by Laura R Cole
CHAPTER 6
Layna completed her morning tasks with no set-backs, relieved that her mistress's illness was keeping her in bed and out of Layna's way. Normal circumstances permitted her to get all the chores done early, especially since she had already tackled the laborious task of the sitting room. Therefore, she had a free afternoon ahead of her, and the anticipation of it was a feeling that she relished.
She had gotten permission to read the books in the library from Jezebel. The understanding was that she could sign them out under the condition that she was responsible for their replacement if they were not returned. Layna loved reading, and used any stolen moment to immerse herself in a story of someone's life that was more interesting than her own. Which really isn't all that hard, she thought ruefully. She smiled despite the thought. After all, they said that leading an interesting life could be a curse.
She ran her hands reverently over the book she had borrowed, having finally decided on one about someone named Merlin in a far distant time and place. She packed this carefully into her bag along with a meat pie she had smuggled from the kitchen. She also grabbed a pair of mittens and a hat since, even though it was a sunny day, it was still somewhat cold outside. She was making her way out through the gardens to go sit beneath an old apple tree on the edge of the property when she heard her name being hailed.
“Layna!” called Gryffon, quickening his pace to intercept her. “Where are you off to?”
Layna smiled shyly and answered after a quick curtsy, “I finished my chores early so I was about to steal a moment and go read in the gardens, sir.” She found that she liked the man more and more since yesterday, despite Jezebel's reaction his comment. Besides, Jezebel was in bed on the other side of the manner, and there was no one else out here to witness this exchange.
Gryffon smiled back at her, warmth seeming to spread across his handsome features, and he replied, “I was about to go for a ride. I just got a new stallion and I'd love to see how he is. Want to keep me company?”
Layna froze. It was one thing to have a conversation on the grounds with no one around, but to actually go somewhere together was a whole other matter. She was reluctant to spend time with someone so closely connected to Jezebel, even if she wasn't exactly sure what that connection was. He saw her hesitation and added, “I promise to take you somewhere to read and then leave you alone. Look,” he said pulling a bow and arrow off his back, “I wanted to do some target practice anyway. I'll take you for a nice scenic ride somewhere you've never been and then you'll still get to read while I entertain myself with target practice. Deal?”
Layna still wasn't comfortable with the idea and her head was telling her to just say ‘no’, but the rest of her was eager to go. Her good sense lost the battle, however, as Gryffon had decided to take her silence as consent. He was already leading her by the elbow towards the stables. His directness threw her off-guard, and she didn't know how she could gracefully refuse the invitation. Instead, she obediently followed him inside where he stopped in front of one of the horse's stalls. Besides, I’m supposed to do what the nobles ask me to, aren’t I? The pesky voice of good sense grumbled something in the back of her head, but she ignored it.
While he grabbed the tack for the stallion, Layna wandered to the black horse stabled at the end. “Hello there, Gorgeous,” she purred to the creature, stroking its mane.
Gryffon looked over at her. “You talking to me?” he asked jokingly.
Layna blushed furiously; glad her cheeks must already be rosy from the cold. “The horse on the end here, my lord. I come visit him sometimes and I nicknamed him Gorgeous, because, well...he just is.” She smiled and patted the horse's nose. The horse lipped at her hand, looking for a treat.
“Too bad,” said Gryffon grinning, pulling a saddle from its stand. “His real name is Fly, short for Firefly. He's one of my favorites. Would you like to ride him?” He glanced at her for approval and she gave a nervous nod.
“You realize, of course,” she informed him, “that I've never ridden a horse before, right?”
Gryffon gave her a mischievous grin. “Nothing to it, old Fly here handles like a charm.”
The word triggered her memory and she said, “Thank you for the necklace, by the way. It's beautiful. But I really don’t think I can…” she reached up to take it off, but he interrupted her.
“Keep it. I promise I won’t tell.”
He gave her a wink, but said nothing more about it, so Layna dropped her hands a bit reluctantly and asked instead, “So what do I need to know about riding?”
Gryffon gave her the rundown of the basics to horseback riding, patiently explaining when she questioned parts of it. When she felt as though she at least knew enough to make a go of it, they led the horses outside, her with Fly and him with his new horse, Battle Axe.
