by T. A. Miles
“Why?” Korsten couldn’t help but to ask. “Maybe new leadership will help the people and help to be rid of the Vadryn.”
“No,” Ashwin said gently. “The Morennish people are abrasive and overbearing at best. All Edrinorian lords and landholders would be displaced and dispossessed if they did not agree to become the puppets to men who would still occupy their land and give themselves higher rank. Cities would have order, perhaps, but the people would still exist in misery. All entities holding ties to the Old Rule would be disbanded if not destroyed. The Seminary would be among the first, once it was discovered that Vassenleigh was not as bad off as the rest of the world has been led to believe.”
“Why is that?” Korsten asked next. “Why let everyone think that there are no more mages? Perhaps awareness of your presence could provide some hope.”
Again, Ashwin turned down his suggestion. “Operating in relative secrecy is the only way to operate at least somewhat safely and efficiently. We no longer have time to attend to the smaller matters that hound Edrinor’s people and we assuredly have neither the time nor the desire to ward off revolts out of anger and feelings of betrayal.”
“I see,” Korsten said, looking back at the sky, feeling very useless and insignificant at present.
Ashwin appeared beside him. He said quietly, “You are a man of great beauty and great intelligence, Korsten. You know this. And yet, knowing does not elevate your self-esteem. You have been withdrawn, bordering on antisocial, all of your life, relying heavily on the few people you are willing to trust. Separation from these people causes you tremendous inner turmoil. You are wounded, angry, and afraid, blaming yourself for what has happened.”
“I am to blame,” Korsten told him, forcing back the tears Ashwin’s very accurate words inspired. “You’re right. I did rely on Renmyr too much. I feel incomplete without him … painfully so. I….”
“You brought Merran back to us,” Ashwin interrupted. “If you had not loved Renmyr Camirey so deeply, Eolyn might have come back alone and you might have been claimed by the Vadryn, with no hope of releasing your beloved from the darkness that binds him now. What happened was going to happen. It was unavoidable. You kept it from ending in worse tragedy. You are braver than you realize.”
“The only life I meant to save that day was my own,” Korsten said bitterly, disgusted with himself. “Because I cannot live without Renmyr. I am alive now for Merran’s persistence … and because I believe Renmyr can be saved.”
Ashwin smiled gently, “As I said; you are braver than you realize.”
“He’s right, you know,” Lerissa said. The old girl was seated on the balcony railing, brushing her very long hair while Korsten, recently bathed, sat in a heap of wonderfully soft silken robes on the floor next to his bed. He wasn’t quite sure how he missed the bed, but he was comfortable enough at the moment, so he stayed where he was and watched his upstairs neighbor preen … and talk at him. “You’re very brave. Any other pretty young man would have been running scared from me. They’ve done it, I know.”
“I’m sure they have,” Korsten muttered. “Fortunately … or unfortunately, I’m used to the excessive and direct attention of young women.”
“But I’m not young, you know,” Lerissa said cheerily. “I look young and feel young, but I know I’m far from it. It can be maddening to think about, so I tend not to.”
“It can be maddening for you to think about? I would have thought you’d have the whole matter sorted out and broken down into bite-sized portions.”
Lerissa looked at him, then abandoned her perch and walked toward him. She climbed onto the mattress behind him and positioned herself so that she could comfortably brush Korsten’s drying hair. He relaxed and let her, aware and appreciative of the fact that it was not an attempt to seduce him.
“You’re a very melancholy person,” she said, working her hand and the brush slowly through his recurling red locks. “It suits you, though. Don’t mistake me. Of course, I’d love for you to be happy, but your current state is very artistic, I think.”
“I think you’re a very odd girl,” Korsten replied.
“Good. Then you won’t be alarmed if I play with your hair a bit. It’s very beautiful.”
“I’m not a woman, you know,” Korsten protested unenthusiastically.
“Naturally, but you’re the kind of man who can make himself even more beautiful than he already is without coming off as cloying or scary. Have you ever dressed yourself up for the fun of it?”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re implying, Lerissa, but I’m not a doll, either.”
The girl continued with her efforts, pulling all of Korsten’s hair back and then letting it go before gathering it again. “Don’t be so difficult. You have nothing to be ashamed of and no one here will make you feel ashamed. Tell me honestly; have you ever wished you’d been born a female?”
Korsten reddened helplessly and didn’t pull away from the girl in order to keep her from seeing that she had made him blush. His answer came a bit more tensely than he’d intended. “No, I have not.”
Lerissa took it very lightly and said simply, “I wish sometimes that I’d been born male. Not because I want to wear breeches … I rather like dressing up in nice gowns when I have the opportunity … but….” She lifted her shoulders. “I sometimes wish that I could be like Ashwin.”
Relaxing again, Korsten said, “You’re not too far off. If you were taller and inclined to wear more brocade robes….”
Lerissa tapped the top of his head lightly with the back of the brush. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Well, what do you mean, then?”
The girl resumed her grooming of Korsten’s red hair, combing through the damp locks with her fingers now. She sighed. “In spite of how things tend to be here and how open we mages tend to be in our relationships … Sharlotte loves just one person.”
