by Fran Jacobs
I soaped up the washcloth with the cold water from the bowl and started to scrub my body. It made me shiver, and it wasn't as good as a bath, but I preferred it to the dried-on mud caking my legs and arms. All too soon the water in the bowl had turned a muddy brown colour, but I felt so much better for it, although I was embarrassed about the state of the wash water. I don't think I had ever been so dirty in my life.
I was getting dressed, pulling on my breeches and lacing them up slowly, when I thought I saw something in the mirror. It was just a quick flash of movement that I saw out of the corner of my eye, so I jerked my head up quickly, but I could see nothing, just my violet eyes, staring back at me, wide with surprise. "Paranoid," I told myself, waggling my finger at my reflection as I liked to do from time to time. "Paranoid and over tired." It was so nice to have some time to myself where I could do this, talk to myself, without anyone thinking I was mad. Those weeks on the road had been hard, having Trellany and Teveriel around all the time. I'd missed my privacy, being able to sleep without the sound of another person's breathing in my ears and being able to walk around like this, naked, and look at myself in the mirror, without fear of someone walking in and wondering what it was I was doing.
But then I saw it again, and this time there was no mistaking it, a face, staring at me in the glass. It was only there for the briefest moment, a split second of time, but I knew that I'd seen it; a pale face, surrounded by ragged, long black hair, with dead black eyes staring at me. It was the face of that child who had haunted my dreams and now I had seen it standing in my room behind me, reflected in the same mirror that I stood gazing at.
I whirled around quickly but the child was gone. Quickly I snatched up my tunic and yanked it over my head as I hurried towards the door. I had my head lost inside the tunic and one arm stuck in a sleeve as I desperately tried to get the door unlocked. My hands fumbled to lift the bolt and to find the handle, while the cloth blinded me, but finally I got the door open and blundered from the room, bumping my elbow as I stumbled.
Hands caught me and helped me to straighten out, while a voice sighed. "What are you doing, Prince Candale?" Trellany asked.
"I saw something in the mirror," I gasped. When my head was finally pulled through the head-hole I found her looking at me. "I saw that child again, in the mirror behind me, there in my room!"
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Completely. I saw that child looking at me ... Then it was gone." I swallowed, rubbing my eyes.
"Perhaps it's nothing more than the result of a tired mind," Trellany said. "I checked out the room, there was definitely no one in there, and, although I don't doubt that you saw what you saw, I just wonder if perhaps you saw it because you're tired. It has been a long few weeks. I know you haven't slept well ... Prince Candale, anything that you see when you're tired, or sick, cannot be relied upon."
I frowned. "I thought you believed me about the child. It left bruises on my damn wrists!"
"I do believe you, Prince Candale," Trellany said. "I'm only suggesting that, perhaps this time, you're tired and mistaken."
I threw myself down onto the couch with a depressed sigh, coughing as a cloud of dust rose up. I had seen that face in the mirror. Trellany could think I was tired if it helped her to explain away what she claimed to believe, and she was right on that. I was tired, but I was still sure of what I had seen, and that was all that mattered. But, as there was no point trying to argue with her about it, I reached for my grandfather's letter.
The light in this room was better than in Tival's study, but it was still hard to see properly what Sorron had written. With a lot of squinting, and holding the parchment close to me, I was just about able to make out his words. And just seeing those curled letters and knowing that it came from his own hand, not from the quill of a secretary, made me feel a little homesick and, at the same time, touched because Sorron had gone to the effort to write it for me himself, rather than just dictate it. Most of the letter confirmed what Tival had already said to me, but at the end there was the personal note addressed to me. It was written in a suitably enigmatic fashion that would reveal nothing to anyone else reading it, not that I imagined Tival had read past the 'for Candale' that headed it.
"Does it say anything good?" Teveriel asked, peering over my shoulder. I heard Trellany's cough of annoyance. Teveriel just ignored her and climbed over the back of the couch to sit beside me. "Well?"
"He says, 'I hope that this trip will be worth all the heartache that you have put your family through, Candale, and that you will learn everything that you need to and that it will not be too hard for you to bear. I cannot say that I'm not disappointed with your choice of actions, nor can I say that I'm truly surprised. Nothing has caught your attention as much as this. I can only hope that you do not come to regret this decision. Remember that I love you and I will see you in the spring. Do not fear punishment from your family, you're an adult now and need to take responsibility for the decisions, and the mistakes, that you make.'" I dropped the letter with a groan and buried my head into the arm of the couch. "Gods, he really knows how to make me feel guilty!"
"But he says he isn't going to punish you. Isn't that a good thing?" Teveriel asked, bending to pick up the letter.
"Yes ... no ... I don't know!" I mumbled. "I just assumed that he would punish me and then afterwards things would get back to normal. I don't know what to make of this at all."
"Perhaps your lack of punishment is your punishment?" Teveriel suggested. "Or this letter? It has certainly stirred you up enough."