“I didn't name him,” Gryffon had clarified before she could comment. “He was already trained to respond to it when I got him, so other than shortening it to 'Axe' I'm stuck with it. One hell of a horse though”
Gryffon positioned her next to Fly and made a step with his hands; hoisting her up onto the horse, and helping her get her feet in the stirrups. The ease with which he lifted her up surprised her and she plopped down onto Fly's back with a loud smack.
“Oof,” she exclaimed.
He chuckled and handed her the reins. In one fluid motion, he mounted his own horse, and after briefly demonstrating the commands, they began a slow walk. The motions of the horse felt jerky underneath her at first, but she soon learned the patterns of the movement and adjusted her own to match so that she and the horse were moving together.
As Layna became more comfortable, Gryffon urged Battle Axe into a trot and then a canter. He showed Layna each and then helped her to master them as well.
“You're a natural,” Gryffon told her admiringly.
Layna simply laughed. She wasn't sure that her legs were going to agree with that statement tomorrow, but she did feel as though she was doing moderately well. “Why is it that you know so much about riding?” she asked, lulled into a tentative feeling of comfort by his winsome demeanor and the distance from the manor. Just the same, she added a “sir” a moment later, not quite ready to completely give up formalities just yet.
“I've always loved the animals for one,” Gryffon answered after a short pause. “I grew up in the country, so if we wanted to go somewhere, we walked or we learned to ride horses. Now that I'm a big city man, I take them to get away from places instead of using them to get places. And, of course, to hunt.” He grinned. “Hunting is my therapy. No matter what else is happening, I can always ride out into the woods and then there is nothing in the world but me and that big buck that I'm after.” He sighed happily, looking out into space for a moment before focusing his gaze on her once again. “And how is it that you’ve never ridden before? Where did you grow up?”
“In Rockham,” she answered and then explained since his blank expression suggested he hadn’t heard of it. “It’s a tiny village west and south of here. We had mules that pulled the cart, but we never rode them. We couldn’t afford horses. Plus, my parents were very distrustful of people in general. They were happy to just deal with those in town and we rarely went anywhere else.”
Gryffon nodded and then let the conversation lapse. They briefly rode in silence until Gryffon announced, “Ah, and here's the spot I promised you.”
A small brook bubbled past an outcropping of rocks, and Layna gasped at the beauty of the landscape beyond it. Gryffon dismounted and helped Layna down, his huge hands encircling her waist and giving her a thrill down her spine. After a moment of appreciation for the view, she settled herself amongst a cluster of rocks that was covered in soft moss and rummaged in her bag for her book.
A frosty breeze down her back made her shiver involuntarily.
“Cold?” Gryffon asked.
She nodded, but
shrugged it off saying, “I'm always cold, I'm convinced I am cold-blooded.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Gryffon exclaimed with mock indignation. He reached down to pick up a stone about the size of his fist, hefting it in his hand for a moment as if measuring its weight. Then he set it at her feet, and she watched with growing interest as he laid his hand over it. He whispered something inaudible and stood back. The rock began to glow red hot and soon it started to give off a radiant heat.
Layna gasped in delight. “How wonderful!” As the heat seeped through her clothes to warm her skin, before she realized what she was doing she crooned dreamily, “I think I'm in love.”
She punctuated the last while batting her eyes dramatically at him and he laughed out loud. “Well, if that's all it takes, I'll heat up rocks for you every day.”
Layna giggled, far more at ease with Gryffon than she had thought would be possible. “Where did you learn to use magic?”
Gryffon looked startled, but answered without hesitation. “At the temple of Ashwald, my father thought I had more potential than simply serving the gods through the Priesthood, making fireworks at services to impress the commoners.” Gryffon grimaced, and looked quickly at her. “No offense.” Layna made a gesture of acceptance. “My father was never a big supporter of the Priesthood. He said that they had wandered too far from their real mission. That they should be training those that went into their service as healers or something else that was useful to the people rather than trying to win over people's faith with cheap tricks.” Gryffon shrugged. “Anyway, he scraped together enough money and sent me to the training instead.”
“He sounds like a good man.” Layna commented, touched by the affection in Gryffon’s voice as he described his father.
“He was.”
Gryffon walked to the edge of the brook and stood staring down into the water, deep in his own thoughts. Layna cracked open her book and was soon enthralled by the adventures of the great magician, Merlin.
