by TJ Muir
“Okay, thanks,” Jedda said, “Appreciated.” This time he was paying close attention to his words and trying to mimic their speech patterns.
Everything stowed away, and the pony happily returned to his little field, Gherant nodded.
“A good day. And now it’s time for a good drink. Brass Monkey.” He clapped Jedda on the shoulder. “Come join.”
Jedda paused, about to balk. Every instinct told him not to go out in public. At least his clothes were mostly Faenyr, so he wouldn’t stand out too badly. He didn’t want to stand out. But he also wanted to see what he could learn from Gherant about learning Chanmyr magic. He was sure the gods were trying to help him. But they weren’t giving him a very easy path to follow. And he knew if he kept taking gambles, eventually, his luck was going to run out.
The Brass Monkey could have been almost any pub in Tatak Rhe. The music sounded a bit different, and the local ale tasted thicker. The chips were made with sweet potatoes, and spicier.
Jedda was relieved they were sitting in a back corner, where he could keep his back to a wall, and watch the room for anything that looked suspicious. After a while, the room shifted from the usual quieter dinner crowd, leaving the ones who were staying late to have fun.
Jedda decided it was time to make his exit. He had seen enough pub fights to know things could turn from friendly to raucous in the blink of an eye or the sip of an ale. “Think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Flying in the morning?” Gherant asked.
Jedda nodded. “Sounds good.” He figured if he was going to be sticking around for a few days, he might as well make use of his time. Otherwise, he’d be wandering around, looking like an outsider. He considered trying to track down Destryn and Kai but thought it would be better if he tried to stay out of sight. He would wait until daytime to move around the city when he could try to blend in with the regular traffic.
Jedda woke up early but laid in bed for awhile, staring out the window in the loft, watching the clouds. It had been a long time since he had any chance at being alone. He liked having that complete solitude.
Not long after the first Nibbin, he heard rustling and movement down below, followed by a few thumps and crashes. He stretched, and got up, pulling on his clothes. He straightened out the wrinkles in his shirt, ran a comb through the unbraided part of his hair, then climbed down from the loft.
Gherant was already at work pulling apart the frame of a flier.
“Here, let me give you a hand,” Jedda said, joining Gherant at the workbench.
“Thanks. Grab that end,” Gherant said. “Just hold it steady. Going to trim a little bit off the end. Think it’ll go better a little shorter.”
The two of them tinkered for the rest of the Nibbin. Jedda was enjoying the work. For all of the time he had spent in the archives learning about things, this was one of the first times he had gotten to actually do something. Other than carving, which he taught himself, and did solo.
He realized Gherant was probably about his own age, or close to it. But he knew what he was doing when it came to fliers. He would go off about theory of flight and design-- some of which Jedda could follow.
“Grab the blue canvas from the shelf,” Gherant said, nodding toward the far wall.
“Got it.”
“Stick it on the back of the cart,” Gherant said. “Then give a hand with this frame.”
“Tie it down,” Gherant said, once the frame was loaded. “Going to go grab the pony, and then we can head to the lower slope.”
“Okay,” Jedda said, but when he looked up, he saw Gherant had already disappeared out the door.
“No launch ramp?” Jedda asked, looking around when they got to the top of the hill.
“Not enough room,” Gherant said over his shoulder as he unhooked the pony and led it over to a tree, where he tied it to graze in the shade.
“Well, then how do you get launched?”
Gherant laughed, walking up beside Jedda. “You run with it, just like you would with a kite.” He slapped Jedda on the back. “But there is a small drop.” He pointed a short ways down from where they stood. “Aim for that, and push, or hop, or jump, from that spot.”
Jedda swallowed. “Oh. Sure. Sounds easy,” he said, thinking it was going to be anything but easy.
“This flyer is easier, for training. Lighter. It’s only used down here, so doesn’t need to stand up to the winds. It won’t be that bad. Honest.”
Gherant sounded optimistic, but Jedda wasn’t buying it.
