The Fire Rose em-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Good!" he applauded. "Yes, that is an excellent analogy. It may be that because the Magician has that lack in one Element, he becomes more perceptive in another, as the blind man does. There is a danger attendant in having an imbalance, which is that you are vulnerable in the area in which you are the most deficient, and most often, that is the Element that is the opposite of your own."

  "How far can the imbalance go?" she asked. "How-how far can the sensitivity to one Element be taken?"

  "To the point where only a Master would be able to find the traces of any elements other than the one that the Magician-or would-be Magician-in question commands," he told her. "That is why no one can command more than one Element. By simply having that surplus of one, you of necessity drop the rest below even that of a 'normal' man." He frowned, and thought of an analogy, since she seemed to favor analogies. "Think of a square table, with marbles rolling about on the surface. Tilt it towards any one corner, and only that comer will fill with marbles. That is the way Magickal Nature operates, and it is just as well."

  "Why?" she asked.

  He had been expecting that question. "Because the Elementals are jealous creatures. They would never tolerate sharing a Magician with creatures of any other Element. Even if a person somehow managed to get a surplus in two Elements rather than one, he would be much better advised to simply concentrate on the one he preferred. The Elementals of his two Elements would be constantly bickering with each other, wasting time and energy, and interfering with his plans."

  "They sound like naughty children," she commented, with a smile she did not know he could see.

  He snorted. "They are like naughty children," he told her. Actually, he had thought of another simile, but it was not a polite one. "Well, that, in essence, is what Herr Metzeger has written in the section of his book you wished to set aside for the moment."

  She made a face. "He took forty pages to say that?" she responded incredulously.

  "With more elaboration, which you can read if you choose. He goes on at some length about the characteristics of each Element, how you can tell if a child has that imbalance in his Magickal Nature that will make him suitable for an Apprentice, and how the characteristics of the Magickal Nature carry over into the personality." Cameron paused for a moment to let a wave of light-headedness pass. "You might find all that useful. If you pay close enough attention, you will be able to decipher a person's Magickal Nature without ever using anything but your wit and your five senses to do so."

  "Is that what you do?" she asked boldly.

  He barked a short laugh. "No," he told her truthfully. "I don't have to. I am a Firemaster, and I have my Salamanders do it for me. They can tell with a simple look what a person's Magickal Nature is."

  She had that contemplative look again. She's thinking of something. This could be interesting. I wonder if she is going to ask me what her Magickal Nature is, and if she could be a Magician. But the question she asked was not the one he expected. "Could a Master of one Element teach an Apprentice of another?"

  "Well, that is an interesting question." He thought it over for a moment. "In theory, I don't know why not-in fact, according to some of the old books you will be reading, the great Masters of the past did so. The discipline is the same, only the spells and Ordeals differ. The one drawback would be that if the Apprentice got himself into trouble the Master would not be able to command the Elementals of the Apprentice to return to their places."

  "You stressed the word, command. Could he do something else to save his Apprentice from his own folly?"

  Dear God, she was quick! "He might, if his command of his own Elementals was strong enough, be able to persuade his Apprentice's Elementals to leave the Apprentice alone." He shook his head, forgetting she could not see him. "I would not care to try such a tactic with any Elemental but the Sylphs, however. They are the most forgiving and tolerant, and the least likely to anger. Gnomes are slow to anger, but when enraged, they are implacable, and Undines I could not handle at all, obviously."

  "Obviously." She picked the book back up. "Thank you, Jason. You have saved my eyes a terrible strain. On to the rest of Herr Metzeger's pearls of wisdom however atrociously written they are."

  He settled back again as she resumed her reading, but his mind was still on the last question she had raised.

  Her Nature was Air; the Salamander would not have bothered to mention that unless she was powerful enough in Air to command the Magick. Should he make the experiment she suggested, and try training her himself? It would certainly obviate the problem that most Masters and Apprentices had, that as soon as the Apprentice became a Master, one or the other had to seek a new home. A Master of Fire and one of Air could even dwell side-by-side in the same building with no ill effects....

  Could I? Should I? Who would it hurt? I don't think she's stupid enough to do anything that would get her in real trouble; the only question would be if she could pass her Ordeals, and that would be out of my hands if she was an Apprentice in Fire rather than Air.

  It was a question that continued to coil in the back of his mind through the rest of the evening, and even followed him into his dreams that very night.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  From the moment that she had accepted Magick as a reality, Rose had leapt out of bed every morning with anticipation that was not in the least hampered by her knowledge that Jason Cameron was a dangerous and possibly unbalanced man, and that this situation might turn hazardous at any moment. That didn't matter-perhaps it even put a frisson of exhilaration into the arrangement, for there was nothing quite like skirting the edge of danger to put a certain zest in living. But this morning Rose awoke with her sense of excitement and adventure dimmed, and for a good reason. Today, so Jason had informed her last night, Paul du Mond would return to the mansion. Cameron had reiterated his request that she not reveal her new-won knowledge of Magick, and she had been quick to repeat her agreement. Paul represented danger too, but not of the sort she preferred to court. She was suspicious of his motives and his morals, and he was altogether too sly for her liking.

