by T J Muir
Korina looked up, eyebrows arched in surprise, wiping flour off of her face, and nodded in acknowledgement. It wasn’t like Diya went out very often.
I’ve earned a morning to myself.
She enjoyed the quiet walk down to Dunwood. Crocuses were blooming, tiny spots of purple and yellow along the slope. Further down, she saw bright yellow flowers. Pasha had told her they were called coltsfoot. She picked a few that she didn’t recognize and tucked them into her jacket. When she got home, she would look them up or ask one of the twins what they were.
Down at the bottom of the lane, the river surged strongly, flooding its banks on both sides. The murky grey-brown water thundered loudly. At her designated mission, she stopped to ask Rualla to make her some work clothes. With that taken care of, she popped into the baker’s shop quickly and picked up some candies for the house. She also added some cheese bread, a sausage roll and a few cookies to her purchase. She was surprised at how hungry she was lately, regularly taking second servings on all of her meals and eating larger portions. Yet, her clothes weren’t getting tight so she hadn’t worried about it too much.
“These cookies are exquisite,” she exclaimed, as sugar and caramel melted in her mouth. “Can I get some more, please?” she asked, feeling delightfully greedy. “A dozen, please.”
Lushal handed Diya the cookies, leaving them unwrapped. Had the woman noticed how voraciously Diya had devoured the first two? Diya couldn’t help herself and reached in, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth.
“Those children keeping you busy?” Lushal asked.
“A bit,” Diya admitted. “But we’ve all been helping the family with the spring chores, which does keep them out of trouble.” She couldn’t keep the hint of pride out of her voice. The look of mild surprise on the baker’s face fueled her satisfaction. She imagined a similar expression from her father, no, maybe not her father, but Marrick would be impressed.
“You’ve lived here a while, haven’t you?”
“Born right here in the village,” the baker said.
“So you must know everyone around this area,” Diya said, leaving the question implied.
“That I do. If they’s from this parts of the world, h’aint a chance I don kno em.”
“So you must know Bajan? I saw the most beautiful glowing light coming from across the valley, and one of the twins told me that he was a magickan that lived just outside the village.”
Lushal nodded casually and leaned back against the counter. “Sure. Everyone in the village knows Bajan. Nice enough man,” she shrugged, frowning thoughtfully, “but a tad bit odd.”
Diya wondered what Lushal meant by that but didn’t want to get distracted. “I thought they mentioned that he had a shop?”
The baker’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. She must have decided this wasn’t idle curiosity and wondered what Diya wanted with the magickan. “Go on up past the seamstress and go right at the fork past the cottages. Past the last cottage, Letta’s, you’ll see a narrow road off to the right. Head up that to the split oak tree and follow the woods along to the left, right on up to Bajan’s.”
Diya followed Lusha’s directions past Letta’s cottage until she got to the split oak and went left up into the woods. She didn’t think Bajan’s would be very far, based on her memory of the glowing lights.
She found the magickan’s cottage and workshop easily, although the hill was steeper than it had looked. She was out of breath and a bit muddy by the time she got there. From the clanging noise, she guessed he was out in the workshop. It was a small barn with a chicken coop on one end, chickens scratching around in the front. On the far side of the barn, she noticed a goat sunning itself on a pile of straw.
Diya turned back to the barn, a slightly dilapidated building with faded red paint. The middle had two swinging doors with a wagon tucked inside. Just to the right of the main barn was a smaller door, also ajar. She guessed this would have been a tack room or feed room.
Now that she was there, she wasn’t sure it had been a good idea. Back in Tatak Rhe, she was either well known or made her arrival known through a servant. She didn’t know what the proper protocol was for wandering into a stranger’s home. There was no big sign next to the door, nothing she could interpret as an invitation.
She was about to turn around when there was a flare of turquoise and emerald inside. Whoever was in the shop was making something-- something magic. Curiosity overcame her sense of propriety, and she walked a little closer and tried to get a look inside.
She saw a man bent over the workbench, muttering to himself. There was something about Bajan that reminded Diya of a wild animal, unkempt and disheveled. The man looked like he had been living in the same clothes for several days. His work pants were worn and stained and looked like he had borrowed them from someone larger than he was. The dark canvas pants were held up by a belt. His shirt was haphazardly tucked in with too many pockets.
Listening to the man holding multiple conversations with himself, Diya began to suspect he might be crazy. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. She took a step backwards and tripped over a stray chicken, losing her balance. She careened backwards, letting out a yelp as she tumbled went sprawling onto the ground.
“Who’s there?” Bajan called out.
Diya stayed quiet for a moment. Perhaps if she didn’t make any noise, the magickan would return to his work and she could slip away. She would come back another time.
The sound of footsteps clomping against the floorboards got louder.
“I’m sorry,” Diya said, climbing to her knees. It would be better if she spoke up while the man was still at a distance. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Here, here,” Bajan said, hurrying forward. He reached out, making an awkward attempt to help her to her feet that reminded her of the day she had met Jay. He had almost run her over in Tatak Rhe, and then he had insisted on helping her over to a nearby bench. Jay had fumbled and his awkward manner had been sweet.