Korsten didn’t say anything, frowning curiously as he learned something about the blond Mage-Adept that he never would have guessed had she not been confessing it at this very moment.
“Of course, I can respect that,” Lerissa continued, innocent of Korsten’s surprise. “And I respect Ashwin a great deal. The man’s like a father to me … but I can’t help how strongly I feel about Shar. She has such resolve and she’s so beautiful and passionate, and….”
“Vindictive, distrusting, and tyrannical.”
“Oh,” Lerissa said, giggling quietly. “She backed you into a corner, did she?”
“Not as such,” Korsten answered. “But she made it clear as to where I stood in comparison to a horse turd.”
“She always gets like that when faced with Ashwin’s other lovers.”
Korsten sat forward just enough to look back at Lerissa. “I’m not his lover!”
Lerissa shrugged. “Well, you could be. And that’s all that matters to Sharlotte.”
“Isn’t she a little overprotective for someone who’s taken other lovers herself?”
Lerissa looked suddenly a tad glum. “Shar’s only had one person other than Ashwin and only as a source of comfort because she can’t be with him all the time.”
“You?” Korsten guessed. When the girl nodded, he settled back again. “And you’re in love with her.”
“Yes,” Lerissa admitted. “It took me years to convince Shar that there could be more than friendship between us. Even after her long time serving here she wasn’t entirely open to same-sex pairings. At first we were more like sisters, nothing more than attentive and sensitive to the other’s problems, willing to hear them out without complaint or straying from the subject. I took a chance on a night when she was especially lonely, having convinced herself that being Ashwin’s spouse meant little more than living in the same room as he sometimes did, and I felt terribly guilty about it afterward. Like I’d taken advantage of my best friend. I thought she’d never
come back to me … but she did. I wish she’d do so more often.”
Korsten absorbed the information, finding suddenly that he could sympathize with Sharlotte. There were some things that simply could not be shared, and genuine love was one of them. If she loved Ashwin that much, as much as he loved Renmyr, then she must have been in considerable pain. As an empath, Ashwin should have known that, and known better. But perhaps he did know better. He only had a few hundred years’ advantage over most everyone else, if not more. He must have gained considerable wisdom in that time. Perhaps it was some of that wisdom that he was trying to share with Korsten the other day, but, being the inexperienced and ignorant mortal of just twenty-four years that he happened to be, he wasn’t quite making sense of the man’s words. Gods, four hundred years? Edrinor must have barely been a kingdom back then. Barely an organized kingdom, at any rate … recalling my history.
The thought might have become an inner debate on the subject if something had not suddenly occurred to Korsten. “What about Merran?”
“Merran?” Lerissa echoed, seeming distracted with Korsten’s hair. “Well, he’s a charming fellow, isn’t he? In a grave, mysterious kind of way.”
“I thought….”
“Here we are,” the girl interrupted, then leaned forward with the hand mirror she’d brought with her from her own room. “Look at you. Aren’t you lovely?”
Korsten looked at himself, with his hair pinned on top of his head, tendrils of dark red escaping Lerissa’s careless efforts.
“I didn’t have enough pins in my own hair to borrow and do a perfect job,” the girl was saying and Korsten pushed the mirror aside, disinterested. “Oh, but you look beautiful! Don’t be so glum, Kor.”
“I thought you said it was artistic,” Korsten said, just to be argumentative. He found himself suddenly not in the mood for Lerissa’s attempt to cheer him up or to make him feel more comfortable, whichever she was trying to do.
“It is, but not all the time. Oh, Korsten, can’t you just accept that you’re here, for whatever it’s worth, and make the best of it?”
“I have accepted the fact that I’m here,” he replied. “But I don’t intend to make a grand socializing affair out of it. I’m here to learn, so that I can save all that matters to me in this world.”
“What if he can’t be saved?” Lerissa posed, perhaps reasonably.
“I have to try,” Korsten said. “If you love Sharlotte as much as you claim to, then you must understand that.”
Lerissa leaned forward without warning and threw her arms around Korsten’s shoulders. “I do understand that,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek. “I do.”
Concentrate. It will come to you. Just…. “Other way!”
Korsten opened his eyes and glared over his shoulder at Lerissa. “Father of the gods! How in Hell am I supposed to remember a blessed thing with you constantly—”
“If you do it wrong, you’re going to wind up doing something unpleasant to one or both of us,” Lerissa replied. “A breach in concentration simply scatters the magic harmlessly. Now, start again.”
“I don’t remember you becoming my mentor at any time in the recent past,” Korsten muttered, then faced the empty courtyard again, and closed his eyes. He brought his hands together in front of himself, lacing all but his index fingers and thumbs. He made sure his arms were level in front of his chest, elbows out. There were no words to casting spells, just a dire amount of concentration to generate the magic, coupled with careful hand gestures to channel it. It didn’t look nearly so hard while Merran was doing it, or anyone else for that matter. He summoned his concentration once again and focused, reaching for the Essence within himself, drawing it forward. In his mind, it appeared a tendril of white mist. Once he had that, he slowly drew his hands apart, keeping them upright. He rotated his right hand forward and his left hand back. Since Lerissa didn’t stop it at this point, he must have finally gotten it right. Maintaining his focus, he righted, then lowered his hands and placed his left hand on top of his right, then drew the magic forward by sliding his hands slowly apart, so that only the tips of each middle finger were touching. And then he brought his hands upright again, pressing his palms and all of his fingers flat together.
