She let out a soft noise that could have been a laugh and then watched me for several moments as I went back to working the dough. “You know, now that I think about it, there’s a lot I haven’t explained to you. I’ve really just been dragging you around, expecting you to follow my routine. But I shouldn’t have taken it for granted that you should do that, and do it blind.”
“Things like…” I trailed off invitingly. “Because really, there’s a great deal about this culture and situation that confuses me.”
“I have no doubt,” she agreed ruefully. “But let’s start with the most important first: how the Corcoran Magic Council is going to react to us. I know we’ve mentioned it, but has anyone actually given you a full explanation?”
“Not in the least. Expound, young magess.”
She scooted around a little, settling more comfortably. I took the opportunity to study her covertly while I worked on the dough. She did look better, no grey undertone that made her look like a zombie, a little color in her cheeks.
“I suppose I need to start at the beginning,” she finally stated, canting toward me, watching more of what I was doing than anything.
“Always a good place,” I agreed equably.
“Right as the country was formed, hundreds of years ago, there were some…very bad experiments. Magic used in the most unethical ways possible. I’ll spare you the details, but the justification of it was that they needed to enslave people in order to win the war, it was a necessary evil. Needless to say it blew up in their faces.”
I snorted. “It always does. Necessary evil never leads to anything good.”
“You can say that again. Anyway, because of the fallout of those very bad decisions, the Council of Corcoran Magic was formed, the precursor to our own Magic Council today. They laid down some very strict laws when it came to magical experimentation and the enslaving of another’s will. I looked it up briefly before coming into the kitchen, and there’s three laws precisely that deal with a situation like ours.”
I paused with my fingers in the dough. “Like ours? In other words, our precise situation hasn’t happened before?”
“There has never been another human familiar called in Corcoran,” she denied immediately. “You’re the first. I researched that the first day you were here. If it happened, it’s not recorded anywhere in history.”
Now that was interesting. “So when you say that three laws apply to us…?”
“I mean our situation in general. The first is that a mage cannot bind another being to them through a magical spell, potion, or bond.”
“That’s clear-cut enough. Wait, how does that work when you summon and bind animals as familiars?”
“There’s an exception to that rule, of course, to allow familiar summoning. The second law that applies is that human beings are not to be bound in any shape, form, or fashion without their express consent made without duress,” she sounded as if she were reciting it from memory. For all I knew, she was.
I stared at her, non-plussed. “So because I was summoned as a familiar, and you didn’t get my permission first, this law applies.”
“Yes. Third law is that any human being that is bound to a mage in any form, shape or fashion must be reported to the Magic Council. We did that, of course, or I should say Master did that almost immediately. That’s why he asked for an hour before setting up the call with your parents. He had to report you first.”
All of this made more sense now. I had wondered. “That’s why everyone is so dead certain that I won’t be allowed to stay like this with you. Because the laws state very specifically that I can’t.”
“That’s why,” she admitted a little glumly, a year’s worth of sighs escaping her. “Which really is a pity because you’re very good at being a familiar.”
I gave her a quick smile. “Why thank you, Master. How long do you think we have, then?”
“That’s really anyone’s guess,” Rena responded with a splay of her hands in an open shrug. “It depends how hot under the collar they get because of this. Could be days. Could be weeks. The Council is not known for its quick and expedient rulings.”
“Ah,” I intoned, and I did understand because if you left any decision making to a body of people, it would take forever to get them all to agree on a course of action.
Silence fell for a moment before she ventured, “What were you doing today while I slept?”
“Exploring the city, mostly. You have such a hodge-podge of races and cultures here that it’s been very interesting just walking around and talking to people. The strangest thing, believe it or not, has been the food.” The first few meals here had all been finger-food, nothing that required utensils. Funny how it took a few days for the cultural shock to really set in. Reaching for the boiling water, I slowly added it in to my bowl, carefully forming the dough. “These fork things of yours are strange.”
Rena stared at me as if I just sprouted florescent green eyebrows. “Forks. Are strange. What else, pray tell, do you eat with?”
“Hashi.” When she kept staring at me blankly I tried explaining. “Slender wooden sticks that you use to grab food with? Held in one hand? Wow, really, you’ve never heard of hashi before?”
“I haven’t, but that sounds really challenging to eat like that.”
“Easier than trying to balance everything on three tines,” I countered, shaking my head in amusement.
Her face got that interesting expression that said she was thinking about things at lightning speed. “Are our cultures really so different? Down to the very utensils we use to eat with? That’s going to make things very difficult for you.”
“I admit, I didn’t realize we have such simple differences between our countries until I sat down at the table for dinner. But Rena, aside from us telling each other every single event of our lives, every detail about our countries, I don’t know how you can cushion this for me. Right now, you don’t know enough about my people to even know where our differences start.”
She opened her mouth, thought about it, and closed it again. “I can’t disagree. I suppose I’ll just have to explain as we go along.”
“No other way, really,” I agreed easily. Although this conversation did bring up a point. “There is something that might help. In more than one sense.”