The two of them pulled the practice flyer out of the wagon, and Gherant supervised as Jedda assembled and checked all the parts. Gherant lounged against the back of the wagon, eating a sausage roll.
“You don’t look very concerned,” Jedda noted, as he pulled a cord tight, looped, and knotted.
Gherant shrugged. “Not me that might die.” But he smiled as he said it.
Jedda swallowed, feeling his stomach flip-flop.
“Kidding,” Gherant said. “You’re doing fine. I have been watching. Honest. Besides, it isn’t like you’d actually kill yourself. Just some broken bones maybe. Nothing extreme or serious.”
Jedda knew Gherant was trying to wind him up and determined he wasn’t going to let it get to him. He had plenty of experience from Trey.
“Okay. Way this works. You’re only going to get a little bit of height. Just enough to coast across the meadow. Aim to land it over there,” he said, pointing just left of the mid-point of the meadow. “First time out, you’re going to want to panic. So, don’t. And don’t do anything fancy. And nothing stupid. Straight line, that way. Ease it down with the slope. Keep the nose up when you come in. Run with it as you hit the ground.”
Jedda took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
Gherant must have seen the expression on his face, because he grabbed Jedda by the arm and guided him over to the flyer, then helped him get buckled and strapped in. Together, they hoisted the frame. It was a lot lighter than the bigger flyers Hawk had flown in. He wouldn’t want to hold it up all day, but it wasn’t unbearably heavy.
“How do I get back?” Jedda asked.
“Other side of the slope is deceptive. The field is dished. Just turn around and launch back over. Won’t make it the whole way, though. This side’s higher. Unless a gust of wind comes along.”
Jedda was about to change his mind- opened his mouth...
Gherant ducked behind him and yelled into his ear. “One, two, three… GOOO!” And a hard slap on the back.
Jedda’s feet betrayed him, and he started running despite his doubts.
“HAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIII!” he screamed, heading over the jump point. And then he was airborne. At first, his brain froze, hands in a death grip on the frame. He thought he was going to be sick. One breath. Another breath. He felt the smooth flow and heard the light flap of the canvas. The air wasn’t as noisy or as bumpy as he remembered. He smiled, and let out another yell, “wwhooooooo!”
And then the far side of the meadow loomed up ahead. Jedda had a feel for the flier now, and the terror had subsided. He could see the spot where countless others had landed before him, and aimed for the worn area.
When his feet hit the ground, and he brought the flyer to a standstill, Jedda felt a rush go through him, despite the bit of wobble in his legs. It didn’t take him long to turn the flyer around and make the return trip. He had a moment of panic without Gherant there to force-launch him. But part of him wanted to be back up in the air, and that was stronger than his fear.
Jedda spent the rest of the morning going back and forth, back and forth. Gherant added in a few lessons along the way, turning and steering, how to use his weight.
“Mostly,” Gherant said, “it’s just practice. Doing it again and again and again.”
Jedda nodded. He understood that. And he made a dozen trips back and forth. It was tiring work. By noon, he was sore and ready to be done. Gherant met him halfway up the slope where he landed, pony and ca
rt in tow.
“Could tell by that last landing you were pretty well spent. Any more and you’re likely to crash my rig,” he said. But Jedda didn’t think he was that upset. Jedda wasn’t sure Gherant got upset. The man seemed to take everything in life as a joke, light, never too serious.
Once the gear was packed and stowed, Gherant reached under the seat of the little cart and pulled out a flask. “Here,” he said, passing it to Jedda. “You look like you could use a boost.”
Jedda nodded. “Thanks.” He took a swig. The drink was rich and sweet, burning its way into his belly.
Jedda and Gherant grabbed lunch and then spent the afternoon tinkering in the workshop. Jedda helped disassemble and assemble parts and pieces of fliers Gherant was designing. He wished he had a chance to ask the other man about magic, but Gherant chatted steadily. Between teaching him about fliers, giving him instructions, and remembering a dozen stories, Jedda had no chance to bring it up. Gherant’s favorite words seemed to be ‘That reminds me of the time…’
At the end of the day, Jedda was dirty and exhausted. “Hot shower, food, and bed.”
