WinterMaejic (2 page)

I did as he asked, still completely mystified as to what he was talking about. When I was done, he slapped the table with his hand, making the fruit in the wooden bowl jump.

“Yes! Your skills are markedly improving. I am quite proud of you, Donavah.” I sat there, stunned. It was as if I were talking to my father instead of the maejic master who’d grudgingly agreed to teach me. “Off with you, now.” Yallick shooed me away as if I were the cat. “Go check on Xyla.”

“All right,” I said, rising quickly. Anything to get away from his confusing behavior.

I set the candles on the table, intending to take them back to my room when I returned. Just before the door closed behind me, I heard Yallick mutter almost gleefully, “Ah, blue and purple. Blue and purple.”

What could possibly be the significance of that, I wondered as I walked to the nearby clearing where Traz and I had, following Xyla’s precise directions, created a bed of dead leaves and fresh-turned earth for her.

She now lay on her bed, her eyes closed. I shuffled my feet as I approached, not wanting to startle her. One eyelid opened a fraction. “Ah. Donavah.” Xyla’s voice spoke inside my head, and it was this ability to communicate with animals that was a mark of the gift of maejic. Not that this was necessarily a good thing, as practicing maejic had been outlawed in Alloway centuries before. That had not, of course, stopped the mages, but only forced them—us—into hiding.

I approached the huge red dragon and placed a hand on her jaw. Her skin was incredibly soft and smooth, and I loved touching her. “How are you, Xyla?”

“I am tired, but otherwise fine.”

I scowled. “Still tired? You’ve done nothing but sleep since we got here.” What could be wrong with her? She’d never been like this on our journey.

“I hunt, too. Do not worry about me; I am well.”

I leaned against her shoulder, just absorbing her presence. Then I heard the crunching of footsteps approaching her other side. I was just about to ask who was there, when I heard Traz’s voice.

“Hello, my lovely lady,” he whispered, and I had to strain to hear. “I’m working hard. I’m getting stronger. I’m quite sure I’ll be able to hear you soon.”

I almost gasped in surprise. Did Traz mean he was trying to
become
maejic? Was that even possible? From what Yallick and Oleeda said, you were born with it, you didn’t acquire it. And what happened to his desire to be a bard?

Then I wondered how I was going to get away without the boy discovering that I’d overheard his plan. Before I could figure out what to do, Traz walked around Xyla’s head. He froze when he saw me standing there, and I’m sure I had a guilty expression on my face.

He spoke first. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

For a moment I toyed with the idea of pretending that I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I decided that wouldn’t be fair.

I shook my head. “No, of course I won’t. But why, Traz? Why would you want to?”

“What do you mean, why would I want to? I love Xyla, but I can’t hear her. Everyone else, all the mages, they can. They all keep having conversations that I can’t hear. How do you think that makes me feel?”

To tell the truth, I’d never thought about that, and I had to admit I could understand his point. “But, Traz, I can’t hear other conversations, either.” He gave me an exasperated look. “I know, I know. That doesn’t make up for it. Still, why would you want to become maejic? You don’t want always to live in hiding like this, do you?”

He stuck out his jaw stubbornly. “I’ll do it. You just wait and see if I don’t.”

I sit and ponder the setback we’ve endured. A red dragon—red!—in our grasp. Yet she slipped through our fingers when we least expected it.

No matter. My son has done his work well, and our original plan proceeds apace. The red dragon was nothing more than an aside, and her loss signifies nothing of importance. Success shall be ours, with or without her, for the plan was set in motion five hundred long years ago. We have played the game carefully, and victory is at hand.

Tomorrow—yes, tomorrow!—I send forth the messages that will move the final pieces into position. Once the last play has begun, no one will be able to keep us from Securing the Queen’s Heart. Ah, such a game of Talisman and Queen it has been! I shall savor the glory of the king’s final defeat.