Bajan lacked Jay’s charisma, but by the way he moved, she didn’t think he intended to hurt her. He seemed genuinely worried about her safety. Once she was on her feet, he looked her over as she dusted herself off. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said as the man clung to her arm. This awkward scenario was familiar to her. She took hold of his hand and removed it politely, gripping it in a moment of reassurance, feigning gratitude. She took a step backwards, putting herself out of range.
“Are you here to pick up something or are you the one bringing me zalachite?”
Diya shook her head. “Zalachite? I have no idea what that is.”
“I need it to finish my current project. It’s crucial to get the right kind rare and it’s very rare. The Zalachite from the peninsula, that’s a much better quality. Last time, my supplier tried to sell me the cheaper stuff from the northern mines.” Bajan growled loudly in disgust. “Can’t make good lights with that doucha.”
“Oh, are you making lights?” Diya asked, grateful that the conversation was back to something familiar.
“Of course I’m making lights! Haven’t you heard anything I said?”
Evidently she was supposed to know that zalachite was essential to making lights. “So you made the lights for the house, the Applewood house?” Diya asked.
Bajan nodded and continued to fiddle with the vials on his shelf. He would take one down and peer intently at the contents, shaking or flicking each one before placing it back. He shifted them around, organizing them, but Diya couldn’t see any pattern to his decisions.
“I had never seen anything like that before,” she said, trying to maintain the conversation. “They’re very nice.” She raised her voice slightly, assuming that Bajan was more focused on his equipment.
He grunted in response and continued fidgeting, casting sideways glances in her direction.
“Are they hard to make?”
His head swiveled in her direction. “Eh?”
“Oh,” he said, turning to face her now. “Well, lots of that information is secret. You can’t share it with just anyone, ya knows.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to reveal any secret information. I’ve just never seen things like this before, so I was very curious about them.”
“Never?”
That question seemed to catch his attention.
Diya shook her head. “No. Magic is very rare in the south. There are simple glamours, but even those are very ancient. I don’t think anyone knows how to make them anymore. Certainly not anything like those exquisite dyajan that you made.” Diya watched him puff up with pride at her genuine compliments.
He nodded his head sagely while he continued to fiddle with the rack of vials on his work table. “Well, it takes a lot of study. You have to master a lot of magic first. And to craft things, you need special ingredients to hold the mana. Conditions have to be just right. Work on a night when magic is too strong and you can blow it all up. But you need enough to craft something that will last.”
“So do crafted things last forever?”
“Not forever but you can make them last for a very long time, if everything lines up right. Yellow nights aren’t the best ones- not strong enough. You really want the nights with a lot of violet and a touch of blue or red. If you have garnets from the right places and can get them crushed up with the right ingredients, then blue nights can make some lovely objects.”
Diya listened as the man began to ramble on about different gemstones and the merits of each, scoffing at people who disliked using certain stones and espousing the merits of others. It was a lot more information than she expected and more than she was interested in, but Bajan went on speaking without noticing her confusion. Finally she broke in, interrupting his rambling.
“So you said you had to master a lot of magic before you could do this?”
Bajan came to a complete halt, a blue vial in his hand. It looked like Diya’s question had dislodged his thoughts. He blinked at her, brow furrowed.
“Do you know magic?” Diya asked. “Spells?”
From the squinched look on his face, Diya realized that she had asked a foolish question. She assumed he knew magic, but she wanted to change the subject without being rude.
“Can you teach magic?” she blurted out. “I can pay you,” she added, hoping to catch his interest and prove that she was serious. “I have money,” she said. “Some,” she added hastily, realizing she had been spending a good bit on clothes and art supplies. She remembered her father’s advice to be careful about her spending. This would be worth it though, she told herself. She remembered how it felt when she had made the little ball of light and even turning on the simple lights. What else might she be able to learn?
She realized Bajan was standing there, watching her. He glanced away nervously when she looked at him, all the while fiddling with the vials in his hands. His mouth worked beneath his shaggy beard as though he were trying to decide whether or not to speak.
“Can you?”
“Can I what?” he asked, tugging at his beard.
The fidgeting annoyed Diya. Then she remembered a girl she went to school with who was very clever, but she got confused by too many questions. Looking around the haphazard organization of Bajan’s shop, Diya realized Bajan was like that girl.
She smiled sweetly, using the patience she had mastered from several months of dealing with Tilly. “Can you teach me magic?”
Bajan’s brow furrowed, as he considered her question. “I know some magic,” he repeated.
“I’d like to try to learn some magic,” she said, hoping that would spark his interest, but Bajan just looked at her, nodding.
Diya realized that wasn’t going to work. “What spells do you know?”
She watched as his expression brightened. A moment later, she almost regretted her question. Bajan launched into a long explanation of all the variations of different spells he know, where and when he had learned them with explanations of how he would use each one. She tried to follow the disjointed rambling that delved into more detail than she could follow.
“Now, the light spell, that’s a handy spell to know. So is push, good for helping oxen with heavy wagons and for harvest.”
