by TJ Muir
“Come. You will learn,” Hrulla paused. Jedda guessed he was looking for a word, a translation. “You will learn the Flower in the Heart.” He said, over his shoulder as he began to walk toward one of the lodges within the elders' area. “You will need to concentrate on what you are learning with fewer distractions.”
Jedda nodded. Apparently, Hrulla meant he would need to remove himself from the rest of the village. He felt bad about leaving his friends, but then decided it might be better if he had his own space for a while. The tension was hard to deal with whenever they were all together.
Chapter Twelve
Jedda headed up the red road to the cabin they had been sharing near the B’ashan.
No one was home. He poked around, wondering where everyone was. Well, he would leave them a note. At least he could pack his things in peace. In his room, he saw what a mess things had become--everything was strewn around. He realized he probably wasn’t going to get to do much besides whatever Hrulla intended for him, so he grabbed his pack and shoved in some clothes. Then he picked up his carving knives and the half-formed block of wood he had tucked onto a shelf in the wall.
His things all packed, Jedda looked around the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held his carving knife in his hand. He stared at the block of wood, wondering what it would become. When had he started this piece? He thought it was back at the camp, but wasn’t sure. It had been a while since he had worked on it; there was a time, not very long ago, when his knife and wood were always close at hand, always busy bringing something to life.
Kirrin walked in as he sat there. Jedda stood, his guard up. Kirrin grunted as he went over to his own space and grabbed a towel.
"I’ll be out of the cabin for a while,” Jedda said, breaking the silence.
“Mmmph, okay.”
“Tell Cham and Tattia for me?” Jedda asked. “Just so they don’t worry.”
“I think my mother has been staying with a few of the healers, or riders, or someone,” Kirrin said, shrugging one shoulder as he picked up the soap. “Oh, and Cham? He headed off with a group that was riding the herds north for a while.”
“Cham left?” Jedda asked. When had he lost track of what his friends were doing?
Kirrin scowled. “He just rode up to the northern pastures for a while. Did he need your permission?”
“No, I’m just surprised. Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
Kirrin shrugged. “A few days? Not really sure.”
“Huh,” Jedda said. “Okay. Well, I suppose that gives you the cabin to yourself then. At least for a while.”
“MMmmm,” Kirrin grunted, and then headed out, towel in hand.
Jedda hissed to himself and then grabbed his pack and headed off to his lodging. He began to imagine all the things he would learn and be able to do, forgetting about Kirrin and the others as he headed back to the little cabin Hrulla had shown him earlier.
The cabin was small, but somehow there was room for everything and it felt comfortable. The little A-frame was made of bamboo and stucco, nested into a small grove outside of the elder's region of the city.
Jedda followed Hrulla out to the forest, resigned to more meeting of the trees. While it had been interesting to find out more about the world through the trees the first few times, the novelty was wearing off and he was ready to move on. He wanted something exciting. Learning the basics of magic was anything but.
Hrulla stopped next to one of the giant red trees and turned to face him. “To understand how magic is used, first must be understood and mastered the three centers. All things that are come from action: onkwai, the flower in the belly, feeling, naysim, the flower in the heart, and yincha. Master these within yourself. Master the elements outside yourself. Master the two essential forces: B’asha and W’asha. B’asha is drawing or weaving things together. W’asha is holding them apart or separating.”
Jedda nodded. Some of this made sense to him. And B’asha sounded like B’ashan--the communal lodge where so many things took place.
“Now the three flowers, they are like ingredients. Different types of Onkwai, with different threads of Naysim, or combined with different thoughts. Sadness fills the heart, Naysim. One may draw from Onkwai to create action; action burns the sadness. One may change Naysim within Naysim. Sad heart plays a sad song until the sadness is fulfilled and leaves, or plays a happy song that brightens the sad heart.”
Jedda blinked. He was trying to follow what Hrulla explained. The Faenyr had a gift for speaking in ways that made no sense. Jedda had expected Hrulla to teach him how to do something simple. Wiggle your fingers like this, and it will make fire. He should have known it wasn’t going to be that straight forward, even though Cham and the others made it look so easy.