Iarrived back at the cottage just as Oleeda was getting ready to leave. A master at Roylinn Academy, where I’d been studying magic, she was also—unbeknownst to the authorities, of course—a mage. It was she who had sent me to Yallick and she who’d convinced him to take over my tuition.

She took my hands and gave me a peck on my cheek. As she let go, I realized with a start that there had been no shock of vibration.

“How’d you do that?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“The, umm, well, when we touched. It was like normal, not like that first time.”

“Ah, that. You will learn how to control it. It only takes training.” She smiled in a very unsatisfying sort of way. “I must return to the academy now, or they will begin to wonder what has become of me. Have you any messages for your friends?”

I thought of Marileesa, who must be already practicing for singing at the Summer Solstice celebration, and of Loreen, who was probably broken-hearted over Breyard’s disappearance. Well, I couldn’t tell them anything without telling them everything, so I just shook my head. “Just give them my love and tell them I miss them.” I sighed. “I don’t even know when I’ll see them again.”

Oleeda gave me a sympathetic look. “I know it is hard to be so far from everyone and everything you know. It will not always be this way. Be patient.”

“But why?” The words burst out of me unexpectedly. Yallick would’ve given me one of his disapproving scowls, but Oleeda placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I continued. “What is all this being patient about? I’ve been here for weeks and haven’t done anything.”

Oleeda smiled again. “You have not ‘done nothing.’ It might seem like nothing to you because it is on your own insides. But those of us watching on the outside, we can see you growing.”

I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. She sounded like Mama. But even while that was annoying, it was also comforting. And now she was leaving, and I’d be stuck here with Yallick, who definitely was
not
like Papa. Well, not often, anyway.

Oleeda kissed my cheek again. “Well, if you have no messages, it is time for me to be off.”

Traz jogged up just then. “You have my letter to Mama?”

“Of course I do. Tucked safely in the bottom of my pack.”

“Your mother knows you’re here?” I asked in surprise.

He looked at me as if I’d just said the stupidest thing he’d heard all day. “Of course she knows. How else do you think I could stay?”

Oleeda placed a hand on my shoulder. “Not all non-maejic folk oppose us,” she said. “She was relieved to learn Traz was safe, and saw the wisdom of him not returning to the academy, not for a while yet.”

“Never is more likely,” said Traz.

Oleeda smiled. “We shall see. Goodbye, and take care of yourselves until I see you again.”

We walked out with her and watched her mount her horse. With a final wave, she was gone. Just as Breyard was gone. What was it that kept making everyone leave?

That evening, I sat in the front room with Yallick. It had turned quite cold when the sun set, and the heat of the fire made me feel comfortable, almost drowsy. We were supposed to be having a lesson, but Yallick just sat staring into the flames. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Did Xyla sleep this much on your journey?”

I was startled to hear him voice one of my own concerns. “No. Well, no, I can’t say that.” I thought back. “She stayed hidden during the day while we went into the cities. Then she got captured. So I don’t actually know. Maybe she did sleep a lot.”

“Hmm,” Yallick said, frowning. My heart started beating faster. Yallick being worried had to be a bad sign. On the other hand, what did he really know about dragons? What, for that matter, did
I
know? “We will need to keep watch on her. Maybe it is nothing but an old man’s needless worrying.” He gave me a small smile. “So. I wish to speak with you about your afternoon meditation session. Tell me again what happened.”

I’d been studying with Yallick for only a few weeks, but one thing I’d quickly learned was that he didn’t have much patience with drawn-out explanations. Besides, I didn’t know what he was after. I kept it short and simple. “I took the blue and purple candles.” He nodded. “I went to the shelter under the rock. When I started meditating, it took almost no time to find my calm center, and suddenly I felt,” I paused as I tried to think of the right way to put it, “I felt as if I’d joined the dance of life.”

Yallick closed his eyes, his face expressionless, took a deep breath, and let it out again. “Yes. Yes. Do you know what is happening, and why?”

I thought a moment more. “No. I don’t actually understand any of it. But I
think
it has something to do with mixing the candles.”

