Book 3. Chapter 45

Book 3. Chapter 45

Aberfa reclined into the pile of pillows, laying on her side. “What did that sallow jade, that false mother, teach you about the Wyrd?”

“That [Archmage], you mean?” asked Brin.

Aberfa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Not much. I didn’t think to ask her about it, and it was a touchy subject with that curse on her arm,” said Brin.

Aberfa laughed in delight. “Oh my! The curse! I’d quite forgotten about that! Did she find it very painful?”

Brin frowned. “Lumina focused on teaching me regular magic. Why would she teach me about the Wyrd? Only [Witches] can use it, right?”

Aberfa stopped smiling. “Is that what you think? That the Wyrd is an alternate branch of magic? I see we must start from the very beginning.” She rolled onto her back and tossed a pillow into the air, catching it again. “Tell me, what is the Class that evolves into [Witch]?”

“There are a lot of those. Too many to count,” said Brin.

She crooked an eyebrow. “[Glasser] is one.”

“How interesting.”

“Did you ever think about why that is?”

“What do you mean?”

Aberfa started counting with her fingers. “[Seamstress], [Laundress], and [Enchantress], as well as [Tinker], [Tailor], and [Candlestick Maker]. Common Classes and Rare. As you said, too many to count. Why can they all advance to [Witch]? What do they all have in common?”

“They can all be held by powerless, spiteful people with no self-control?”

Aberfa threw a pillow at him, and he didn’t react as it bounced off his face. It didn’t help, of course, but he felt a spike of fear and anxiety when it landed. He was a little worried that he might’ve crossed the line and that she wouldn’t teach him any more.

“Try again,” she said.

“The Wyrd. You’re saying that they can all use the Wyrd somehow?”

“Very good,” she smiled, and he felt his worry replaced by a relief, and a faint amount of elation that he’d gotten the answer right. It wasn’t a strong emotion, not even enough to be distracting, but it was there.

The worst part was that he wasn’t totally sure if what he was feeling was foreign, or if some small part of him actually did want her approval. He was 90% sure she was messing with his emotions, but that last 10% was still going to eat at him.

“That can’t be right. How can all of them use the Wyrd?”

“You’re thinking of the Wyrd as some alternate source of power. Maybe you’re imagining us siphoning off energy from demons or great spirits or unknown creatures from the void. No, the Wyrd is not that. The Wyrd is not foreign to you. The Wyrd, simply put, is the soul of magic.”

“Oh is that all? How very helpful,” Brin said, and felt another spike of worry and anxiety. Better this than the good feelings. He didn’t want to get addicted to pleasing her.

“I forgot who I was talking to,” Aberfa said flatly. “You’re just like your father when you get like this. Let me try for a more male-coded definition. The Wyrd is the set of forces and authorities relating to the natural laws regarding precedence, inheritance, dominance, and ownership. Does that make more sense to you?”

“A lot more,” said Brin.

“But it’s not quite as precise as the first definition. It doesn’t encapsulate the whole. No, you must learn that the Wyrd is the soul of magic.”

“I’m seriously lost here.”

“Poor thing. Are you just realizing that now?” she asked condescendingly. “Perhaps a practical demonstration is in order.

She stood and clapped her hands, and the room changed. Now they were back in the Cerqueira glass shop. Everything was just how it had been, except frozen in time. Zilly was just saying something to him while distractedly setting down a glass bowl, partially missing the table. It was starting to fall, and he and Cerqueira both noticed at the same time. The high level [Glasser’s] hand was outstretched to catch his valuable piece of inventory, but of course he was too far away. He’d need to use his glass magic.

Aberfa stepped through the frozen scene, gazing down at each of Brin’s friends in turn before considering the bowl. “So here you are in a [Glasser’s] shop. Let’s examine the obvious elements of the Wyrd at play. First, this place belongs to him; it even has his name on the door. He made this place and the things inside belong to him. He has a strong claim of ownership to this entire store. But what is your claim?”

“I don’t have a claim. It’s obviously his store. I’m a guest.”

“You always have a claim. This is a prominent business on a busy street. The door was unlocked and a welcome sign was hung; you had every right to step inside. More, this place is full of glass, and you’re a [Glasser]. How could anyone refuse your right to come and examine it? I need you to place this thought firmly in your mind: You have every right to be here and to do what you are doing.”

“I don’t see how that helps, but ok,” said Brin.

“It helps because it helps. We can maybe accept that you’re also something of a guest. Yes, we can work with that. Now, I’ve explained his claim and your claim. Who has the best claim to the right to catch the bowl?”

“What? That’s really how it works? That’s so weird.”

Aberfa folded her arms. “I’m not going to make the obvious pun, if that’s what you’re after.”

“We’re talking about laws and claims...” Brin gasped in mock surprise. “[Witch] is a lawyer Class!”

Gill’s hands shot up, and a small forest of saplings erupted from the ground around him. “”

The crowd gasped at the incredible amount of summoned wood.

Brin followed his strategy from last time and summoned a trio of glass spears, only his spellwork was so slow without the Language that he didn’t have time to launch them before Gill moved into his next attack.

