“Yes, that’s it, but I want to dig, explore, and figure things out.”
“What if I took you on as a student? I could teach you many things and you would be able to do the things your heart desires.”
“I thought you were only a storyteller. Don’t you have to have a degree or something?”
She laughed, a joyous bubbling of her old soul. “I’ve more degrees than you could shake a stick at. Life itself has taught and trained me. These are the eye-opening wonders you will not read about in the advanced studies in the places of knowledge.”
Continuing, she said, “This is my proposal. I want you to think it over and discuss it with your parents. You would become my student. You would continue to live under your parents care until the age of eighteen. If, at that time, you chose to leave to attend a traditional institution, you may do so. If, however, you decide to remain under my teachings, then you will earn wages to keep or give to your parents and live in my house. You will never know an empty mind or plate.”
His eyes danced at her words and he looked ready to fly down the hill to talk to his parents. “Really? I mean, is this for real? If my parents agree, you’ll teach me yourself?”
“Solid truth, but …” she paused, her eyes turning into a cloud of mystery, “what secrets I share with you may never be shared with anyone else.” A twinge of a smile touched her face as a brow arched. “Even if you did, no one would believe you and you might very well get a reputation of being daft in the head.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone, anything that is a secret.” He thought long and hard before he replied. “My folks always ask me what I learned at school and I’ve got to tell them something.” His lower lip turned down, worried.
“Oh, you will learn far more than you’ll remember to tell them. Your studies will be diverse, not all that I teach you will be secrets. You will most definitely have plenty to share to both appease your parents and amaze them at your wealth of knowledge.”
“I’ll go ask them right now,” he said, full of excitement.
“If they would like me to sit down with them, I will meet with them at your home and they may ask me what they will.”
“Why would I need to live,” he pointed to the house behind them, “there?”
Ms. Lenonne laughed until her curls bounced. “It is not as bad as it might seem to you right now. There is much freedom living in a place no one else likes.” Secrets whirled in her emerald eyes. “The house will give up its own secrets, and those secrets are worth any inconvenience you might think of.”
“Will you show me your house now?” His hazel eyes pleaded.
“First things first.” A light seemed to illuminate her whole being as a chuckle climbed invisible steps into the air. “Talk to your parents. When it is time for all of my listeners to return to their studies, it will be time for you to begin yours.”
You could hear a balloon pop as he said, “But that will be another whole week!”
“Then you have one more week of frivolity until lesson time, whether with me or with your classmates. Enjoy this time. I’m eager to hear what your parents will say of my offer. You’ll return tomorrow?”
His voice practically boomed. “Of course!” He waved as he ran down the hill toward his home.
Ms. Lenonne watched until he disappeared from sight. She wondered, what does Yuri know about Forrest? It appears Forrest saw him and heard him. I must find out.
Chapter 20
The very next week, Forrest sat at his family’s oak table, his head following the ping-ponging of conversation between his parents and Ms. Lenonne. His father grilled her on every side about her abilities to instruct Forrest in his education. His elbow flared outwards from his hand resting on his knee, his shoulder rotating under the stressful topic. Yet he found no sound reason for denial.
His mother, fond of many of the topics Ms. Lenonne introduced, had glistening eyes at the prospect of their son’s future and his education. The potential seemed much broader than any other they had previously entertained.
All the terms were agreed upon. Forrest would remain in his parent’s household until the age of eighteen. After the designated time, he would need to decide. To remain or go to another form of education.
Forrest hugged his parents and flashed his gratitude in his captivating smile. Truth be known, that particular smile always won his mother’s heart. She hugged him tight, her mind envisioning his new opportunities to learn of vast places and things, and of travels and excursions to places of which she had only dreamt.
Ms. Lenonne’s chair scraped against the rock floor as she prepared to leave.
“Forrest, tomorrow starts your lessons.” She smiled softly. “Do not disappoint me by being late. I expect you at my house promptly at nine in the morning. Your day will run longer than what you have been accustomed, because of the extent of learning you have chosen.”
She gave a nod and a wink to his parents. “He will be home before your dinnertime. I would say between five-thirty and six?”
Both parents agreed and walked Ms. Lenonne to the door. As they took turns shaking her hand, Ms. Lenonne spoke. “Because of my extensive lessons, I will prepare his noon meal and snacks. I don’t wish for his learning to be interrupted by comings and goings, nor for interruptions from the outside, parents included. I’m sure you understand.” Her smile diffused any objections she might have encountered.
The next morning, she sat on her porch sipping tea as she watched Forrest racing towards her house. Her smile rimmed the teacup.
His feet skidded to a stop next to Ms. Lenonne. “Hi, Teach!” His enthusiasm painted his face full of stars.
“Good Morning, Forrest. ‘Ms. Lenonne or Ms. L.’, if you please.”