Cocking her head, Rena asked, “What’s that?”
“I have trouble guarding you, a little.” I frowned, not sure how to explain without ruffling her feathers. Rena was not helpless, and I didn’t want it to make it appear that I thought of her as such. “There are times when I don’t know if you need help. Your magic is so foreign to me, I don’t know how to tell if you’re struggling. There’s a struggle outside of your magic, too. The people you speak with, some of them you have a history with, and I don’t always know when it’s wise for me to step in. Like with that zounderkite earlier; if I’d known about him, I wouldn’t have let him anywhere in our vicinity. You see?”
“I do.” Rena had the most curious expression on her face. It was almost indecipherable. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t know when you are at a loss either.”
“I’m incredibly straight faced,” I told her mock-seriously.
That made her laugh. “Yes, you’re amazingly stoic and reserved,” she griped, giving an overly exaggerated sigh.
I thought about that. “I was traumatized by broccoli as a child, that’s what did it.”
Gratifyingly, she doubled over laughing. I do enjoy seeing her laugh. I had a bad feeling she didn’t do it often; at least, not that bright, unreserved laughter I witnessed now.
“Part of the reason why I love talking to you,” she gasped, panting, “is that I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“It’s a gift,” I agreed. “But seriously, I think we would both do better if we had some signal so the other would know we need help. Sometimes the situation prohibits you from saying, hey, this idiot’s as bright as an expired coupon, keep an eye on him.”
> “So, you’re suggesting we need a code word.”
I considered that. For about two seconds. The adult part of me suggested, “The word help is—”
“Too boring,” Rena denied with a stern headshake. “No, no. Code word would be cooler.”
Snorting, I went back to my mixing. She was having far too much fun with me. Granted, the more juvenile part of my brain—and let’s face it, it was a rather large part—totally agreed with her. In fact, it agreed enough to sabotage my mouth long enough to say, “It would be cooler, but what do we use? I mean, it has to be super-secret after all. Very, very secret so the pesky adults can’t understand us, because really, responsible people hijack fun things all of the time. They’re pests that way.”
Rena squinted at me. “Are you laughing at me, Hach Xian Liang?”
“Perish the thought, my master.”
Beaming, she patted me on the head like a loyal dog. “Good familiar. I agree, the code word has to be super secret. It has to be innocent looking on the surface.”
“Not a food word?”
“How do I know you’re not just hungry?” she countered. “You’re always hungry.”
“Still growing,” I explained, not at all bothered. “Alright, not food. Number?”
Shaking her head, she offered, “Color?”
“Color might be easier to work into a sentence, grant you. Alright, color, then. Pink?”
For some reason, this earned me quite the look. “Why do men always think that women like pink?”
Ever have that feeling you’re taking a test you didn’t study for? “Ahh…you don’t, I take it.”
“Least favorite color. What’s your favorite?”
“Blue.”
“Oh? Mine’s red.” She pursed her lips, thinking hard. “I was hoping we had the same favorite color and we could just go with that.”
“Merge them,” I suggested. A part of me still thought of this whole thing as juvenile but seeing her so enthusiastic about it was entertaining. I would ride this idea until I was bucked off. “Red and blue make purple.”
Rena canted her head to one side, then the other, making a humming noise. “Purple. Purple? I think I can work with purple. Alright, purple. Purple means, ‘I might need help, pay attention.’”
“Add a little more to it,” I requested. “Purple also means I can break bones if needed.”
For some reason this request delighted her. She actually giggled and let her legs swing back and forth a little like a giddy child. “Alright.”
Having a very good idea of what was going through her head, I stopped kneading to give her a firm glare. “And actually mean it when you say ‘purple.’ Don’t make me beat up some moron because he irritates you.”
Rena wrinkled her nose at me. “Spoilsport.”
Uh-huh, I’d thought so. She was having far too much fun having me as a familiar. Shaking my head, I went back to the dough.
“What are you making, anyway?”
“Rice cakes.” When I got a blank expression, I expounded, “They’re a little sweet ball with coconut, sugar, or a glaze on top. Usually it has red bean paste inside, but I’m not a fan of red beans, so I make them plain.”
“Are they going to take much longer?”
“No. Want to help?”
“Sure!” Rena immediately hopped off the counter, rolling up her sleeves. “What do I do?”
“We have to steam the dough first, make sure it’s done. I’ll do that. Right now, I need little bowls to put the sugar and shaved coconut into.”
“Roger.” Rena went to the right cupboard for bowls, fishing them out.
I watched her help me prepare a late night snack and had to wonder, once again, how was I supposed to feel about this? Any of this? I’d been told numerous times that I wouldn’t be allowed to stay, but a part of me, one growing stronger by the day, didn’t like that answer. Could I stay?
Did I really want to stay or was it just the bond talking?