He sighed and prepared himself for a long, brain-numbing session that would only make sense when it was done. He began to miss talking to the trees.
Hrulla watched Jedda closely. “This not going to work.”
Jedda felt crushed. He hadn’t even started yet, and his teacher had given up on him. He was trying to understand what Hrulla explained. Maybe it was the language barrier?
He was about to apologize but caught himself. “Please don’t be angry. This is difficult to learn, but--”
Hrulla held up his hand, waving toward the ground, indicating Jedda should lay down. Confused, Jedda did as Hrulla requested. Hrulla knelt next to him and began to sing, a low hypnotic melody. Jedda began to feel a pulsing, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It seemed to come from the ground, the air, and all the trees around him. He opened his eyes slightly and saw a bright silver-blue glow in Hrulla’s stomach. There was a thin line from Hrulla’s belly to Jedda’s belly. Hrulla nodded at Jedda, encouraging him. Jedda relaxed, knowing that Hrulla was making this happen, and it was under control. Then he felt the change in his own stomach --the thrumming vibrated through him. He felt it work into all parts of him, from his hair to his toes.
Then Hrulla did something else. Hrulla changed the song and with each change, Jedda sensed the elements. First, it was air, which was light and silvery. Then he felt the low and heavy coppery color that was metal. Wood was the color of amber, and fire flickered red and orange. Water was dark blue, and last was earth, which was black. Each of them had a sound and a shape—a symbol that he couldn’t quite fix in his mind. He tried, but then Hrulla was done and touching him on the shoulder.
Hrulla reached down and helped Jedda to sit up. “Now, seeds are planted for you, in you.”
Jedda nodded. He could feel it now.
Hrulla picked up a stick, handing it to Jedda. “Find sun, put into the stick.”
Now at least, Jedda had a sense of what Hrulla was asking. It took several attempts, but he grabbed hold of the fire and focused it into the stick. After a moment, the end of the stick began to glow and a flame flickered.
Jedda was so excited he lost the thread, and the flame faded. Hrulla smiled at him and nodded back to the stick.
Hrulla picked up a branch and held it in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. Jedda could sense a slight prickle that he realized was Hrulla summoning his magic. With an exaggerated motion, he slowly ran his fingers up the stick. Jedda watched as it molded and straightened under Hrulla’s hands. Then he picked up another stick and put it into Jedda’s hands, holding his own over them. Now the prickle was almost an itch, as Hrulla guided Jedda’s hands along the stick, guiding Jedda through the process. Jedda could feel the wood become supple, like taffy under his fingers, only solid. Hrulla smiled and nodded. And made Jedda repeat the task. And then another.
After Hrulla was satisfied that Jedda could straighten sticks into arrows, he showed him how to shape wood into curves for a bow. Jedda broke several bows in the process, even though Hrulla made it look so easy.
Jedda stared at a growing pile of failed bows and arrows. Hrulla followed Jedda’s glance.
“Next lesson,” he said, picking up one of the broken arrows. Jedda sighed,
thinking Hrulla was going to try to make him fix the arrow. Jedda blinked in surprise, when the arrow disappeared in a flash, leaving only a small pile of ashes on the ground. “Come. Hold,” he said, and guided Jedda to find and feel the fire until he could make the broken arrows burn. The fire in the firepit was lit, and then put out repeatedly, as Jedda went through the scrap pile at his feet.
Chapter Thirteen
Jedda felt guilty, slipping out after dark. Hrulla had been clear about his need to immerse himself without distractions, but he was sure his head was going to explode if he didn’t do something normal for a change.
He headed toward the north end of the village and the pastures. Cham was there in one of the barn areas, brushing Trilly.
“Are you just coming in from moving the herds? Or have you been back for a while?”
“Back two days ago,” Cham said. “This,” he hoisted the saddle up slightly, “was just a quick round of qwatcha.”
Jedda sighed, a little jealous. Cham laughed. “Come. Let this be put away, and then there is ale. Stories to share.”
Jedda nodded. “Sounds good. Stories to share. Tell me of riding with the herds.”