“Oh, sorry Ms. L. I guess I’m excited about today.”
“Quite all right, Forrest. I remember well my first day as a student to my Teller of the Tales. Extraordinary, it was.”
“Do I get to go inside now?” He shifted from foot to foot, his body abuzz with unspent energy.
“Soon. First, sit here and enjoy a cup of tea and a scone.”
A rumbling came from his belly, even though he had eaten breakfast. But that was hours ago. “They sure look good, Ms. L., I can’t let something that looks that good go to waste.”
They sat for a few minutes enjoying the morning chirping of birds between bites of scones and sips of tea. Ms. L. peeked at Forrest over the rim of her teacup, watching his ball of nerves gently unwind. She placed her teacup on the saucer with a delicate ‘ping’ and stood.
“I believe a tour of your institute of learning, awaits.”
“Yes!” He jumped up thrusting his fist into the air in triumph.
Ms. Lenonne quelled the chuckle in her throat. “Right this way.” She opened the heavy rough-hewn door, darkened by age. They stood in the foyer. The floors shimmered with the sunlight splashing against the blue pearl granite, polished to a sheen. Even when the door closed and the lights inside hit the lighter crystals between the deep blue and light blue flecks, the floor sparkled like a star filled night.
Forrest craned his neck back, mouth ajar, staring up to the ceiling which towered above them. “Whoa…” He was stunned at how big and open the house was. “Look at that staircase!”
Ms. Lenonne led him off to the right so he could get a better look at it. The banister was a deep, rich sapele mahogany wood, which gleamed.
He leaned over to trace his fingers over the inserts between balusters. “Dragons. They made dragon sculptures in the wood.” His words were whisper faint and filled with awe.
“Isn’t it lovely? I daresay it has been here as long as the staircase. It looks as if the dragons grow out of the balusters, themselves. If you look closely, you will notice how they all vary in shape and form.”
His hand brushed softly against each one he could reach, as if memorizing the particulars of each sculpted dragon. And indeed, he was. Unbeknownst to him, his education had already begun. Ms. Lenonne watch
ed his every move and reaction, an internal gauge marking his interest. She was pleased, and her hopes of finally finding her novice Teller of the Tales leapt as his interest in everything he saw pulled them up the staircase.
They paused every ten or so steps as he asked about a tapestry hanging or the array of beautiful pictures suspended at eyesight. He was a bevy of questions. Ms. Lenonne filled his mind with answers and stories relating to each one. The journey up the staircase took over an hour as he learned a mixture of history, art and geography without any idea he was being taught.
That was a special knack the Teller of the Tales all had, to teach through stories, poetry and lore. If the initiate failed in the interest level at this beginning phase, the Teller of the Tales would find some reasoning to dismiss the student. Ms. Lenonne was gratified by his inquisitive nature.
At the top of the stairs, she pointed towards the rooms. Her room was to the right, guest quarters to the left. She took one step down the stair treads and waited for her student to follow.
“Don’t I get to see the rooms?” Forrest asked with a hint of whine in his voice.
“No. It would be highly improper for me to show you -- sleeping rooms.”
“Oh. Sorry.” His face flushed a bright red.
“Apology accepted. I know you are curious about everything in here, the home is positively ancient. There are so many things to see. Let’s head down and I’ll show you the layout of downstairs.”
She walked him through the various spaces and brought him back to the great room, which she called the ‘living room’, and motioned for him to have a seat on the sofa. She then sank into the thick cushions of her rocking chair, flanking the fireplace.
“I knew this place looked big from the outside, but I never knew it would be this huge. I bet we could put ten or more houses like mine in here. It must be awful to heat in the winter.”
“It really isn’t bad at all. I have plenty of wood for the fireplaces. There is one in here,” she said, pointing to the fireplace in front of them. “There’s one in the kitchen and in the bedrooms. Cooling isn’t a problem either with all the windows and french doors. I simply open them, and a cool breeze circulates throughout the lower and upper floor.”
Forrest studied the staircase and the ceiling intently. “There is only the lower and upper floor?”
“What do you mean, Forrest?” A sharp one, he is, she thought.
“It looks like there could be another floor because of the space between here and the upper floor.”
“An illusion of the space, I would think.”
He finally looked back at Ms. L. and asked, “So, when do we begin?”
This time she was unable to stifle a chuckle. “When, indeed!”
Ms. L. had the book resting on a tapestry woven footstool. She picked it up and moved to the writing desk near the window. “Forrest, bring me a chair from the kitchen and we’ll sit here by the window. You will sit at the desk.”
He did what he was asked and then wiggled into his seat, anxious to begin. The writing desk had little cubbies above it holding an assortment of curious things, which he already was exploring. He found papers, pencils, pens, and even the style of pen used to dip into ink wells. He looked at another item which puzzled him.
