The Book of Deacon (54 page)

"Really? Remarkable," Myranda said.

"Oh, but I always do the talking. I can hear
my own voice anytime. Let's hear about you!" Calypso said.

Myranda proceeded to retell the story of her
life for what seemed like the hundredth time since her arrival.
Deacon continually reached for his book to find his notes on the
subject. Even in the water, he kept it by his side, casting a
half-dozen spells to protect it from any damage it might take for
the time being. When the tale worked its way to her arrival, Deacon
did more telling than she, so excited was he. It was just as well.
Myranda could never manage to tell of her own accomplishments
without feeling she was boasting. Deacon concluded with a very
detailed account of the Hollow incident.

"Hollow. Quite a creepy fellow. Come here,
Myranda. Let us see this mark of yours," the mermaid said.

Myranda showed the thin white scar that had
begun this bizarre journey of hers.

"Ah. Yes. It is just as I had imagined it.
Simple, elegant. The work of the spirits--or the gods. Tell me,
Deacon, do we know yet what it means that this girl has the mark,
but was not born with it?" she asked.

"There were a number of phrases we've been
able to translate from Hollow's latest speech that seem to allude
to it," Deacon said, flipping to a seemingly random page in the
book. "Yes, right here. ‘A mark both fresh and faded belongs to the
carpenter'; 'A label of white adorns that which will see each.'
Things of that nature."

"I see; well, that certainly answers that."
Calypso snorted. "Honestly. The spirits could be a bit more
straightforward in their messages. If they truly wanted us to know
what they were saying, they would say it more clearly. Well,
regardless of what that mark means, we had best be sure you become
what you are capable of. Let us begin the lesson," Calypso
decided.

The routine that formed that day would prove
to make the next two weeks the most pleasant since Myranda's
arrival. Aside from having to practically plead with Myn for
permission to enter the water each day, and the inevitable pranks
that Calypso would play, she had a glorious time. In the early
lessons, Deacon and Calypso were equally involved in teaching
her--though, as the days progressed, Calypso allowed Deacon to do
as he pleased, preferring to watch and offer comments where
needed.

Each lesson would end at the water's edge,
where Deacon would really shine. He taught her to levitate the
water by filling it with her energy as she might slip her hand into
a glove. As the time went on, she found that she could will the
elevated water into simple shapes. Each day, of course, ended with
her sessions with Lain, which continued to grow more challenging
and frustrating with each fruitless battle, but even the sparring
matches were not wholly unpleasant. They at least proved to her
that she could hold her own with a gifted warrior--who, by this
time, could not have been holding much back.

The end of the second week marked the
beginning of the lessons that would have to be done entirely on the
land, as she would be doing the reverse of what she'd done before.
Instead of drawing air from the water, she would be drawing water
from air. Myranda was having great trouble with it. Calypso sat on
the shore, instructing Myranda and allowing Deacon to be her
hands.

"I don't see why you don't give yourself a
pair of legs for the time being. That is what you had done for all
of your other students," Deacon said.

"Yes, but I feel this is easier. No, no.
Myranda, that is not quite right. You need to hold the staff lower;
the energy will flow more smoothly. Deacon, show her," Calypso
said.

"She is right; it needs to be a bit lower,
and your other hand a bit higher. You have to leave room for the
ball of water to form. Later, you can twist the magic any way you
wish, but right now you should be focusing on the spell, not the
energy it takes to cast it," Deacon said.

"
I
can tell her. I asked you to show her," the
mermaid said.

Deacon stood beside Myranda and guided her
hands. He was fairly shaking as he touched her, taking his hands
away quickly when her hands had reached the correct position.

"There, I, uh . . . that is approximately
where they, uh, ought to be," he said, stumbling over his words and
seeming slightly out of breath.

It was the first time since she'd met him
that he had been anything but eloquent. A blush came to his cheeks.
Myranda realized that she was blushing a bit, too. Calypso noticed
it and grinned. The girl tried the spell again, but found that she
couldn't manage it. She was having trouble concentrating. The grin
on the mermaid's face turned to a smile. She beckoned for Deacon.
When he waded over to her, she whispered something into his
ear.