“” shouted Gill. His wooden saplings thickened out, writhing like snakes. “”

Gill’s branches grew forward, streaking towards Brin at breakneck speed. He pushed his spears at them, imbuing them with as much intent as he could think of. He wanted to win. Lumina was watching.

The spears hit the wood and bounced off. Unarmed, the wooden branches slammed into him, ending the match.

Aberfa patiently reset the scenario and made him fight again. He lost again.

Instead of resetting the scenario, they discussed the Wyrd. She pointed out that this was his last lesson with his mother before she’d be leaving on a journey, though in this dream she filled Lumina’s place as “the mother”. She walked through the situation, about how she’d been training him all this time so he had to win to prove he was worth it. How he needed to impress her, to show her he was a worthy successor, to justify the time she’d spent on him. He also deserved to win, based on the sheer amount of time and effort he’d been putting into training his magic.

Then they examined Gill’s claim. His parents were also watching. He was talented, too; a genius. Tied with Rodrige as the best of his generation in wood craft in a town that prized that more than anything. He’d worked hard, too, and his magic was better suited to a short duel like this.

They fought again, and this time when Brin’s spears hit the growing wood, Brin felt the distinct impression that his claim was stronger. Like the original match, he dodged and ran until he got an opening and let the bullets fly. Without the Language, they weren’t fast enough, and Gill dodged in turn.

Brin ran until Gill ran out of mana, and they decided to call it a draw.

Aberfa reset the dream without a word.

Brin fought the same battle again and again, improving each time. Using the Wyrd wasn’t a matter of simply switching out batteries. He needed to change his tactics. Close, direct pressure worked better than ranged attacks, because they were better at pitting will against will. The Wyrd favored wrestling matches, not fencing duels.

Every time he tried and failed, Aberfa grew more disappointed. Irritation turned to fury, and the end of each bout was punctuated by a blast of undirected pain through his whole body, as well as a surge of panic and fear. He found that you couldn’t get tired in dreams, but a sort of mental fatigue set in where he couldn’t think about anything else except how he would do better next time.

In the last duel, he summoned a shield first, and pressing it directly against Gill’s onslaught. His intent gave him better Mana efficiency than Gills. He completely drained the [Woodworker] boy’s Mana without moving his feet, and when he started to summon a glass spear, Aberfa relented and called it his win.

By that time it was morning, and Aberfa gave him a hug and a peck on the forehead. He was so mentally exhausted that he didn’t resist it and took comfort in the much-needed warmth.

Then he woke up.

Through training, you have increased the following attribute: Will +2

In the light of the new day and the presence of his real, unadulterated emotions, Brin felt dirty. The entire night she’d been screwing with his emotions; he was certain of it now. Pain when he displeased her, and a tiny hint of pleasure when he did something right. She was training him.

He’d gained a lot of insight into magic, if anything she said could be believed, but was it worth it?

He and Hogg skipped breakfast so that they could move away from the caravan for a private conversation. Without trees to get lost in, everyone could see the two of them twenty yards away talking in the middle of a fallow field.

“Tell me everything!” said Hogg.

Brin did. Any tiny detail could be important, and he wanted Hogg’s opinion on whether he should keep doing the lessons.

The way Hogg’s eyes lit up from the very beginning told Brin what his answer would be. “Wait, wait, repeat that. The set of forces and authorities relating to the natural laws regarding precedence... On second thought, can you do something for me? Use you [Memories in Glass] and write it all down. Every tiny detail, everything. No one knows what they teach at Arcaena’s [Witch] school, Brin. Most people don’t even know it exists, and credit where it’s due, she’s the world’s leading authority on the Wyrd. I don’t think we can even estimate how valuable this is. You should write a book.”

“Sure,” Brin said with a shrug.

“But not now. Tell me what’s next. You were saying the Wyrd is the set of forces and authorities...”

Brin told Hogg the rest of the dream in excruciating detail. It took long enough that the caravan finished breakfast, packed up, and started walking before his story was done. Brin and Hogg kept pace, but kept their distance, preferring to leave some space so no one would notice that Hogg’s magic was blocking their sound.

When the story was finally over, Brin asked his question. “Should I go back, do you think?”

Hogg scratched his chin in thought before replying. “If it was anyone else, I would say no. Just because you’re technically an adult at fourteen doesn’t mean we just leave our kids flapping in the wind. Any other apprentice in the world tells me that his master is slapping and shaming him, and I’d tell him to leave. Doesn’t matter if it’s the best master in the world if they’re treating you like that.”

“But if it was you, you would do it,” said Brin.

“Of course I would!” Hogg clenched both fists in irritation. “But I’d also want someone to be there for me to tell me not to do it. Actually, yep, that’s my answer. Don’t go back. Not worth it. She’s not actually helping, is she? She’s only giving you an alternate path to using the Language that Lumina taught you. Even if she succeeds you’ll only be as powerful as you are now, just in a different way.”

Brin laughed. “What a dumb answer. Thanks, though, that actually makes me feel a little better. Man, I miss Perris all of a sudden.”

Hogg shook his head. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m going to do it. I’m going to learn. Just promise me that if she actually starts to get to me, you’ll take her down. I don’t want to be whatever she’s trying to turn me into,” said Brin.

“I promise.”