“Hell’s depths,” Lerissa gasped. “You did it. You … okay, that’s enough. Korsten!”
Oh, gods, how do I stop it without dashing the spell?
Korsten watched the smoky tendril expanding, growing thicker and thicker. Eventually, he managed to cut off the flow of magic, like snipping a mental thread. It was a little more abrupt than he liked to end a spell, but it worked. He opened his eyes and stared at the cloud of white vapor in front of him … and behind him, and well above him … A bit too much, perhaps.
“My gods,” Lerissa said from where she stood, folded in the mist as well. “You buried the whole damned yard! I can’t see a thing!”
In the next instant, the mist withdrew, as if sucked into a giant’s lungs. It was gone in seconds, closed neatly into Ashwin’s pale fist. “Not bad for a month’s practice,” the Mage-Superior said. “However, I don’t recall this being on the agenda of things to do today, for either of you.”
Lerissa apologized at once while Korsten simply waited for his life-mentor to cross the stone yard. He’d been practicing the mist spell for a month. He’d been at the Seminary for a total of five months now, including the three he’d spent unconscious after his arrival. Most of his assigned work had been reading and fencing, the same activities he performed in Haddowyn and in Cenily. If he’d been given time in a music room, he’d feel fourteen again.
Reasoning had Resonated shortly after Balance and Quick. All of his talents linked to brown on the Spectrum were at Resonance now and so was the one related to white that wasn’t dormant. He mastered the Reach spell in two weeks’ time and had barely been introduced to the four other spells on his agenda for eventual mastering. Granted Megrim and Sleep would be almost impossible until his talent for Allurance Resonated, but there was no reason, he thought, why either Mist or Release had to be so difficult. He was sure that he could master them if given enough time to study them and to practice.
Ashwin, on the other hand, seemed to have other plans. He waited until he was within an arm’s reach of Korsten before coming to a halt. There was a faintly reproachful smile on his lovely face as he said, “You are pushing yourself a little harder than we intended.” He looked over Korsten’s shoulder at Lerissa. “And you aren’t helping matters.”
“You’re right, of course, Ashwin,” the girl said and while Korsten glared back at her, she made her escape. “I think I’ll just go see to my reading now.”
Traitor. Run now, I’ll see you later.
“Korsten,” Ashwin said, drawing his attention back to him. He was standing a bit closer. “You have adapted to the duties thus far placed upon you as a mage remarkably well, but don’t you think you might focus just a little of your energies elsewhere?”
“I’m here to learn,” Korsten argued reflexively.
Ashwin tilted his head forward so that their brows just touched. It was a habit he’d quickly formed over the last several weeks and for some reason, it didn’t alarm or disturb Korsten. The Mage-Superior could be a very affectionate and at times very direct man, but he was not the type to force himself on others. A gentle push was all he required to leave well enough alone. “No one sees you unless it is in the library or a training room,” he said quietly.
“Lerissa sees me,” Korsten informed, frowning a little.
“And I would not complain if she were your lover. You’re closing yourself in.” Ashwin lifted his head. “If I were to give you the rest of the day off, I would find you in the library inside of an hour, buried up to your ears in books.”
Korsten felt the familiar stirring of depression deep in his chest. He gave his gaze to the stone underfoot. “It’s all I can do to keep my mi
nd off Renmyr.”
“Perhaps a body can do that just as well as a book,” Ashwin suggested. “And I don’t mean for sword practice.”
“That will only make matters worse.”
Ashwin slipped his hand beneath Korsten’s chin and lifted his face gently. “Are you sure?” he asked, and his green eyes regarded Korsten with such compassion … that it just wasn’t fair.
I’ll never love anyone except Renmyr, but gods be damned if there aren’t times when I could almost do anything to alleviate some of the pain. The trouble is that I know it’d come back at me a hundred times worse afterward.
Korsten lifted his hand to Ashwin’s wrist and lowered the other man’s hand slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.
“Well,” the exceptionally blond man sighed, backing good-naturedly away from his student. “If you’re so determined to train yourself to near death, you should at least have proper instruction.”
Korsten tried to smile at him, but wasn’t very successful. Still, he said, “That’s what I expect to hear from the man who ran me into the ground and turned my complexion purple during my first day’s training.”
“You looked stunning,” Ashwin teased.
“Stunned, don’t you mean?” Korsten replied.
“I thought that was because of the kiss,” the very old man said with a tiny smile. “Perhaps we can rehash the event later on.”
Gods … give me strength.
Korsten was exhausted come nightfall, utterly mentally spent. He didn’t even have the concentration to set one foot in front of the other. He felt like he was drunk. How could anyone who looked so gentle be so brutal?