This is What Stupid Feels Like
Chapter Twelve
Welcome to The Children of Una series. Here’s a handy index of the published chapters.
In the last chapter, Danen and Aster had their first spell-casting lesson, which did not go well from the boys’ perspective. But despite Danen’s speculation that the knot-tying exercise is actually some sort of test, both he and Aster remain unaware of Lewison’s true intentions.
“Your telling me ‘it’s supposed to hurt’ doesn’t make me feel any better, you know!” Danen and Aster laughed, releasing some of the tension of the day.
Danen held his stinging hands open and looked at them. “How long do you suppose it’ll take for this to heal if Uncle Lew doesn’t have a spell for it?”
Aster shook his head. “Humans don’t do healings. You might have to give up on the rope trick completely if you want to keep your skin.”
Danen reached down into the bucket and pulled out his length of rope, now sopping wet. It was streaming water onto the cabin roof as he set the bucket behind them. He smirked at Aster, and then held the rope at arm’s length. With a concentrated effort, glaring at the rope that dangled from his finger and thumb, Danen initiated a spell so subtle that Aster almost didn’t realize what had happened. The rope moved of its own accord, wrapping itself into Suan’s knot with a squelching sound.
Aster shook his head. He was still a novice in spellcraft and it continually baffled him to see Danen do things Lewison had recently told him weren’t an option for Human mages. “If you can do that, why was the evaporating spell so difficult for you?”
Danen tossed the rope into the bucket again. He cocked his head to one side and then turned to study Aster. “Do you think Uncle Lew chose something too difficult for us on purpose? Not to stall or anything, but to see if we could find a way around it, like the spell I just used? Maybe that’s the test.”
“I doubt it,” Aster said. He looked away uncomfortably. “I wish he’d explain to you what he told me about spell-casting. You’ve no caution at all. You do things you’re not supposed to be able to do! Have you ever wondered what would happen if you tried some spell and it backfired on you? Or drained you too much? Haven’t you heard of mages doing that and being killed?”
Danen was silent a long moment, considering the implications of Aster’s words. Then he spoke in a low voice, as if sharing a secret.“Magic doesn’t feel dangerous to me. It feels . . . natural.”
Aster was scowling as Danen brought the wet rope back out of the bucket and repeated his previous experiment, this time with a flicking motion from his wrist that made it look as though he’d mastered the movement Suan had shown them.
The farm boy didn’t wish he could mimic Danen’s cheat. He knew he’d get the hang of the knot with more practice. In truth, he’d almost felt despair at the sight of Danen’s blisters, wondering if it were possible for the soft merchant’s son to learn the knot. Now, he was relieved that when he managed it Danen might not hold it against him.
“Natural or not,” Aster continued, “I don’t think the High Mage will be fooled by your trick. You’re gambling a lot on the chance he wants you to use a spell on the knot-tying exercise.”
“What else would be the point of this?” Danen huffed, dropping the bucket to the deck below their feet with a loud clatter. “Unless his point is that I’m not as talented as I think and I should learn what feeling stupid is like!”
Aster grimaced. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I’m not stupid,” Danen said.
“Neither is your uncle,” Aster couldn’t help pointing out.
With a sharp exhale, Danen let go the problem altogether. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms overhead, and then shot Aster a mischievous grin. “Want to see something cool?”
Aster felt his stomach drop to the bottom of the ocean. “Not really.”
But Danen was already on his feet, clambering along the edge of the cabin roof, until he reached the poop railing. He hopped over it, nodded to the mate at the tiller, and then descended the stairs to the main deck. Pausing below Aster’s feet, he motioned for the other boy to follow him. Then he retrieved his spilled bucket and strode off along the deck into the shadows.
Aster groaned aloud. But he did follow, albeit with little enthusiasm and with several forlorn glances at the cabin door, from which he hoped the High Mage might emerge to interrupt Danen’s latest folly. But Lewison did not appear. Aster begrudgingly strode into the dark, intent on doing what little he could to help Danen avoid whatever dangerous situation he was about to create for himself.
***********
The boat was no longer rocking as wildly, but Lewison still sat waiting for the waves of nausea to pass. After dozing miserably in a dining chair, he was awakened by the ship’s dinner bell. Outside the window, a sunset was turning the wave tops golden while a scattering of clouds on the horizon gave depth to the expansive scene of blue on blue. Even watching the waves didn’t ease his queasiness. He rose with his hands gripping the table, his bowels feeling completely eviscerated. The room spun and he was forced to reseat himself.
“I probably couldn’t keep a bit of food down, despite my hunger.” He told himself, and set aside his physical needs for the moment. “Only two more days of this, anyway. I might even get used to it.”
He pulled out his pipe and its accoutrements and began a thorough cleaning of the instrument, to pass the time. The room darkened almost to pitch by the time he had filled and packed it tight with the heather weed and lit a small spark. He used a spell to do so, and the momentary flicker of light and heat brought to mind his acolytes and their first, fruitless lesson in spell-casting.
A rueful smile teased the edge of his beard. The glow of his pipe illuminated his sparkling eyes for a moment, and then his face was cloaked in darkness once more. His thoughts roved far and wide. Long months had passed since he had last been alone and his gratitude for this unforeseen respite from chatter and pretense grew, until his eyes stung with unshed tears. It wasn’t that he liked being alone. Being still reminded him too much of how alone in the world he truly was. But having relief from Corundus’ presence, from the courtier’s inane posturing, was like a refreshing salve for Lewison’s many wounds.
Out of habit, he closed his eyes and opened his inner sensing. At first, all that presented itself to him was the active hum of life emitted by the ship’s occupants. Beyond the Sukeena’s Breath floated other entities, both small and great, near and far, greatly aged with intelligence, short-lived and simple. And underneath it all, in the heart of the sea, to the east and north of their ship, thrummed a vast being of great power whose thoughts darted and danced through every ripple of the ocean itself like some far-reaching, groping octopus.
The one he sought, like perfume on a breeze, had vanished long ago. Yet in all his travels, he’d never failed to check for a trace of her presence. If she would not reveal herself intentionally, he hoped some day to stumble across her trail by happenstance. Such was an old man’s hope, he realized. A young man dared the consequences to smite him and went out to make his own fate. But Lewison was not a young man, nor inclined to let his hope do more than stem the encroachment of his lurking loneliness.
He withdrew his consciousness into the confines of the ship once more, brushing minds against the two lads momentarily. The stench of Danen’s spell-casting was revolting in its intensity. It stung Lewison’s senses as sharply as inhaling saltwater would’ve stung his nostrils.
“What’s he doing now?”
The High Mage groaned and attempted to stand up, but there was a lightness to his body that he did not trust. He felt drunk, or drugged. Surely, even if he ignored the lad for a few hours, Danen couldn’t get himself into that much trouble? But then Lewison recalled the transference spell Danen had performed on more than one occasion, and he felt his stomach lurch with dread. He’d have to get up and see what his nephew was doing.
In a moment.
Once his head settled.
Lewison leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes. His pipe rested in his hand, the heather burning out as the old man’s breathing evened and he dropped into a sleep plagued by sickly dreams.
Dear Reader,
Phew, we are on break from school. Yay for me!
You might be wondering how I get so much writing done. Well, it's been different depending on what each year brings, but this year my husband and I have been taking a day to go off by ourselves (individually) each month. Needless to say, the time flies and I get a lot of writing done. When I needed to finish writing my first book, "A Voracious Grief" my sweet husband actually booked me a weekend away at an abbey. Best gift ever!
Cheers~