Fey Hearted

by N. E. Conneely

  “It might, but I need to know if that’s all you’re sensing.”

  Rose nodded, took the cloth from him, and looked it over. It was a square of cotton that was dyed colors that reminded Rose of a sunflower. It would’ve been a good size to turn into a pillowcase, but it had a ragged tear across more than half the fabric.

  Since the tactic had worked last time, Rose focused on what a lovely pillowcase the cloth could make if it was whole. There was that smell again! This time it was more concentrated, and she could identify the lilies again.

  In less time than it took to blink, the fabric knitted itself back together and the scent dissipated. Rose let the cloth flow through her hands, but it was as perfect as the paper had been after the magic had fixed it.

  Silverlight took it from her and examined it, nodding. “Very good. Tell me how you did it that time.”

  “I thought about what a pretty pillowcase it would make. There was a smell again—lilies this time—and it went away when the cloth fixed itself.”

  “Just the smell?” he asked.

  “That’s it. I didn’t see anything or feel anything else. Definitely no sounds or other smells.” Rose paused, hoping he would say something. When he didn’t, she asked, “Why?”

  “Everyone perceives magic differently. Most people can see it, and to them, it looks like motes of light gathering in one place until there are enough of them to do the job. Some of those people say that they can even see it in the air, trees, other fey, and pouring off the elementals. Other people feel it, as if it’s a tingle running along their skin, and when there is enough, it discharges, much like a static electricity.

  “It is less common, but there are some who can hear, smell, or taste magic. Those who can hear it often report a steady tone or a specific tune. Of the people who can smell or taste magic, they generally associate a small number of flavors or scents with magic.”

  “How much less common is it to smell it rather than seeing or feeling it?”

  “More than half the population can see magic. Another third or so can feel it, and a small fraction fall into other categories. I know ten people who can hear it and eight who can smell or taste magic.”

  Rose absorbed the information, trying to decide whether it was a good or bad thing that she had a less typical way of sensing magic. Grandmother had mentioned something like this in a few stories. Most of the books she’d read focused on seeing or feeling magic. In some ways, those seemed like easier ways, but as long as she had reliable feedback from the magic, she couldn’t think of a reason that it mattered.

  “Is there a disadvantage to smelling magic?” she asked, just in case.

  Silverlight shrugged. “I’ve heard people say that if you can’t see it, then why bother, and I’ve heard others say that as long as you understand how you interact with the magic it doesn’t matter. From what I’ve seen, the person in question is more important than the how of it.”

  “Do you find it harder to feel magic than see it?”

  “That isn’t a question I can truly answer. I’ve never been able to see magic. However, I’ve never found myself wishing I could see magic, either.”

  “How do you perceive it?”

  “I can hear it.” Rose titled her head to the side as he continued. “For small requests, it’s a tone or a short, repetitive tune. As the magic gets more complex, the sound becomes more intricate, as well. Any more questions right now?”

  Rose shook her head. “But I might have questions later.”

  “I’ll answer them when you think of them. Now, let’s do one more exercise and we’ll be done with this part for the day.” Silverlight pointed to the round ball of light floating above them. “The lights are called orbs. I want you to make a small orb.”

  Rose did her best to think of how nice it would be if there was another orb, just bright enough to light a small area. There was another surge of flower smells, but this time she couldn’t distinguish what kind they were. As she tried to focus on why the light would be helpful, Rose was distracted by the mix of odors. It reminded her of those candle shops in the malls, the ones that she’d hated going in because they always gave her a headache.

  Since she could smell the flowers, she knew the magic was doing something, but it didn’t seem to be making a light. Rose tried to block out the nauseating mix of floral odors and focus on the benefits of the light.

  “Please? I just need the light.”

  There was a moment when the scent of roses overwhelmed everything else, and a light the size of a walnut came to life.

  “Thank you.”

  “Not bad for your first try. Now see if you can get it to go away. First with your thoughts, and if that doesn’t work you can use words.”

  Nodding, Rose tried to do what had worked for the cloth and paper. She didn’t even get a hint of flowers, though. Changing tactics, she silently asked if the magic would be kind enough to help her out and make the light go away. She really didn’t need it anymore. There was a sharp smell of lilies, and the light vanished.

  “Very good.” Silverlight was grinning at her. “Are you starting to get an idea of how it feels to ask the magic for something?”

  “Maybe. It’s a cross between a desire and a request, but I can’t say that I know exactly what I’m doing to make the magic help me.”

  “It will get easier.”

  “Why did the lights turn on with hardly a thought this morning?”

  “Oh, that I can answer. We will do most of our practice in this room because it’s had magic worked into the walls to change how the magic interacts with you in here. Outside, the magic recognizes you as new and is very willing to help you with simple things. In this room, it treats you like a longtime resident who must have focus and discipline to make it work.”

  “That sounds a little unfair,” Rose muttered. She’d only been here a few hours.

