“Yes, that will do nicely,” said Be'Var. “Hold it very still, please.” He then set to work with his hammer, lightly tapping on the glowing metal, his eyes still closed. As Be'Var worked, Caymus could feel the two pieces of iron starting to meld into one another, joining, shaping the broken tyre back into one continuous band.
After several minutes of hammering, the process was finished; the tyre was, once again, a complete loop. Be'Var carefully released the tendrils of concentration he’d placed on the metal, as well as the conduit itself, and they all quickly vanished out of existence. Caymus would have to ask him how he'd done that. He'd always known it was possible to create a conduit, but this was the first time he'd ever had such an intimate view of the process, and he had no idea what it was that the master had been pushing against in order make it happen. Once the metal cooled to the point that it was no longer glowing, Be'Var opened his eyes. “Good,” he said. “You can lay it on the ground now.”
Caymus and Rill let go with their tongs and Milo lifted the hoop from the anvil, set it on the ground, and let it fall over, catching the top with a leather-booted foot before it hit the ground and easing it down so that it didn't strike the hard road.
“Finished?” The voice was Bridget's, who was standing behind Rill and who appeared to have been watching the process. She was carrying some bread and cheese, which she handed out to eager hands and smiling faces. “Come on,” she said, and led them back to the spot where their mix of cargo and personal belongings sat. Several of the larger trunks and boxes had been separated out to make some seats.
Caymus looked back, feeling a little odd about leaving their tyre in the middle of the road, and saying so. Be'Var brushed off the notion, saying that the metal needed time to cool off before the next step. “Besides,” he continued, “if we meet anybody on this road before we cross the Greatstones, I'll die of shock.”
Caymus wasn't so sure about Be'Var's assessment. Earlier in the day, they had passed the intersection where the path from the Temple itself, little more than a trail, met the main road between Krin's Point and Kepren. Though still rough, it showed signs of frequent use, and Caymus had been on the lookout for other travelers. Considering how widespread the reports of attacks by the insectoid creatures had been, however, he supposed Be'Var might have a point. People would be less likely to travel if the apparition of danger was about.
“What's the next step?” asked Rill, wolfing down a piece of bread. “Of the mending, I mean.”
“Chew your food,” said Be'Var, cutting a piece of cheese. “Right now,” he continued, “the inside edge of the tyre is a bit smaller than the outside edge of the wheel. We're going to have to heat it up again to make it fit properly.” He turned to Caymus, raising an eyebrow at him. “Did you see what I did back there, boy?”
Caymus nodded. “You were leaving something behind as you went along, like—”
“Not that,” Be'Var said. “The other thing. The conduit.”
“Oh,” said Caymus. “Yes.”
“Did you see how I managed it?”
Caymus frowned, momentarily forgetting about the piece of cheese he'd been chewing on. “It felt like you were putting pressure against something, but I honestly couldn't tell what.”
“Pressure, yes, that's close enough,” Be'Var said, and then seemed to consider something. “When we heat it up again, I'm going to have you do that part. Need to learn how, sooner or later.” Be'Var said it matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument, then started on his lunch, obviously content to drop the subject entirely. Caymus looked around at the group. Everyone seemed very interested in the conversation they were having, all eyes fixed on Caymus.
“So how—” he started, but Be'Var cut him off.
“Eat,” he said. “I'll tell you when the time comes.”
“I'm sorry,” said Rill, interrupting, “but you said that heating the tyre up again will make it fit on the wheel. How does that happen?” Caymus's friend was paying no attention at all to his food, so rapt was his attention. It was unusual. Rill hardly ever showed interest in anything said about the Conflagration, how it worked, or what anyone did with it.
Be'Var must have noticed, too. He gave Rill a long look before answering, as though deciding whether it was worth the effort of explaining. “I'm going to pretend,” he said, “that you've not been a Second Circle disciple for the past three years, Rill, and answer that.” Rill's face began turning decidedly red, which seemed to satisfy the old man. “Fire makes earth grow,” he said. “Heating the iron up will expand the hoop, making it just large enough to fit over the wheel.” He turned back to his meal. “When it cools down again, it will shrink and make a tight fit over the wood so that it doesn't come off.”
