded. “Saphienne is flippant, but she is not wrong — though, nor is she wholly correct.” He drew himself up to his full height, and his voice took on performative depth. “A wizard must not be buffeted about by the demands of the world. Magic must be respected, and so a wizard must command respect. Where it is not forthcoming, it must be insisted upon; no one but another practitioner of the Great Art may require the attendance of a wizard before he chooses.”

Encouraged by Saphienne, Celaena spoke up as well. “But Master, you are such a practitioner. Shouldn’t you demand the attention of your apprentices?”

Almon gave her a disappointed look. “Saphienne, explain it to her.”

Saphienne didn’t like being made to talk down to Celaena, and she forced an apologetic smile. “He’s teaching us to be wizards, so he’s treating us in the way we should expect to be treated as wizards.” Hidden beneath her sleeve, her fingers clenched. “Mostly.”

“Correct.” Their master smiled, throwing a little warmth upon Celaena. “Child… though you are but an apprentice, there is every possibility that you will one day stand where I stand. How are you to hold yourself with confidence, if you are made to dance to the beat of my drum, with no consideration given to your business? Your time is your own. And your respect is your own to give. My magic, and what I will teach you, should be sufficient motivation to receive your respect — and your prompt attendance.”

Celaena shifted uneasily. “What of the time wasted, waiting?”

Almon’s expression became severe, and he walked to stand right before them both as he spoke. “No time,” he said, heavily, as though laying down the law, “can ever be wasted without your consent. Are you bored? Then that is your doing. You have learned the essentials of focused meditation — and time spent honing your concentration is never wasted, will never be wasted, not even a thousand years from now.

“But more than this,” he went on, “a wizard should be prepared for whatever might await him. Do you anticipate that you might be kept waiting? Then come forearmed with a book, or a subject on which you would write, or any other fruitful purpose that may benefit from incremental progress. Even time spent on frivolous amusements is not wasted time, if it nourishes your capacity to withstand later challenges.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He surveyed them both. “You are children. More than eighty years await before you will claim a place as an adult elf in good standing. Most your age are free to dally and play, to feel boredom, to ‘waste their time.’ But if you would be a wizard, you must take ownership of yourself, and act deliberately.”

None of this was what Saphienne had expected; she found herself grinning. “You will teach us, but we are responsible for learning.”

“Correct.” He crouched down, level with Celaena. “And, I will say this, Celaena: there is no shame in not knowing, only in not thinking. But,” he added, his voice softer, “if you still do not know after thinking? Ask. I am also teaching you how you might present yourself as a wizard, and how to thrive under stress. If you are quick to feel embarrassment, if you let yourself be cowed by my sharp words… how will you fare against magic?”

There was a pause as she studied his gaze. Nervously, with the hint of a smile on her lips, she nodded.

In turn, he faintly inclined his head, and sprang back up. “For now: meditation. You must practice daily, until forgoing the act feels unseemly, unclean, and disquieting.”

Nothing further was said; both girls did as instructed, sitting in peace.

* * *

Saphienne meditated for an hour, then waited quietly, listening to Almon. The wizard had gone upstairs at first, later descending back into the parlour with a cup of tea, which he sipped from while incessantly pacing back and forth along the shelves, around his books. From time to time she heard him faintly speaking to himself, and now that she was intentionally observing him she noticed his dark blue robes swishing to and fro, in time with his muttering.

Careful not to be seen, she cracked open her eyes. Almon was gesturing, rehearsing whatever speeches were forthcoming. This struck her as strange, at odds with the image he projected. Why was he so casual about his rehearsal, when standing before his audience?

His earlier explanations held the key. Almon knew that they might be watching, and wanted them to see his preparations, that his apprentices might learn to prepare.

…Was his antagonism toward her real? Or another illusion?

“Saphienne, occupy yourself otherwise.” He had noticed her watching him.

She shut her eyes. No, he didn’t like her. Not everything he did was for show.

Iolas knocked on the parlour door an hour and thirty minutes after his fellow apprentices had arrived, and Celaena and Saphienne both looked toward the sound, then expectantly at their master, who quietly moved behind his chair and held his hands above its back.

Almon did not answer.

Iolas knocked again, more firmly.

Celaena would have called to him, but Almon silenced her, his finger before his lips, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

At last, Iolas opened the door, and peered in hesitantly. “Hello–”

“Good!” Almon slammed his hands against the chair for emphasis. “The boy finally works up the courage to enter! Do you need further invitation, Iolas, or are you ready to take your place?”

Iolas flushed, but he said nothing, only shut the door. He paused briefly when he saw Saphienne, and he gave her a small bow before took his place on the other side of Celaena.

“Learn from Saphienne’s example,” Almon told them. “When you are expected, do not proceed with uncertainty: announce your arrival with words. When you are unexpected, knock, wait, then knock again — and enter. And when you are unwelcome, but you must be present, knock and enter without hesitation.”

“I was being polite,” Iolas said, clearly annoyed.

“No, you were nervous, and hiding behind politeness.”