Yallick’s eyes flew open. “Indeed. It has everything to do with mixing the candles. What exactly did they teach you about meditation at that school of yours?” He waved a hand as if dismissing Roylinn.

“Well, each year is divided into four seasons, of course, and each season is divided into twelve weeks. There are different candleholders for each season, and a different color candle for each week, repeated in the same order each season.”

“Yes, yes,” snapped Yallick, watching me closely now, his startling eyes boring into mine. “I know all that. But did they teach you why?”

I didn’t understand what he was trying to find out, so I just said the first thing I thought of. “The colors of the candles represent qualities to enhance life.”

A long pause. “Donavah, you are nothing if not a diligent student.” Something in his tone of voice told me he didn’t exactly mean this as a compliment. “You are clearly quite capable of learning what is set before you and repeating it back. But my question to you is ‘why?’ Why are the colors assigned to certain weeks? Why are they not mixed? Why does there need to be any sort of order at all? Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said simply.

Yallick clapped his hands together once, leaning forward. “Exactly! You do not know. And you do not know because they do not tell you. They do not want you to know.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they do not know themselves.” He leaned back in his chair. “Relax, my girl, and I will tell you why.

“You see, back in the deeps of time, maejic was recognized as the superior art. There were, of course, many who could aspire only to the lower spells and did not have the full gift. They called their lesser art
magic
.”

“I know all this. Oleeda explained it to me.”

“Do not interrupt me, girl!” Yallick’s eyes blazed, and I dipped my head slightly in apology. Then he continued. “The foundation of maejic’s power is in self-control—something which
you
need to acquire—and self-control is strengthened in meditation. Are you familiar with the formulas used in the making of meditation candles?”

“No. I only know the colors and their properties.”

Yallick snorted. “That should not surprise me. Well, each color of candle is made with a slightly different blend of herbs, thus each gives off a different aroma when burned. It is the aroma that strengthens the spirit for its work.

“And it is that which the magicians of yore could not abide. The candles are at their weakest when two of the same color are burned together. The magicians, despising a power that they did not—could not—share, strove to weaken the power of the candles by creating a new tradition that they could not be mixed. That tradition is now observed as incontrovertible law.”

“So,” I began tentatively, then continued when Yallick didn’t stop me, “what they teach us to be right and proper is really the exact wrong way.”

“Indeed. I think you have experienced this yourself, most especially today.”

I thought for a moment. “So is there a chart I can study to learn the best way to mix candles?”

Yallick threw his head back and laughed. “No, my dear. This is something you must learn for yourself. Experience, not study, will teach you how to harness power.”

Harness power. Those words struck a chord within me. It was all well and good to be able to cast magic spells, but the power I’d felt in my meditation session—that kind of power would strengthen me to . . . to . . . to do anything. I relaxed in my chair, letting the heat of the fire wash over me.

After a while, Yallick spoke again in a soft voice. “Magic is actually quite simplistic. It takes the energy all around us and re-channels it. Granted, not an insignificant skill, when you think about it.” He pointed to a basket of ripe summer fruit sitting on the mantle. “It can be very useful. But maejic is so much more. It . . . can you guess?”

“It . . . it . . . creates power?”

“Not quite.” Yallick smiled. “Creating power, that would be quite a feat, would it not? No, maejic does not create power but gathers it and concentrates it. Like what you did with the locked door in the arena.”

I looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t locked.”

“Donavah, you do not actually believe that an unguarded entrance to the arena would be left unlocked, do you?” He shook his head and waggled a finger at me. “The king makes quite a lot of money selling tickets. I might not have been there, but I assure you, that door was locked.”

“But, like I said, I didn’t do anything.”

“You
think
you did nothing. What were you doing just before you opened the door?”

“I was . . .” I sucked in my breath. “I was meditating.”

“And a moment later, when you desperately needed the door to open, it did. That, my apprentice, is maejic.” Yallick smiled.