  “My tutors did it to me. It teaches you how to separate your thoughts so that you can prevent unintentional magic and do more complex work.” His expression softened. “And as soon as we walk out that door, it will be back to adjusting lights for you.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  Silverlight stood up and offered her a hand. Rose took the help and followed him out of the room. She closed the door behind them, glad to be done with that place for the time being.

  He smiled. “So are you ready to see the vegetable gardens?”

  Chapter 8

  After sliding into a pair of ankle-high boots and grabbing a jacket, Rose followed him out the door and got her first real look at her new home. She was in a brilliantly green field, and in November, that was as unexpected as everything else she’d seen so far. For a brief moment she wished it were spring so she could see the Field in bloom.

  The tree line started a short distance away, and unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, it looked like some of them were even more unusual than they’d seemed last night. At least one tree seemed to have a pink trunk.

  The abnormal tree reminded Rose that she had some questions about her dwelling. She turned to get a look at the house, only to see a door and windows fastened into a stone wall that ran along one side of a knoll. The house was built into a gentle swell of the earth, vanishing into the bump in the ground.

  Rose glanced around, seeing that the area was dotted with similar hillocks, and she could even pick out the doors in a couple of them. Paul had told her about earthen homes once and had even shown her pictures of some of the designs he liked. He’d maintained that they were very efficient and easily maintained comfortable temperatures. He would have loved to see this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she thought about Paul she would cry, and this wasn’t the time for tears.

  Silverlight stood by patiently as she took in the stone patio with two chairs and herb boxes along the edge.

  Rose turned to him. “I’m ready to—”

  A brown and white goat leaped off the top of the house, sailing between them before landing o
n the ground. It looked back at the house and sprinted for a neighboring dwelling. There was a belligerent bleat from behind them, and Rose turned to see a white goat standing on top of their house.

  Its success didn’t last long, though. A brown goat ran into the white goat, who dug its feet in as it slid forward, but when the brown goat plowed into it a second time, the white goat abandoned its claim as king of the hill and jumped to the ground. It trotted forward before turning and looking at the roof. Then a black goat joined the brown one, who was doing a dance on top of the house. The white goat ran forward and jumped back onto the roof.

  Rose didn’t know if there was magic at work or if they were just being goats. She knew goats could make crazy leaps and climb astonishing heights, but the house was taller than any jump she’d heard of them making. She shot a look at Silverlight, who was smiling. There were a few more thumps and bleats from the roof of their home, but the goats were staying out of sight.

  “We should be off. They could be at that for hours.” Silverlight guided them to the narrow path that ran parallel to the tree line.

  She looked over her shoulder to see four goats playing on top of the house now, including the first one who’d been chased off. “Are those ordinary goats?”

  “What do you mean by ‘ordinary’?”

  “Like, are they magical?” she rephrased.

  “Well, I once saw one triple in size to run off a sick bear, but they typically act just like goats. Oh, and they really do eat anything.”

  Size-changing goats? That was a thought that would strike fear into the hearts of farmers back in the human world, where they had enough trouble with average-sized goats.

  They passed another tree with a pink trunk, and Rose had to ask. “What’s the pink tree?”

  “This one?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a sweet gum tree. While they aren’t common, we cultivate them for medicinal and structural uses.”

  “But why are they pink?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Silverlight said, leading them onto a path that encircled the Field. “This is the best way to the garden. We’ll do a grand tour later today. That will give you the basic lay of the land. Over the next few days you’ll also start history, weaponry, flora and fauna, magic, geography, and crafting classes. You’ll have to complete a basic level in most of those subjects, and then you’ll go on to spend most of your time expanding your knowledge of one particular area.”

  “What did you specialize in?”

  “I’m one of the rare fey who’s more of a generalist. I’m good with animals and can get a sense of what they’re feeling.” Silverlight shrugged. “My swordsmanship is better than average and my woodworking is decent, but I’m not good enough to devote all my time to any one area of study, so I pitch in where I’m needed.”

  “Hmm.” She tilted her head. “What do you think I’ll specialize in?”

  “It’s too early to say. Give it some time, and you’ll figure it out.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He smiled. “Then you get to be a generalist like me.”

  That didn’t sound so bad to her.

  They took a path that cut through the forest and led to a sizable clearing. What would surely be a garden in the spring was now covered in hay, not a crop in sight. Rose paused, but when Silverlight kept walking she hurried to catch up. The woods opened up on each side, revealing more clearings, but he guided them through two more gardens before stopping. This one was full of winter-loving crops. Most of the plants were recognizable, but a few had striped leaves and fruit in shapes and colors that she hadn’t seen before.

  “This is one of our vegetable gardens,” he explained. “Plants that are most viable from late summer to early spring live here. To the right are fruits that grow on small plants, not trees, and to the left you’ll find more vegetables and greens. There’s a small building on the other side of the vegetable-and-greens garden that grows mushrooms.”

  Rose nodded. That was a lot of produce. Off in the distance she could see rows of trees. “What’s across from us?”