Rill looked confused. He looked around and the group, and then down at the ground as though to give up on the subject, but then he lifted his head and looked Be’Var square in the face. “I thought,” he said, “that heat made things shrink?”
Caymus couldn’t quite believe the questions that were coming out of his friend’s mouth. Even the missionaries, who received far less training than the disciples of the Temple, were looking at Rill with a hint of shock. These were fairly basic concepts that most Second Circles picked up in their first year—in their first month, even. Still, there was something about Rill in this moment that Caymus hadn’t seen in all the years they had spent in classes and lectures, something quite genuine. Rill’s face was flushed, and he was obviously embarrassed about the entire exchange, but his eyes were intent, focused, interested.
Gwenna spoke up. “Water,” she said. “Only water gets smaller with heat.” Rill shifted his gaze to her and she explained. “It's easier to see in reverse,” she said. “If you take heat away from water, it turns into ice and gets bigger, right?”
“Riiight...that's what breaks a lot of the large rocks into smaller ones in the winter,” said Rill, closing his eyes, as though having to concentrate hard to recall this tidbit. “It rains,” he continued, “the rain gets into a crevice in the rock, freezes, the water turns to ice, expands, and the rock splits.”
He opened his eyes again and addressed his next question to Gwenna directly. “But it doesn't do the same thing to iron?”
“Feawseg,” said Caymus.
Be’Var turned and looked at Caymus with a raised eyebrow. “Disciples still use that after all these years?” he said, taking a bite of bread.
“Some of us do,” said Caymus, looking pointedly at Rill with a grin, but Rill had closed his eyes and was quietly moving his lips, trying to remember the mnemonic.
“Fire,” he said, “Eats air,” he continued, then opened his eyes and smiled. “Water shrinks. Earth grows.” He looked genuinely proud of himself.
“That’s the one,” said Caymus. “So let me get this straight: you memorized it, but never gave a second thought to what it actually meant or why we learned it in the first place?”
“For that,” said Be’Var, “he’d have had to give it a first thought.”
“No offense, Rill, but for a Second Circle,” said Bridget, giving him a sidelong look, “you don't seem to know a whole lot.” She wasn’t berating him; it was more of a question than a statement.
Rill had the good sense to look a bit sheepish, and then shrugged his shoulders. “It…just never seemed all that interesting until a few minutes ago.”
“Could've saved us a lot of time,” said Be'Var, not looking at him, “by mentioning that a few years ago.”
Rill let his shoulders drop and leaned forward on his knees. His face took on a thoughtful, almost pensive look. “You'll get no argument from me,” he said with a sigh. Then, he smiled to himself. “You know, I used to sit in the classroom, hearing all these things, all this stuff that you're telling me about right now, and only really thinking about when I was going to get out of the room and be able to do something else. Anything else. Now, here we are, and something's actually broken that requires you know a few things in order to fix it. Sudd
enly, there's a reason to know the stuff.” He shrugged again and looked plaintively at the faces around him. “Suddenly, it's interesting.”
“So what you're saying,” said Milo, “is that there aren't enough broken wagons at the Temple for your liking?”
Rill chuckled. “Something like that. I don’t know, it’s…”
“Context,” said Y’selle. They all turned to look at her. She was folding the remains of her lunch into a cloth.
“Ma’am?” asked Rill.
“Sometimes, all we need to understand the lessons taught us,” she continued—and she was looking at Be’Var, rather than Rill—“is to change the context.”
Be’Var grunted.
Y’selle looked at Rill. “You seem like a bright enough boy, Rill. I don’t know anything about your studies at the Temple, but I’m guessing you know more than you think you do. A clever mnemonic is all well and good, and the lessons of the Conflagration are important,” she said. “But,” she continued, “for a lot of people, all the theory in the world doesn’t mean a thing…until it's needed to fix a broken wheel.”