Cham nodded and put his gear away. Jedda really did want to hear what his friend had been up to. He wondered if his friends played qwatcha out on the plains, or if they visited any of the other villages in the area. He assumed there were probably villages out there on the plains and in the rolling hills, though his maps never taught him what was inside the Faenyr borders.
Jedda followed Cham away from the barn.
“The stars, the whole sky, looks amazing,” Jedda said. “I never knew the sky was so bright or so colorful.” He looked up at the splash of magenta, blue, and yellow arching across the sky like a tear in the darkness. “All that has been up there the whole time.”
“It's harder to see from the city. And Tatak Rhe is further south,” Cham said.
“Does that make a difference?” Jedda asked. He pulled out a bag of roasted, spiced nuts and popped one into his mouth.
“The sky changes a bit when you travel far in either direction.”
Jedda looked at the sky, trying to understand why that might be. He thought about how vantage points changed what he used to be able to see when he was in the city. Spying on people. He wondered if it was a bit like that with the stars.
Then he looked back down, curious, as a new thought struck him. “What were you doing in Tatak Rhe, anyway?” he asked. “I never really thought about it before. But you said Faenyr don't really care for being around the Chanem, especially not in big cities. So were you just curious?”
Cham put his lap harp down and ran his hands through his hair. Jedda turned so he could see his friend's face.
“No. It was not curiosity,” Cham said. “Well, maybe it was. But not the way you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Curiosity to meet my mother.”
Jedda froze, mouth half open and full of the nut he had just started to eat. “Your mother?”
“Does having a mother surprise you?” Cham asked, lips quirked into a small smile.
“Well, no. Yes, kind of. I'm not sure,” he said, tripping over his words. “It's just that you never said anything about your mother or not knowing her.”
“It never came up before now,” Cham said.
“Fair point.” Jedda realized he'd always thought Cham was like him, motherless as well as a half-breed. He saw now that it was a baseless assumption. But he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit less affinity with his friend now. They were suddenly less alike than Jedda had believed.
“Did you find her?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. It was never a question of finding her. Her whereabouts were known.”
Jedda was even more confused. If Cham knew where his mother was, then why hadn't he ever met her before? He popped another nut into his mouth, trying to think of a way to ask about it that wouldn't seem rude or offensive. He longed for his old-self, who would have brazenly asked with no thought of decorum.
“So she was visiting Tatak Rhe, and you were nearby? Or she is from the city?” Jedda asked, pleased at the indirect question he had come up with.
“Oh, she lives in Tatak Rhe. You may even have met her at some point,” Cham said.
Jedda perked up when he heard that. “Really?”
“Yes. She is the daughter of So'har Hoster. Well, the So'har's younger brother.”
Jedda's jaw dropped. Cham, his half-breed friend for over a year, was actually from one of the powerful families in the city.
“So why did you decide to leave? When you helped me escape, you said you were leaving anyway. The river was flowing, you said,” Jedda said.
“It was an opportunity to meet my mother, something that felt right.”
Jedda couldn't help himself at this point and asked the question. “So how come you were raised by the Faenyr, instead of by your own mother?”
Cham didn't seem the least bit offended or insulted by the question. “She was young when she met my father, when she was away at school. The family considered it best for everyone for me to be raised Faenyr rather than Chanem.”
Jedda knew Tatak Rhe was particular about bloodlines- especially the So'har and Da'har that ruled everything. Jedda guessed House Hoster did not want a half-breed scampering around and perhaps interfering with 'an appropriate match.'
“But the Faenyr,” Jedda continued, pushing the issue anyway, “trace lineage through their mothers.”
Cham just shrugged. “An arrangement was made. The elders understood the importance of growing up and learning magic as a child.”
“So, what was she like? Your mother?”
“A little bit like Findal,” Cham said.
Jedda opened his mouth with a tiny gasp, then closed it again. Findal was House Hoster. “Are they related? Your mother and Findal? Wait, that would make you related to Findal then, too.”
“A cousin,” Cham said, “according to Chanem relationships.”