In the back of her consciousness she was aware of Gryffon setting up a target and every now and then the quiet din of the forest would be interrupted by a twang, followed by the dull thunk of an arrow colliding with his target.
After a while, curiosity overcame her, and she stole a glance at the target. His arrows clustered together where he had made a large black dot in the center, and she commented appreciatively, “Nice aim.”
“I give all the credit to the bow,” he answered humbly. “The best damn bow I've ever seen made and the most eccentric man I've ever met who made it.”
Layna gave a short laugh. “Oh?”
“Oh, indeed,” he answered. “He is.”
Their time was cut short by the setting of the sun, and the two of them made their way back to the manor. Gryffon asked her if she would join him again the next day and Layna surprised herself by accepting. She was light-headed for the rest of the evening. She knew she should stop now, that she was lucky she hadn’t gotten in trouble for the time she spent with him already, and for the familiarity with which she had treated him. But it was thrilling. Both the thought of him, and - though she hated to admit it - also the excitement of something so forbidden.
The next morning she caught herself taking extra care in brushing her hair until it shone and putting on her nicer tunic after rushing through her chores. She chided herself for her girlishness, but smiled despite herself. Fly isn't the only gorgeous creature I'm meeting in the stables.
When she arrived, Gryffon was already there waiting for her. They rode through the woods where he showed her how to spot deer sign; from the scrapes on the ground to the rubbings on the trees from their antlers. They talked about magic - Layna had been unable to stop thinking about Gryffon's use of it the day before. They both lamented how unfortunate it was that it had become so limited and that the law mandated that only expensively trained individuals could practice it outside the confines of the Priesthood. The number of people with any notable amount of talent was fairly small to begin with, and any who had it were carefully regulated by the priests.
“You’d be surprised how many people have latent talent, or a small enough amount of it never to have been required to do anything about it though,” Gryffon informed her, much to her surprise. “That’s why there’re so many people that can activate the old spells if they know how, but very few who can actually make those spells anymore. And even fewer who are allowed to do it on their own.”
Anyone who displayed even the tiniest level was required to report to the priests to be tested, and if it was determined that you had any discernable amount you had to enroll either in the training classes or with the Priesthood. Since the price of being trained was so outrageous, only nobles could even dream of affording it, and even then it was hardly worth the money. Gryffon, though a noble, admitted that it had been a struggle for his father to come up with the sum, and after having been trained, Gryffon was not all that impressed with what it had bought him. He told her that other than the showier spells like those seen at the temples, the priests couldn't - or wouldn't - teach their pupils much more. Layna was happy to note that despite being noble, Gryffon thought that the practice was unfair since the extravagant cost essentially forced any commoner into the service of the priests. Not that it's probably much different from serving a noble household, but at least you would have a choice.
“I wonder if I have a latent talent,” Layna speculated fancifully, “Then maybe you could spell the rock so I could heat it when you’re not with me.”
Gryffon’s eyes darted towards her and he gave her a strange look, which quickly converted to an impish grin. “Now why would I want to do a thing like that?” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion until he continued, “And take away your reason for spending time with me?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, that’s why I spend time with you.” He grinned. She quickly steered the conversation back towards magic. “Do you think that the priests know more spells than they are willing to teach?”
“Could be.” He looked thoughtful. “There are definitely some spells that I have seen performed that I was never taught. But, it is possible either that someone came up with a new one, or that they were simply activating one of the old spells.”
“You can do that?”
“Mmm-hmm. And actually, I just thought of another possibility; it may just be that I wasn't able to wield that much talent, or that there wasn't enough power available at the time, so they didn't bother teaching me that particular spell. Even so, I don't see the Priesthood parting with all their secrets. They probably have a few that they keep to themselves anyway.”
“That hardly seems fair, but unfortunately it sounds very likely.” Layna absorbed the information for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. “I've always known that there are old spells around, like Lady Jezebel has the snakes that come to life and her voice enhancement, but are those something that can be done anymore or has all that knowledge been lost?”
“A lot of it has been lost, though there are some people who have figured out how to copy them by studying how they are activated and how they work. A lot of the application of magic is imagination and creativity. Coming up with a new spell is like creating a recipe. You have to have the basic knowledge of the ingredients, and then you can try putting it together to make something new. Except with magic you have to be a lot more careful since you could end up blowing yourself up, or transporting yourself to a different plane, rather than just a bad batch of soup.”
