image based on a real object, unmoving and unchanging. Then you try a copy of something that moves. A double of a rat, animated but following its every move. Maybe, if you have a natural gift for it, you create something based on a memory, which follows the actions you remember. To create something like my dragon, which moves at my command, is much harder.”
“I would love to be able to do that.”
“In time you may, Sorchere.”
“Sorchere?”
“An old word for a Sorceress and friend.”
“Oh? Thank you.”
Griselda smiled, revealing perfect teeth. I’d learned that Sorcerers and Sorceresses tended toward beauty not because they manipulated their appearances, though some certainly did, but because their magic cared for their bodies so well. Scars tended to be short-lived unless caused by magic, infections rarely became a concern, broken bones healed quickly. It was certainly not a perfect protection, but it helped.
“Never doubt what you are.” She rested a hand on my arm. “There is magic in you. I sense it, though you hold it close. Albion feels its strength. This is why I agreed to these private lessons.”
“Thank you,” I repeated. I wasn’t sure what else to say.
She pulled a few pages from the file and narrowed her eyes. “I missed so much while I was gone. Aren Tiernal, here. A new Sorceress. Bound magic. I knew about the problems between Severn and Aren, of course, but I had only the other side of the story.”
I swallowed hard. “You’ve been in Luid these past few years?”
“I have, as Belleisle’s ambassador, and Albion’s ears.”
“Did you ever meet Aren?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I did. He kept to himself, and went away frequently. I did track his comings and goings, of course. This was of particular interest to Albion.”
“I wish you could keep an eye on him now.” The words were out before I had time to consider keeping them back. I looked out the window and pressed my lips together, holding back expression of the fear and uncertainty I now felt whenever I thought of him.
Griselda shuffled through her papers again. “It’s all right, you know,” she said, her voice soft. “Emalda told me that you and he were close. Are close, I should say. I should like to hear the details of your journey together someday. It all seems so contrary to what I know of Aren.”
“That’s what everyone seems to think.”
“Hmm. People change,” Griselda said.
I looked up, surprised. “You believe that? About Aren?”
“You seem to. Albion does. I’ll withhold judgment, as Aren is not here to speak for himself.”
I had to ask. “What was he like, when you met him before?”
Now it was her turn to look away. “As I said, I didn’t know him well. But he struck me as arrogant, above everyone. Didn’t mind if people were afraid of him and gave him his space, at least most of the time.”
I waited for her to go on. There was so much I’d never asked him about his past. He’d revealed more to me than I suspected he wanted to, but an outside perspective could have told me so much more.
Griselda cleared her throat. “I think it’s best we not speak of the past though, eh? Especially when those we speak of aren’t here to object. And we do have an assignment. I have some ideas about your troubles, but first I need to get a sense of your magic. Try something simple.”
My heart skipped. “I’m afraid nothing is simple for me. Things go wrong.”
“I can take it. Show me. Try to duplicate this in an illusion.” She picked up a half-filled glass of water from the edge of the big desk and placed it square in the middle. “Picture it in your mind. Will it into being.”
I studied the glass. Simple shape, flared near the rim. I imagined a second glass beside it. Ripples crossed the surface of the liquid. I thought I saw a flicker of shadow next to it, though perhaps it was only because I wanted to see it. A cold draft passed by my cheek, and I clenched my fists to keep
“I would love to be able to do that.”
“In time you may, Sorchere.”
“Sorchere?”
“An old word for a Sorceress and friend.”
“Oh? Thank you.”
Griselda smiled, revealing perfect teeth. I’d learned that Sorcerers and Sorceresses tended toward beauty not because they manipulated their appearances, though some certainly did, but because their magic cared for their bodies so well. Scars tended to be short-lived unless caused by magic, infections rarely became a concern, broken bones healed quickly. It was certainly not a perfect protection, but it helped.
“Never doubt what you are.” She rested a hand on my arm. “There is magic in you. I sense it, though you hold it close. Albion feels its strength. This is why I agreed to these private lessons.”
“Thank you,” I repeated. I wasn’t sure what else to say.
She pulled a few pages from the file and narrowed her eyes. “I missed so much while I was gone. Aren Tiernal, here. A new Sorceress. Bound magic. I knew about the problems between Severn and Aren, of course, but I had only the other side of the story.”
I swallowed hard. “You’ve been in Luid these past few years?”
“I have, as Belleisle’s ambassador, and Albion’s ears.”
“Did you ever meet Aren?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I did. He kept to himself, and went away frequently. I did track his comings and goings, of course. This was of particular interest to Albion.”
“I wish you could keep an eye on him now.” The words were out before I had time to consider keeping them back. I looked out the window and pressed my lips together, holding back expression of the fear and uncertainty I now felt whenever I thought of him.
Griselda shuffled through her papers again. “It’s all right, you know,” she said, her voice soft. “Emalda told me that you and he were close. Are close, I should say. I should like to hear the details of your journey together someday. It all seems so contrary to what I know of Aren.”
“That’s what everyone seems to think.”
“Hmm. People change,” Griselda said.
I looked up, surprised. “You believe that? About Aren?”
“You seem to. Albion does. I’ll withhold judgment, as Aren is not here to speak for himself.”
I had to ask. “What was he like, when you met him before?”
Now it was her turn to look away. “As I said, I didn’t know him well. But he struck me as arrogant, above everyone. Didn’t mind if people were afraid of him and gave him his space, at least most of the time.”
I waited for her to go on. There was so much I’d never asked him about his past. He’d revealed more to me than I suspected he wanted to, but an outside perspective could have told me so much more.
Griselda cleared her throat. “I think it’s best we not speak of the past though, eh? Especially when those we speak of aren’t here to object. And we do have an assignment. I have some ideas about your troubles, but first I need to get a sense of your magic. Try something simple.”
My heart skipped. “I’m afraid nothing is simple for me. Things go wrong.”
“I can take it. Show me. Try to duplicate this in an illusion.” She picked up a half-filled glass of water from the edge of the big desk and placed it square in the middle. “Picture it in your mind. Will it into being.”
I studied the glass. Simple shape, flared near the rim. I imagined a second glass beside it. Ripples crossed the surface of the liquid. I thought I saw a flicker of shadow next to it, though perhaps it was only because I wanted to see it. A cold draft passed by my cheek, and I clenched my fists to keep
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