  I know too much about men like du Mond, and yet I don't know enough to protect myself. I would prefer not to learn anything more the hard way. She sighed. No, it isn't precisely danger that he represents, it's corruption, it's veniality. I can't imagine him doing anything magnificent, only petty-or anything really horrifying, only tawdry.

  She pulled aside the bed curtains, which was the signal for the ever-attentive Salamander to levitate her glasses into her outstretched hand. Oh, what an improvement that was over her former fumbling!

  I wish there was a way to keep this Salamander with me when all this is over ...

  As her fiery servant moved to the windows and the window curtains pulled apart to let in the daylight, the thin, gray light from outside was an ample reflection of her own dampened spirits, for she knew, as surely as she did not want to encounter du Mond, she assuredly would. It had always happened that way; the people she most wanted to avoid were always the first to greet her and the hardest to get rid of. With only the two of them in the house, it would be difficult to avoid him, for he could always find her by listening for her footsteps.

  Ah well. At least if the weather has gone all grey and grim, I shall have the excuse to retire to my own rooms. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, slipped into a dressing-gown and sought the bathroom. It's too bad that I was never the properly fragile type so I could plead some infirmity and get rid of him that way-

  -on the other hand, Paul du Mond doesn't know that.

  She stepped out of her night-things and into the hot bath-which was, as usual, at the absolutely perfect temperature, just short of painful and hot enough to forcibly relax every muscle in her body and open every pore in her skin. Yet another advantage of having a Salamander as a servant....

  He saw me going out for a walk, but he cannot have any notion of how far I went. I could have gone for a genteel little stroll, rather than
a healthy hike. That's the solution; I can be polite to him for a few minutes, then develop a headache and have to go off somewhere quiet! If I'm inside, I can either come back here or be in desperate need of fresh air. If I'm outside, I can manage a similar excuse! Just having a "polite" way to rid herself of du Mond's unwelcome company made her feel a fraction better. Her thoughts began to move a little more freely.

  I wonder if I could discourage him in some other way? I didn't say very much the last few times I spoke with him. I could continue that; I could pretend I'm shy. But he might take that as a challenge; some men would. Can I also pretend to be rather stupid, I wonder? She thought that over, as the steam from her bath rose about her face and curled the loose hair into little ringlets.

  Stupidity might disgust him, but then again, it might encourage him. Men generally didn't seem to mind stupidity in a woman, and besides, how could she be stupid and claim to have all the expertise in languages she did? Not stupid, but silly. I knew plenty of girls at the University who were amazing linguists, and hadn't the least sense. That might be a better ploy. She'd noticed that men with silly fiancees or wives didn't spend much time in their company. If he won't leave me alone, I could babble endlessly. I never saw a man who could tolerate babbling for more than a few minutes at best.

  That should be a last resort, however. She didn't think she'd be able to keep up the pretense of being silly for very long.

  She took a deep breath, and further relaxed. Now that she had a plan, she felt much better able to face the day and whatever it held. If only it didn't hold du Mond! She wasn't exactly afraid of him-but whenever she saw him, she was somehow acutely intimidated. He might not be all that prepossessing physically, but he was bigger and stronger than she was, and she had the feeling he was not averse to using that strength against a woman.

  I wonder if it would be possible to convince Jason to send du Mond into the city more frequently-or perhaps to keep him there instead of here, and only summon him back if he truly needs the man. It was a nice idea, but she didn't entertain it for very long. Probably not. He is Cameron's secretary, and I'm not going to attempt to take on that task as well as my own.

  In fact, she probably couldn't. Du Mond obviously had very exact orders from Jason Cameron, and a routine he accomplished without thinking. She would not be able to follow that routine as smoothly and invisibly. Cameron clearly expected and rewarded competence, and was just as clearly impatient of incompetence. If she tried to replace du Mond, she was doomed to failure, and she did not want to lose the respect she had so far gained.

  Her own job had now spilled over into the daylight hours, for as of today, she would be busy reading the books Cameron suggested for her own education when she wasn't reading aloud to him. She had suggested that to him yesterday, pointing out that she was fully qualified to do research, and if he was not utilizing that skill as well as her translation abilities, he was not making the best use of her.

  I'm doing quite enough as it is. It will be much easier to keep du Mond from finding out I know the truth about Jason that it would be to try to become, not only translator, student, and researcher, but private secretary as well. There are not enough hours in the day and night together to accomplish all four.

  The grey light reminded her of winter skies back in Chicago, although she knew that once she actually looked out the window, the scene would bear no resemblance to winter as she had always known it. It was now nearly Thanksgiving, not that she expected that particular holiday to be celebrated in this household. The nearness of the holiday was just a measure of how long she had been here.