I groaned again. "It's his choice of words. 'Heartache' to my family and the way that he is letting me take full responsibility for this. I know that it was my decision to come here and I don't think it is a mistake. It's just, in the past, when I did something stupid, Sorron or my father would punish me and then they would take care of it. They would explain the situation to the Court and try and cover up whatever it was I had done and all I had to worry about were the bruises on my backside." I sat up and raked my curls back out of my eyes. "But now he's saying that I will have to deal with whatever happens, following one of my decisions, by myself and I'm not sure that I'm ready for that, not when I keep doing so many stupid things."
"That's because of your curiosity, Candale," Teveriel told me. "And you know you have a problem with that. Perhaps you should think before you act? Count to ten, or something, before you do anything, or make a decision. My master always used to count to ten before he spoke when he was angry, to make sure that he wouldn't say anything that he would later regret and, for the most part, it appeared to work. Perhaps you should adopt a similar tact?"
"Yes," I said softly. It would have certainly helped when dealing with Talira. As much as I believed her, if I had thought about what I was doing before I'd opened my mouth, we wouldn't have been forced back out onto the road, into the cold and the rain. "Well, I can only try, right?" I heard Trellany make an annoyed sound, but before she could say anything I turned back to the letter that Teveriel now held in his hands. "I will have to write a reply, I imagine."
"Yes," Trellany said. "I think that would be a good idea, but if I were you I would take a few days to think about it." I turned around to look at her over the back of the couch. "Well, whether you like it or not your grandfather has basically told you that from now on you will be treated as an adult, an equal. You don't want anything in your letter to make him regret that decision, do you?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, you're right. I don't."
A sudden knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Trellany went to open it and let Hazel and a tall, slim youth, into the room. There was a clear resemblance between the boy and Hazel. They had the same nose and brown hair, although his hair was worn much shorter and, as a result, was soft and fluffy, hanging in his eyes, which were silver-grey, and around his face. He looked to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older.
"This is my older brother, Silver," Hazel said, needlessly. The
re was no one else whom he could be, with those eyes and looking so much like her. She then ran through our introductions to him. "Silver is going to help me show you around, because Willow has gone to study. So, if you'd like to fetch your dirty clothes and your coats, as it's cold outside, we can start our tour."
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Chapter Fifteen
SYMBOLS CARVED IN STONE
Hazel began our tour, after a trip to the laundry, by showing us the dining room. It was a large room with the, by now familiar, arched and dirty windows and a fire burning in the hearth. There was a high ceiling, with heavy looking crossbeams. It looked as though there were carvings up there, too, but it was impossible to see anything clearly. There was simply too much dust. Long tables were set into neat rows, with a mismatched collection of hard chairs and stools set either side of them. Against the far wall was one long table, for the teachers, I imagined, so that they could keep an eye on their students while they ate. It was a similar set-up to the one in Carnia Castle, only it was a smaller, dustier, and colder room, despite the fire in the hearth.
There were a few people in the room, setting the heavy oak tables with plates and cups that were as mismatched as the chairs. They didn't wear a livery to identify them, yet there was something about the looks they gave us, and the simple way they were dressed that reminded me of the servants of Carnia Castle. It was the same look that I had been given when, from time to time, I'd entered the dining hall too early and the servants were still setting up. It was a look that was a mixture of curiosity, and resentment, because we were invading their territory before they were ready for us.
"Are they servants?" I asked.
"Of a sort," Silver said. "The school is fairly small, with no more than fifty students here, of various ages and abilities, and seven teachers, so we don't really need any servants to wait on us. But there are a few people who will do the chores that we don't really have time for the cooking, laundry, taking care of the horses, that sort of thing. And if a student is being punished, they're expected to work with them, but, most of the time, we basically have to take care of ourselves."
"Only fifty students?" I whispered. "I thought it would be more than that." After all White Oaks was the only mage school in Carnia, probably the only school of its kind anywhere and there had been more students than that in the two classes in Carnia Castle.
"How many mages have you ever met?" Silver asked me.
"None," I replied.
"Exactly. It's not a common thing, hence the reason we call it a gift and why there are so few of us. And we're not all Carnians either. We have many students here from other kingdoms."
"Willow said that you usually get young children here," Trellany said.
Silver nodded. "We usually do, yes. A lot of the Carnian children were simply abandoned here by their families, when their gifts first developed." He gave a grim smile, like something that was painted onto a wooden puppet, strained and cold and forced. "It seems that, even here, where magic is legal and there's a school to train us, some people still won't accept it. They would rather turn their back on their own child than put up with something that they don't understand and which makes that child different."
"But at least they bring them here," I said, trying to be helpful. "That's something, isn't it?"