“What’s this?” He held up the item and rotated it in the sunlight. It was a metal stamp of some sort.
“What you are holding is a wax stamp used to seal an envelope. See the wax candle looking item in the next cubby? You melt the tip and let it pool over the edge of an envelope or on a page and then stamp it with what you hold in your hands. It is signature, of sorts. It also makes your letter secure, so the flap will not open.”
“I want to try it.” His warm hazel eyes flashed in excitement.
“You may, but after our morning lessons.” She encouraged him with a wink.
“What am I studying today?”
“You will begin to learn how to read,” Ms. Lenonne replied.
“Read? Are you serious? I’m almost sixteen years old. I learned how to read a long time ago.” He wore a look of shocked surprise.
Ms. L. chuckled, “Yes, I’m aware of that, but what I mean is you will start learning how to read in Dragon.”
“Oh...” His excitement made his eyes shine.
“Open the book to the first page. I want you to draw for me the first five images you see.”
He pulled a sheet of paper from a wooden cubby and found a pencil with an eraser tip. The images themselves were more ornate than his attempt of duplication, but they still retained the meaning. The first image he took to be the Sun. It was a round orb with spokes around its outer edges. The second image was as easy to recognize. It was shaped like a crescent moon. Following that image was three x’s. One large and two smaller ones. He picked up his paper and handed it to Ms. Lenonne.
“Nicely done.” Emerald eyes flashed her approval. “As you can tell by your drawings, the first image is made to look like the Sun, the second is the moon. Then you have the three x’s. The literal interpretation is Time repeating forever. The true meaning in this book is the history.
“Wow, that’s so cool.” He looked at his drawing and smiled.
“It is, indeed. Now, if you would, draw the next image. It is a bit more complicated.”
He concentrated on the symbol as he tapped his pencil against his paper. First, he drew a wavy line. Next, he added the two right slanting lines which dissected the wavy line after the first hump. Then he added the short left slanted line near the top of the first hump. The last was one long straight line, about a finger distance under the wavy symbol. His lips pursed as his brows knitted together. He passed the paper back to Ms. Lenonne, doubtful that he had drawn it correctly.
“You did very well, Forrest. It isn’t an easy symbol to duplicate. The symbol you drew represents Dragon. Here, let me show you. The wavy line is the dragon’s body. The two right slanting lines represent the wings while the one short left slanting line near the beginning of the wavy line represents horn or horns. The long line underneath the wavy line represents the ground. So, when you put all the elements together, it depicts a dragon flying over the ground.”
“Now that you showed me what every line means, it really is easy to see the symbol as a dragon.”
It was difficult for her not to get excited at Forrest’s quick understanding. Truly, she had expected him to protest having to sit and draw the symbols, but he was enthused.
“If you were to read the symbols you have written, what does it say?”
He thought over what they discussed and looked at his drawings. “It would read Time repeating forever dragon.” His upper lip hitched up at the corner as he scratched his head.
“That would be a literal definition. What it actually means is The History of Dragons.”
“Oh! The name of the book I’m copying the symbols from.” He grinned, pleased with being able to make some sense out of all the symbols in the book. “Hey, this is pretty cool.”
She was ecstatic with his eagerness. “I found it the very same when I began learning how to read the symbols. Once you learn several of the key symbols, suddenly, as if by Magic, the whole book transforms from mere symbols to words, and words to life. It is remarkable.”
“I can’t wait, which one do I draw now?” He adjusted himself in his chair, sat straight up, and bounced the eraser tip against the desk, awaiting instruction.
She thumbed through the pages until she found the first image and had him draw it. Then she turned to a page further on which held the first symbol and two more symbols next to it. She had him add the two additional symbols to his paper.
He said, “The first picture I drew looks like the symbol for a dragon, but it has something that looks like the capital letter ‘U’ with a left slashing line on the upper left side of the ‘U’ and a right slashing line on the upper right side of the ‘U’. Oh, and at the end of the wavy line is a triangle with the point touching the bottom tip of the line, like
where the tail would be.”
“You drew it perfectly. What can you tell me about the next two symbols?”
Tapping the pencil against his head he explained his drawing. “The next symbol looks the same except it has a sideways number ‘8’ across the long lower line. The next one is only the ‘U’ with the two lines, but it has the long line under it with the sideways number ‘8’ through it.”
“The reason I had you draw all three symbols is because they all reflect a name of the same dragon. The first symbol shows his name in his early years. The second symbol shows a change to his name. The third is the final symbol used throughout the History of Dragons. The name represented in this book is for Zelspar.”
“That’s kind of weird. Why are there different ways to write his name?”
Zelspar and the Magicians Page 15