  Only a week to Thanksgiving! It hardly seems possible.... Since each day was the same, with nothing to mark one day as different from another, they all tended to blur together.

  It is so hard to keep track of what day of the week it is, much less what day of the month. They were not even near enough to the small hamlet of Pacifica to hear the church bells marking Sunday mornings, as she had heard every Sunday of her life in Chicago. And of course there was no question of actually attending church on Sunday, so she lost even that "event" to mark the beginning of a week. She reflected on that as she dressed-warmly. It was too chilly for silk; the radiators in her rooms were operating and the Salamander kept a fire tended in each fireplace. Odd. I suppose if I were a properly brought up person I would feel very badly about skipping Sunday service, but I don't particularly miss not attending church. Was I bored? I must have been; the Reverend wasn't an entertaining speaker, and the music wasn't ever what I would call outstanding. I don't remember Father ever being very fervent about religion either. We always attended University Chapel because faculty was expected to, I suppose.

  Once she had passed childhood, Rose could not remember ever turning to religion for comfort or for aid-quite probably because she had become too practical to expect either. There had never been any evidence that the religious leaders she knew were prepared to offer anything but lip service to the concept of "feeding the hungry and comforting the oppressed." As for the Deity Himself, she could not imagine that God was so idle he had time to listen to each and every voice rising plaintively and pleadingly from the Earth, anyway. I don't think I'd want to, if I was God. Half of the people are begging like spoiled children for another sweet, and the rest are wailing about the unfairness of life. Perhaps a small fraction are pompously pretending to thank Him when they are really gloating over their own good fortune. If I were God, I think I'd send them all a nice plague or barbarian invaders just to shut them up and teach them what real suffering means!

  Yesterday must have been Sunday, the last Sunday before Thanksgiving. November. So strange!

  She finished buttoning her shoes and went out to the sitting room where her breakfast was waiting for her as usual. If the Salamander had been there, she would have thanked it, but it had gone off to wherever the little creatures did go when they weren't needed. She sipped her coffee and buttered a roll, while she reckoned up the passage of time in her mind. I left Chicago in late October and I must have been on trains for a good week or more before I arrived here; in fact, didn't one of the conductors mention something about Halloween? Then I was just doing the translations for Jason for about a week or so before I read the Dee book. Paul has been gone for a bit more than a week and a half. Yes, it is nearly Thanksgiving; I haven't reckoned wrongly. She shook her head. I would not have thought time could get away from me so easily.

  So strange, how much her life had changed in the course of a few weeks! Magick, Salamanders-good heavens, a few weeks ago I was trying to think of some way to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth, and now look at me! Silk and wool-plush gowns, the finest of food, a palatial set of living-quarters, and work I not only am good at, but which I enjoy above all else! And the opportunity to complete my degree! All this, and I am being paid handsomely for my time! She shook her head. I should be thanking Providence, not fretting because I am trying to avoid the company of a single unpleasant man!

  Yes, that was true-but Jason Cameron must have some reason to mistrust the man himself, or he would not have asked her to keep her new knowledge of Magick a secret. So perhaps it was not inappropriate to fret about possible meetings with him. With that in mind, the question before her now, as she finished her breakfast, was whether to go down into the house and grounds and chance meeting du Mond, or to stay up here in her rooms and avoid him altogether.

  I probably ought to try to avoid him. But Sunset is probably looking forward to seeing me. She had begun visiting the stallion daily; he was as gentle with her as a pet dog, and her contempt for du Mond and his dislike of the horse only intensified with each visit. Poor Sunset seemed very lonely, despite the companionship in the next paddock of the two carriage-horses and an aged pony. She had gathered from Jason's conversations that he had spent at least an hour or two every day riding his stallion before his accident, and she had a vague idea that for a horse, running in the paddock was not a substitute for being ridden. At some
point she must have been told that a riding horse needed human companionship to be happy; certainly Sunset's behavior with her bore that out.

  However, she was not going to be the one to ride him, though she had no objection to going and petting him and talking to him. He might be gentle with her, but she doubted he would be forgiving of a rank beginner on his back. She'd taken some thought to learning to ride on the old pony until she realized what a prime dunce she would look, a grown woman trying to bestride a pony meant for a child, with both feet dragging on the ground and her skirts hiked halfway up to her waist. It would definitely not be dignified, and she did not want Paul du Mond to have the advantage over her if he caught her in such an undignified state. Besides, she would have to learn to ride astride; she doubted that Sunset was used to a sidesaddle.

  The Salamander appeared to take her tray away. "Is it going to rain today?" she asked it.

  "Not until just before dark," it told her with authority, and neatly levitated the tray towards the door.

  That decided her. First of all, she was not going to let Paul du Mond intimidate her into keeping to her rooms. And secondly, that poor horse needed company. She took an apple from the basket of fruit she now kept in her room, and slipped it into her pocket, then pulled on the warm walking-coat she had asked for when she found the lovely cloak Jason had supplied with her wardrobe to be dramatic, but entirely impractical for strolls through the woods.