"But why?" Deacon responded.

"Well, you agree, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course I agree, but I cannot imagine that
she wouldn't already know," he said.

"Well, don't you think it would be best to be
sure?" she asked.

"I suppose," he said, turning to Myranda.
"Myranda, you are, um, very lovely."

Myranda could feel the warm blush fill her
face.

"Thank you," she said.

"Oh, there is no need to thank me. I am
merely speaking the truth. I frankly do not see why Calypso thought
it needed to be said," he said.

The mermaid laughed.

"You know a great deal about a great many
things, Deacon, but you still have a few things to learn. That is
enough for today. There is plenty of time to get it right," she
said.

"Oh, no! I had forgotten until this morning.
We may not have the time we thought," Deacon said.

"Why wouldn't we?" Calypso asked.

"The full moon came on the first day of this
month," he said.

"Did it!? I hadn't been paying attention. How
exciting!" she said.

"What do you mean? What is this all about?"
Myranda asked.

"There will be another moon before the month
is out! A blue moon!" Calypso said.

Deacon answered Myranda's questioning
look.

"I've spoken of it before. I must have. It is
a night when mystic energies run higher than any other. Acts of
magic impossible on any other day can be done when the moon reaches
its peak on that night. It is a tradition that on such a night we
attempt to summon a being described in detail by the prophecy. This
being is born of the elements themselves, and it is most assuredly
one of the Chosen, and represents the sole exception of our rule
banning summoning. However, it will not arise unless the mystic
power used to conjure it is influenced by the strength of another
Chosen.

"For as long as this place has existed, it
has been used as the test to see for certain if one of the Chosen
is among us, and it would be a crime if you were not included in
the ceremony," Deacon said.

"And I need to be a Master of the elements by
then, if I am to be a part . . ." she recalled.

"Indeed. You will need to finish your
training with me and have your overall exam by the end of next
week. We will indeed need to hurry. Oh, curse it all. I finally get
student with a personality and I have to push her through faster
than any other. Someone up there is toying with me," Calypso said.
"No matter, though. Myranda, you ought to get a bit more rest than
usual tonight. We will need to push you harder tomorrow. Enjoy.
Deacon, would you remain for a bit? I need to discuss something
with you."

Myranda headed off while Deacon lingered.

"What was it you needed to discuss?" he
asked.

"In a moment," Calypso said, waiting until
Myranda was well out of earshot. When their privacy was assured,
she continued. "You like her. As more than a colleague."

"Well, I . . ." he began.

"It is an observation, not a question. She
likes you as well. I know that you aren't going to confess your
feelings so easily, so let me just give you a word of advice. If
you feel that you wish things to move forward between the two of
you, invite her with you to watch the opening of the cave when the
falls relent. There is something about that place. It is where your
parents met. It is where many parents met," she said. "Now go.
Think about it."

#

The training continued the next day. The
feeling was far more serious now. The days that followed were
filled to the brim with education. The gray magic expertise that
Deacon offered sped her progress markedly, so much so that there
was a bit of time at the end of each day to slip in some pure gray
magic, particularly illusions. By the time the end of the following
week had drawn near, Myranda was deemed ready for the final
exam.

A large bowl with a hole in it was placed on
a stand, just as Solomon had done in his test. However, this one
was far larger, and the hole was smaller. She was charged with
filling it with water by conjuring it from the air. The task would
have been a simple one if not for the drain. Now she would not only
have to not only conjure up enough water to fill it, but she would
have to do it quickly enough to do so before it poured away.