"Yes," Silver said reluctantly. "But they're still being left here, by their own parents. Occasionally we get adults who arrive at the gates, wanting to be trained, who have been forced to leave their husbands or wives, and their own children, because of their gift. They never see their loved ones again, either." Silver's voice suddenly became very tight and flat, a dangerous tone, one of barely concealed anger that I recognised all too well as the sort of tone my father would use while trying to keep himself from shouting at me. "And in some kingdoms outside Carnia, people are killed for having these gifts, and it's considered legal and just to do so! It's murder, sanctioned by the king, and people are encouraged to turn in their neighbours who may have magic. Young or old, it doesn't matter. All because some people see these gifts as a curse, as something perverse and evil and-"
"Silver takes this all very seriously," Hazel said softly, touching her brother's arm, as his voice began to get louder, drawing the servants' attention towards us.
He stopped talking as soon as she touched him, but there was still a look of anger in his eyes, of unchecked fury. I'd never seen anyone look so angry while talking about this before. When Lykeia had taught me, as part of my lessons, what happened to people with magic in some of the other kingdoms, he'd always been rather distant and factual about it. And, because of that, I'd never thought more about it once I'd left the classroom. But to hear it like this, and to see the look in Silver's eyes, made me realise just how barbaric the situation really was and I felt guilty for not having realised it before.
"We all do, really," Hazel went on. "It's a horrible thing to know that the gifts that give us the right to a free education here, and can lead to power and position when we're fully trained, would cost us our lives just across the kingdom's border. We learn what happens to people like us in our classes, that they're burnt alive, after torture, their ashes scattered. There is a trial, of course, but having magic is illegal in those places, so it doesn't matter if the person has done nothing with it. Just having the gift is a death sentence. Most of the children who come here from those other kingdoms were actually driven into exile by their parents who didn't want anyone to know that their children are 'cursed', in case it proves to be a bad reflection on them. But, even though some of those children do make it here, there have to be so many more who don't, who must just find a new life for themselves and spend it living in fear, afraid that someone will find out about their gifts."
"We think that they find a new life for themselves," Silver snapped. "It's more likely that they're killed and buried somewhere in an unmarked grave, without even the pretence of a 'fair' trial, by their own 'loving' parents! You can be so naive, Hazel."
Hazel frowned and then linked her arm through mine. "And you can be so pessimistic," she replied, with a slight toss of her head, as if to throw off his comment. "I'm sure that no one wants to hear all this, so let us continue our tour."
"That is the problem," Silver snapped at her. "You always want to pretend it isn't happening!"
"Because I know that we cannot change anything. If it annoys you so much, then why not go to these places and try and change things? Then you can join those people in their unmarked graves and become a martyr for this cause of yours. At least then you would have done something instead of just whined about it!"
I saw Silver stiffen and his mouth open as if to say something, only Hazel turned her back on him as she turned to me with a bright smile.
"Shall we go on?" she said, but before I had a chance to reply she was leading me out of the dining hall, her hand firmly on my arm.
I gave Silver a helpless glance over my shoulder, as I was pulled along, but he didn't notice. He was too busy glowering at the floor.
Hazel led us through the dark corridors and outside into the bitter winter's air, where we were quickly joined by Silver. It was a sudden shock to go from the relative warmth of the maze of corridors, back outside into the cold and I shivered, wishing I had thought to bring my gloves with me.
"It's not far," Hazel said, obviously seeing my discomfort. "Just across the courtyard. All the classrooms are in the same building so we won't have to go back outside for a while."
"What's in the other two buildings, then?"
"Well, one is home to the people who work here and the other has warded rooms for our mage work. It's probably best that you don't go in there. The floor is rotten in places, and it can be dangerous to someone who doesn't know the areas to avoid." She laughed. "Someone actually fell through the floor once, while he was hiding out, trying to avoid his lessons. He got completely stuck there for an hour until someone found him. They only realised he was there because t
hey went into the room below and found his legs dangling through the ceiling!" She laughed again and I found myself grinning at that picture.
It was a relief to cross the courtyard and get out of the cold again, but my head was soon spinning as I found this second building to be almost identical to the first. Long corridors with creaking floorboards, and dark walls decorated with the odd scattering of faded tapestries and oil paintings. All the classrooms were marked with dirty little bronze plates, mounted onto each wooden door, 'History room', 'Language room', and so on, but I knew that wouldn't do me much good if I got lost. I was going to have to stick closely to Hazel until I got used to this place.
"Tival said that we would be in the same classes together," I told her, as she opened a classroom door so that I could peer inside. It was what I had come to expect of White Oaks, a dark, dusty room with dirty windows. There was a faded map on the wall, a blackboard with chalk letters on it, desks, chairs and a few books, but otherwise there was very little about it that resembled the classrooms I was used to.
Hazel laughed. "Yes," she said. "He told me that as well! In that case, there's no need to show you around now. I'll just take you where you need to go, when you need to go there." She gave my arm a squeeze and I saw Teveriel give Trellany a knowing look and a sly grin.
"What?" I asked them suspiciously.
"Nothing," Teveriel said with a coy smile. "So," he said to Hazel, "I'd like to see the music room, if that's possible. Trellany will want to see the practise yard, I suppose, and-"
"The library," I said. "I really want to see the library."