Iolas thought for a moment, and then inclined his head, reluctantly accepting the point.

“Celaena and Saphienne may have more insights to share with you, having been here for longer. Suffice it to say: you are not late, nor is there a set time for us to begin.”

Saphienne was dissatisfied. “Whether or not he was nervous,” she said, leaning back on her palms, “doesn’t entering without warning risk catching people… unprepared?”

“Child,” Almon sighed, “surely you can see? That is hardly disadvantageous.”

Celaena shook her head. “She means catching them in an awkward situation, and souring their opinion of you.”

The wizard looked up at his ceiling. “Hm. Very well; you take me too literally, so further clarification is appropriate.” He looked back down at them, and then at Saphienne in particular. “For the sake of all that is to come: consider that every lesson I teach you, I expect you to apply using your own judgement. Were you stood outside someone’s bedroom, or even their home, and were you unexpected, then you might choose to forebear from such directness. Unless you had good reason to proceed regardless — there are times when it is advantageous to transgress against politeness, if it serves a purpose.”

Iolas shook his head. “I don’t think rudeness is excused by getting what you want.”

“What were my exact words, Iolas?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “…‘Unless you had good reason.’”

Almon came around beside his chair, and he rested one hand upon it as he spoke, his voice low. “Learn to observe, not to assume. How things present themselves are not always how they actually are. You are too used to reading people’s emotions, how they speak and behave, before you consider what it is that they say.”

Celaena was thoughtful. “You’re saying, we should pay more attention to words than attitude?”

“Close,” the wizard nodded, “but you must avoid giving either precedence. Both what is said and how it is said must be taken into consideration, and carefully, in context with all that surrounds the speech, to understand what is before you. You would seek to pierce the greatest mysteries in the world… and so you must never content yourself with the superficial, or with unconsidered assumptions. You, Iolas,” he smiled, folding his arms, “think I am rude, and that my rudeness is why I recommend and justify rudeness to you. Yet, have I told you to behave rudely? Did I fault you for being polite?”

Iolas shook his head. “You faulted me for my nervousness, and for my excuse.”

Breathing in sharply, Celaena understood. “You’re forcing us out of familiar lands… to try to stop us relying on unconsidered habits?”

The wizard spread his hands. “Well done. To be initiated into magic is, among other things, to pay close attention — to your surroundings, to others, and to yourself, and to strive to see all things clearly. Iolas is correct to think I have been rude; but am I rude to everyone? Or am I only rude to you? And to what end?”

Sitting in his chair, he lay his hands on his lap, palms facing upward. “‘Why?’ is the central question with which you must concern yourselves. But before you arrive at ‘Why?’ you must consider ‘Who? What? Where? When?’ and ‘How?’ To understand why something is — that requires thought, and thought requires sharp observation. Not all of the things you need observe to answer your questions will be available to you, either, which requires that you also infer what you cannot directly observe.”

Saphienne remained reclining, propped up on her hands. “You’re speaking as though everything about your behaviour is for the sake of our education.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

The unspoken challenge drew Saphienne forward, and she closed her eyes to think it through. “…I withdraw that. That was an assumption.”

“What would the correct statement have been, child?”

She thought hard. “…That you’re speaking as though everything about your behaviour might be… educational.”

“And what is the difference, Saphienne?”

She looked up at him. “Our education is what you’re trying to teach us directly, whereas what is educational is what we might learn from watching you and applying your lessons to reach our own answers.”

“Correct.” He folded his hands together. “I don’t pretend that all I do has a carefully thought-out reason. Some of what I do is quite deliberate, however. As we begin, you must first trust that I have reason for the lessons I teach you, and the way I behave, and the attitudes I encourage. Later, when you grow into your studies, you will doubtless begin to discern what had a point, and what was mere foible.”

Saphienne was reminded of her early lessons with Filaurel. “Like reading a story.”

Iolas turned to her. “How so?”

But Celaena was the one who answered, speaking to herself. “You don’t know what matters and what doesn’t when you first hear a story. Sometimes, the storyteller misdirects you. And sometimes a story starts very differently from how it ends. You have to finish the story to know what’s deliberate.”

Saphienne nodded. “It’s too early to know whether our master is a bad teacher.”

Almon laughed, hard. “Ah! Saphienne could have phrased that the other way, and much can be deduced from why she emphasised the negative. But, context leads me to intuit that you didn’t deliberately wish to slight me, girl — and now, the growing redness in your cheeks confirms it.”

“…Point made.” Saphienne glowered.

“Yes.” Almon smiled. “And, having introduced you to a broader perspective, I must instruct you all: put your critical faculties aside. For now, take my words at face value, and assume that where I do not elaborate further, or where I refuse to answer your questions, elaboration and answers will eventually follow. Some things will remain unknown to you until the proper time. Like or dislike me, as you each wish, but recognise: I am your master in magic, you are my apprentices, and your education in the Great Art – and in wizardry moreover – is what matters most of all.”

He surveyed the three solemnly. “Now.” He stood. “Let me show you the essence of magic, as you have never glimpsed it before.”

End of Chapter 15