Myranda set her mind to work, reaching out
and drawing in all of the moisture she could muster. It came in a
tiny trickle into the bowl, and flowed out just as quickly. She
would need to do much better. Her mind fanned out, reaching in all
directions to try to find more water. The trickle increased, but
not nearly enough. There must be enough water somewhere. She was
not permitted to draw it from the lake or the sea; it had to be
from the air. Finally, her mind happened upon what appeared to be a
monumental mass of water suspended on its own. She began to draw it
forth, but it must have been very far away, because she couldn't
hear the trickle increase. She opened her eyes to see all in
attendance looking up.

"You didn't warn her about that, did you?"
Deacon said.

"Neither did you. This is going to be
entertaining," Calypso said with a grin.

Myranda wanted to crane her head and see what
had attracted their attention, but the strain of concentrating was
growing greater, as though she were pulling an ocean, yet nothing
came. Then, in a tumult so sudden it nearly tore her from her
focused state, the water came all at once. It was like a torrent
coming down--not only where she intended, but everywhere else.
Myranda guided as much of the water as she could manage into the
bowl, not daring to open her eyes until she was finished, fearful
of what she might see.

"Enough! Well done! On to dexterity," Calypso
said joyfully.

The girl opened her eyes to see that, despite
the fact that she was no longer drawing it forth, water was falling
like a savage rain. She had reached forth and drawn down the very
clouds, and what she had begun would have to continue until the
storm had run its course. The people watching her scattered for
shelter. Myn, who was just getting over the shock of being doused
so suddenly, returned to Myranda's side. Now, all who remained to
watch her were Calypso, quite at home in the rain, Deacon, drenched
but unwilling to miss the spectacle, and Myn, faithful as
always.

"Just draw up a bit of the water. Heaven
knows there is enough of it about. I want an ice sculpture of . . .
oh, how about little Myn there. I want every detail. Shape it and
freeze it. Begin immediately," Calypso instructed.

Myranda obeyed. She drew up the water from
the soaked ground until it seemed like a rippling mound. Her
energies filtered through it, forcing it to change its shape to
match that of the little dragon. The basic form was simple, but as
the details came to be formed, Myranda could feel the strain of
stretching her mind in so many directions at once. Nostrils,
scales, teeth--each had to be crafted and held. It was difficult to
tell how quickly the time had passed, but finally she found herself
staring at a near-perfect replica of her dragon, sitting on its
haunches, mouth open a bit and tongue protruding slightly.

Myranda applied the reverse of one of the
spells that Solomon had taught. A wave passed through the water,
leaving all behind it solid ice.

"Excellent. Wonderful job! Deacon, tell me,
do you remember that foolish spell Gilliam used?" Calypso
asked.

"Of course," he said.

"Well, cast it on this work of art. It needs
to be saved in a form a bit more enduring than ice," she said.

Deacon raised his crystal and closed his
eyes. The spell must have been a mighty one, because even in her
drowsy, weakened state, Myranda could feel the power of it flowing.
A less distinct wave of light began to pass over the surface of the
ice statue. It rippled slowly along like a dozen grasping fingers
creeping up. Behind it, the ice was turned to stone. When it
reached the nose of the statue, his work was done. It was solid
rock, saved for posterity. Deacon gave a sigh of relief as he
finished.

"Well done, both of you. It has been a
pleasure working with you, Myranda. Don't think that just because I
am no longer your teacher that you can just stop visiting me.
Deacon, you get her to Azriel. I have got to get this lovely thing
down below," Calypso said.

"What? Azriel? Isn't she the founder?"
Myranda asked, still dazed from the effort.

"Yes, you need to be declared a Full Master,"
he said, walking her in the direction of the crystal arena. All the
while, the rain she had caused was hammering down.

"But I have been. Calypso said it," she
said.

"No, no. You have been declared a Master of
four separate disciplines. Now you must prove just how capable you
are in their practical use. Then you will be a Full Master," he
said.

"I don't understand. There are that many
different levels of Master?" she said.

"Oh yes. We have nine main levels of mastery
in magic alone. There is Novice, Journeyman, Master, Full Master,
Highest Master, Grand Master, Archmage, and Elder. Aside from that
we have Battlemages, Specialists, Seers . . ." he said.