“Push?” Diya asked, curious. “I don’t think I understand. Can you show me?”
Bajan looked surprised at the interruption but then he looked toward his shelf and mumbled something she didn’t quite hear. Then the racks of vials all straightened out, startling Diya.
She hadn’t expected things to just move despite knowing what he was going to do. She blinked as her brain tried to make sense of a world where objects moved by themselves. Then she imagined cleaning up the playroom with the sweep of her hand. She laughed as she imagined all of the toys marching across the room and returning to their proper places.
“Can you teach me this?” she asked. “Please.”
Bajan continued to nudge his shelf into a semblance of neatness. It was as if he would continue doing whatever he had started, but he kept glancing over at Diya out of the corner of his eye. After a moment he mumbled something to himself and then nodded.
They spent the rest of the morning going over the spell together. Diya practiced pushing things back and forth across the counter. Once she had the feel for it, it was easier than she expected. As she got the feel for the spell, she tried using a little more force.
“Oh, no! I’m sorry,” she said, feeling guilty and secretly pleased asa brass candlestick flew across the workbench and crashed into the far wall. “I think that was a little too much pushing that time.”
Surprisingly, Bajan didn’t seem distressed and simply went to pick up the candlestick and put it back on the bench. Diya realized that he must have had any number of mishaps over the years. She glanced around the workshop again, noticing a handful of scorches on the walls and ceiling.
After a while and several more mishaps, Bajan seemed satisfied by Diya’s ability to cast and control the simple spell.
“This is amazing,” she exclaimed. She couldn’t remember anything that had ever excited her this much. She wanted to push everything just to see if she could. What were the limits of this spell? “What would happen if I tried to push something really big like a tree or a house?”
“Nothing, probably.”
Diya wasn’t sure which of the two words bothered her. “Nothing?”
Bajan shrugged. “Take a good bit of mana to move something like that.”
It was Diya’s turn to nod. So, it was possible. The thought of moving something that massive intrigued her.
“Keep practicing until you get a feel for how much you can move easily and how you can control an item. Rolling a ball is a good way to learn. Try rolling it through a maze of objects. Keep it moving without coming to a stop but without hitting any obstacles.”
Diya’s mind was racing with ideas. She knew there were balls in the children’s playroom and it would be easy to use their toys to build a maze.
To her dismay and embarrassment, Bajan wouldn’t accept any payment for teaching her. Looking around, Diya had a feeling that the man could use some additional income. Everything looked disordered, dingy and shabby. Magickans mustn't make very much for their skill, based on what she saw.
“Can you make me some dyajan?” she asked. If he wouldn’t take money for teaching her then at least she could give him some business. She imagined surprising her family with the devices, the silvery blue light lining their breezeways. It would be the envy of all the other houses. Maybe she could make sure Bajan received plenty of orders from the other so’har houses.
Her inquiry sent Bajan into another spate of rambling. Diya managed to catch enough to understand that he would have to collect or order some ingredients that he was out of. Then he would need to wait until the conditions were optimal. Based on that, he couldn’t give her a definitive answer about when they would be done.
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��That’s okay,” she said. “I am not in a hurry for them. They will be a gift for someone that I won’t see for a while.” Also she decided this would be a perfect excuse. “I can just stop by again and check on them.” She smiled, thrilled on all counts.
The next day the Beddo showed up with flowers to plant, all bright and colorful, Diya pounced on them. That would be much easier than clearing brush.
Some of the flowers and plants she knew from back home, and then there was the pile of bulbs that were dropped in her hands. They all looked alike, and she had to ask what they were. The Beddo pointed to each kind, named them and pointed to different areas for planting them. Irises and orchids were placed in one bed, verbena and foxglove in front of them and pansies and violets in the corners. Then a lot of annual plants that were already bright and colorful were planted, calendula, button flowers, flox and asters.
It was hard to resist the temptation to practice her new magic spell. Every time she bent over to move the planters, she imagined how easy it would be to push them where she wanted them. She remembered the numerous times that Korina had chastised the twins about the careless use of magic and decided she would be setting a bad example for them if she started using magic to do little things. Korina told them magic would make them lazy and careless and Diya didn’t want to prove her point. So she took a deep breath and settled in to do the planting.
While she was still tired at the end of the day, she wasn't in excruciating pain. Mostly, her back got sore from bending over, but she learned how to change her posture. Also, she made excuses to take breaks so she could stretch for a few moments. The best part was that at the end of the day, the gardens looked so much better, not as lush as back home, but before long all of those flower bulbs would become splendid bursts of color.
While she was tending the home gardens, the twins kept working on the lower sheep meadow, clearing the downed trees. Evidently it had been allowed to go fallow for a few years. Diya had been embarrassed, not knowing what that meant until Pasha explained how fields sometimes needed to go wild so they could replenish the richness in the soil. Now that the fields had time to recover, they wanted to use them again. Pasha brought the goats down to start clearing the heavy brush that sheep wouldn't eat. She eyed Pasha enviously, noticing that tending the goats required a lot less work than hauling rocks out of the fields.