  “Ah, more gardens and the orchards.” He paused and then walked forward. “I’ll show you the most common plants, and then we’ll harvest a few things.”

  Rose didn’t say anything because she was still trying to examine a plant with a thick purple stalk and spiderweb-like runners reaching across its trellis.

  “Rose?”

  She spun around at the sound of her name on his tongue.

  He gave out a soft chuckle. “This way.”

  She followed him to a small lean-to where they grabbed baskets from a pile. Silverlight led them over to a row of plants with leafy tops. He knelt down and motioned for her to join him.

  “These are turnips. Do you know what a turnip is?” he asked. Rose nodded, and he continued. “This row should be ready for harvesting. To pick a turnip, you gently collect the greens in one hand and tickle the turnip with the other.”

  As she watched, Silverlight demonstrated, loosely holding the greens in his left hand. He brushed the earth away from the top and tickled the now-bare spot with three fingers. The turnip wiggled and hopped into his hand. Silverlight murmured his thanks and set it in the basket.

  No matter how normal these turnips looked, they were as magical as everything else here. Rose eyed the rest of the garden. No wonder she had to have lessons on basic plants.

  “Now you try,” he said.

  She scooted closer to the next turnip in the row. It hadn’t looked that difficult. Maybe in this world she’d finally be good with plants. She gathered the greens into her hand. Then, bracing herself—who knew what would happen if she upset the thing—she swept the dirt away and tickled the turnip’s side.

  It leaped a foot into the air, jerking the greens out of her hand. Upon landing, it started burrowing back into the ground. Rose scrambled after it, but Silverlight got there first, snatching the turnip out of its half-dug hole and shaking it off. The turnip stopped thrashing when Silverlight set it in the basket, but Rose couldn’t tell if he had done something or if it had decided to behave.

  “Good try, but be more gentle with the next one.” Silverlight nodded at the row.

  Rose tried again, but this time she was too gentle. The turnip barely hitched itself out of the ground. Apparently that was good enough for Silverlight, though, because he started picking his own turnips while she continued to wrestle them out of the ground. It wasn’t until the seventh one that she had somewhat of a rhythm going. The trick was to tickle them harder at first, just for a moment, and then get softer. That excited them enough to get them moving but not enough to make them so excited that they jumped out of her hand.

  While they were working, they didn’t talk much, for which Rose was grateful. The quiet was giving her time to process everything she’d learned since last night. She pushed away all the thoughts that needed active attention, letting her mind clear while her body worked. It was a trick she’d learned from her grandmother, who had always sworn by active meditation. Rose hadn’t practiced it often, but it had never let her down when she was feeling overwhelmed.

  Rose and Silverlight worked through two long rows of turnips, breaking from time to time to carry their full baskets to the lean-to. “How often will we be doing this?” Rose asked.

  “Most days. We have fresh produce most of the year, and someone has to pick it.”

  “How do you keep the plants alive through winter? Magic?”

  He tickled another turnip. “Good planning. We plant cold-tolerant foods in late summer and fall. If we have an exceptionally hard winter we might use some magic to keep the plants alive.”

  “Oh.” That was well past Rose’s experience with gardens, but she had a feeling that she’d be getting well acquainted with fey gardening methods. Rose picked a couple of turnips, her thoughts shifting from gardening to how she ended up in this place. “How did you get chosen to go into the human world and find people like me?” />
  Silverlight dropped a turnip, and it scrambled back into its hole while he was looking at Rose. “Well, it’s a bit of a story.”

  Rose waved her hand at the row of turnips. “We have time.”

  “Of course we do,” Silverlight said absentmindedly as he coaxed the turnip back out of the ground and set it in the basket. He sat back on his heels and focused on her. “A long time ago, it was considered a rite of passage. Upon turning eighteen and becoming an adult, every fey had to find a fey hearted. Our numbers were smaller then, and I suspect there were more fey hearted in the world. Now it is an honor for a fey of any age to discover a fey hearted and mentor them through the transition. These days only some fey venture into the human lands, however, and even those few have difficulty finding a fey hearted. My family has a tradition of looking for fey hearted, and I agreed to the search. When I found you, I knew you belonged here.”

  Rose had stopped picking turnips to watch him. While he was talking, Rose had caught a bit of a floral aroma, but she wasn’t sure if that was the magic, her imagination, or something from the garden. “But why do you look for the fey hearted and bring them here in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. At this point it’s a tradition. Any knowledge of why has been lost.”

  Rose thought about it for a moment. “Do fey ever go to live in the human world?”

  “Not often.”

  “When was the last time it happened?” Rose had to know. It didn’t make sense for it to be a one-way street.

  His face fell. “The last occurrence was when my mother was your age.”

  “I don’t know how long ago that was,” Rose said gently.

  “A little less than four hundred years ago.” Silverlight turned back to the turnips. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “We should take some of these home for dinner,” Rose said, hoping the change of subject would cheer him up.

  “We can. Though I don’t think we will get to them today. I was planning on eating in the Commons.”