Gherant clapped him on the back. “Need anything?”
Jedda shook his head. “Think I’m all set.”
"Good. I have a few things I need to tend to tomorrow. Make yourself at home, though. Another lesson when I get back?”
Jedda nodded and yawned when he tried to speak.
Gherant laughed. “Shower out back. Don’t fall asleep there.”
So Jedda had the day to himself. It worked out well because he was curious about the city. He slept later than he expected and after a quick washing, he changed and headed out, north. He bought a hot tea and sausage roll and headed to the archive, hoping to find information on magic there.
Jedda spent several hours delving through the archives. They were nowhere near as extensive as those in Tatak Rhe, but he decided that was better. He knew what he wanted, and since he was on a mission, it would be easier without wading through a dozen buildings and basements.
There was a whole section for flyers. Jedda got sidetracked, looking at all the different styles of flying machines there were. There was even a giant balloon that carried people up in the sky. Tatak Rhe might be a grand city, but he was beginning to sense it was stuck in the past. It liked tradition, continuing the way things had always been done, formality, and protocol. Treyu felt like a place where things happened. Maybe not the important things like in Tatak Rhe, but ideas, new things. It was a small city, and almost sleepy, but Jedda was beginning to realize he shouldn’t underestimate Treyu.
After a while, he remembered his reason for coming and dragged himself away from the fliers. He was determined to find something about magic. He'd thought about just asking Gherant, but for some reason, he wanted this to be his own secret. His, and his alone.
The system wasn’t too different, and it didn’t take him long to find a section on philosophy. He didn’t know if the archives had sections dedicated to magic. In Tatak Rhe, he had noticed some books about it mixed in with philosophy. He wished now he had taken the time to look through some of them. Back then he had no interest in magic, though. He didn’t know he had any Faenyr magic, and it never occurred to him he might be able to learn Chanem magic. Chanmyr, he corrected himself. He wasn’t among the Faenyr now.
He found a book that talked about using magic to enchant objects. To put a spell into an item. At first, he thought it was like Faenyr magic, but quickly realized the difference. Faenyr magic was weaving something into the object that it already had. It could make wood be more flexible, or stiffer. Like with bows flexing, or arrows being straighter.
Chanmyr magic put a spell into an object, like a seed- whether the object wanted the seed or not. From what he could tell, some things were easier to enchant than others, but he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the concept. He thought it was really amazing, though, that the more you used an enchanted item, the stronger it could become-- although overuse could run the risk of it breaking, or worse, backfiring. He liked the idea of having magic spells stored away, waiting.
In the back of one book, there was a discussion on the differences between two slightly different spells. And the book listed them. Jedda’s eyes went wide and his mind raced. He drew on his memory skills and tried to imprint the two spells into his brain.
By the end of his session, Jedda had found a few spells he thought he could memorize and manage. He spent a while making the coin in his hand float-- just a little bit. But it was exciting. He liked the feeling of watching the coin as it got lighter against his skin, and then when he couldn’t feel it at all he gasped. Much better than Faenyr magic.
And he learned how to make a flame. It was just a tiny flame, but it danced brightly across his fingertips. He couldn’t wait to show Gherant. Way better than making a hundred arrows that flew straight.
Later that night, Gherant came into the workshop. Jedda was so excited he just had to show Gherant he could make a coin, or anything small, float above his hand.
Gherant nodded his approval. “What else you learn? What did you find?”
“Well, I was only there for the afternoon,” Jedda said, meaning the archives. “So I didn’t have a lot of time to look around. I saw some great looking flyers. Just miniature, but still really impressive.”
“Hand me the wrench,” he said, as he continued to work while Jedda talked.
“Oh, yeah,” Jedda said, turning to scavenge among Gherant’s tools. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Gherant said, as he tightened up a support brace. “So, what else you got?”