Sparring with someone that didn’t rely on spells to fight with was extremely different. I didn’t realize just how different until we put Bannen in the mix of our typical training sessions. Ever since we apprentices were twelve and had learned some of the defensive and offensive spells, we met up once a week to do mock skirmishes. The group changed a little from week to week, but Emily, Steph, and Lori always came, sometimes Russ and Paul, Master Whit’s apprentices. Any senior apprentice always had a standing invitation to join in; the junior ones could come and watch but not spar. We only made that mistake once—anyone below senior level just didn’t know the shielding and offensive spells they needed to.
We used the training yard behind Master Whit’s guild, as it was the only one that had enough shields to contain magical backlash. It also had more space than the yard behind Strickmaker’s, giving us room to really maneuver around each other. Or at least everyone else. I couldn’t really move and fling spells, too distracting.
This particular sparring match had more purpose than usual, as we had received word that morning that the situation in Brightwood had developments. Whatever had set off there was growing in strength, consuming more and more land, so much so that the barrier surrounding it had been pushed back. Individual mages had not been able to infiltrate more than a few feet before having to retreat again, so no one knew exactly what the cause was. Opinions were divided on what to make of it, but the Council apparently liked the idea of the apprentices—only the most senior of them—getting some battle experience in. It was, more or less, a contained area and such circumstances were hard to duplicate. Rumor had it the Council was debating the exact number that should go, and who should be sent if the apprentices failed, hence the delay in marching orders.
Knowing how fast—and by fast I mean glacially slow—the Council was about making any decision, I wasn’t sure if I would actually be going into Brightwood anytime in the next week. I also didn’t know if Bannen would still be with me. But I saw no harm in bringing him along and learning how to fight alongside a familiar. If nothing else, he could teach me how to maneuver with a dedicated partner when fighting against multiple opponents.
The first round, Bannen hadn’t veered far from my side, as if unsure how far he could go without leaving me vulnerable. We nearly lost against Steph, Lori, and Russ because of it. The second round, he did move more and because of that it was an easier win. The third round, we switched it up so that we partnered with Steph and Russ instead of Emily, which made things harder as Russ was seriously fast at spell release.
After losing that round, I lifted a hand in the air, still panting from my last mad attempt at incantations. “Break!”
“I’m all for it,” Emily groaned, flopping immediately to the floor, weight braced against her hands, head thrown back. “Thunderation, this is harder than usual! Bannen, why are you so bloody fast?”
“Mad skill,” he answered dryly, dropping comfortably into a cross-legged position near me, not at all fazed or winded by three hours of sparring. “And if we’re talking about speed, Russ is the one giving me a run for my money.”
I’d always suspected that Russ has a little Llasian blood in him somewhere, mostly because of his compact build and the cat-like shape of his pupils, and I saw a stronger hint of it now as his eyes took on an expression of feline smugness. “Speed’s my game. Not that I’ve been able to land a single hit on you.”
Bannen grinned at him, almost tauntingly. “I said you’re fast, not that you’re fast enough.”
“You will pay for that comment next go around,” Russ responded with a mock growl.
“Promises, promises,” Bannen waved in dismissal and I could tell he had antagonized Russ on purpose.
“No, seriously,” I asked him, poking an elbow into his side, “why are you so fast? I’ve seen soldiers fight before, none of them had that kind of speed.”
He eyed me for a moment, as if weighing what to tell me, before he finally responded. “Have you ever tried to race a dog before?”
No, not with my lungs. I wasn’t even allowed to run—got yelled at if I even try.
“I have,” Steph volunteered, scooting around to face all of us more easily. “Or at least I try to keep up with Pilot,” she nodded to the large, white, impossibly fluffy dog lying nearby, “when he runs. It’s not possible. Dogs are ridiculously fast.”
“Had a dog growing up that was a bit of a brat,” Bannen relayed to the group in general. “He’d grab one of my sandals and take off with it. If he could make it past the fence and to the end of the hill, then he thought he had permission to chew it up, as obviously I wasn’t interested enough to catch him. Not that I had a prayer of catching him at six years old.”
I could just picture it in my mind’s eye, a very young and frustrated Bannen chasing after a wily dog that knew good and well those short little legs wouldn’t be able to catch him. And then inevitably losing the sandal and getting fussed on for leaving it where the dog could get to it.
“I always chased him, he always got away with it anyway, but eventually I grew enough that I could keep up. At least, if I wasn’t three paces behind him when he took off, I could keep up. I was eleven the first time I actually caught him,” Bannen said with a nostalgic and sad look to his face. “I was all jubilant at first until I realized that old age had slowed him down a little. He gave the sandal to me with good grace and made sure he had a head start on me the next time, but I caught him more often than not after that.” Seeming to realize the story was going maudlin, he clapped his hands to dispel it. “Anyway! That’s why I’m fast. I spent most of my formative years chasing after a wily dog that thought it was funny getting me in trouble.”
“That would be excellent speed training,” Lori admitted with a thoughtful look at Pilot. “I wonder if it’s too late to start that kind of training at sixteen?”
“I don’t think it is,” Bannen encouraged her. “You might never get the speed necessary to win against him, but you’d certainly get a lot faster, and that’s the goal, isn’t it?”
The Human Familiar (Familiar and the Mage Book 1) Page 10