Be'Var was looking hard at Rill, who suddenly seemed quite content. The old man looked as though he wanted to say something, then he seemed to change his mind and went back to his cheese. Caymus was wondering what the old master was thinking when he noticed a streak of white out of the corner of his eye. The hawk, the one he'd first met on the night of the attack and which had been constantly nearby since they'd left the Temple, had landed on the edge of the wagon, several yards away from them. “Milo,” he said, keeping his eyes on their small companion.
“I see her,” said Milo, who was reaching into a pouch on his belt. He produced a small piece of dried meat of some kind, then held it up in front of his eyes, looking past it at the hawk and twirling it around to give the bird a good look. The hawk tilted its head slightly to the left, then to the right, then spread its wings and took flight, heading toward Milo, who threw the morsel into the air as it passed. The hawk swooped downward and caught it with sharp talons, then beat its wings hard to regain altitude as it flew past them. After it had become a mere speck in the sky, it slowly dropped down, disappearing behind the horizon.
“Perra,” said Milo, turning away from the retreating figure.
“What?” said Caymus.
“I've decided to call her Perra,” he replied.
“Her?” said Gwenna. “The hawk is a she?”
“Yep,” said Milo. “I asked a friend of mine, who knows a lot about birds, and described the markings. I heard his whisper just before we left. He said she's a Perranus Mouse-Catcher.” He looked back to where the hawk had disappeared.
“Perra,” said Gwenna, trying it out. She nodded. “I like it.”
“Apparently,” said Milo, “it's a bit unusual to find them this far south.”
A slight breeze picked up. It was cool and it felt good against Caymus's sweaty skin and clothing. He raised his head to feel it on his neck and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.
“That's odd,” said Milo. Caymus opened his eyes and saw Milo looking in the direction of the Greatstones, confusion on his face.
“What is?” said Be'Var.
“Sorry?” said Milo, as though seeing him for the first time.
Be'Var sighed. “What's odd, Milo?”
Milo shook his head. “That bit of wind. It was stronger than it should have been, considering where we are.”
Matron Y'selle, strands of her gray hair blowing about in the breeze, turned to look in the same direction. “A storm coming?”
Milo shrugged. “Could be.” He visibly relaxed and ate some cheese. “Probably not. Just odd, that's all.”
Everyone seemed to accept Milo's word. Those who hadn't yet finished their lunch ate in silence for a few minutes while the others began packing things up. Caymus chanced a few looks at Gwenna and kept finding himself smiling when he caught her looking at him, too. After the first couple of times, it became a game, seeing who could turn unexpectedly and catch the other staring. When she shook her head at him and started talking quietly to Bridget, effectively ending the game, he let himself relax for a moment. He thought about what Be'Var had said when he had first announced his intention to leave the Temple, that this was nothing more than an excuse to be near her, and was forced to wonder if it was true. He liked Gwenna. She was confident, smart, and pretty, and he enjoyed her company. He just wondered how much of his leaving had to do with this new mark on the back of his hand and how much had to do with her. He hoped it was more the former than the latter.
“Where did you learn to be a wheelwright?” said Bridget, breaking the silence.
Be'Var thought for a few moments before answering. “I'm not a wheelwright,” he said. “In my younger days, I served in the physicians' corps of the Kepren army.” He smiled at the surprised faces looking at him, obviously pleased with himself. “Don't look so shocked,” he said. “Not all of the old fossils at the Temple spent the entirety of their lives there. All young men want adventure, and I was no exception.” He finished his last mouthful of cheese, talking around it. “I was a physician, mending the wounds of soldiers so that they could go out and get cut to ribbons again, for five years. You learn a few odds and ends when you're traveling with a large fighting force. Learned how to ride a horse, how to march in formation, how to fight with a sword and shield—”
“How to put up a tent in a minute, flat,” said Milo.
