that he dove down the neck of her shirt. A wave of heat washed over her, as if the door of a blast furnace had just opened.
“Cynthia Flaxal!” the old lightkeeper crowed, glowing like the open door of a kiln. She could feel his magic, his fire. It pressed against her in a palpable wave, pushing her back an involuntary step.
“My, my! You have come into your powers! Yes, I can see that you have!” He took a step back as well, though his seemed of his own volition. He motioned for her to enter. “Please, please, come in. Thank you so much for coming!”
“How could I refuse?” she said, stepping up and into the ancient lighthouse. Moving forward felt like walking against a strong, hot wind. “After all you’ve done for me, the least I could do was pay a visit and see what was so important.”
“Nonetheless, it was very kind of you to make the trip.”
Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom as he closed the door behind her. She felt herself breaking into a sweat with the oppressive heat, and she knew it was more the pyromage’s proximity than the actual temperature of the room. “I daresay you understand now why I could not have made the trip to your home. And my apologies for the discomfort I know you must be feeling right now, so out of your element.”
“Not so much discomfort, as just too warm.” She fanned her face, then felt a cool breeze at her neck and knew Mouse was fanning her with his wings. “I’ll be fine if I can just sit down. In my condition…”
“Oh, my goodness me! You are with child!” He stared at her abdomen as if a sea drake might pop out at any second to devour him. “I didn’t know, I assure you! Why, I would never have imposed on you in such a state. The trip must have been torture!”
“The trip wasn’t bad at all, Master Lightkeeper, but right now, I’m feeling a little faint.” The claim was no falsehood, for the heat was truly oppressive. Her blouse was already soaked through.
“Of course, of course.” He motioned her up the steps. “Can you climb the stairs? I would offer you my hand, but I daresay you could not take it.”
“No, no! I can make it on my own, thank you.” She blanched at the thought of touching the man. Her magic permeated her being, as did his, and the thought of their opposed energies connecting when their flesh met made her shudder. Instead, she gripped the stone wall and pulled herself along. By the time she reached the third landing and entered the lightkeeper’s study, she was breathing hard and sweat was rolling down her face.
“Here, here! Sit! I’m sorry about this, really I am.” He ushered her to a chair, where she gratefully sat. Mouse buzzed around her face, fanning her, worry crunching his little face. The breeze helped, but she still felt as if she were sitting inside an oven.
“Something to drink, perhaps?” she asked, loosening a couple of buttons on her blouse and fluttering the material to move some air. “Something cool?”
“Hmm…something cool,” the old man said, as if the concept were alien to him. “I don’t know if I can…Ah! I’ve got it!” He rummaged through a stack of rustling parchment, which seemed to Cynthia an unlikely place to find a cool drink, but withdrew a single sheet and waved it at her. “This should do nicely!”
“I don’t under—”
“I never thought I’d have the chance to use this, but here we are! That just goes to show you: whatever’s worth doing, is worth doing backwards!”
Now he really had her confused, but she refrained from interrupting as he went to his little pot-bellied stove and poured her a cup of steaming blackbrew. He put the cup on the low table before her, then drew an intricate symbol in the air just over the beverage. As he recited from the scroll in a low mumble, his finger left a trail of crimson fire. The paper burst into flames and Mouse yelped, diving behind Cynthia’s neck. In moments, the scroll had dissolved into fluttering bits of
“Cynthia Flaxal!” the old lightkeeper crowed, glowing like the open door of a kiln. She could feel his magic, his fire. It pressed against her in a palpable wave, pushing her back an involuntary step.
“My, my! You have come into your powers! Yes, I can see that you have!” He took a step back as well, though his seemed of his own volition. He motioned for her to enter. “Please, please, come in. Thank you so much for coming!”
“How could I refuse?” she said, stepping up and into the ancient lighthouse. Moving forward felt like walking against a strong, hot wind. “After all you’ve done for me, the least I could do was pay a visit and see what was so important.”
“Nonetheless, it was very kind of you to make the trip.”
Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom as he closed the door behind her. She felt herself breaking into a sweat with the oppressive heat, and she knew it was more the pyromage’s proximity than the actual temperature of the room. “I daresay you understand now why I could not have made the trip to your home. And my apologies for the discomfort I know you must be feeling right now, so out of your element.”
“Not so much discomfort, as just too warm.” She fanned her face, then felt a cool breeze at her neck and knew Mouse was fanning her with his wings. “I’ll be fine if I can just sit down. In my condition…”
“Oh, my goodness me! You are with child!” He stared at her abdomen as if a sea drake might pop out at any second to devour him. “I didn’t know, I assure you! Why, I would never have imposed on you in such a state. The trip must have been torture!”
“The trip wasn’t bad at all, Master Lightkeeper, but right now, I’m feeling a little faint.” The claim was no falsehood, for the heat was truly oppressive. Her blouse was already soaked through.
“Of course, of course.” He motioned her up the steps. “Can you climb the stairs? I would offer you my hand, but I daresay you could not take it.”
“No, no! I can make it on my own, thank you.” She blanched at the thought of touching the man. Her magic permeated her being, as did his, and the thought of their opposed energies connecting when their flesh met made her shudder. Instead, she gripped the stone wall and pulled herself along. By the time she reached the third landing and entered the lightkeeper’s study, she was breathing hard and sweat was rolling down her face.
“Here, here! Sit! I’m sorry about this, really I am.” He ushered her to a chair, where she gratefully sat. Mouse buzzed around her face, fanning her, worry crunching his little face. The breeze helped, but she still felt as if she were sitting inside an oven.
“Something to drink, perhaps?” she asked, loosening a couple of buttons on her blouse and fluttering the material to move some air. “Something cool?”
“Hmm…something cool,” the old man said, as if the concept were alien to him. “I don’t know if I can…Ah! I’ve got it!” He rummaged through a stack of rustling parchment, which seemed to Cynthia an unlikely place to find a cool drink, but withdrew a single sheet and waved it at her. “This should do nicely!”
“I don’t under—”
“I never thought I’d have the chance to use this, but here we are! That just goes to show you: whatever’s worth doing, is worth doing backwards!”
Now he really had her confused, but she refrained from interrupting as he went to his little pot-bellied stove and poured her a cup of steaming blackbrew. He put the cup on the low table before her, then drew an intricate symbol in the air just over the beverage. As he recited from the scroll in a low mumble, his finger left a trail of crimson fire. The paper burst into flames and Mouse yelped, diving behind Cynthia’s neck. In moments, the scroll had dissolved into fluttering bits of
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