Jedda didn't know what to say. He felt growing compassion. Cham had family he had never met until recently. And now, he finally discovered them and it hadn’t gone that well. The elite of Tatak Rhe could be snobbish and exclusive. He had been lucky to connect well with some of the younger members of that elitist society. He wondered how it had gone for Cham, meeting Findal. What she was doing now? Was she with Trey? He had solidly advised Trey to get married quickly, and he hoped Trey had taken the advice.
“Did Findal know this?” he asked, remembering the times they had all been together. He tried to think back, to whether he had even seen the two of them speak.
“Not at the beginning, from what I understand,” Cham said. “But we did speak before I left. She was very gracious and accepting.”
Jedda heard a note of something in Cham's voice. The tiny emphasis on 'she,' made him wonder who had not been so gracious. “Will you go back again?”
Cham shrugged. “There is not much there for me. It is a Chanem city, and that is not how I was raised, not who I am. Not who I would want to be.”
“But your mother? Didn't she miss you? Wasn't she happy to finally meet you?”
Cham tightened his lips into a hard line. “I have many mothers among the Faenyr, with more love and affection than anyone could desire.” He said, a little too sharply. “My Chanem mother? She was pleasant and polite. But we are different cultures, different people, with expectations and perspectives that don't quite match.”
Jedda wished Cham would just say his mother did this or said that. Anything concrete that would make actual sense. Was there a reason his mother had rejected him a second time? But he knew Cham wouldn’t do that unless he was pressed.
Jedda wasn't sure he understood what Cham meant with his vague explanation, but having spent time with the Faenyr now, he could understand a little bit. He wondered what it would be like if he went back home, if he could go back. Would it be the same? He offered Cham the bag of nuts, and wondered if
his own mother had just abandoned him to save herself the embarrassment of having a half-breed son.
Chapter Fourteen
Jedda sat outside his cabin on a log, watching the wisps break away from the cloud bank and creep into the crevices of the low hills to the north. His carving knife sat in his hand, idle. Several days had passed since his conversation with Cham, and he just didn’t have any enthusiasm for practicing his magic.
The silence was broken by the sound of high pitched chatter coming up the hill. Jedda recognized Zria’s voice before he and his father appeared around the corner of his cabin.
“There you are,” Zria exclaimed brightly.
“My hands wanted to carve for a while,” Jedda said, trying to sound cheerful. But the untouched block of wood said otherwise.
Hrulla nodded, but didn’t say anything as he settled down on a large rock near where Jedda sat. Zria sat on the ground, leaning against the log next to Jedda, and turned to face where Jedda had been looking.
Zria moved suddenly facing sideways watching Jedda, but keeping his attention on the slope behind them.
Jedda saw a glint in Zria’s eye and felt the tiniest prickle. Zria was focused intently on something, but kept flicking glances toward Jedda. Finally turned to see what Zria was watching. A wisp of cloud broke away and began to slide down the hill. But Jedda noticed that it was not following the same path as the rest of the mist. And it was gathering, getting thicker. Suddenly, the lump became a little bunny and began hopping across the treetops. Jedda straightened up, turning sharply to look at Zria, who looked up and grinned. Then the bunny did a backward flip. A moment later, the rabbit was joined by another and another. Jedda looked at Zria, impressed, but Zria shook his head, and nodded toward his father.
Zria laughed as his rabbit chased Hrulla’s and the puffy creatures cavorted around on the hillside. Jedda felt a nudge against his leg. He had no idea how they had no idea how they had crafted their misty pets. He felt into the magic and tried to sense how they had woven the mist to be more substantial. It wasn’t too different than crafting a polarity field, he realized. This just needed to draw on the elements, water and air, which he could do without too much difficulty since he had worked with wood and with fire already. Before long he was able to grab a bit of cloud and shape it. His carving skills did nothing to help him here, and his rabbit looked more like a drowned kitten. At first he was frustrated, but Hrulla laughed, and nodded his approval. Jedda felt his heart warm then, and tried to make his kitten-bunny hop, which sent Zria into bouts of hysterical laughter. That happiness was infectious and soon Jedda found himself laughing just as hard.