Layna's eyes widened in amazement. “Are you serious? You could go to another plane? What does that even mean?”
Gryffon laughed, and shrugged noncommittally. “Supposedly it used to be possible, but it would take a whole lot more power than people normally open themselves up to on a daily basis. So it's unlikely that I would transport us to Gamoland just by trying to start a fire, for example.” As an afte
rthought, he added, “Though working with the elements is tricky, so you never know.”
“What was it you said about the priests not teaching you because of....why?”
“Because I may not have been able to wield enough power for a particular spell, or the necessary power may just not have been available. As you might imagine, it takes less magical energy to do something small,” he accentuated the point by flicking his thumb against his middle finger and starting a flame, “than to do something big, like if I were to try to set the whole forest on fire.” He waved his flaming hand outwards, as if throwing the fire which simply went out. “In order to do a spell, you have to open yourself up to the power.” He searched for the words to explain it to her. “Imagine a big barrel of wine. If you wanted to fill a cup, you would open the spout just enough to let a small flow out until your cup was full. If you were trying to fill a pitcher, you might open it a little more so it flows out more quickly and it fills faster. But if you open it too much for your container, it will fill too fast and overflow, making a big sticky mess. It's like that, only if you open yourself up to too much power the big sticky mess would be you. Some people have cup-sized talent, and others have pitcher-sized talent.”
“So, the really powerful mages both have to have a larger amount of talent naturally and also either be really well trained or be really imaginative to have created a whole bunch of spells for themselves.”
“Precisely.”
“Wow. So are you cup-sized or pitcher-sized?”
“Hard to say the exact amount I have, I was definitely better than any of those who were being taught with me, but since there aren't a lot of the more difficult spells left, I don't know that I've reached my limits in order to know what they are.”
“I bet you're a pitcher.”
Layna spent as many stolen afternoons with Gryffon as she could, growing more and more impressed with him each time. She approved of his acceptance of the lower class as equals, and appreciated his knowledge of the outdoors and of history. He was much more enjoyable company than most that Layna had ever talked to, and her initial fear of consorting with him wore off slowly as more and more time passed without incident. Layna found herself seeking Gryffon's presence whenever she could, and taking advantage of the escape that the rides offered her. There was still that persistent voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was getting lulled into a false sense of safety, but it was easy to ignore with Gryffon around.
Back at the manor, Jezebel was rarely seen by any of the servants. Since the day she had been sick, she seemed preoccupied. Other than Devon's comings and goings, she seemed content to whittle away her time in her suite and in the library poring over the documents that Devon brought her.
Layna was in the hallway one morning when a knock sounded at the front door, and she hurried to open it. She pulled the large wooden door back to reveal a stodgy little man whose balding head made him look far older than the lines in his face would suggest.
“May I help you, sir?” Layna asked when he did not present himself right away.
He looked at her, startled for a moment, before replying. “Oh. Yes, of course. Please inform Lady Jezebel that she has a caller. You may tell her that my name is Jonathan, and that I am a friend of a friend with some information she may find interesting.”
Layna nodded to him, and held the door wider so that he could step inside, out of the inclement weather, while she went to relay the message to her mistress. He stepped inside with a nod of thanks, and brushed off his cloak, which was heavy with the early winter snow that had started this morning. Layna held back a cringe as the snow hit her newly scrubbed floor, and excused herself to go inform Jezebel of her visitor, raising a hand to shift her necklace which was starting to stick to her skin with sweat. She knocked at the library door and opened it just wide enough to announce the visitor at her mistress's sharp query of “What is it?”
Jezebel put down the book that she had been reading and turned to face the door. “Very well then, what are you waiting for? Show the man in.”
Layna curtsied, and went back to the front door to fetch the man into the library. His wet shoes squeaked on the floor, and inwardly Layna sighed. She presented him to Jezebel in the library and then hurried off to gather refreshments from the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with tea and crumpets. These she set on the table between the two.
“You certainly have an eye for detail.” The man was complimenting Jezebel on an elaborate painting of none other than Jezebel herself that hung above the fireplace.
“Indeed,” Jezebel replied. “I find that no matter how much I look there's always something else to find.”
Layna glanced at Jezebel who gave her a slight dismissive nod, and she left the two of them to their discussion to mop the front hall and entryway. Again.