“You can use a sword?” asked Caymus, with greater fervor than he'd intended. “How come I never see you with one?”
Be'Var smirked at him. “Haven't needed it for a very long time.” Then he tilted his head, indicating something on the ground. When Caymus followed his gaze, he noticed a cloth bundle lying next to his trunk. The piece of green fabric was tied around something long and thin, tied off with a cord of leather, and he could just make out the gleam of metal. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.
“Is that...” said Caymus.
“Yes,” said Be'Var.
“Can I—”
“No.”
“Anyway," Be'Var continued, “it turned out that with my skill at pulling, I was a bit useful when it came to blacksmithing, so I got to help with some of the repairs: shoeing horses, fixing weapons, and even helping the wheelwrights with the wagons. Speaking of which,” he said, looking around at mostly finished lunches, “we'd better get back to it. Rill, go fetch the wheel and roll it over to the tyre, will you?”
Caymus stood up, dusted off his hands, brushed the crumbs off himself, and moved back to the spot where the tyre still lay while Rill went to retrieve the wheel, lying a few yards off. As they all got back to work, Caymus considered what he'd just learned about Be'Var. The master had never before spoken of any military service in his past, and he was fairly certain that none of the other students at the Temple knew anything about it. Perhaps it was only because he and Rill were no longer counted among those students that Be'Var was telling them of it now, but it certainly did seem like the old man was softening on this trip, if just a little.
“Alright, boy,” Be'Var said, interrupting Caymus's thoughts, “here's how this is going to work: I'm going to do what I did before, moving around the metal and leaving those little bits of myself all over the place. You are going to follow behind me and open a conduit on each one.”
“How do I do that?” Caymus asked. He wasn't any good at pulling, and wasn't sure if he'd be able to make a conduit by himself. As exciting as the prospect was, he wasn't used to failing and he felt a little nervous about the possibility of doing so, especially with the others looking on. He knew the feeling was silly, but he felt it all the same.
“First,” Be'Var said, “focus on that spot, the point where I place the tendril. Don't focus on the metal, mind you, but the spot, the place. You understand?”
Caymus wasn't sure that he did. He shook his head.
Be'Var sighed. “This tends to be easier after some other exercises th
at we're skipping. Alright,” he said, motioning around them, “we've got this wind blowing around us, right? What's left if the wind goes away?”
“Just air,” said Caymus.
“Just?” said Milo, feigning injury.
“Quiet,” said Be'Var. “Yes, air, but what if you took that away?”
“If you took the air out of the air?” Caymus had never even considered such a thing. Could it even be done? “I don't know,” he said.
“Empty space,” said Milo.
“I said quiet,” said Be'Var, darting a look at Milo. He turned back to Caymus. “Well boy, is he right?”
Caymus thought about it. He supposed there was a significant difference between empty space and air. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. You take air away, you get nothing.”
“Not nothing,” said Be'Var. He looked to Rill, who was coming up behind him, rolling the wheel. “Put it next to the tyre,” he said, then turned back to Caymus. “’Nothing’ wouldn't exist. We're talking about empty space here. You can wave your hand through empty space; you can't do anything with nothing.”
“Void,” said Milo, adding his own perspective. “Some air priests can do exactly what he's saying, take the air out of an area and just leave void.”
“I'd quite like to see that,” said Rill, laying the wheel down.
“So would I,” said Gwenna. “Can you see it happen?”
Be'Var let out a very loud, very deliberate sigh. “Could everyone not learning how to open a conduit to the another realm please keep quiet?” He looked around at a few muttered apologies, and then turned his exasperated eyes back to Caymus. “Void, empty space, whatever you want to call it, the point is that even if you take all the elements out of a place, that place still exists. Understand?”
Caymus did, though he was coming to it in stages, as the idea was forcing him to change a couple of basic assumptions. “So, the world isn't exactly made up of elements, but rather it's made of empty space, with the elements filling it up.”
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