“Oh, right,” Jedda said. “As I was saying, I could only memorize a couple in the time I had.”
“You memorized them? That quickly? And you got it right?” Gherant sounded impressed and surprised.
“Oh, yeah. I guess I’ve got a pretty good memory.” Jedda didn’t tell him about the many years he had spent practicing and improving his memory. He used to look at a crowd, and then close his eyes, trying to remember as many details as he could before opening them again. Kirrin had helped him with some of that as well, testing his memory and challenging him all the time. Places and names on maps. Rulers in Tatak Rhe and their political connections. It had paid off. It never occurred to him he had developed a special or impressive skill.
“So you learned how to float an object. What else?””
Jedda stopped for a moment, seeing the shapes and words in his mind, saying them to himself, mumbling half out loud. Just as it had earlier, a little flame danced above his fingertips.
Gherant nodded. “Want to add a little flare to that one?”
Jedda blinked. “Flare?”
“Yeah, you can toss it from hand to hand, or even toss it, or send it, somewhere else. Like this.” A bright little flame appeared above his own fingers. And then he tossed it to his other hand - back and forth like it was a little ball.
Jedda grinned, thrilled by watching Gherant and what he could do, so easily. Then Gherant tossed the flame into the bed of coals.
“Whoa!” Jedda exclaimed. “This is soo much better than Faenyr magic.”
“Don’t underestimate what Faenyr magic can do,” Gherant said. “My cousin Taojhi would run circles around both of us before either one of us could blink.”
Jedda nodded and sighed slightly. He didn’t see it, the tedium and monotony.
“Watch this,” Gherant said as the flame molded into a miniature fire-bird and flew away. Actually, it dissipated, but it looked like it was flying away.
“Fantastic!”
“It’s easier to do with smoke,” Gherant added as he made a tiny flame dance back and forth on his fingers. “Oh, and remember- never mix the two together. Faenyr and Chanmyr.”
Jedda didn’t know that was even possible, and he looked at Gherant, confused.
“Easier to explain this way. Remember, I said how Taojhi tried to teach me Faenyr magic, right? Well, I also have a brother. We live to torment eac
h other. But that’s another story. In this time, I don’t even remember what started it. This is what I do remember. I remember ending up with a foot of snow in my bedroom. Then I tried to melt it, the magics mixed up in my hurry. The rug caught on fire, and the water flooded the room downstairs, where my father happened to be-- with guests. What happened after that wasn’t pretty, but no need to go into the details.”
Jedda could almost see Gherant doing the things, as they were described and explained.
“My point is, magic is a funny thing. One moment everything is fine, and then suddenly you’re not the one flying the rig… understand?”
Jedda wasn’t sure he understood at all, but he got the main sense of the message. “Right. Don’t mix the two magics together. Mixing, bad. Got it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Day three. Jedda woke up early and laid in bed, listening to the sounds of the city waking up. He wondered if Marrick had given Diya his letter yet. He imagined Trey’s reaction as he read what Jedda had been up to, but more than that, he wondered if Diya had been missing him.
Hawk had told him three or four days. Maybe he would be getting back soon with their responses. He heard Gherant moving around down below.
“You awake up there?” Gherant called up, loud enough for Jedda to hear.
“Yeah,” he said, climbing down from the loft.
“I have to--” Gherant had started to yell up to Jedda. “--oh, there you are. I have to go out of town for the day. Probably the whole day. Back later, though.”
Jedda nodded. “Okay. Need anything done while you’re gone?”
Gherant looked around the shop. “A bit of straightening up maybe.”
“No problem.”
Gherant headed for the door, calling back over his shoulder as he left. “Just don’t break anything.”
It didn’t take long to sort through and put away the handful of tools they had left lying around. Then Jedda put away some of the silk and frame pieces and gave the floor a quick sweep.
After all that he was feeling hungry, so he closed up the workshop and headed out for some sausage rolls and hot cider and wandered. He walked around the city while he ate. He thought about heading back to the archives in search of more magic books and adjusted his direction north.
